Taking place in the summer of 1978, the story follows 18-year-old aspiring music journalist, nicknamed Goldie, tasked with following up-and-coming UK rock band - The Orphans - while they do their first tour of the U.S. New to life on the road, Goldi...
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Roaming eyes gaze upon the star-crossed lovers. Blasting rock music is somehow muted by the beating hearts of Goldie and Harry. They drank the toxic potion of lover's spit and swallow their romantic words in attempt to keep their passion stifled. The Orphans don't want to be grouped with the other bands that met their demise at the feet of a charming woman. The Mamas & The Papas. The Beatles. All geniuses torn at their delicate joints as the result of the sweet brains of one woman. One woman in particular that managed to infiltrate their minds and cast her spell. A spell of realness and love.
Goldie and Harry listen to their teeth hit one another's occasionally in the heat of passion. He's experienced. She's inexperienced. But the friction of deep intimacy can turn anyone virginal, simply because such a connection is so rare. A snow leopard in the midst of the Mojave Desert.
Their surroundings are in hyperspeed. Legs moving in a blur. Heads twitching like a game in glitch. Harry and Goldie stand in the middle of chaos, in slow motion. They take in every sense. She tastes the saltiness of his upper lip. He breathes in the sweet smell of her lotion. She hears the perfect percussion of his breath and beating heart. He feels the peach fuzz on her arms stand on end, tickling his fingertips.
An entity plays the piano in the corners of their minds. It plays the perfect melody. It plays the perfect beat. Goldie, caught in the ideal moment, looks into Harry's eyes to finally speak and break the tense silence that has built between them.
"Thank you for catching me..." She pushes his hair behind his ears. She rubs the blush color on the tip of her nose — like a cold elf in the North Pole — against the tip of Harry's.
"You're welcome, Michelle," Harry responds with a quiet laugh. She didn't have to explain her thought process. He knew of the emotions for which she needed to show gratitude. "... My belle."
"Maybe you guys should go talk in the other room," Grimmy interrupts.
"I second that," Matt chimes in, chugging almost an entire beer as a follow-up.
The front door of the concert venue slams shut. The bang of the cheap wood against the hollow metal door frame echoes throughout the packed hall. Andrew's frazzled hair and wrinkled shirt disappear into the front light of the establishment, taking with him a piece of Goldie's childhood.
* * *
It's the day after Harry and Goldie displayed their kiss to the masses. The Orphans have gone through soundcheck. Their clothes, or lack thereof given Harry's bare chest, were picked out late the night before, and Andrew, solemn and in desperate need of reparation, regrets the slaughter of his childhood dreams the night before. A dream in which he sits back on his sectional couch, loosening his tie after a hard day of work and Goldie, his beautiful wife does everything in her power to help comfort him.
