Chapter 1
Ah, 1965, the year that was loosely based on sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. Or in Arthur Kirkland's case, revenge, slander and playing a mean Wilkinson. Yes, a Wilkinson, the brand of his precious cherry red, electric guitar. Just a little something his daddy gave him to show off to his rival when he arrived in the States. Spoiled rich boy Arthur, going to the States? As absurd as it seems, the very thought ties in well with the situations he experienced during the crazy spring of '65.
'That damn Antonio Carriedo.' He cursed, stepping off the plane and onto American soil.
He glanced around the rather bright and eccentric looking airport, looking for the tall Spaniard. It seemed as if his surroundings were too cheery for his taste, because he glowered at the sight of a baby blue bench. He walked over to it and sat down in a prim manner, laying his guitar case on his lap. He waited about fifteen minutes, huffing a bit and adjusting the woven, flax scarf he had wrapped around his neck. Honestly, the weather in California was much warmer than it was in England. Despite the heat he was unaccustomed to, he didn't bother to take his scarf off. He was finally reduced to leaning over his guitar case, panting for fresh air.
"Ah, you were always the stubborn one Arthur."
Arthur's ears perked up at the sound of Antonio's accented voice.
"Stubborn? How so?" Arthur shot back, turning his rather irritated gaze to his Spanish rival.
"Well for starters, you haven't taken your scarf or coat off, despite being in eighty degree weather, and you're afraid of putting your case down because it might get dirty." Antonio smirked, uttering the last four words with a prissy and girly tone of voice.
The Englishman finally stood up, the handle of his guitar case tucked firmly into the tight hold of his pale fingers. He brushed his scarf back with his free hand and glowered at the smug man in front of him.
"So much for a decent welcome."
"Oh, I'm sorry Arthur, welcome to America! Land of the free home of the brave, ya' know? Now that the introduction you couldn't care less about is over, let's get our asses into gear and head home. Maria and Alfred are waiting for us!"
Antonio face seemed to light up when he mentioned Maria's name, though Arthur couldn't tell why. Grabbing Arthur's many suitcases from the designated revolving belt; Antonio threw them all in the trunk. Ignoring Arthur's complaints about his luggage being 'genuine leather' he made the Brit sit in the back and with a small chuckle, he drove to his own house.
"Maria, I'm back!" Antonio sang out, bursting through the door with the annoyed Englishman trailing behind him.
As soon as Arthur looked at the Mexican woman in front of him, he knew why Antonio seemed so excited in getting back home. Clad in black, plaid leggings with an oversized turtleneck sweater, she looked absolutely lovely. Her dark brown hair was styled with a fringe and decorated with a matching black headband, certainly a popular hairstyle back in England. He looked back at Antonio and analyzed the lovesick look on his face, wondering what she was to him. He certainly found out later that night, when he just so happened to overhear Antonio's loud groans and Maria's sharp whispers warning him to keep quiet.