Fifteen Cities
(Prologue)
Author's Note: I was inspired to write this story (although we'll see how far I go with this) by the brilliant story "The Age of Frost" by ragnarok-and-roll-it; which I'd highly recommend that you read! I also drew a lot of inspiration from the film "Almost Famous"; so some of the details very well coincide with it.
Anyway I hope you enjoy it; and it was nice to have a bit of break from my other story at this point. But rest assured, I'm actively working on the next chapter for it.
Tony paused; fingers poised above his typewriter, and focused his attention solely on the radio. The DJ repeated the announcement in his overly enunciated speech, feigning excitement, and then repeated it one more time if anyone had missed it the first two times.
"That's right, folks; you heard it here first! I repeat: Odin's Sons will be headlining their first nationwide tour this summer. Fifteen cities across the good 'ol US of A,"
"Son of a bitch," Tony breathed in sharply, shoving himself away from his desk, and wheeling his chair towards the rotary phone mounted on the wall.
There was only one person who'd have the scoop on this, and well he might have been a little miffed that he hadn't been informed about this earlier. After all, it was Odin's Sons and Tony was their biggest fan; he had already worn out his favorite tee-shirt to rags, and only listened to their album Still Waters Run Deep while driving his badass '69 Impala.
Swiping his fingers along the dial, Tony waited impatiently for the call to go through. One ring, two ring, three ring, three and a half, and then the receiver was picked up with a huff. The usual spiel echoed in his ear from calling so many times within the past five months; and normally he would have listened politely for the other person to finish, but this was big news.
"Hogie, it's me," he opened with, before quickly adding. "Tony Stark, that is. And before you even say a word about Los Angeles' own Johnny Flies High, which by the way are subpar at best with an incredibly stupid name, I need to ask something, like majorly. You know like, why you didn't mention anything about this little fifteen city tour by Odin's fucking Sons?"
"Please, do not call me Hogie for one," the man on the other line said. "And two, we only got word about the Odin's Sons tour around the same time the radio stations did. It's not like we've put them on the cover, so maybe that's why they're playing coy with us."
"Which, Hogie, you can rectify now with this fifteen city tour,"
"Again with that nickname, Stark,"
"Okay, okay, Mr. Hogun," he returned, swiveling in his office chair, and hearing Mountain roar through the radio. "But this is a perfect opportunity, you know, to get on England's good side."
"The Beatles and the Rolling Stones have been on the cover, Stark. You can't please the Queen more than that." Hogun deadpanned.
Tony racked his mind for a way to persuade Hogun into letting him cover the concert. Even though he was only a part-timer, who had lied his ass off about both his job experience and age no less (he claimed to be twenty-one, when in reality he was a few months short of his seventeenth birthday), and only written articles about local bands; this was an opportunity of a lifetime.
"But Odin's Sons is the real deal, and if you write up a huge article on their first U.S. tour, well maybe you won't get cockblocked about their future projects."
"And who said we were that invested in Odin's Sons? They might have had one good record, but their longevity is questionable at this point." Hogun insisted, seemingly distracted. "Besides, Lars will be at the first show in L.A.; he has it covered."
"Lars, you mean, Lars Berry who gave Still Waters Run Deep two and a half stars?"
"He's warmed to the record since then, mostly after seeing them play in Manchester last year,"
"Hogie, meet me halfway," Tony leaned forward, studying the lime green phone. "I am the biggest Odin's Sons fan, and if you give me this scoop you will not regret it. I mean, you used six of my concert reports that I submitted free of charge, as an avid reader of the Stone. So you know I'm good for it; hell, I'll do it for half the charge! I'll even buy my own ticket!"
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the phone, before Hogun sighed in a mixture of exasperation and resignation. Tony heard him shift through the, undoubtedly huge, pile of paperwork on his desk; maybe he was looking for his last review he'd written on a female folk-singer whose name eluded him now.
"I'll consider it," Hogun finally replied, although he didn't sound exactly thrilled to be cornered. "But let's focus on that live report; the sooner it's on my desk, the better."
"I hear you loud and clear," Tony returned, aching to get back to his typewriter and blow Hogun's mind; and really it wouldn't be that hard, he was just that gifted in the writing arena. "And I mean it, Hogie; you will not regret a Stark exclusive about Odin's Sons."
"I'm already regretting it, and I'm technically still in the considering process," Hogun muttered, before ending the phone call without a goodbye.
Tony set the receiver back in its cradle, pushing back towards his cluttered desk. His office set-up wasn't anything too extravagant; but really would a sixteen, almost seventeen, year old have a sophisticated office in the basement of his mother's house? No less, a mother that was almost too drunk to notice her kid had gotten a job as a concert reporter for the Rolling fucking Stone?
It didn't hurt either that Tony had a lot of time on his hands, since he graduated at fifteen and was waiting for his old man, a rich son of a bitch who left his mother close to squalor after the divorce, to write a check and send him to the best university in the country. But the old man wanted him to mature a bit, before traversing the American campus, and all their hippie, anti-war bullshit.
That wouldn't have worked for a weapons manufacturer; and said weapons manufacturer didn't need his only son, legitimate at least, getting wrapped up in that anti-war propaganda. Even though, Tony's interests were directed more towards rock 'n roll than politics.
Positioned back in front of typewriter, Tony reached for his previous focus before being bowled over by the Odin's Sons' announcement; and it didn't take very long to refocus his attention back onto Johnny Flies High and their abysmal set. But in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think about Odin's fucking Sons, and how either way he'd be the one standing in front of center-stage with a notepad and recorder in his pocket. And Lars Berry wasn't about to take it away from him.