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In 2029, a special event was held honoring the members of Daisy Jones & The Six, alongside many of the other musical greats from their era. Sparked by the resurgence of the rock genre and the success of retrospective interviews, invitations were sent out to the former members.
Fifty years ago Aurora became a cultural touchstone. Tracks like Aurora and Turn It Off remain at the top of classic rock charts, while Honeycomb and Regret Me remained in the steady Top 40. Enthusiasts across the industry–from podcasters to legacy radio channels–collaborated to create an event to honor those from the past and celebrate the musicians that paved the way for today’s stars.
The event was held in Boise, Idaho. It was the first time The Six had been seen together publicly since 1979.
Billy: The invite was laughable–it was poorly put together and riddled with typos. I nearly send it back with corrections but the guest list was what had caught my eye.
My first thought, which I still stand by, was, “What a joke.”
Do you know how many letters I get? How many invitations I get to events full of frufru, new-age pop artists at poorly arranged events? I sound like a snob, I know. But when Julia was dropping off Beau and Sara, my grandkids, I showed it to her.
She said, “You should go.”
I said, “No way.”
She said, “You can’t avoid them forever.”
Avoid them. At the time, Graham and I hadn’t spoken in weeks. He was off renewing his vows with his girl somewhere in Canada. I hadn’t spoken to any of my nieces or nephews in even longer. Camila–well, talking to her was easier than picking up a phone. Julia told me I couldn’t turn into a bitter, angry old man. [Laughs] It’s hard to argue with a girl like her. She’s got her mother’s spirit.
Daisy: Simone and her daughter were over when I got the invite. Trina open it while Simone and I sipped champagne on the deck. After Simone’s husband passed, she moved in with me. It felt like the 70s again–but sober.
Trina held it out to me. “We invite you” was all I needed to read before I handed it back. Simone snatched it from me.
“You gotta go,” she had said, she flipped it over and put on her glasses. She had these old lady things with a beaded strap that connected them around her neck. God, she would throw a fit if you called them old. “Classy, they’re classy,” she would say in a smooth voice. They were gaudy.
I remember I said, “No way.”
I didn’t mention I’d already received a previous invitation. “Your attendance is encouraged.” I was tempted to send it back, but it made for a better coaster.
Anyway, Simone and Trina took turns reading the invite list and… Billy Dunne.
I hadn’t heard that name in a while, never by choice. Aurora sat on my shelf in the den, his chest and my chest just… there. I never flipped it over, never had the guts to see his face when I still have dreams, memories, albeit hazy from the drugs. I haven’t seen him since Chicago, I haven’t had the guts to reach out–or answer his calls.
Billy: I think we did a Boise tour in our early days, I don’t remember. The guest list was long and impressive. I hadn’t expected to see a Beatle, or a Rolling Stone on the list, let alone a Who. And then I saw her name. Daisy Jones.
I remember… I remember staring at her name. Images rushed in–her hair, our SNL performance, her expression in Chicago. Just thinking of her made me crave a drink.
I heard she got sober around ‘80, maybe ‘81. I got a letter from her–part of some program. I remember Camila was the one who handed it to me. I was in the garage with Julia taking off her training wheels. She was what? Seven? I don’t remember.
Camila said, “You have mail.”
She had this ambivalent expression on her face. Jaw tight. As she stood there, a grey hair poking out in one thick strand on the top of her head that she looked beautiful. She looked so beautiful with grey hair, I always hated when she dyed it.
So, she handed me this letter with a hospital logo, I don’t remember which one, and it told me she had gotten help. I don’t remember what it said, I think it was part of some AA program, one of those fill in the blanks letters they offer you. Graham got one too–only the names were changed.
I kept it folded up in the drawer in my office. I haven’t opened it since.
Daisy : I felt like an imposter when I first got sober. I stopped writing for a while. The NA support group met in the church around the back of the hospital, it smelt like mildew. When I mentioned it to the pastor, he said he would pray for me [Laughs].
I don’t remember much of it except how freeing it was being around people who didn’t know me. They had us write letters to anyone we’d ever wronged–or maybe it was anyone I had ever known. I don’t know, but I wrote letters to everyone in The Six. They gave you a prompt and you simply had to rewrite it. It was easy. I wrote letters to The Six, to Simone, Rod, some guy I forgot the name of, and Camila.
Camila was the only one who responded
She wrote, “I’m proud of you. Stay solid Daisy Jones.”
Billy: When Graham came back from Canada, he brought over his grandkids and we had a barbecue. I could tell Graham was happy, it was all I had ever wanted and.. I was just glad to see him smile as his granddaughter who must’ve been eleven or twelve at the time taking it upon herself to watch us flip burgers.
He said he wanted to go to the event. I was surprised. We’re old men left behind. The last thing I wanted to do was be in a room surrounded by other geriatrics waiting to be forgotten. It felt absurd. But he said, “it would be fun.”
I didn’t believe him.
Graham: Jeanie and I had been on a cruise around Alaska and wow. It had been a while since we had done anything like that. In ‘26, we went to Australia and she said, “Next time I want to see snow.”
Jeanie was having some health problems, she kept forgetting where she was or what we had been doing. Once, I woke up to her vacuuming at 3 in the morning. Said the dog had thrown up and she would be back to bed in a little bit. Our dog died the summer before. A doctor told us she had early-stage dementia. She asked me three times on the way home where we were going.
I promised her snow, so I took her to snow. We renewed our vows in Juneau. She wore this red dress with gold straps, her hair was braided down her back. She asked me if she looked beautiful–every time, I told her yes.
The invitation was waiting for me in the mailbox at home. Warren had emailed me telling me to go. We talk sometimes, Warren and I. He sends an ungodly amount of pictures, he loves taking selfies as the kids call it. [Laughs] He sends me so many pictures of his grandkids, he’s a proud papa and loves his kids. He had a great grandbaby, little Leah.
So, I got an email from him, in all caps, it said, “COME TO BOISE.” With a picture of him and Lisa in front of the Capitol Building. It turned out he flew out the second he got the invite–no RSVP, no phone call. He rented a home at the base of a mountain and spent his days with Lisa eating, drinking, and apparently sending me so many pictures. After the twentieth photo, I had no choice but to say yes.
Simone: I told Daisy I’d go with her. She’s my girl and I got her back. And Robert Plant was on that list–no way I was missing that.
Billy: I kept trying to get Graham to agree that it was ridiculous. We never went to reunions. In ‘91, we got invited to an awards show–no one showed up, and we didn’t win a thing.
He just said, “It’ll be fun.”
It’ll be fun? Really? I don’t know why I agreed but somehow I said I’d go.
Graham: Yeah, he surprised me. I told him Warren was going too and he just shrugged.
Daisy: I told Simone I’d only go if she did. I really didn’t want to go anywhere unless she was there, I couldn’t imagine being around people I was convinced hated me. Simone was pretending to be calm, but Trina and I could tell she was excited. The event was in August–we had a few months, We spent all those months swimming and eating good food.
We flew out the day before. There was a hotel was in the middle of the city. Simone was so excited, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the windows. We spent that night at fancy bars, drinking lemon martinis, and taking pictures of eachother like we were thirty. God, I loved that feeling.
Simone had these bell bottoms on, she got so many compliments. I remember the bartender called them ‘vintage’ and how ‘they were making a comeback’. Simone was laughing so hard, she kept making me look her in the eyes. She said, “Are we old? Oh no, we’re old.”
I said, “We’re classics.” She really liked that.
“Classics,” she would repeat it to herself and to anyone that listened. She wore those bell bottoms everyday on that trip.
I wore a dress she and Trina had made for my birthday the year prior. It was long, down to my ankles. It had those long sleeves that flowed over the hands, the ones that were popular in the ‘70s. It was this beautiful cream color. I loved that we didn’t dress our age. It was rather freeing.
The day of the event we got dressed and posed for each other. I decided to wear that dress again matched with a pair of flats and a thick headband. She wore a leather jacket, it was so shiny I kept telling her she was blinding me. The event itself had easy admission, a line of guards and fans in the streets. I knew I had young fans, teens to kids, but seeing a group of young teen girls with my face on their shirts is a different feeling entirely.
It was like mini red carpet in that alley. They didn’t tell us it was a meet-and-greet until I was surrounded by a ton of girls taking selfies and having a professional photographer on standby. I loved it though, I hadn’t felt that high since… well. And I wasn’t even high! I remember a girl had that same bob I had in the late ‘70s, her roots were blonde and the hair looked better on her than it ever did on me.
Another group even surrounded Simone. I lost her for a little bit but when we got inside she was buzzing, a big smile on her face.
We were one of the first people inside, a few other people mingled at the bar. I swear I saw Ringo Starr near the stage but I couldn’t tell if it was him or not. It was actually a lot more put together than I thought it would be. There were clusters of standing tables, a few younger women in short dresses that had cameras around their necks, the stage was empty besides the tall microphone.
Warren: I never thought I’d ever see Daisy again but Lisa pointed her out and I hugged her before she could even argue.
Daisy: One moment I’m accepting a drink from Simone and the next arms around wrapped around me. I spilt my drink.
Warren: She got her drink all over my shoes and pants. Sticky as hell. Lisa tried helping me in the bathroom later but we never got that stain out. Daisy looked good, she looked real good. Healthy and happy. That was all that really mattered.
Daisy: I hugged him once I put the remainder of my drink on a table. He was tan and was clearly trying to regrow his mustache but failing miserably. I told him he looked silly and I don’t think he’s ever looked more offended.
Warren: Silly?! Can you believe it?
Graham: We flew in the morning of the event. I had to make sure Jeanie could stay with her sister–which, let me tell you, took some effort. Look, I love my sister in law, but boy is she a hard woman to get anything from.
Billy was quiet most of the time, he drank an insane amount of water at the airport and I swear, he had to pee every thirty minutes on that flight and then complained about having to pee every thirty minutes.
Around ‘93, he retired the denim and finally embraced cotton. I told him I was proud of him, and he told me to eat it. For the event, he pulled out a button-up and a pair of dark jeans. He didn’t look like a rockstar–more like an accountant. I couldn’t get him to cut his hair. He told me I was jealous because I’m bald.
We were half an hour late because Billy kept trying to get me to skip the event. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so cold-footed.
Billy: We were nearly an hour late because he wanted to call Jeanie when we stopped at a gas station. When we finally got to the event, we could barely get in. I wasn’t expecting such a crowd. There were Daisy Jones shirts, The Six merch, and even Dunne Brothers tees. Photos, autographs, screaming fans–it felt like the ‘70s again.
I had quit smoking shortly after my grandkids were born, but man, did that itch come back fast when strangers kept telling me how much they loved me–or Daisy–or both. I don’t know, it’s a lot for an old man.
Inside was even more surreal. It’s not every day you see Ringo Starr and Robert Plant standing at a bar chatting.
[Pauses]
Then I saw her. Daisy Jones.
She hadn’t noticed me yet. She was wearing a white dress. Her hair, more grey than red, nearly shimmered in the lights. She looked so… healthy. Radiant. Her smile completely lit up her whole face as she chatted to none other than Warren Rhodes. Graham had disappeared the second we walked through that door and in that moment I wanted nothing more than a little support.
Daisy: I saw him when he walked through the door. He was wearing a dress shirt and dark pants. Thin, tall. That hair. He had a salt and pepper stubble going on that could be seen from across the room but he still looked so damn handsome.
We made eye contact.
Billy: I didn’t know what to say when I went over. But Warren helped out–hugging me with a gruff laugh, serving as the buffer I needed.
I said, “Nice ‘stache.”
He said, “Glad to know someone can appreciate it.”
And then Daisy was hugging me. I… Sorry.
Daisy : He smelt like the sun and old linen. [Laughs] He had those deep smile lines that made me fuzzy. It was always the smiles for me.
I held onto him tightly, and when he finally hugged back, I couldn’t help but smile into his shoulder.
He had this look on his face, happy and lively, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the faded freckled across his nose, the smell of his skin… He felt like a lifetime ago yet he remained familiar in a way I don’t think I could ever articulate.
We were quiet for a moment, just kind of looking at each other. His eyes were unfocused, his smile slight.
Billy: She said, “You got old.”
I said, “So did you.”
I half-expected her to take offense, but she smiled all big, her eyes soft like I had just said something profound. She carried herself like someone who had a good life. That meant the world to me.
She asked, “How are your girls?”
I said, “Great. I have grandkids now.”
She said, “So do I.”
She showed me some pictures–her boys, her granddaughters–and I… I was so incredibly happy for her. She deserved the life she had, she deserved so much.
Then she said, “I’m sorry about Camila.”
It was hard hearing that. Camila had died almost twenty years ago at that point, I thought I had come to terms with it. I saw her face everywhere: at home, in my office, at my girls’ houses. It didn’t hurt anymore, my heart is still with her but hearing Daisy say that? It felt like a reminder that she was gone.
I said, “Me too.”
Daisy: He hugged me again. I wasn’t expecting it, but when I hugged back I knew I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t go the rest of my life not knowing if Billy Dunne was okay.
Graham: Warren was on me before I knew what was happening. I was mid-conversation with Paul McCartney–chill guy, by the way–when I feel an ice cube down the back of my shirt.
I excused myself so Warren could hug me.
He had a stupid smile on his face, keeping his arm slung around me as he dragged me over to Lisa. She was glowing, she told me how good it was to see me and how excited Warren was for the reunion. He hugged me again just because Lisa insisted.
Eddie: Pete wasn’t going, and frankly, I didn’t want to either. I hadn’t seen Billy Dunne in almost fifty years, so why on earth would I willingly choose to now?
Back in 2020, I had a stroke. It left me in this chair. It was a rough start, I refused to even learn how to use the chair. It was manual for the first two years, and when PT didn’t work, I gave up. It really sucks to admit I’ll never walk again, but it’s true.
I got my new wheelchair in ‘23–fancy controls and everything.
I thought about going. Smiling for the cameras, shaking Billy’s hand. But with the chair and my new set of blood pressure meds, I just couldn’t swing it.
But it’s okay. I met my girl Tonya at a casino hall a couple years ago. My black beauty. [Laughs] She loves it when I call her that. She’s got these two boys who worship her and I’m not far behind them.
Warren: I made Graham take so many pictures with me. My grandkids love the fact that I take pictures like them so I made sure to send as many pictures I could.
He was telling me about his kids, his grandkids, his hot sauce empire. Man, it took a lot in me not to tell him the sauce is shitty.
Then he asked about Karen.
Graham: He said, “Cancer.”
From: Karen Sirko
To: Julia Dunne Rodriguez
Date: July 28, 2029.
Subject: Reunion Interview
Thank you for reaching out. And yes, my cancer came back.
I was first diagnosed in 2001. Stage 2 brain cancer. Chemo took my hair, my weight, and sometimes I’m convinced my height. I’m not looking for pity.
I went into remission. But last year, it came back. I have a full head of hair now and enough meat on my bones to keep me going. I’m an old lady. I won’t survive another round of chemo.
I wish everyone in the Six the best and hope they have had fulfilling lives. I know I did and I don’t regret a thing. I’m lucky to be old and still clear headed.
I leave for India August 4 for a soul-searching trip. If I’m still around by the time you finish your project, I owe you an interview.
Thanks, Karen.
Daisy: The stage was right there. I had forgot what it felt like to be on one. Billy and I made simple conversation. He was telling me about his girls, his music, Graham, and all I could think was: Wow. Life was bright and beautiful.
If I were younger, I’d write a song about it.
There were so many people chatting, so many of the music greats mingling and all I wanted to do was listen to Billy and watch the way he smile when talking about his daughters. He was beaming. I used to be envious of that happiness. Not just from him, from anyone, I was upset that they got that and I didn’t. Now I have it and I was just… proud of him.
He said, “You look good.”
And I said, “You do too.”
Someone got on stage, there was polite clapping that told me it was probably one of the event coordinators. Warren wedged his way between Billy and me, hugging Billy, and whispering about how good it was to see him. It was sweet.
A projector lit up the wall behind the woman. A moment of silence for those who passed: George Harrison, Keith Moon, Charlie Watts, Davy Jones… then Karen Sirko.
It felt like I had just been punched, like the air left my lungs in that moment. I must’ve looked sick because I felt a hand on my arm.
Billy: I thought she knew but the way she got pale just hurt. I remember rubbing her shoulder as the projector turned off, and she reached up, covering my hand with hers.
My fingers burned.
I hadn’t realized there were photographers at the event until I was home and saw my hands on some magazines.
The woman onstage was reading out her thanks to the attendees, read statements from the ones that couldn’t be there. I remember around the end, she said, “And I would like to present an award to those here tonight.”
She called Daisy’s name–for Inspirational Women in Music.
I remember she was glowing. Literally. The stage lights lit her up like a dream. Maybe a memory is a better description. She smiled as she accepted the small trophy. I inspected it later in the night–it was stainless steel but it had that cheap look like it was a toy. Daisy had this smile on her face. God, it was addictive.
Did Warren tell you he got an award too? Best Drummer . He tripped on the first step and told me to bite him when I went to help. [Laughs] The look on his face.
Daisy: Warren ran off with Lisa after he got his award, he was getting himself a well deserved drink.
Billy and I lingered quietly around a table. He looked tired. That harsh line between his brows was deeper, and I just wanted to soothe it with my fingers.
Instead, I said, “Buy me a drink?”
He gave me this smile I hadn’t seen in decades and said, “Sure.”
I was worried at first but he easily bought himself a club soda with a few limes. I watched those strong fingers squeeze the wedges into the glass and I knew: that he was still solid. Fifty years sober. I was proud of him.
I sipped a gross martini that tasted like a wet rag, but it gave me something to do.
Billy had this look on his face, something unreadable that made me worry. I reached out and offered my hand. I never expected him to take it but when he did. I couldn’t help the smile on my face. Feeling those rough hands was an anchor I thought I forgot. His hands were weathered and full of life. When his thumb rubbed over the back of my hand, I couldn’t stop smiling.
[Laughs] Oh God, I know I looked so stupid.
Billy: She looked beautiful.
I don’t remember how, but we ended up in a dark corner away from the cameras. Warren was out on the dance floor, Lisa in his arms. They were a sight.
The event continued with or without our participation: clapping, flashing of cameras. Even when my eyes wandered, I couldn’t keep them off her.
Daisy had this was of looking at you that would just get under your skin. It was comforting and terrifying all at once. It was the same thing that made me hate her in the ‘70s–the sharpness in her gaze, the way her eyes pulled you in..
I found myself, against better judgement asking, “You ever think about what would have happened?”
I honestly expected her to pretend like she didn’t understand. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. But she nodded and said, “Only if I let myself.”
I just drank my soda hoping the lime would be a good distraction.
“I think we would’ve burned down everything,” I told her.
She laughed and said, “We did.”
Daisy: The band. The tour. That night in Chicago. The hospital. It was all I could think about when he asked that.
Billy never gave into that fantasy–not then, not really. I wasn’t blind to his commitment to Camila, to sobriety. Now as I’m older, I can recognize how noble that was. Even if the girl in me just wanted him to tell me he had wanted me. It’s ridiculous, but you never really grow up in some ways.
We didn’t need to talk. Being near him like that, feeling those worn hands in my own just felt right.
People started filing out, I saw Simone looking for me in the crowd but I wasn’t ready to leave. Not until they started playing Impossible Woman . Billy’s jaw went tight, and like that, his hand was gone.
Billy: I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I asked her if she wanted to get some air, and followed her outside.
The air was cool and most of the lingering crowd had wandered down to the bars. We walked in silence to the hotel she was staying at, I was surprised how close she was.
We stood outside and I hugged her.
Daisy: If I could’ve frozen that moment, I would’ve. He was so warm. So incredibly warm I couldn’t let go–not yet at least. I… God, that was hard.
I told him I’d call. He said he’d answer.
I believed him.
When he pulled away, I think–maybe–he kissed my forehead. I’m not too sure. He squeezed my arm, and he was gone once again.
I spent my late twenties wondering if we just never got the timing right. But now? I just don’t think there ever would have been a “right” time for Billy Dunne and Daisy Jones. I wanted to tell him about Camila’s letter, about the record in my den, the faces in my dreams–but I just couldn’t.
Not when he offered me that wistful smile.
“Don’t be a stranger,” that’s what he said and I swear my knees buckled as he walked away.
When I got home, I flipped over Aurora .
From: Daisy Jones
To: Billy Dunne
I never thanked you for the drink.
If you ever feel like talking, my inbox is open. If not, that’s okay too.
I’ll see you in the music.
Stay Solid, Daisy.