TRACK FOURTEEN:
MAGIC MAN

❝ a pretty man came to me, i never seen eyes so blue
you know, i could not run away it seemed
we'd seen each other in a dream
seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me ❞
— heart

.•° ✿ °•.

Sometimes, Francesca goes in search of the quiet moments to herself — as much as she loves her housemates, it is similar to when she lived with her brothers, in that she occasionally has to steal some peace and quiet. Lately that involves a buzzing little restaurant she found in Pasadena's old town. It has the hallmarks of many diners Francesca's seen around here, but a more bohemian charm to it with paintings hung on the red brick walls, and warm pine wood floors that give it a rustic feeling. She found it after a gig Solstice did in Pasadena a few months ago, and she has been obsessed since.

     Part of its appeal is the coffee. This place was started by an Italian family, so their coffees remind her of the way her dad makes it at home. Francesca has often found an excuse to drive here early for a morning cappuccino. Her parents would probably like this place. Maybe even her Nonna, too. But the idea of them visiting California feels far-fetched at the moment.

     Instead, Francesca is here writing a letter to them. Fresh off the heels of her twenty-sixth birthday, she tells them all about how the day went, and thanks them for what they sent. Her pen and paper is occasionally set aside, to drink her coffee or eat more of her omelette before it gets cold.

     She gets to describing what the band is up to, and she hesitates. They are thinking about the new album. But there is also more planning going in this time. With enough of a cushion to take a break, their creativity has been flowing. They have been thinking of doing a few songs that lean more into hard rock — this became more exciting after Francesca went with Victoria to see Suzi Quatro at the Whisky, and they were buzzing for hours about what they could do, too. Yet there never seems to be as much excitement about this from the label...

     "Want a re-fill?"

     Francesca looks up at the waiter. He's young, probably around her age, with mousy brown hair and gunmetal blue eyes. For a quiet guy, he has been very diligent in tending to her table; a coffee jug sits sloshing in his hand expectantly.

"Sure," she nods, "thanks."

The waiter reaches his arm over, pouring a fresh trickle of coffee into the ceramic cup. Francesca purses her lips into a grateful smile when he is done. He catches her eye as he leans back again, his eyes darting away quickly afterwards.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that's perfect. Thank you."

Giving up on the letter for now, Francesca resorts to the Rolling Stone issue she had brought with her. She peels back the pages slowly, wallets of text interspersed with music icons that still have her starstruck. Some of them she has mingled with, or even been neighbours with — but, for instance, casually saying "morning" to Cass Elliot when she passed her yard never quite lost its novelty. Francesca wouldn't say she lusts for fame and glory. However, she feels that Solstice hasn't yet tapped into their hidden potential. What if they were in the pages of Rolling Stone one day...

The waiter is back.

It pulls her out of her reading. He seems awkward about being back this time, as he presents a salt shaker and a bottle of ketchup. "In case you wanted more... with the, uh– with the omelette."

"Oh... thanks," Francesca chuckles slightly, taking the seasoning and condiments.

"Joel, Table 9!" the manager hollers from the back.

"Coming!"

The waiter, apparently named Joel, whisks away to tend to another customer. It collides with a realisation that Francesca is having — he sure is one of the most conscientious waiters she's met. She hadn't asked for salt or ketchup, but he brought it. The same with the coffee re-fills. He has already asked once or twice if she needs anything else. Sometimes it has delayed his service to another customer. He pays a great deal of attention to her.

     Her speculation only grows when the booth in front of her clears out, and Joel gets straight to polishing it... and shooting the occasional glance in her direction. Francesca lifts her coffee cup to her lips and takes a sip. Her eyes remain trained on him, his movements as he clears the table. Joel looks up at one point and she smiles at him. He doesn't seem to know what to do with this; the stacked plates suddenly jerk in his hands, but thankfully stay in-tact.

     A few minutes later, Francesca calls for the bill, and — surprise, surprise — Joel is the one who arrives at her table. Now she focuses entirely on him, she has to admit, there is something enticing about him. Sure, he's not the typical hunk, but Francesca was never into that anyway.

     "I have to admit," she says while reaching into her purse, "I haven't come across many waiters as... attentive as you."

Immediately, Francesca wonders if she was too bold in saying this. Flirting deliberately is never a good idea with her. The skin at Joel's neck flushes pink and he rubs it, flustered. "Oh, no, it's just the job," he brushes it off.

"Well, customer service is no joke. Waiting tables can make or break you. I remember that like it was yesterday."

"Tell me about it," Joel scoffs, seemingly not his first time working in a restaurant. Then his expression softens slightly, the warm light from the chandelier bulbs reflected in his eyes. "I like this place, though. The atmosphere is really... I don't know, it feels classier than your average diner, you know? First time I came here, I couldn't stop staring at the paintings on the walls. Especially that one in the corner."

Joel points over to it, but Francesca doesn't need to follow that to know which painting he means. Because that was the exact same painting she loved when she first found this place. The shapes are more abstract, with earthy browns and greens, but the swooping lines are the silhouette of a man sat alone at a piano. She looks back at Joel, and feels a low hum of affinity with him.

"So, how long have you been in L.A.?" Francesca asks.

"Almost three months now," he answers. "I've worked here for about a month."

She pats the tabletop, nodding. "That explains it. I didn't think I had seen you before, and I've lived in L.A. for five years..." Francesca starts placing the money with the bill, in private disbelief that it has been that long. It was a similar epiphany when she turned twenty-six a couple of days ago. How is time flying this fast?

"I've seen you though. You always sit by this window, and you order the same coffee, no matter whether you have something to eat or not..." Joel trails off, suddenly self-conscious at what he blurted out. Francesca stares up at him as he clears his throat. "I– I just, um, noticed. That's all."

     Francesca's heart skips a beat. His nerves are rubbing off on her, too. She opens her mouth to say something, no idea what it'll be—

     "Excuse me, are you leaving this table or not?" says another customer, neither patient nor rude, as they linger by her booth.

     "I am, yeah! Sorry..." Francesca nods quickly. After getting her thinks together, she dispenses the rest of the money for breakfast, along with a generous tip for Joel. "Keep the change."

     "Are you sure?" he asks.

     "It's fine, Joel." Francesca notices his surprise at his name being used, and she adds, "I heard the—"

     "Oh, the manager—"

     "Yeah. I'm Francesca, by the way."

     Joel smiles slightly, removing a notepad from his pocket to take the next order. "Nice to finally meet you, Francesca."

... Finally?

     She heads towards the exit, bracing herself for the summer heat already swathing Pasadena. Francesca cranks the door halfway open, the little bell above her tinkling — but she doesn't leave until glancing over her shoulder, just once more, at Joel.

.•° ✿ °•.

FRANCESCA: It went on like that for a few months. Joel and I kept trying to catch each other's attention. It felt like a playful game, like... this dance of curiosity. We were figuring each other out. And, if you can believe it, he was pretty shy to begin with. He started opening up the more we talked, though. Once you got him talking about the movies, you couldn't get him to stop.

INTERVIEWER: So just to be clear, this is Joel Crawford we're talking about, right?

FRANCESCA: [Nods] Yeah. I don't know why I'm sitting here introducing him, of course you know who he is... but I guess this was before he made it big.

[Francesca goes quiet for a moment. She is reflective, a thousand memories seeming to play out at once.]

.•° ✿ °•.

     On a sunny August morning, Victoria trudges down the hill to The Six's house. She knows the walk back up will burn through her legs, but she'll make excuses to delay that trip anyway. Hanging around at home alone felt aimless — Doug was visiting his parents in Malibu, Hank and Francesca had gone guitar-shopping, and Carlo was out with his new girlfriend (Kay, she thinks her name is).

As for Goldie, she was writing lyrics and testing them out with a melody on the piano. It was something more like a ballad. Victoria finds that sometimes it is best to leave her be when it comes to the initial idea. Today, she's in one of her deepened states of mind as she paces with her book of lyrics. Then once she is confident enough, Goldie shares it with the rest of the band, and they can add or edit as they go along.

Of course, there are also songs where the first idea came from someone else. 'Skeleton' is one of those that Victoria contributed a lot to, and that single has aged superbly. She didn't know she had that in her.

But today, songwriting isn't on her mind. A certain bassist is.

Victoria arrives at their house, shielding her eyes from the sun as she searches for the others. A tapping noise from the garage gives her a sense of familiarity that makes her smile coyly. She walks around to the open garage door, where Eddie Roundtree is sat half-hunched over his current project — he had made a bass guitar from scratch while Billy was in rehab, and now with all this free time on his hands, he has furthered that hobby and practice.

In the in-between moment where Eddie hasn't noticed her yet, Victoria just watches him work. His brow furrowed in concentration, his slim hands and long fingers cradling the neck of wood he has carved out, already critical of his own efforts. She notices the sharp line of his jaw, his hair which has grown out a little and rustles in the warm breeze. All things she has noticed before, of course. Victoria liked what she saw the moment she met Eddie. But while she lingers in the unknown, his attentions elsewhere, those details have sunken in along with the new things she learns about him...

     Easy now, Victoria tells herself, you're ogling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

VICTORIA: Let me make one thing very clear. I didn't want to chase Eddie, no matter how much I was attracted to him. That's not something I do.

INTERVIEWER: But you did like him?

VICTORIA: Yes, I did. I could sit here and pretend it was only his looks, or that I wanted to have a fling, but... Eddie had grown on me more than I knew.

     "I thought you'd be here," Victoria says teasingly.

     Eddie's head snaps up from his work, torn out of his concentration. Then, seeing it is her, his shoulders lower and he smiles. "Yeah, well, it's not like I have much else to do right now," he sighs bitterly. But he doesn't let it cloud his demeanour too much, gesturing to a small stool adjacent to him. "Please, take a seat..."

     Victoria crosses over to the stool, sweeping off the wood shavings and sitting down. Crossing one leg over the other, she props her elbow on her raised knee and cups her chin in her hand.

     "Is it just you today?" Eddie asks her.

     "Just me, I'm afraid," she says.

     He shrugs one shoulder. "Sorry you didn't catch me at a more exciting moment."

     "Sorry? This is fascinating!" Victoria peers over his work with great interest — oh fine, she's half-faking it, because carpentry has never illuminated her with passion... but she enjoys watching Eddie work. She has swung by a handful of times while he's here in the garage, and something about watching him craft these intricate instruments from scratch is very grounding. "That's starting to look like a real bass guitar now," she praises.

     "Now I've got the neck shape right, it is, yeah. You get that wrong, and you've fucked it up before you even start."

     "What comes next?"

     "I'm gonna glue the neck to this piece of wood right here," Eddie gestures to a larger slab of wood, "and wait for it to dry."

     "You sound like you know what you're doing..." Victoria grins. "Maybe carpentry's your calling after all."

     Eddie scoffs and shakes his head quickly. "No, I don't think so. My dad's a carpenter though. I guess I learned a few tricks of the trade from him. But there was no way I was gonna stay in Pittsburgh and just do the same thing, over and over again. That's the whole reason I came out to California. And then—"

Right on cue, with the worst irony possible, a car pulls up outside the garage and Billy hops out. Victoria glances across at Eddie to see his reaction — these days, he practically has steam coming out of his ears at the sight of the former lead singer. He feels like he spurned the band, hanging them out to dry. Victoria can't say that she blames Eddie for feeling that way. They have all taken up day jobs they mostly tolerate to pay the rent, and no matter how hard they try to be optimistic, it's difficult when they meet Solstice with two albums under their belt and another one pending creation...

Billy picks up some brown paper bags filled with groceries, cradling them in his arms. Victoria squints at him and waves. "Hey, Billy!"

"Hi, Victoria," Billy just nods, his hands too full to wave. "Eddie..."

Eddie says nothing, just pretending to be absorbed in his carpentry again. She swears she sees him roll his eyes. Then the cherry on the cake arrives — Camila walks out, taking one of the bags from Billy and pecking a kiss on her husband's lips. Key word: husband. They are married. And yet, Victoria knows that Eddie has been hung up on Camila since she first met the whole group from Pittsburgh a few years ago. She doesn't know their history, except what Francesca has gathered about him having a crush on her since they were kids.

It is not as though Victoria has sat waiting for Eddie. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and she is more than happy to take a swim. But in moments like this with him, she feels her desires creep back in, even when she keeps them at bay from a man still besotted over another woman.

EDDIE: Look, you can call me blind all you want. That's fair. But I just had no idea at the time. I guess, at first, I was pretty occupied with... someone else. [Clears his throat] And if I'm honest, I didn't think a woman like Vix would see much in me. She was incredibly smart and had a wicked sense of humour, you could hardly keep up with her sometimes. She was the kind of girl who could shake up your world when you met her, and it's not always easy to know what to do with that. Not to mention she was gorgeous...

[He pauses for a moment, shakes his head in a daze]

I mean, she is gorgeous. That never changed.

When Billy is gone, Victoria swivels back around on her seat to face Eddie. "Any news of getting the band going again?" she asks.

"No... Graham's being all cheery about finding a new lead singer. Thinks we should look around, or audition some guys. He keeps up practicing just in case something comes up."

"Maybe he's not wrong," she says, frustrated now. "I get that you're upset about Billy. But what's sitting around and sulking going to do? That anger has to go somewhere. I've seen you rehearse and play, and I know you care deeply about the music. So do something about it, Eddie."

He actually seems to be taking in her words, rattled by them. "You know what? You're right."

"I know I am..." Victoria raises her chin in the air, feigning overconfidence.

Eddie actually laughs a little. He brushes some wood shavings off his jeans and stands up, extending a slender hand towards her... you're staring at his hands again, Victoria scolds herself mentally.

"Want a drink or something?" he offers. "I don't know about you, but the sun's been shining into this garage and I feel like I'm being roasted slowly."

"Oh, thank God, I was waiting for you to say it first," Victoria groans.

Her humour subsides when she slides her hand into his, the warmth from his palm seeping into hers. As Eddie's fingers close around her own hand and pull her up, Victoria finds herself already disappointed for the imminent moment when he will let go. Surely enough, it comes, and she feels the emptiness on her skin again. Then she is walking side-by-side with him towards the kitchen, noticing again how tall he is next to her. Her head can only reach his chin confidently when she goes on her tip-toes.

"Hey, you were great the other night," Eddie says, cracking a smile.

"I know," Victoria chuckles, "you said already—"

"Seriously, you were." His eyes shine with awe as he goes on. "I mean, you just own the bass when you play. That riff you do in 'Skeleton' is just the best. I'm almost mad that I didn't think of it."

"Wow, uh... thanks."

For all her assertiveness, genuine compliments sometimes throw Victoria for a loop. Karen told her once that she feels the same way, and that it's probably "the English in them." Although she suspects is probably some deeper, aggressively ingrained reason she can't accept praise without deflecting it or turning it into humour.

But truthfully, it means a lot to hear it. Victoria is slowly growing more comfortable in her music expertise, which when she first joined Solstice, was significantly less refined and more spontaneous.

"It's like, being the bassist seems cool when you're doing it," Eddie adds.

There goes his pessimism again. She must admit, he does encapsulate the stereotype she's heard, of the bassist with the chip on their shoulder. She'll just focus on the compliment part of his words instead.

"Bassists are cool!" Victoria retorts proudly. "That includes both of us. That self-pity won't get you anywhere, Eddie."

Eddie holds open the door to the kitchen, letting Victoria walk in first. In the mirror in the hallway, she swears she glimpses his reflection as he gazes at her for a beat longer than usual. She savours even the smallest sign of the tide changing. Lately she has felt it; hints that maybe, just maybe, Eddie thought about her too.

The question is, who will break first?

.•° ✿ °•.

In September 1974, Solstice officially started recording their third album, Kissed By The Sun.

FRANCESCA: The album had its first roots in this song that Marigold wrote, 'Kissed By The Sun', which is about a young girl who goes to the West Coast to explore new frontiers, make a life for herself... whatever you wanna call it. It was very autobiographical for her, I think, but it deeply resonated with us all. We'd all made sacrifices or travelled a long way from home to chase a dream. So that became the seed from which the album grew.

'Kissed By The Sun' — the song itself, I mean — would become this very breezy, acoustic piece, and a lot of the album did lean into soft rock and folk rock. The label tried to lean more into that sound only, but we also wanted some hard rock on there. We actually had a different idea for the first single...

HANK: It was called 'Muse', and we were all really into it. Not only the lyrics — it's like a whole story, from start to finish — but I had this great riff, and I had all these ideas for a guitar solo at the end. There's a little bit of funk rhythm there there too, thanks to Doug. It's a wicked good song... but tell that to Ellemar fuckin' Records!

DOUG: They didn't know what they were missing at the time... 'Muse' is one of our best songs, I think.

VICTORIA: The higher-ups didn't think the hard rock sound fit our image. And I know they meant that specifically for us three girls in the band. Goldie's image, in particular, they were concerned about. Maybe because part of them still saw her as this young country-pop starlet. And that really pissed her off. Pissed me off, too. [Hums in thought] Looking back, I wonder sometimes why we didn't just go to another label...

CARLO: Teddy was in our corner the whole time. So was Rafael. They were both great at getting behind us when the going got tough. I think they were a package deal you couldn't count on at any other label.

FRANCESCA: Eventually, we reached a compromise, and we recorded another song as the first single. The label just didn't want a hard rock song to lead the way. They were testing the waters. [Rolls her eyes] So, you know, we got along with it and released that first single in... October of '74, I think? [Smiles] I do love that song, though...

ALICIA MALHOTRA: 'To Dusk' is a real heart-on-your-sleeve ballad. There's beautiful piano and synthesiser from Doug, and of course the dreamy acoustic guitar from Francesca. The bits of electric guitar from Hank here and there accentuate it with a bit of a kick, along with that gentle drum beat from Carlo in the background. Last but not least, you have Goldie, and her voice is so soft and light in this song. It's like a feathery touch.

The lyrics are one of the other things I love about this song, bringing a much-needed touch of femininity to the sphere of rock and roll. 'To Dusk' is unapologetically sensitive and delicate, told from the perspective of a young girl in love, asking her lover if he feels deeply for her too, and if he will stand by her. I love that part in particular: "If I stayed here under the sun-kissed sky / Would you promise to never say goodnight? / I don't need the world, just a hand to hold / To stand against the tide..."

It did pretty well on the radio. A comfortable debut, probably helped by the success of 'Skeleton' previously. It's certainly a lovely introduction to Kissed By The Sun as an album.

.•° ✿ °•.

     "Come on, Ches, you have to tell me who this mystery guy is!"

     "There's no mystery about him. He's just... really hard to get a hold of."

     Not backing down, Goldie waggles her eyebrows at Francesca as she lounges across her seat. The pair are sipping drinks in front of the twinkling Los Angeles skyline, at the same rooftop bar they had their last album release party at. It's a familiar place to go for a good night out — The Six are here, too — and occasionally meet eyes with a stranger across the bar. Although Francesca has hardly felt her curiosity wander like that recently, and after some grilling from Goldie, she ended up mentioning Joel.

     "So, this Joel guy," Goldie says. "Why does he disappear so often?"

     "He's not always at work," Francesca replies. "He only has that job so he can get to his auditions more easily."

     "Oh, he's an actor? Been in anything we've seen?"

     "I don't know, but he's had some background roles in movies, I think. He's done some theatre, too."

     Goldie shuffles closer to Francesca, with that certain inquisitive look in her eyes. It's like she can see right through her. "Can I ask you something? When was the last time you dated someone?"

     "You mean, officially? It was..." she trails off. It was Graham. Francesca doesn't vocalise this, because she has only just realised that he is stood a stone's throw away talking to Karen. But that puts it into perspective — five years since she was last in a semblance of a relationship. Anything since then has been a night of flirting at the most, before they parted ways. She doesn't think it was a deliberate choice. These last few years have also been crazy. Francesca is starting to understand why Hank claims he's too busy working to date.

     But for the last few months, talking to Joel has made her heart flutter in ways it hasn't for a long time. He intrigues her. In a city of people trying to make it big, he strikes her as authentic, something of an old soul. Francesca was drawn to that like a moth to a flame. Now she wants to know more. The best details she has on him since then are his surname — Joel Crawford, his name is — that he moved here from Washington state, and that he wanted to be an actor. That's it.

     The fact that Francesca's gut is this insistent on knowing Joel further makes her giddy.

     From the look Goldie gives her, she clearly recognises this too. "It sounds like you really like him."

     "Oh, I don't know," Francesca shrugs bashfully. "I feel like dating hasn't been in my priorities for so long now. Anyway, I don't think I've had much luck in that area..."

     "Then join the club. I just can't seem to make a guy stick around," Goldie says; she announces this playfully, as a way to relate to her, but there is a tinge of self-loathing that slips out with it. The sadness festers as she quickly takes a gulp of her drink.

Sighing, Francesca squeezes her friend's hand. Maybe there is truth in that — Goldie Rhodes has not had the best fortune in the dating department either. She has had no lack of boyfriends, but they stay largely separate from her life with Solstice. Francesca has only had the chance to meet one or two of them. A handful of them have been famous faces, some more than others, even going back to her young solo career days. Recently, though, Goldie hasn't had anyone.

FRANCESCA: I haven't mentioned any of Marigold's boyfriends, 'cause I figured you know about them already. But... I always felt for her. I think so often, her heart was in the right place, but they expected something else from her.

To ward off any sympathy, Goldie wriggles her hand free and takes a deep breath. Her smile seems a little bit forced this time, perhaps thinking of the love she craves that eludes her. "I'm going to get another drink," she says, "I'll see you later. But remember! Talk. To. Joel."

"Okay, fine!" Francesca chuckles, watching Goldie walk away. She leans back in her seat and tilts her head to the stars, just about visible above the city. Maybe Goldie is right. Tomorrow, she'll go to the café again, and she will get Joel's number at the very least. Who knows? Perhaps something special will come of it.

With none of her own chatter to drown it out, Francesca finds herself unintentionally eavesdropping on the conversation behind her... which just so happens to be Karen and Graham's banter. It is remarkable what you can catch in a brief interlude of quiet.

"I'm not a nun, obviously," Karen is saying, "and I like sex. I mean, I love it. It's just the mess I don't like. Attachments, expectations."

Graham considers this. "What, so you never want a—"

"What?"

"You know... a life?"

"Like Billy and Camila?" Karen laughs throatily. "I want this life. I want travelling, and seeing the world, and playing music with my friends until I drop dead on stage."

Francesca stands up, intending to leave, when she notices the way Karen is practically rubbing shoulders with Graham. The way he seems entranced by her, even blushing a little. It is definitely no secret that he's into her — the question is just whether she feels the same about him. They're good friends if nothing else. Karen also gave her a good impression from the day they met, and Francesca has enjoyed many chats with her about music and life in general since then.

Karen, clearly a bit drunk, suddenly looks out at the party hungrily. "I am quite horny, though..."

This declaration completely blindsides Graham. "You– you're what?" he stammers. His jaw might as well be touching the floor.

"Yeah, I would literally fuck anyone right now."

"Uh, y– yeah, me too. It's, uh– it's... been a minute."

"We should just go for it, don't you think? I mean, why not?" Karen says, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

If Graham wasn't speechless before, he is now. His eyes keep darting down to her lips in disbelief. "... Yeah. Yep. I mean—"

I should go, Francesca thinks determinedly. No matter how amicable they are, she didn't mean to be snooping like this. But just as she is going away, she spots Karen walking away from Graham, instead making a beeline for another guy with long shaggy hair. Oh no. She watches disappointment seep into Graham's face, so much so that she swears she can hear his sigh from this far away.

There are more of those unlucky in love than she thought.

Francesca re-joins Goldie for a while, and later bumps into Eddie and Warren at the bar as they drunkenly fiddle with the paper umbrellas in their beverages. One of the partygoers is asking them why they are still named The Six with only four members ("Look, man, if you don't get the joke..." Eddie slurs barely coherently, attempting to make a spear out of the paper umbrella). After a while, Francesca finds herself tiring of being stood at the bar. Maybe it's the noise, or maybe she is thinking about someone else tonight.

So she slips away, gravitating instead towards the rooftop railings. Francesca rests her arms on the cool metal of the rails, surveying the honking cars and the twinkling lights. Sirens wail in the distance, palm trees cut silhouettes into the dark night. It is a view she has become accustomed to for years now — and yet, she still feels like a stranger here on some days.

A tendril of cigarette smoke drifts into her periphery. Francesca glances to the side, finding Graham with one hand clutching a beer bottle, the other holding a cigarette between his fingers. She wonders whether he realised she was here. Apparently not, because when he sees her looking at him, he almost starts. Then he releases a weary sigh, although not protesting when she walks nearer.

"Rough night?" Francesca asks.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "You ever feel like you're ruining a party just by being there?"

She laughs in surprise. "Wow, that bad?"

Graham shudders, shaking himself out of his stupor. "Ah, I'm fine, really. Just feeling sorry for myself."

"Do you have any spare?" Francesca nods to his cigarette.

"No, sorry," he replies. But after a simple exchange of looks, they mutually agree to share. Graham passes his cigarette to her, and she breathes out the smoke past her lips.

"I guess you haven't found your frontman yet," she states; earlier tonight, she noticed Graham was trying to survey the party looking for potential frontmen that could replace Billy.

"Nope," Graham says, popping the 'p'. "I think I'm just gonna put an ad in the paper at some point, audition some people."

Francesca thinks about how fruitless his search has been so far, how finding a match for his brother has only sent him down a rabbit hole of let downs. "The answer could also be right under your nose. Why can't one of you guys do the singing?" she suggests, passing the cigarette back to him.

"I don't know..."

"You could sing," she says earnestly.

Graham lets out a light laugh, as if this is an amusing concept. "I wouldn't be the right fit," he says, stubbing out the cigarette on the concrete edge of the rooftop. "I can't see myself as a frontman in that way."

"Why not? It was your band to begin with," Francesca reminds him.

     A memory floats to the surface. She recalls walking into Chuck's garage in Pittsburgh one afternoon, and seeing Graham sat there alone while the others were grabbing lunch. Alone with his guitar, he was singing 'I Will' by The Beatles like no one was watching. Francesca had just stood hidden and watched him until he'd finished playing. His voice was softer than Billy's, almost purer. Sure, it might not lead a rock and roll band, but Francesca found herself drawn to it. It could have been her folk sensibilities taking the lead there... or the fact that she was falling for him at the time.

     "Anyway, I always liked your voice..." Francesca murmurs to him now.

     Graham's eyes meet hers, as he smiles softly. It is like a form of time travel — comforting, but risky too. Francesca looks back out at the skyline again to root herself in this moment. He does the same, and goes quiet for a while.

     "Sometimes I get a little homesick for Pittsburgh..." Graham confesses suddenly, "you know, when things aren't going too smoothly. Don't get me wrong, I love it here, but you know when you're feeling lost, and—"

     "— And you just want to talk to your family," Francesca finishes his sentence.

     "Yeah. Do you ever get that? You always seemed like you fit right into life here."

     Francesca chuckles, raking a hand through her hair. "I guess I've found my footing now. But yeah, I definitely get homesick a lot. It's actually this time of year I end up missing home the most. My dad, in particular."

     She finds herself looking at the palm trees, and instead longing for the morning mist between the trees in Waterbury, that will be plunging into burning oranges and reds around this time. Autumn just isn't the same in California. This must be playing out across her face, because she feels Graham looking at her. And then it all comes tumbling out in a wave of nostalgia.

     "You know, my dad loves the fall. He loves how deep the leaves burn in Connecticut. It was one of the things that struck him when he immigrated here from Italy. Every year, he would take me and my brothers out in the station wagon, and we'd just drive around for hours, all around these forests and rivers in the county. Over the years, my brothers got bored or busy with something else, so then it was just Dad and I." Francesca can't help the grin that spreads across her face as she remembers it. Just the two of them. "We stopped in Black Rock Park, and we had picnic baskets of gnocchi and sandwiches that we ate, sat on the rocks by the water... those were my favourite moments with him. It's the only time where I had him all to myself, you know?"

     Graham exhales softly and nods. Even if he only has one sibling, he must know what it's like to share the attention of a parent you love dearly. And now those moments with her dad have been scarce since she left Waterbury... before it aches too much, Francesca reminds herself of what she does have. Bandmates that she adores, a house in Laurel Canyon, two albums and a growing fanbase. She is making music and playing it onstage just like she wanted to do.

And right now, she has the luxury of being stood next to someone who knows what she's thinking, without having to explain a word.

.•° ✿ °•.

     The bistro-diner in Pasadena is experiencing another wave of customers, which might as well be a normal day for them. They are rightfully attracting attention left, right and centre. Francesca wades through the rush hour and over to the counter. A tray of waffles drizzled with maple syrup passes her, the heavenly sweet aroma making her knees weak.

     Helping herself to a spare seat, she tries to scan the waiters dotted around the place. No sign of Joel so far. While she waits, she remembers one time when he was raving about an old movie he'd just seen at the drive-in. The way he lit up while talking about his passion was contagious, and it made him break out into this boyish grin that made Francesca's heartbeat gallop.

She starts tapping her fingertips on the table. She's actually nervous. It has been a while since a guy could make her nervous like this.

"You looking for Joel?"

Another waiter she recognises steps forward, carrying plates smeared with remnants of ketchup and burger crumbs. Francesca swivels around on her seat and clasps her hands together. "Yes! Is he here?" she asks.

"He quit," says the waiter.

A quick jolt of despair shakes Francesca.

"What? When?"

"Last week," he replies, walking around as she follows him for answers. "Said he had to move out, his living situation wasn't working anymore."

"Well... do you know where he went? His job, where he lives, anything?" Francesca pleads hopefully.

To her ultimate disappointment, the waiter shrugs. "Beats me. Joel and I didn't work the same shifts a lot, so he wouldn't have bothered to tell me. I think he was looking for something totally different though."

Totally different... what's that supposed to mean?! Francesca envisions something as small as moving across town, than enlarges that to leaving L.A., or even California. The thought that he might have left without saying goodbye makes her freeze in the middle of the room. Just when she felt inquisitive enough about someone to think about dating again, he left. Damn it. She shouldn't have let it go on for too long. For all that apprehension about committing to it, Joel slipped away.

FRANCESCA: It felt like a real loss at the time. But, you know, these things have a way of coming back to you eventually...

.•° ✿ °•.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

introducing joel crawford, portrayed by mike faist!

you will learn more about joel soon, but so far we know he's an aspiring actor (and seemed to make it big eventually). in this act, there is more exploration of the exes to lovers trope in a new way: what about when one or both of you get into new relationships? while we know graham has karen, sparks were flying between francesca and joel 👀 anyway, i do hope you can enjoy this journey with francesca/joel!

speaking of other ships or love interests, we also got our first victoria POV, along with some viceddie moments! although we haven't seen much of the build yet, that is something i want to expand on now. i hope i did a good job trying to fill in the gaps until then. victoria has a long-standing attraction to eddie, and it is mutual in a way, but for eddie he hasn't been able to see it as quickly (the camila mist is starting to clear though...). really love these two, can't wait to write more of them.

solstice have also started recording their new album, and while i've always based the band strongly off heart's 70s catalogue, this new era really starts taking inspiration from the dreamboat annie album. 'to dusk' is basically meant to be the equivalent of 'how deep it goes' by heart, so go and listen to that if you want an idea of how it sounds in my head! to summarise the equivalent songs mentioned in this chapter:

• kissed by the sun: dreamboat annie (heart)

• muse: magic man (heart)

• to dusk: how deep it goes (heart)

i still find songwriting/live music portions extremely difficult to write, so watch me save those only for when it's absolutely necessary 😭 sorry that my lyrics are literally crap...

thank you so much for reading! and please don't be a ghost reader, comments are really appreciated and help my writing motivation a lot. i'm quite excited for the next chapter 🤭 not telling you why, hehe

Published: June 24th, 2025