┏━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┓
chapter seven
" Ah-ha, ah, all the things
I could do
if I had a little money
It's a rich man's world. "
┗━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┛

NOW PLAYING: "MONEY, MONEY, MONEY" by ABBA (1976)

________

IT'S ELEVEN IN the morning when the police come knocking at their door. Unfortunately for everyone, Warren is the one who answers it.

"Oh, hey!" he greets the officers, smiling widely, his eyes slightly bloodshot from the joint he'd been smoking on the back patio with Graham ten minutes ago. "It's the boys in blue! To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Luckily, Eddie has the sense to realize that an underaged, high child should not be talking to the police and pushes him out of the way, whispering for him to let someone sober handle the issue. Karen appears in the doorway to see what's going on.

"We're looking for Aurora Marquez Bennett and Billy Dunne," one of the officers tells him.

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

KAREN SIRKO, keyboardist, The Six: I honestly think I looked at them and asked, "Who's Aurora?" She'd introduced herself as Rory and that's what everyone called her — or some other shortened version of it — so I didn't know her full name.

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

Rory is busy plaiting her hair into two long braids before she heads off to work when Eddie calls out that some police officers want to speak with her. At first, all she can think about is fear. Surely nothing good can come from them asking for her specifically. Had something happened back home?

Before her thoughts can go into overdrive, she secures her second braid with an elastic and heads to the front door. Two tall, pale-skinned men in uniform are standing on the porch. She greets them timidly. Her experiences with the police have never been good — up until the Civil Rights Act was passed, they hadn't been on her side — and her palms grow damp with sweat.

One of the men goes inside to speak with Billy while the other leads Rory closer to the squad car. He turns around once they're out of earshot of the house and asks, "Do you know why we're here?"

"Uh, no, sir," Rory replies, twiddling her thumbs in front of her.

"You have no idea?"

She shakes her head. "No, sir."

The officer tilts his head curiously. "We got a call from the Pittsburgh Bureau of Police. Your parents reported that you'd been kidnapped, said the perpetrator was Billy Dunne."

Rory blinks. Once the information sinks in, she almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Billy, kidnapping her and taking her all the way across the country? Of course, her family doesn't know about Camila, so they would think Billy is the only adult with them, and thus the only person they can really accuse.

She wonders if Mamá and Papá have truly convinced themselves that this actually happened or if it's just an excuse to bring her home. Did they have to spin a wild story because they couldn't believe that their precious daughter would willingly leave them behind?

It speaks volumes about what they think about her. Now that she is gone, Mateo will have to step up and fulfill the roles that were always shoved onto her shoulders. He'll have to figure out what to do with their parents as they age; will he give up his life to become a caretaker like Rory was destined to, or will he choose to shove them in a home in pursuit of his goals that have now come to a screeching halt?

"I left willingly," Rory tells the officer. "It was my own decision. If you want proof, I have all of my most special personal items and my essential belongings in my bedroom. Billy did not — he didn't kidnap me."

It seems that Rory has displayed an ounce too much of emotion, because the officer raises his hands in defense and says, "Okay, okay. My partner and I will get this all figured out."

She glances at the house to find the band obviously trying to eavesdrop. Graham and Eddie practically have their faces pressed against the window above the kitchen sink, while Karen, Warren, and Camila must be lurking around Billy.

Overall, the unexpected interruption of their day is uneventful aside from being nerve-wracking. The officer asks to make an assessment of the things Rory had brought with her, takes statements from the other members in the house, and seems pleased with the information he receives.

The man who'd been speaking to Billy goes along with him to the front door. "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Dunne. Doesn't look like there's any issue here— we'll report back to the PBP that there's no evidence of a kidnapping."

Rory notes that he apologizes to Billy, not to her. Nor does he even look at her as he squeezes past her and out of the house.

"No problem," Billy says. "Have a good day, officers."

It seems like no big deal. They'd done a little investigating, spoken to everyone, and found out that everything was fine. So why is Rory shaking, and why does she feel the need to sprint all the way to the ocean and scream across it? Why can't her parents just leave her alone? Even though she's two thousand miles away from them, this event has made it feel like they're breathing down her neck again.

If they somehow get her address from the police and come knocking on the door, she'll have a meltdown.

Billy looks at her and notices the way her hands are digging into her uniform trousers until her nails make crescent-shaped indents in her thighs. He doesn't say anything except a soft, "Hey," before scooping her up in a tight hug.

Things have been off-balance between them since the "Heartstopper" incident. He's tried to apologize in typical Billy Dunne fashion, aka skirting around actually admitting he was wrong, but then it led to him fully apologizing not only for stealing her lyrics, but also for calling her work "fluffy." Rory is not sure if she'll fully forgive him for a while. However, he's been much more open to listening to her opinions on songs, so that's a step in the right direction.

This is the closest they've been, physically, in a while. They don't really hug. Even though Billy had formally inducted her into The Dunne Brothers two and a half years ago, there have still been enough differences between them to make them clash more than they get along. Sure, they'll nudge each other or fist-bump or whatever, but a heartfelt embrace like this is usually off the table.

Maybe Billy, who has never dealt with discriminatory laws as she has — laws that had been enforced by the very men who'd been on their doorstep — won't be able to fully understand the extent of her fears. Maybe he won't know exactly what it's like to have parents who want a doll to parade around and control more than they want a daughter who lives a life of her own. But it doesn't matter, because he doesn't try to equate himself with any of those things. He just hugs her and brings her to sit on the sofa, staying with her while Camila makes her a hot drink and until she stops shaking.

She winds up being fifteen minutes late for work, but it's okay.

The gang doesn't have many opportunities to eat out, but with the occasional tips they've been receiving from their gigs and Rory's paychecks, they can afford a handful of diner trips. It's difficult feeding a group of seven, especially considering most of them are boys. As such, Camila counts out money at the booth to make sure they actually have enough to survive the week.

"What happened with that producer you went up to?" Eddie asks her. "The one with the parrot."

"Parrot guy passed on us," Camila answers.

A waitress hustles behind Rory, who scoots her chair closer to the table so she isn't taking up too much room. She initially tried to squeeze in next to Eddie, but then he'd almost accidentally pushed her out of the booth since he eats with his elbows on the table like a heathen, so now she's at the end in an extra chair she'd pulled up for herself.

Camila has been trying to schedule producers or scouts from record labels to attend some of their shows— so far, without any luck. All of them have either not shown up, refused to attend, or passed on a deal.

"Wow," Eddie says, taking a bite of his toast. "That is bleak."

"Might wanna save half that toast for tomorrow, Eddie. This is barely enough to cover the rent."

Eddie mumbles a curse and shoves the remainder of his bread into the breast pocket of his yellow shirt.

"Fuck it, man," Warren sighs, leaning forward so his elbows are also on the table, "maybe old Chucky was right, huh? Maybe... maybe this was all just a big mistake and that we should've just stayed at home with our moms, saved money on rent, become dentists."

He slaps a hand on the stack of one-dollar bills in the middle of the table and slouches back in the seat in dismay.

"I mean, I've sent out hundreds of photographs and not a single fucking paper has responded," Camila says, her voice tinted with frustration. "Should I just quit? No one said it was gonna be easy."

From beside her, Billy uncaps a small bottle of alcohol and starts pouring a few ounces into his coffee.

"I can pick up more shifts at the store," Rory offers. "Won't be much, but it's something."

"No, Ror, you already work your ass off," Graham tells her. "You add any more hours, you're gonna be pushing the child labor laws."

"Also, while we're talking about stuff, how come I'm the only one without a bed in the house?" Warren asks.

"You literally won mine and Karen's room when we flipped a coin and then immediately decided it was haunted," Rory reminds him, crumpling a napkin into a ball and throwing it at him. "You snooze, you lose."

"Hey, it's not my fault I didn't want to share a room with an old granny spirit," he argues, lobbing the napkin back at her.

"It's not haunted," Camila asserts.

"Everybody knows it—"

"You are just being a baby," Rory says.

"And I'm eating pocket toast, so..." Eddie trails off.

"Why are we still called The Dunne Brothers?" Karen questions, interrupting the argument about the bedroom that may or may not be haunted. "I mean, three of us aren't Dunnes, and the last time I checked, I'm nobody's brother."

"Speak for yourself," Rory tells her. Karen gives her a perplexed look.

"So you wanna change our name?" Billy asks.

Eddie raises his mug in a cheers motion. "I personally think that's a great idea." After taking a long sip of his coffee and receiving a stare-down from Billy, he places the cup back on its saucer and adds, "I'm just saying what everybody's thinking."

"Well, the name is the name, so..." Billy tries to reason. "You know, it's how people know us."

Eddie snorts. "But it's not exactly doing much for us, though."

"How about Immaculate Reception?" Warren suggests, drumming his hands on the table with a boyish grin.

Rory boos and throws the napkin at him again.

"No, that is awful," Karen agrees.

"We are not changing the name," Billy tells them with a harder edge to his voice.

"I mean, listen, if we're throwing stuff out there, Hercules is still on the table," Graham says.

Everyone at the table immediately shuts him down with noises of complaint.

"Deliverance! Espionage! Poison!" Eddie exclaims, elbowing a grinning Warren.

Billy attempts to shut them down again, saying, "The seven of us will never agree on a name."

"Well, I mean, there's not seven of us in the band," Graham points out.

Rory crumples up another napkin into a ball and throws it at him this time. "Excuse me, did my induction as a Dunne Brother mean nothing to you?"

Graham winces as the paper hits him in the forehead. "Sorry."

"Also," she continues, "with all the work that Cami and I do, we practically make up one whole band member combined. So you actually have six."

"What about... The Six?" Karen suggests.

"Well, won't people get confused?" Eddie asks. "If there's five of us onstage but we're called The Six?"

"Well, we can't be The Five," Warren points out.

"Why?"

"Cuz The Dave Clark Five, cuz The Jackson 5, everybody's The Five."

"I like The Six," Graham says.

"Sure as hell better than Hercules," Warren laughs, causing Graham to throw Rory's napkin at him. Warren catches it and tosses it back along with the one she'd thrown at him. They engage in a short war like a sad, indoor snowball fight.

"All right," Camila says, gathering all of the napkins that remain on the table, "napkin privileges revoked."

Graham had been right about Rory being unable to pick up more shifts at the grocery store. After taking a glance at her schedule, she realizes she's already working the maximum number of hours for a minor in the state of California.

She finds herself yearning for the day she turns eighteen next March so she can bring more money home. Maybe then, they would be able to afford actual Cheerios instead of the off-brand Grain-Os and Eddie won't have to eat pocket toast. Not having to ration out how many units of cereal each person is allowed to have would be nice.

Her job is monotonous — stocking shelves mainly involves repetitive movements that have her back and arms aching by the end of her shift — but at least it allows her to zone out and start daydreaming or thinking of new ideas for songs. Sometimes she's struck with an idea that she can't bear to forget later while she's in the middle of a task, so she's started carrying a pen around at all times so she can jot stuff down on the back of her hand. The result has her skin looking like a manic tattoo artist had scribbled jargon all over it.

Then comes the matter of her not being able to reach the two topmost shelves. She's stocking the canned food section, climbing the shelves like a little kid at the playground, when a can of diced pears falls out of her hand and strikes the foot of the customer who'd been about to walk past her.

"Oh, God," she says, her eyes trailing up from the expensive-looking brown shoe to the face of a middle-aged black man wearing a shiny leather jacket. His eyebrows have shot all the way up his forehead at the sight of her clinging to the shelves. "I am so sorry, sir."

"It's not a problem," he assures her, bending down to retrieve the can and sliding it onto the appropriate shelf where it belongs. "They don't give you a footstool?"

Rory shakes her head. "It's fine, though. I don't mind climbing."

"If you say so. Just don't fall."

"I'll try not to. Have a good night, sir, and I really am sorry again."

Rory's cheeks burn with embarrassment as she goes back to stocking the cans. That could've broken the man's toes and it would have been her fault.

She turns when she hears shoes squeaking against the linoleum tile in time with rapid footsteps. Billy makes a wide turn down the aisle, sprinting toward her at full speed, his hair flying behind him and eyes wild.

"Did you just talk to him?" he asks, speaking so fast that it takes Rory a moment to piece together the individual words.

"What?"

"That was Teddy fucking Price. Did you talk to him?"

"What?" In her state of shock, Rory's hands slip from the shelves and she tips backward. Billy easily catches her before putting her feet back on solid ground.

She had dropped a can of diced pears on famous producer Teddy Price's foot.

"I — not really," Rory stammers, noting how Billy's gaze tracks the man wandering toward the liquor section of the store. "A can fell and hit him in the foot—"

"You dropped a can on Teddy Price's foot?"

"Not on purpose!"

"Jesus Christ." Billy takes off down the aisle to catch up with the man.

Rory is left to stand there uselessly to contemplate her life. She blinks and tilts her head back to stare up at the fluorescent lights in dismay, mentally asking why, of all people, Teddy Price had to walk past her just as the can had slipped from her grasp.

After months of hoping to get recognized by him, that had to happen.

She has no idea why Billy would even be around here — usually, if they need anything from the store, Rory will buy it with her employee discount before heading home, but then she realizes that he must be purchasing alcohol. It's the one thing she can't bring back for them.

They still hardly make enough to cover the rent, but somehow, there's always enough money for booze.

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

RORY: I thought I had ruined everything— that me dropping that damn can on Teddy's foot would've put him in a sour mood and he'd immediately turn Billy down. But that's just how Teddy was. He wouldn't let something like that ruin his night.

I stopped climbing the shelves that night and finally asked for a stool I could carry around on my cart.

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

By some miracle, Teddy Price agrees to hear The Six play a song for him at Sound City. They should be ecstatic. Screaming, jumping for joy, running around the house because this is what the band has been working their asses off for over the past eight months since they came to Los Angeles. But Billy has only grown more anxious than before, and in turn, has made everyone else nervous as well.

Except for Warren. He seems immune to the pressure Billy inflicts on the rest of the band to play perfectly, because we have one shot at this, taking the repeated rehearsals in stride even while the others are worn out. His ability to make Rory smile when she feels like throttling Billy is one of the main reasons why she hasn't resorted to murder yet.

"Something isn't working," Billy says, running a hand through his already-tousled hair in frustration. "Something's not right."

After changing his mind several times about which song to play, Camila convinced him to pick "Silver Nail". The only problem is that it's a new song that's hardly finished. And it's a ballad in comparison to their more upbeat rock songs.

"What do you mean, man?" Warren asks. His hands have bandages on them from excessive practice, some of them stained red from blood seeping through them. Rory has to keep adding them every time he gets a new blister that rips open. "We sound great."

"We can't sound 'great.' We need to sound perfect."

Camila and Rory share exasperated looks with each other. They're sitting on the sofa in the sun-room-turned-practice-room, watching the band struggle through rehearsal as the cicadas chirp from outside, filling the room with their song now that the instruments have stopped. This is how he has been for the past two days.

"We've played it the same way the past three times," Eddie points out. "None of us have messed up. I don't think there's anything we can improve on, dude."

Billy, clearly still frustrated, moves his hand to his chin, deep in thought.

"Here," Rory says as she leans down to grab Abuelo's acoustic guitar that had been resting against the arm of the sofa. "Here's what you have Graham doing now, right?" She plays a few chords, causing Billy to nod in confirmation. "What about... if he did this instead?" She strums in a manner that slows down the song even more, allowing a beat of silence where Billy's vocals would linger at the end of the line.

"We gotta hear it with the vocals," Graham says. He's trying and failing to hide a smirk. "Just to be sure."

Rory glances at Billy, but then Camila nudges her with a meaningful look, and she realizes that he meant for her to sing. Not Billy.

"Come on, Ror," Eddie pipes up. "We need a break for a minute from Billy's lead. I think calluses are forming on top of my calluses. Let's hear it!"

"Don't disappoint us, Ro-Ro!" Warren exclaims, twirling his drumsticks.

Rory's stomach fills with nervous butterflies. Despite knowing the band for almost three years, she's never sung for them. But she looks around at their hopeful faces — and Billy's accepting one — and realizes she can't say no to them.

She sighs. "All right."

Her fingers strum the opening instrumentals. Soon, Karen joins in at her part, and so does Warren when it's time for him to softly rattle his cymbals. It essentially becomes the entire band playing, except for Billy and Graham, following Rory's lead with the changes she'd suggested.

Her heart practically pounds out of her chest. It feels like the song has the longest buildup to the vocals she's ever experienced in her life. But she closes her eyes, allows the music to take over until she's in her element, and sings, "Just like the moon, that silver nail / Holdin' the sky above the world..."

∴━━━ ✿ ━━━∴

GRAHAM: [Smiles] I was so mad at her.

EDDIE: It's — you know, it's not a loud, powerful song by any means. But you could still tell. You knew she could blow any of us out of the park with her vocals— even Billy. I think all of our jaws dropped.

BILLY: Crystal clear. That's how I would describe her voice.

WARREN: It's hard to explain if you didn't know Rory back then, but she did not perform for us. Getting that first song out of her was like pulling teeth.

Then she finally sang "Silver Nail" and I remember being like, "What the fuck, yo?" You've got this [Holds thumb and forefinger apart] teeny-tiny girl who's so shy she can barely talk to someone new without turning tomato-red, and she opens her mouth and has this powerhouse of a voice?

GRAHAM: She hid that from us! For three years!

KAREN: That was the start of something. I think it's all thanks to Graham for making her sing that night, because otherwise, I don't know if she would've opened up like she did. And, obviously, that helped her become more comfortable performing around people she didn't know as well.

BILLY: Do I think the changes Rory made to the instrumentals helped make the song so great? Yes. I do. It was a small change in the grand scheme of things, but it boosted all of our confidence and allowed us to knock it out of the park when we played it for Teddy.

I really think we have her to thank for him liking our performance that much.

_________

a/n:

did i mention that this entire book was inspired by a one direction song ??? it will make sense. "i want to write you a song" inspired rory's profession, the roquez dynamic, and basically everything about this. shoutout to 1d fr

i did a lot of research on how latinx people were treated in the US before the civil rights act was passed in '64, but most of the info pertained to mexicans, with not much explaining how people from other latin countries faired. i assumed that the sentiment against them would be the same— rory, mateo, and her mother can't pass as white (especially during a time when people thought italians were too dark) so they suffered from segregation in public and were likely ostracized for having a white dad. rory's apprehension around police officers comes from the law literally being against her for most of her life.

i wanted to explain that since i didn't want to give an entire history lesson in this chapter and how other poc were treated before the civil rights act isn't really discussed. it's important to be informed!!

thank you so much for 5k reads on this book!! i'm so happy you guys like it so far!

— kristyn

( word count: 4k )