Work Text:
“When was the last time we cleaned up here? Do we need all this?” Open cardboard boxes and their contents were strewn across the floor, filled with snippets of the life they’d lead; old costumes, magazines, dusty roller-blades, relics from their numerous past ventures –individually and together,-- items that hadn’t seen the light outside the storage room in years but were too sentimental to throw out.
“They’re our memories! I’d say we have the space for it anyway.” The storage room was spacious, larger than the rooms any of the band had grown up with, maybe larger than necessary. They had no trouble moving around even surrounded the mess.
“I can’t argue with that,” Kira picked a piece of paper out from the stack she was leafing through. “It’s just… a receipt from 1995?”
“Turn it around.”
It was a crude doodle of their Dinah, their old cat. Incredulous that Christie had kept it for all these years, she breathed a fond chuckle and returned it to the stack.
“What is that pick even doing up here?" Christie asked, "Shouldn’t it be in the music room? Or, even better, already back with him?” Among the objects an old guitar pick, the object of their search, the one Derek had used throughout the run of their band career before passing on to their daughter when she started getting into music, since, quote, he ‘wasn’t planning on having kids himself’. When she moved out, it found its way back to them.
“You wanted to keep it somewhere safe, didn’t you? And anyway, is it our fault? He said “You can keep it.” Which doesn’t usually mean “I’ll be back for it in a decade.””
“Oh hush, he’ll be here any second now.” She continued pulling items out of the box, then going over everything laid out.
“This wouldn’t have happened if we started looking earlier.” Kira muttered in a sarcastic singsong voice, before heaving a defeated sigh. “I would have started sooner if I knew it’d be so hard to find.”
“You just had to see if that set of records worked.”
“It was signed, you don’t know how much that could be worth nowadays.”
“And to pay respects. Why keep them if we aren’t gonna use them.”
“We’re ruining our credibility as collectors.” Her half-hearted chiding was interrupted by the repetitive ringing of a doorbell, and the accompanied dread of wondering ‘how long have I been missing that.’
Christie left for the door, and she followed, less spry from comparative lack of activity and absence from the stage.
“Did we keep you waiting too long? We haven't had any luck finding that pick.”
“Don't worry about it,” Derek laughed, and glanced around the room. “I’ll help you find it, it’s been a while since we caught up-- in person, I mean.”
“You’re absolutely right. Do you want some coffee?” Before he could answer, she turned and called out to Kira, who was only standing a short distance behind them. “Dear, could you put on some coffee?”
“Slow down, we haven’t even said hi.” They exchanged hugs, and she made off.
As Christie went down a list of all the keepsakes they’d dug up and their attached nostalgias, he took a moment to absorb his surroundings; the walls were covered in framed family pictures, pages from Kira’s sketchbook, and photos from the numerous events and ceremonies they’d attended, a number of them from their band days.
The effigy of a younger man stared down at him from a shelf, almost daring him to grimace; He’d argue that he’s aged pretty well. His tie-in Barbie and The Rockers doll stood next to stacks of CDs and the rest of the collection, but it was the only one with a hand chewed off. Must’ve been that cat.
On the fireplace rested a collection of records and trophies amid porcelain trinkets. His eye was caught by a glittering silver one, and he scanned over to the framed photograph of Christie at the Tonys, her curls drawn back into a voluminous low ponytail, and her dress a swirling pattern of red, green and white. Amid the recognizable prestigious rewards were occasionally larger but noticeably cheaper looking ones. He picked one up and read the plaque; It was for their daughter’s grade school talent show.
“Derek?” Christie snapped him out of his stupor.
“Sorry, just looking around.”
“Don’t mind the doll-- the chewed hand makes him one-of-a-kind.”
“Send the cat my thanks.”
They made left to the storage room, wading through open boxes and their contents scattered across the floor. Sorting through boxes of promotional material, cds and the occasional piece of doll furniture, was more nostalgia for him than he’s personally comfortable with. He shifted over to the… non-Rockers boxes.
He held up the jar of teeth.
She glanced over. “Baby teeth.”
He sat it down next to the sealed bag labeled ‘Erika’s first haircut.’
“You’d understand if you had kids.”
“I’d be lucky for them to be as interested in music as yours was.”
“I’ve always offered to get her in touch with my connections, but you know how she was always embarrassed when the Rockers came up. She didn’t want to be seen as a “nepo-baby.””
“If my moms were rockstars I wouldn’t shut up about it.”
“Try telling her that,“ she giggled, “It is a little strange seeing the band show up in those little “Ten Things You Didn’t Know About This Actor” lists. You almost forget we practically ruled the charts in ‘86.”
“Speaking of,” the playbill to her most recent show had a slightly glistened under the warm lighting, “How’s work? I haven’t heard any news lately.”.
“I haven’t landed a new role yet, but, you know, it’s getting harder to find them at my age.”
“Well, retirement is just around the corner for us.”
“Don’t say that. I couldn’t give up the stage-- not yet, anyway,” the laugh she gave him carried a twinge of discomfort that told him not to push it.
“Oh, I’m not doubting it. You’re still as sharp as ever.”
“It’s fine, Derek. I guess it’ll have to come up eventually.”
But not now, he thought. They were in their 60s, they still had a number of years left in them. He wasn’t sure why he’d even brought it up.
Kira returned, a mug in each hand and a 3rd tucked in her arm, for herself, filled with hot chocolate. She sat the mugs down on the nearest surface before it could burn a hole through her sleeve, and he thanked her.
“You shouldn't carry all that, you could’ve called us!” Christie crossed her arms.
“It’s nothing. You’re welcome, by the way.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek, and Christie's feigned annoyance dissolved into a smile and a ‘thank you dear’.“See you’ve been through the merch. Nobody has more Rockers memorabilia than Christie.” She was glancing over his shoulder at the slightly faded poster from their infamous foray into country music. From the looks of it, the entire attic was a record of her life in souvenir-form.
“Don’t tell the collectors,” She raised a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.
“Have you heard what people have been saying about us on the internet? I thought we left time travel rumors in the 90s.”
“I don’t bother with that social media crap anymore-- but you wouldn’t believe the number of phone calls I’ve gotten about time traveling and cloning and body doubles since since the memoir released. I had an interview last week, and I specifically said ‘Don’t bring up the Sensations.’ It took them one question! You’d think they’d get tired of asking about that by now, even as a joke.”
“Think about it this way,” Kira shifted closer to them, “You know what other famous rockstar was accused of being a body double?”
“That doesn’t make it any more reassuring. And it’s not even the same situation.” In a flip of a switch, he stopped sulking, catching the girls’ attention. “Found it,” in his hand was a glittering, colorful pick with their band logo engraved into it. The girls shared a look of mild annoyance at the fact that it was jammed between the cardboard folds at the bottom of one of the first boxes they checked. “Thanks for going through all the trouble, my niece will be happy about this.”
“Tell her we said Happy Birthday,” Christie said, Kira nodding in agreement.
“Why don’t we try it out?” Derek got up. “Jam session, for old time’s sake.”
The trio made their way through walls lined with instruments and recording equipment and pauses at a familiar bass. They’d set the studio up as a birthday gift for their girl before she moved out, but now Kira mostly just used it for covers. Framed photos of the 6 of them with other musicians kept his mind occupied while they set up the equipment; the likes of Janet Jackson, Dolly Parton, and Mariah Carey, among others.
“Our broadway star should take lead vocals,” He said with a flourish.
“Oh you,” She waved him off.
“Are you flirting with my wife?” Though the corners of Kira’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, she didn’t look up from tuning her guitar.
“Don’t mind me.” After the three of them settled into their positions, he looked up at the both of them, waiting for the okay. “Well, what should we play?”
“Born With a Mic? A classic.” Christie suggested.
Approval sounded over the group, and she kicked off the beat, to a clumsy start of a performance.
“Hold on, let’s start over.”
Despite being rusty from years of separation, once they found the rhythm, it was like nothing had changed. For the next few songs the music drowned the world out and they were back on tour, dressed in bright neons and without all the ails that come with age, somewhat offset by the absence of half the band.
As the last notes of the last song faded out, Christie let out a long, melancholic sigh. “Don’t you miss those days sometimes?”
Uncertainty clouded Kira’s eyes for a moment, the uncertainty of seeing where the conversation was headed, caught through an understanding fostered by decades of companionship, “We had fun. Not that we’d be able to do it anymore.”
“Bands do reunions all the time, I’m sure we could figure something out.”
“Not all of us can still sing and dance on a stage for several hours, or have the energy to deal with the problems that came with touring as a band.” She admittedly missed the thrill, but wouldn’t admit that here. She wasn’t sure she could.
“Simpler choreo, and we won’t do any hard songs,” Christie sat the drumsticks down and walked to a framed photo of their last tour as a band, one taken after Ken and Dana had walked out. “We’re more experienced wiser now, we could do it better! It’d be like the old touring days, all 6 of us, but without all the band drama and label interference.”
Derek sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. “I’m not sure about that.”
“She can’t see through her rose-tinted glasses,” Kira's guitar lightly clanked against the stand as she moved to where she was standing, and spoke in a quieter tone, “It sounds nice, but we have to be realistic.”
“First of all, how would we even get everyone back together?” He laid the bass aside and joined them.
Christie grabbed Kira’s shoulder, “What about Barbie? She was filming nearby-- oh, a couple weeks ago. We went out for lunch,” she turned to him, “it’s too bad, you barely missed her.” Everyone loves a lead singer, and everyone loved Barbie. She loved the band, and she always supported their solo ventures, but after the 6 of them split up for good, she was the one who remained the most visible in the mainstream consciousness(“Diva” had a solo rock act for a while. Controversy from some bad run-ins with paparazzi overshadowed a lot of the good will she’d accrued from the Rockers act, but after the storm had died down, she settled into her own niche fanbase.) Offers for record deals and brand deals and TV appearances just seemed to find her. Even during the subsequent trio act with Teresa, Barbie was the label’s darling, and it was hard to tell whether or how much she was of conscious of that. She’d largely moved away from music at this point, but…
“She’s always working on a fashion line or a movie," Derek added, "Maybe another PhD or something. Good luck trying to book her for a tour.”
“Ken?” Derek shot Kira a look, and she brushed it off. “Might be harder to convince him.” The Rockers’ former manager and, for a while, band-mate. Him and Derek seemed to have patched things up in the recent years, but she figured it could be best to get the other girls onboard first before trying to bring him into this. Once the dust had settled, different fragmented portions of the group would play around with the idea of a reunion over text, at different times, but as nothing came of it the discussions slowly ceased. It wasn’t like anything would happen, but it didn’t hurt to toss around ideas.
“I know they all have their own schedules, but we can work around it,” the excitement waned for a moment, and her voice took on a more serious air. “Only if you two are up for it?”
“If you somehow get the others on board,” They turned to Derek for his response.
“Listen…” His gaze darted between the two of them and various spots in the room, before nervously laughing. “If this falls through, it’s not on me.”
“Great! What are we waiting for?”
“Right now?” He asked. “Shouldn’t we think this over?”
“Do we even still have the rights to the Rockers?”
“We can work out the details after we have everyone.”
Derek and Kira exchanged an incredulous glance, and she chimed in, “They-- they’re all so busy!”
“Midge isn’t, and she might need a bit of financial help. With the lawsuit and all.”
“I mean...” She didn’t have it in her to shut the idea down completely, not seeing how excited it made her. Rattling off things that could get in the way, they followed her to the living room, their concerns not slowing her at all.
“Well,” Derek shrugged, “It might be worth talking about, at least.”
Midge’s new number was written on a postcard from Willows Wisconsin off the mantelpiece of a woman in a leather jacket posing in front of a motorbike with several family members at varying stages of life. Flashes of red blazed through her graying hair, shorter than it used to be, and her presence eclipsed that of the lanky man standing next to her. Dee Dee threw an inquisitive look to the two, who were now standing just behind her. They nodded for her to go on, and she fumbled around with her phone and dialed the phone number in with her index finger one-by-one.