How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Sixty Seven: Party Room

"Thought you'd wanna play first," he said. "Could borrow Ang's but I'm not used to his thinner strings."

"Ah, wanna a bit more punch, yeah?" Malcolm grinned. He looked over at me. "You play first, why don't ya'?"

"Ya' sure?" Stevie asked, surprised.

"Yeah, you need the experience," Malcolm said. "In case ya' ever need to replace me." I looked at the floor, uncomfortable. But Malcolm was all smiles. "I wanna talk to Hannah a minute anyway." Now it was my turn for surprise. Since when did any musician want to speak to me instead of playing their instrument? Stevie took the guitar back. 

"Alright," he shrugged. "Angus probably won't even notice." I watched Stevie return to Angus who was so engrossed in his own gentle playing. It was hard not to have a crush on him when his long hair fell over his focused eyes, doing what he loved to do. It wasn't until Stevie spoke that Angus looked up, realizing it wasn't Malcolm and glanced our way. Malcolm gave him a thumbs up.

"How long do ya' give before we're thrown out?" Malcolm said.

"An hour?" I guessed.

"Mm, I might give it a bit longer," Malcolm said, looking at his watch. "The guy who unlocked our stuff, Allen, he's keepin' watch outside. He'll let us know if somethin' goes down."

"We can recreate the Beatles rooftop concert," I suggested enthusiastically. "Have the cops wait outside while we pretend to get someone they can speak to."

"Not a bad idea," Malcolm said. "Could sneak onto the roof if Ang wasn't wary of heights. But let's hope it doesn't escalate to gettin' the police. As soon as they mention 'em we'll split." Stevie and Angus began their jam session, the music a nice low volume. It was a bluesy sounding number. I tapped my foot along, smiling when Angus looked our way. He was right at home, right in his element. Malcolm watched in admiration of his family. "You're really from the future, huh?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yes," I smiled, reaffirming for the tenth time. "I'm really from the future."

"But then your folks would be younger, wouldn't they?" he asked. "They'd still be around, right?"

"They'd be kids about now," I said, thinking it over. "Haven't even met yet." Malcolm's expression didn't show any signs of skepticism but maybe a hint of disbelief. 

"Kind of hard to think of my own parents as kids, ya' know," he said. "Always on the older side for me an' Ang."

"Mine are a bit older too," I said. "Well, they will be."

"An' you're really...." He studied my face, narrowing his eyes. "How old did you say you were? Can't be fifteen..."

"Twenty four," I said. "Almost twenty five." If the present timeline hadn't kept going while I was gone, I'd be twenty four anyway. That was another worry. What if time hadn't stopped while I was here? What if my family thought I was missing? Or even dead? I ran my tongue over my teeth out of habit, making sure they were still straight. 

"Good," Malcolm said. "Don't feel as gross makin' a move on ya'." Despite what he said I could tell he still felt a bit weird. After all, I shouldn't have even been born yet. A door opened and the roadie, whom Malcolm called Allen, poked his head in for a listen.

"No one's around," he said. "You're doing great." The door closed as he resumed his lookout post. 

"Must be awfully boring," I said. "Just standing around outside."

"He's not standin' around, hon, he's workin'," Malcolm said. "We've got him makin' calls to some tour venues. Askin' if we're still booked. Besides, it's not any different than standin' backstage while we play."