Stairway To Success

Chapter One

 Lily cursed under her breath as she readjusted her heavy pile of flyers under her arm. Another door slammed because of her. If it hadn't been for Brian, she'd rather have stayed home to watch a film or compose something on her guitar. But no, there she was, walking the streets of Kensington to advertise an upcoming concert at the Imperial College.
Fortunately, she knew the band she was promoting, 1984, was not lame. Therefore, it motivated her to make people know about it. It was nothing more than a local band for the moment, but she strongly believed it would get big. “With such a tremendous talent,” she often said to their guitarist, her bestfriend Brian, “it's impossible for you not to make it. You'll get big. Bigger than the Beatles.” To which Brian liked to reply “But the Beatles already are bigger than Jesus.”

Lily sighed with a grin as she walked away from the house before which she was standing. The soles of her sandals hit the pavement in a regular melody, while her burgundy bell bottoms tickled her ankles as she reached the next red-brick house. She had to be more convincing.

She used the doorknocker and waited for somebody to answer. A few seconds later, a man in his forties opened and stared at her with a frown.

“Good afternoon, sir, I'm handing out flyers for an upcoming concert at the Imperial College.”

“What kind of music?”

“Rock music.”

“That's not what I call music,” he muttered before slamming the door.

Another one.

Lily was tired of giving out those flyers. She had at least one hundred leaflets to distribute, and she got rid of only five. Five leaflets in two hours. She wondered how the others were doing with them, if they gave many. Amongst the band members, only Brian and Dave had free time – or actually bothered giving theirs – to advertise the concert; that was why Lily and three other friends came to help. They called themselves the Band Aids Team.

She sighed and tried to cheer herself up and left this house, going to the next one. Once she found herself at the doorstep, she flattened her purple blouse and gathered her courage to knock on the door. One of the windows of the house was open, so she heard somebody move inside. They couldn't pretend nobody was home. She heard hurried footsteps coming, and the doorknob tilted. The wooden door spun and showed a young man with thick black hair slightly bouncing around his neck; it was cut on the front in a fringe that hid his forehead. His eyes were dark but shiny, his nose was long and looked a bit pointy, his lips were a regular shape and were underlined by a square chin.

Lily cleared her throat and clutched the pile of flyers.

“Good afternoon, sir. I'm giving out leaflets for an upcoming concert at the Imperial College.”

“Oh, great!” the young man smiled, showing protruding teeth. “What kind of music is it?”

“Rock music.”

“Nice, very nice. May I ask what the band is?”

“1984. A very nice one, I tell you. Their main inspirations are the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, the Who... and some others.”

“Outstanding mix,” the young man said, smiling. “When will the concert be?”

“This Saturday at eight o'clock.”

“Perfect, I have nothing planned on this day. It sounds fun. Are you part of the band?”
“No, I'm a band aid, that's how we call ourselves. But I know the band very well.”

“I see. Do you play music, too?”

“I play the guitar and the bass, and I sing, but it's not that good. So I'm just composing songs at home, and with the band's guitarist, we record them on a very old tape recorder. Nothing much, you see.”