TRACK TEN:
BREAK ON THROUGH (TO THE OTHER SIDE)

❝ you know the day destroys the night
night divides the day
tried to run, tried to hide
break on through to the other side ❞
— the doors

.•° ✿ °•.

It is late at night when Francesca arrives home — in Laurel Canyon, that is. The evening is still warm, much warmer than it was in Waterbury, as she staggers with the weight of suitcases hitting her thighs on each step. She got on a plane to LAX no later than twenty four hours after driving Tony to rehab. And it still feels like a nightmare she is waiting to wake up from.

Everyone must be asleep, surely. But not everyone is. Out on the terrace, between low-hanging branches, Francesca can see Goldie sitting by herself. A light robe is wrapped around her body and her chin is tilted up to the stars. Next to her on the table sits a spotless ashtray and an open notebook. For a moment, Francesca forgets her own worries and stops behind her. It feels like a rare moment where Goldie thinks no one is looking at her, waiting to perform. And in that moment, she looks... melancholic.

What is she thinking about?

Whatever it was, it doesn't go undisturbed for long. Goldie senses a presence behind her and turns around. There it is again, the facade going up, warm and inviting but kept completely on the surface.

"Hey, you're back," Goldie whispers, propping her arms on the back of the chair. "Did you have fun?"

Francesca stares at her. Then she laughs — or coughs, she can't quite distinguish it — before a lump suddenly lodges itself in her throat. Goldie must instantly see that something is wrong. She pulls out an extra chair, letting Francesca sit down with her baggage dropped at her feet. It all comes pouring out of her. What happened at the wedding, the things she learned from Bruno on the drive back home, the intervention, the horrible guilt and confusion when she drove Tony to the rehab clinic. She struggles to shed a single tear through the whole confession. Instead, it sits like a large stone, choking her silently. But through it all, Goldie listens, never interrupting once.

When she thinks she is finished, only then does Goldie gently speak up. "Oh, Ches..."

"I'm so worried about him, but somehow I'm angry at him too. It hurt, some of the things he said, even if he didn't mean them. And I can't believe how little I knew about it all." Francesca sighs, raking her fingers tiredly through her hair. "I just feel like... I can't trust him like I used to. Is that horrible?"

"I think that you should feel whatever you're feeling," Goldie replies. "You love your brother, right? That hasn't changed. But... this kind of thing's complicated."

She wishes it wasn't.

     "I don't think I can sleep yet," Francesca murmurs.

     "Me neither," says Goldie. "That's why I came out here."

     Francesca re-settles her gaze on the notebook lying open, its pages fluttering in the wind and tattooed with Goldie's handwriting — the beginnings of song lyrics, some scribbled out. "You working on something?" she asks.

     Goldie scoffs. "Oh, yeah, kind of. I had this... picture stuck in my head, I don't know. It's only a few lines so far."

     After hovering her hand over the book, hesitating to check she is allowed, Francesca takes a closer look at the lyrics. She can feel Goldie staring at her, waiting with bated breath to hear feedback. In truth, she is absorbed by those few lines — they are the most introspective thing Goldie has produced so far.

     "I think it's a great start," Francesca says, handing back the notebook.

     "I'm glad to hear you say it," Goldie wraps her robe tighter around her frame. "Songwriting is still something I'm getting used to. But I like it very much. I always liked writing stories and poetry in school as a little girl. But you see, I never got to contribute anything like that during my solo career. That was the era of songwriters for hire, all for other people, you know what I mean?"

     "Yeah, I know..."

     "I'm willing to pour my heart out. I just... don't know what it's made of yet."

     That strikes a chord. A light breeze blows along the moonlit terrace, and Francesca can't tell if that's what gives her goosebumps, or whether it was Goldie's words. Because isn't what she is trying to do too? Trying to discover what she is made of?

Francesca reaches down to her guitar case, unlatching the clasps with a loud click. She gets out her guitar and begins tuning it.

"Let's try what you have so far," she says.

.•° ✿ °•.

ALICIA MALHOTRA: 'The Driver' is one of the deep cuts on Solstice's discography. Very simple but pretty powerful. It tells the story of a man getting into his car and driving into the night, restless and aimless. The lyrics are almost like this internal monologue of the thoughts and the doubts in his mind. I personally think it was Goldie's real breakthrough in her songwriting skills. And Francesca's guitar throughout is just... sublime.

FRANCESCA: We showed it to the band the next morning, and luckily they liked it, and we went in to record it as it was. No bells and whistles added. And then that was it. Look Both Ways was done recording.

VICTORIA: But it wasn't as easy as that. [Chuckles bitterly] Oh no, we faced some challenges before that album even hit the shelves...

We were up against the record label. They didn't believe in us. I mean, we were making money and making albums, sure, but they were not very keen to promote us like they did with their other bands or singers. The brutal truth? They didn't know how people would respond to a rock band led by women. I mean, you have to understand, the guys were there and were key players, but us three were at the front. We were somehow a benefit and a liability.

Things have come further in the last twenty, thirty years. But it was really hard for us to break through back then.

ALICIA MALHOTRA: Unlike their last album, where it was an illustrated cover, Look Both Ways featured Goldie and Victoria. It's sort of taken through the open window of a car, with Goldie nearest to the lens staring ahead, and then just past the outline of her face, in the passenger seat sits Victoria as she stares straight down the camera at you. The image has this dark but very saturated blue tint to it which brings out that brilliant, electric blue shade of Victoria's eyes, kind of like she is piercing your soul. And I don't think I have to tell you about the magic of Goldie in that photo.

HANK: They slapped the rest of the band on the back cover. We all have our backs to the camera, at a sidewalk on the Sunset Strip about to cross the road. You can't see it in the photo, but Doug looks really tanned when he was actually got insanely sunburned the day before. His skin was, like, watermelon red.

FRANCESCA: I don't... I don't really remember much about the release of the album. My head was just somewhere else.

.•° ✿ °•.

"Teddy, you came!" Goldie beams, watching their producer walk over, calm and collected as ever.

"You know I couldn't miss it," Teddy replies, looking around. "Some party you've got going, kid."

Francesca follows his gaze around the party in question — it is to celebrate the release of Solstice's second album, Look Both Ways. They wanted to mark the effort gone into the record, so they set up an intimate but well-attended party atop a loft in Los Angeles. Others from Ellemar Records and beyond have been invited, including The Six. They seem to be wherever Solstice go, these days. Or maybe it's just that Graham is wherever Francesca looks...

"Well, it's a cause for celebration," Goldie affirms. "Having two albums out in the world is no joke."

"And that means soon we can get onto the third," Hank adds eagerly.

"Whoa, slow down. Enjoy the fruits of your labour first," Teddy warns, with a wry chuckle; it seems funny hearing those words come out of his mouth, when Francesca knows Teddy Price to be the most hard-working and dedicated person she knows at their record label. "Now, where are the others?"

Goldie shows him over to the other band members, scattered around the party. Meanwhile, Francesca stays with Hank, staring at her beer bottle in hand. She hasn't sipped a drop of it. It would be convenient if she could summon the party mood tonight... but she just can't. She got dressed up, making the effort with a leather two-piece embroidered with flowers, and she was glad to see their album cover stood in various corners of the party. She is trying her hardest to stay present, live in this moment as she always prefers to do.

But since coming back from Waterbury, Francesca hasn't felt very celebratory.

"You're quiet," says Hank suddenly. "More than usual, anyway."

He has the focused, piercing stare he gives when suspicious or concerned. It's difficult to flinch away from. "I'll be fine once the party gets going," she replies.

Hank nods, mercilessly leaving at that. Just then, Victoria walks over, the bell sleeves of her dress fluttering with her movement. Her lips are thinned into a pitying frown. "Poor Carlo..." she sighs whilst pouring herself another drink.

"Why? What happened?"

"Debbie broke up with him a few hours ago."

Francesca feels a pang of surprise and sympathy — Debbie had been Carlo's girlfriend for a little over a year now. "No! But they seemed so sweet together."

"Apparently, not sweet enough for her taste," says Victoria coyly. "Warren's over there with Doug, trying to nurse his wounds." She nods pointedly over to the corner, where a heartbroken Carlo is sitting with slumped shoulders. Warren is sat in front of him, cheery as always, doing his best in offering consolation (Francesca hears the words "Listen man, what about what makes you happy?") whilst Doug gives encouraging but helpless nods.

"I don't get how anyone has the time for that," Hank shakes his head sourly.

"You mean you don't have the time for that?" Victoria quips.

"I'm just sayin', look at the poor guy. All relationships seem to do is complicate stuff."

Half-listening, Francesca's gaze falls upon Graham in the distance — he is listening to something Karen is saying, or maybe not listening, but certainly attentive to her presence. Then it slips for a moment so he catches Francesca's eye. Her immediate instinct is to look away, because when are they not treading on eggshells as of late? After they tried unsuccessfully to talk about the past, it's been awkward to speak a word to each other...

She thinks Hank might have a point. Even if it is ridiculous.

"... Francesca?"

     "Hm?" she turns to Victoria, pulled out of her daze.

     "I said, for how long did you know The Six while you were in Pittsburgh?"

     "Oh, uh, a few months. But I saw them almost every day for a while."

     Victoria pauses. She is staring ahead somewhere, fixated in the distance. Francesca follows her line of sight all the way to where it meets Eddie Roundtree — he is stood by himself, seemingly by choice, sighing out a tendril of cigarette smoke. Only a stone's throw away, Camila is curled up next to Billy on a bench and laughing with him, a sight which seems to push Eddie further into his misery (not an uncommon state of mind for him, if Francesca is being honest).

     "Were Eddie and Camila ever..." Victoria trails off, but her vague hand gesture seems to make the point.

     "Together? No, it's always been Billy and Camila," answers Francesca. Then she ponders it further; she watches the tension with which he views Billy, compared to the way it softens when he turns to Camila instead. She recognises that look too, remembers it even when they were in Pittsburgh.

     "But I think Eddie had a thing for her. At least, it looked that way when I first met him," she adds.

     "That explains it. 'Cause looking at him, you'd think Billy shot his dog as well as stole his girl."

     Francesca narrows her eyes at Victoria suspiciously, suppressing a grin. "You look at Eddie a lot, then?"

     "What?"

     "I don't know, you just seem pretty curious about him."

     "Can't a girl be curious?" Victoria jokes, although trying a little too hard. "No need to sound so smug about it. I'm just, you know... having fun with it," she adds, after which she takes a rather large gulp of her drink.

VICTORIA: All the girls used to go crazy over Billy Dunne, and yeah, I understand. But Eddie was... I don't know. Tall, slender, quite handsome in a certain sort of way. I remember him being very long-limbed, and it's easy to look like a muppet when you're built like that, but Eddie could pull it off. Yeah. That stuck with me for some reason.

Sure, he could be bitter, but that didn't scare me off. Why would it? I'm one of the most bitter people I know.

     "Well, if you're so curious, go talk to him," Francesca nudges her.

     "Fine... I will. And then you can wipe that smile off your face, Vestri."

     Francesca only beams even wider, but ushers Victoria forwards as she wades through the crowds to find Eddie. Sometimes she can't tell if she is overconfident or if it's all a facade. When the blonde reaches Eddie, she sits and perches herself on the chair next to him, so she can meet his full standing height. It manages to turn his attention away from Camila and Billy for a while, his shadowy expression lightening ever so slightly.

And so, Francesca is left alone. With that comes that nagging guilt again — that she shouldn't be here. She's in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Suddenly, everything feels too loud, too jovial. Francesca feels disconnected when she sees people re-filling their drinks, or whispered offers of other substances from strangers. Too soon. Far too soon. She needs space.

Francesca slips away from the party, following the quiet until the thumping of the music slows to a quiet hum. The warm summer air swathes her skin, and the twinkle of the city lights in downtown L.A. paint the landscape ahead. She lowers herself down onto a bench and tilts her head back against the cool brick wall. From the party, the song switches to that Gilbert O'Sullivan song that's been all over the radio — like a cruel soundtrack to her solitude — and she chuckles weakly.

"Fuck's sake," Francesca mutters.

With 'Alone Again (Naturally)' muffled by distance from the party, Francesca sits by herself with her thoughts. She thinks about Tony in rehab and the note they left things on, and she thinks about the updates her mother tries to give now and then. It has done little to console her. And yet, the idea of going home or speaking to him on the phone... it doesn't feel much better.

Then, she hears footsteps. They stop not very far away from her. She looks up.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," Graham replies. He looks her up and down in concern. "You okay? We couldn't find you in there, you just slipped out."

"I needed some quiet, that's all. I'm... not really in the party mood tonight." Francesca pauses, listening to that song. "Also, I wish they could at least play our music instead of that goddamn song."

Graham laughs softly, but doesn't seem wholly convinced at her humour. "I can go, if you want. I didn't mean to disturb you—"

"No, Graham, wait. Stay."

"You sure?"

Francesca nods, patting the space next to her. Graham lowers himself down beside her, looking out at the view too. His hands limply hold the neck of a beer bottle as it dangles towards the ground.

"I, um... I know you've been having a tough time, with your brother," Graham breaks the silence. "And I just wanted to say... if you ever wanna talk, I'm here."

     She looks at him, smiling weakly. Then, out of thin air, something seems to click into place in her head. It seems ridiculous that they are still dancing around the subject of their long-gone relationship, when she feels there is so much room for them to exist beyond that. Camila's words from a few months ago echo in her memory:

"No one is asking you to be best friends with him. But I'm sure you'd both like it to at least be less uncomfortable."

     "I want to apologise for that day," Francesca blurts out. "You know, when we argued about the past."

     Graham blinks at her. As he remembers, he furrows his brows at her, taken aback. "Francesca, that was months ago," he says, incredulously but without any ill feeling. "It's not important now, not after—"

     "Please, just let me say what I wanna say. I really want to. 'Cause I never meant to belittle your feelings, and I'm sorry that I did. Most of all, I'd never want you to think our relationship meant nothing to me."

     He opens his mouth to say something, but Francesca shakes her head at him. Graham is forever the peacemaker, and he'll keep trying to smooth things over — but she wants him to hear this. At least she can clear the air between one person in her life.

     "Of course it meant something," says Francesca. "It meant everything to me."

     She swears Graham sighs in relief to hear it. But she isn't done yet.

     "But when you showed up in L.A., it... threw me. I thought I was never gonna see you again. And I'm not the best at looking back, as you've already seen. Anyway, we're here together again, for better or for worse, so..." She shoots him a strained, hopeful smile. "I don't think this has to be weird. Right? I mean, I don't want it to be."

     Graham swivels in his seat to face her, relieved. "Neither do I. All I want is to move forward. I mean it. And you know, I'm sorry too. I never meant to pressure you into thinking anything was meant to... come back, now we were in the same place again. No hard feelings."

     Francesca sighs, nodding slowly.

     "Can I say that I missed you?" Graham asks hesitantly. "Just– I mean, that I wondered where you were, how you were doing..."

     "It's okay. I did too," she confesses. Actually, to hear him say it fills her with relief. They might not have wished to go back to what they were — but was it a crime to miss someone who you cared for a great deal? To hope they were happy? To even crave keeping them in your life somehow?

     "Do you think we could be friends?"

     He took the words right out of her mouth.

     "I hope we can," Francesca says.

     They seem to be mulling over the same details, skimming over the small print without too much cause for deliberation. Sure, they haven't heard exes staying friends resulting in many happy endings — but then again, Francesca and Graham aren't everyone. She is determined to extinguish the tension and awkwardness that follows them around wherever they go. It seems to her the only desirable option.

     Maybe moving forward isn't something that just happens. Maybe it's a decision. If it is, she wants to make it right now.

     "We'll do things our own way," she declares, a little more confidently this time. "Screw what everyone else thinks."

     "Yeah, screw them!"

     Francesca deflates a huge sigh of relief this time, feeling the weight physically lift from her chest. "Sometimes, I wish we could start all over again..."

     Graham considers this for a moment, chewing on his lip in thought. Then he gets up from his seat, walks away and disappears from her sight. "What the—" she says, only for him to re-emerge from his hiding place. He feigns being occupied with something else, before pretending to spot Francesca as though she were a stranger.

     "Hey, we've never met before," he lands next to her and extends his hand, "I'm Graham. Graham Dunne."

     The whole thing is so silly that Francesca cracks up. But through her laughter, she shakes his hand. "Hello Graham, I'm Francesca Vestri."

     "Nice to meet you here, Francesca."

     Miraculously, the whole charade does work... at least for a little bit. Making the decision to start anew, they relax completely in each other's presence again.

     "But hey, let's drink to the important thing tonight..." says Graham earnestly, "Your album."

     Happily, Francesca unscrews the lid on her beer bottle. It is the first time she has felt remotely celebratory tonight — it's only small, but it is a baby step in the right direction. She thinks even the little steps deserve to be celebrated.

     "To the album," she toasts, "and to yours, which I know will be soon on the horizon."

     "Oh, I don't know about that."

     "It has to be. But until then..."

     They raise their bottles together with a clink, taking a sip and watching the promising city lights once more. It feels like the beginning of something new.

.•° ✿ °•.

On paper, Look Both Ways is a slow, lukewarm success. Their album hits the shelves in the August of 1972. Their lead single, 'Skeleton' gets some decent radio time across the country, however it doesn't make a decent dent on the Billboard Hot 100.

     Sure, the dizzying nosebleed heights of #1 hits are far from their reach, but Francesca Vestri is an optimist at heart. She is just happy to have put something out into the world that Solstice worked hard on, and unlike their debut album, they experimented with different styles and genres. It's a record she proudly sends a copy of straight home to Waterbury.

Regardless of its performance, it still outdoes their first album, and such an improvement begs for a wider North American tour. Which is how on one sweltering August morning, the band are summoned into an office at Ellemar Records, where their new tour manager is set to meet them...

     ... Eventually, anyway.

     It was supposed to be at eleven o'clock, but there is still no sign of him. A secretary sent the group inside the office to sit and wait. Francesca feels Hank glance at his watch, combined with his erratic foot-tapping. "He's officially late," he mutters.

     "Don't make this a big deal," Francesca whispers.

     "Well, it is a big deal, if this guy's gonna be organising our tour and he's not even punctual."

     "Maybe there's traffic?" Carlo suggests. "You know how bad it gets on the interstate from Euclid Avenue."

     "Have you ever met this Belmonte guy?" asks Hank, turning to Goldie as he considers her the minted music industry expert of them all.

     She shakes her head. "But I'm sure he is fine," Goldie insists. "Anyway, being fashionably late is all part of it. It's showbiz, Hank," she adds with half-hearted jazz hands.

     "Oh, for fuck—"

     BANG! The door swings open, making them all jump — though somehow the gesture is less aggressive or urgent, more like a call for their attention. A man walks in of average height, with skin cast in a leathery tan from the California sun, and eyes hidden behind tinted sunglasses. He is wearing a beige jacket and matching flared pants to go with it, his shirt underneath slightly unbuttoned at the top. Francesca is surprised not to see someone hunched over logistics with a clipboard.

     "Sorry I'm late, I had a thing..." the man announces, his voice sounding more youthful than Francesca expected for some reason. He sits himself straight down into the chair at his desk. Before anything else, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the biggest cigars she has ever seen. Once lit, it could easily be mistaken for a chimney at a coal factory as he puffs away on it. "Alright... should we get started? I'm Rafael."

RAFAEL BELMONTE (tour manager for Solstice, 1972-1979): We're the clockwork you don't see or hear from, right? 'Cause if all goes well, you shouldn't have to see me. Managing a tour for a band is a skill which requires the balance of planning and spontaneity. I planned effectively, so that we could travel efficiently and sustainably on our budget and schedule. But you know, tours can go awry in no time at all, and that's where spontaneity comes in. You have to learn to go with the flow, when things don't work out the way you planned... and that happens all the time.

INTERVIEWER: How did Solstice compare to your other clients up until that point?

RAFAEL: Oh, they didn't compare at all. I get why Teddy liked them. There was something fresh and exciting about Solstice, at least to me — I was already in my fifties when I started working with the band, so call me a nostalgic old bum if you like! [Laughs, then coughs] I loved 'em. Those kids... they took me on the greatest journey of my career.

     The band listen intently as Rafael outlines his planned itinerary for their tour. His process seems logical — covering parts of the country in pockets, from one coast to another, or jumping into other regions. It is certainly an improvement from their first tour, which seemed rather more disorganised and sometimes dependent on the band making things happen.

But what's more, their tour manager is a scream to hang out with. He jokingly refers to himself as "Raf from Miami Beach", he can make them laugh, and laugh with them. Rafael even seems to form a particular kinship with Carlo, launching into enthusiastic strings of Spanish when they realise their shared language. For Francesca at least, his demeanour puts her at ease to think that this is the man putting their tour together. Rafael Belmonte seems like a team player, but a reliable one, which could not be further from the first impression he gave by waltzing in fashionably late.

By the time they walk out of the building, their spirits are lifted — and their clothes stinking considerably of cigar smoke. You win some, you lose some.

"I liked him a lot, didn't you guys?" Carlo grins, as though he's made a new friend.

"Yeah, I really did," Goldie agrees, "and I've met plenty of people in his position over the years, some of them not so great..."

     With an idea of their tour dates, it looks like Solstice will be on the road from August until early December. It's longer than their two-month stint to support their first album up-and-down the West Coast. There is a bubbling excitement amongst them all, all looking forward to the prospect of gaining a wider audience.

Then there is the case of family — Carlo is already planning to drop in and see his folks when they get to Phoenix, and Hank makes a call to his mother letting her know they'll be in Boston later in the year. Some aren't as keen, with Goldie remaining enigmatic about whether she will drop in to see her parents in Nashville or not. ("They'll know how to find me," she simply says). Victoria's parents aren't even on the tour, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, but to that she seems to think good riddance.

And Francesca?

She manages to avoid the idea altogether, not paying it too much thought until Doug hands her an envelope.

"It's for you," he says, half-occupied doing something else.

Francesca plucks it from his grip, using a butter knife as a letter opener. She can already recognise the handwriting as her mother's. Irene has folded the letter neatly inside and written carefully on the lines. It's the same paper she uses for her shopping lists. Francesca smooths out the familiar paper, reading the message on it. It opens with her usual well-wishes and motherly worries, before it swoops in straight to the point:

Tony is leaving rehab next week. He's all better, Irene promises. Then she asks whether she'll be home for Thanksgiving this year, or Christmas.

"Is everything okay?" asks a voice. Behind her, Goldie is leaning in the doorway, sweeping her hair forward in front of one shoulder.

Figuring she already knows some of the story, Francesca might as well tell the rest. "It's from my mom. She said my brother's coming out of rehab next week."

"Oh, that's good to hear!"

"She asked whether I'm coming home for the holidays."

"... And you're not you if you will?"

"Well, apart from the fact we'll be on tour..." Francesca trails off guiltily. They are doing a gig in Hartford, and that is surely close enough to squeeze in a visit to the Vestri clan. "It's just– I don't know if I can..."

Goldie seems to sense whatever she isn't saying. She sits down at the kitchen table with her, crossing one leg over the other. Francesca swallows thickly. The letter sits opened on the table, facing her. Of course she is overwhelmed with relief that Tony is coming out of rehab, because above all, it is concern that has consumed her over the last month or so...

     The truth is that after this, she feels a fragile trust not just with Tony, but with the rest of the Vestris too. She knows they meant well by obscuring things, but on her last visit, she felt completely on the outside of what had been going on. Part of her figures it would be easier to keep her distance for a while — and then whenever she decides that, the other part violently reconsiders and would pack her bags straightaway to go home.

     "All I'll say is, I hope you won't let this weigh you down too much," Goldie says softly. "You're usually so calm and easygoing."

     Francesca chuckles. "And I'd like to be again," she mumbles.

     "Just don't do — or not do — anything you'll end up regretting."

.•° ✿ °•.

FRANCESCA: I do remember how hurt I'd been that the family tried to keep Tony's addiction secret. Maybe 'cause I felt for the first time, I was on the outside of this tightly-knit family that I loved and was a part of all my childhood. There was a lot of guilt too, that I hadn't shared that experience with them... I don't know. There were so many complicated emotions I was trying to process. I've made peace with all of that since then, it almost feels like ancient history talking about it now.

Anyway, I hadn't made up my mind about Hartford when we started the tour. And we had a lot of shows to do before then...

.•° ✿ °•.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

first things first, a very belated hello to the STUNNING new cover potter_spellbook made for this book!! i'm in awe.

second of all, if you hadn't noticed, goldie has been re-casted and she is now portrayed by jessica brown findlay. there was nothing wrong with dakota's casting per se, but the more i wrote goldie, the more she just didn't fit her character. jessica actually ticks many more boxes in terms of how i imagined goldie to look and act, even some very specific ones which is a bonus! to give you an idea of the new goldie:

francesca hasn't been feeling herself, still reeling after finding out just how much tony had been going through without her knowledge. i hope her feelings are sort of understandable — and they will continue to be explored, as the ending kind of hints at 👀

another thing that came up in this chapter was some hints of the sexism and double standards solstice will face, especially once they get really famous... also how did you guys like rafael belmonte? he only appeared briefly, but i think he could be a fun character. i like to imagine rafael and rod venting about their bands to each other, like "what did you have to deal with this time? just wait till you hear how MY day went!"

finally, FRANGRAHAM!! thankfully they have patched things up more now, so the exes are staying friends at last. it'll be a relief to write scenes with them again, the awkwardness/tension between them made me feel so bad...

we're so close to act two now!! (depending on how fast i can update lmao)

Published: November 20th, 2024