"For some people, they were just ... always there.
And that was Rory."
Aurora "Rory" Marquez was a teenager with stars in her eyes and a book full of songs in her pocket when Graham Dunne approached her in 1968. He wanted to start a rock band and n...
┏━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┓ chapter ten " Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, Carry that weight a long time. " ┗━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┛
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NOW PLAYING: "CARRY THAT WEIGHT" by THE BEATLES (1969)
+ content warning: Racism, misogyny, sexism, brief sexual assault scene (not explicit), mention of rape (not explicit), mention of victim blaming, physical assault.
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________
RORY WILL ALWAYS remember her first day writing for Sticks 'n' Stones.
She knows that The Six is in another part of Sound City, finishing up their own album recording, but she doesn't find comfort in knowing her friends are only a few closed doors away. They may as well be on another planet.
Rory had no idea what to wear for her first introduction to a world-famous rock duo. She doesn't have another dress like the one she'd worn to her contract signing, so she'd ultimately had no choice but to go casual. The increasingly warm weather had made anything with sleeves unbearable, so she'd opted for a cropped orange and yellow tank with a mock neck that covers her collarbones, a denim skirt, and a pair of green platform sandals. Her hair is sleek and falls to her mid-back in a straight curtain, still ironed from yesterday.
When Walter guides her into the recording studio, she instantly feels like she's made a mistake in her outfit choice. In comparison to them, she looks like a little kid.
"Aurora, meet Sticks 'n' Stones. That's Sticks to your left — real name Daryl Earlington — and Stones, aka Henry Slate, to the right. Gentleman, this is Aurora Marquez. She's going to help you finish writing the songs for the album."
"Hope you can keep up with us," Sticks says, chuckling dryly like his throat has already been damaged from smoking. He's probably in his mid-thirties with long, tousled blond hair that falls to his shoulders. His leather jacket is beat-up from years of wear. On both hands, his fingers are covered in rings— stacked upon each other as far as they could go, of all widths and sizes and kinds, from twisting silver bands to a humongous red gem on his left hand.
