A man in a really nice camper puts the Wonders' song on the radio.

Bog set out the last of the records, stepping back to evaluate the overall effect. He reached out and tweaked the sign that read 'That Thing You Do by the Wonders! Only 49¢' until it was perfectly straight, then nodded.

'Angus! Quit fiddling around with those records in the window there! We're not selling records here, are we?'

He looked up to see Harry glaring at him from the back of the store, arms crossed and telltale finger tapping. He was mirrored by Bog's cousin Lizzie – well not really cousin, she was the daughter of Griselda's cousin, however that made them related. She definitely got her temperament from Harry's side of the family. Bog sighed and waved guiltily, moving away from the display and making a circuit of the empty store to demonstrate that he was being a conscientious salesman. Harry had been reading the Telemart ad with Griselda, a sure-fire way to get his blood pressure up. And when his blood pressure was up, he took it out on Bog. Bog wasn't sure why he insisted on reading the ad, anyway. It was almost as if he liked being angry.

A tapping on the window drew him back to the storefront, where a middle-aged man in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt had his hands cupped on the glass, peering into the store. When he saw he had Bog's attention, he waved. Hesitantly, Bog waved back. That didn't seem to be the response the man was looking for, because he waved again.

Bog pointed to the door. 'C'mon in. We're open.'

The man shook his head and motioned for Bog to come outside. Glancing over his shoulder, Bog saw that while Harry had disappeared, Lizzie was still watching him as she swept at the back of the store. He saluted and winked at her, grinning when her eyes narrowed and she did a passable imitation of Harry's glare. She would probably rat him out, but in the meantime, he cautiously went outside. The man met him at the store entrance.

'Can Ah help ye?' he asked dubiously.

The man grinned widely. Too widely. 'You're the drummer, aren't you? Of that group I heard last night, the, the…' he snapped his fingers. 'Down at Brutus'.'

Well that explained the grin. He was a little older than most of their fans, but Bog couldn't blame him for enjoying good music. Relaxing a bit, he nodded. 'The Wonders. Aye.'

'The Wonders. Right.' The man stuck out his hand. 'Phil Horace.'

Bog shook it. 'Bog King.' They stood awkwardly, Phil still grinning. Bog cracked his neck. 'So, uh, did ye want t'buy one o' our records?' He jerked a thumb at the display. 'They're on sale.'

Phil shook his head. 'I don't want to take up anymore of your valuable time. Would you step into my office please?' Gesturing for Bog to follow, he led the way to a somewhat decrepit-looking camper that was parked right in front of the store. Bog winced. Hopefully Phil would move it before Harry caught sight of it, because otherwise there would be a scene, and it wouldn't be pretty.

'Y'know Bog,' Phil said over his shoulder as he opened the back of his camper, 'one of the good things about your group is that there's a nice' - he waved a hand for emphasis as he climbed inside - 'natural, raw quality.' He stuck his head out to grin at Bog. 'I like that.'

'Uh, thank ye?'

'And I wanna tell you, I've been around.' He ducked back into the camper. 'And I think this,' he emerged once more, holding one of their records, 'is a hit record.'

Bog blinked. 'Seriously?'

'I've found that a hit record is like a stew,' Phil remarked conversationally. 'All the ingredients have to cook together just right; otherwise it's just a soup.'

Marianne watched him pass out bowls as he talked. She had a suspicion the strange man had cooked stew for the express purpose of using it to illustrate his point. Accepting her bowl, she sniffed at it gingerly. Sunny and Thang wasted no time digging in. Bog looked as wary as she was, and Roland ignored his bowl completely. Shrugging fatalistically, she tried a spoonful. Not bad.

She'd never seen Bog as excited as he was when he pulled up to practice that afternoon in a weathered-looking camper, not even when they'd won the talent show. His eyes were shining, and his accent had thickened to the point where he was almost incomprehensible. Eventually, they got his account of the odd man who wanted to make That Thing You Do a hit record. It was almost too good to be true.

Sunny and Thang had practically dragged everyone outside to the camper, where Phil was waiting for them to talk over his proposition. Marianne was a little more hesitant, but it really did sound like a great opportunity for the guys. The only one who was less than happy with this new development was Roland. Marianne suspected he was miffed that Phil had approached Bog instead of him, but shook it off. He had every right to be careful.

He set down the paperwork and crossed his arms, a disgruntled twist to his mouth. 'I'm not too sure about this.'

Phil shrugged. 'It's a standard management contract. It says if I do my job, you guys,' he waved at the four band members, crammed around his tiny table with Bog's legs sticking out into the narrow aisle, 'you guys make money.'

Marianne leaned forward and snagged the papers Roland had discarded. It said a little bit more than that, but underneath the legal jargon, Phil's statement was fairly accurate. She glanced up to catch Bog watching her. He looked to the contract and back to her, raising an eyebrow. She nodded infinitesimally. She'd had experience reading contracts for her dad, and the Wonders could do worse than what Phil was offering.

'How do we make money?' Thang asked curiously.

'Yeah, how?' Sunny chimed in. 'We've already got a steady paying gig. You gonna wrangle us up some more? Maybe dances, roller rings, Youth for Christ Jamborees…' He elbowed Thang and laughed.

Phil looked at him levelly. 'I'm talking rock and roll shows in Steubenville, Youngstown, Pittsburgh.' He spread his hands casually. 'Places like that.'

Bog grinned. 'Really?'

'Yup.'

Sunny bounced excitedly. 'Pittsburgh?'

'Steubenville?' Thang seemed in awe.

'And,' Phil held up the record, 'how would you like to hear That Thing You Do on the radio?'

Sunny's hand shot up. 'I'd love to.'

'Aye, sure.' Bog was trying to act casual, but Marianne could tell from the way his face lit up that he was as eager as Sunny.

'Well then, leave it to me. And here's your guarantee: If I don't get this record going, and I mean serious radio airplay inside of a week – ten days at the most,' he plucked the contract from Marianne's grasp and held it up to the guys, 'we'll tear this thing up, and I'm no longer your manager.'

'Can you write that into the contract?' asked Marianne. Sure, Phil seemed like a nice guy, but there was no harm in being cautious.

He winked at her. 'I can see you're the brains of the operation. Sure, we can do that.'

Roland sniffed. 'I don't know. I'm reluctant to sign anything that has to do with my music.'

Sunny rolled his eyes and leaned across Thang to smack Roland upside the head. 'Our music. And what are you, nuts?' He waved his arms, nearly elbowing Thang in the face. 'A man in a, a, a really nice camper wants to put our song on the radio!' He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers impatiently. 'Gimmie a pen.' Bog fished a pen out of his pocket and slapped it into Sunny's hand like it was a scalpel and he was assisting in surgery. Sunny used it to point at his bandmates. 'I'm signing. You're signing. We're all signing.'

As they piled out of the camper, Thang tugged on Bog's sleeve. 'Hey Bog? Can I talk to you for a minute?'

'Aye, what's up?'

Thang plopped onto the couch in Sunny's garage, and Bog gingerly followed suit. While Thang fidgeted without speaking, trying to organize his thoughts, Bog absently watched Roland sling an arm around Marianne's shoulders, causing her to giggle and peck his cheek. He rolled his eyes at their sappy display, but it did remind him that he needed to give Tina a call. Between the band and her toothache, it had been far too long since he'd talked to his girlfriend.

'You were in the Navy, right?' Thang's question dragged Bog's mind back to the present.

'Aye, Ah was.'

'Why? Aren't you Scottish?'

Bog laughed. 'Aye, but mah mom's an American citizen, so Ah have dual citizenship in th'States and th'UK. We move ta Erie after mah dad died, an' Ah got drafted a couple o' years later. Besides, Ah served wi' an Irish guy who was drafted even though he wasnae a citizen. He was livin' in th'States on a green card. He became a citizen, though; said if he was gonna fight fer th'country, he might as well be a citizen. Ah figured if Ah was gonna be drafted, Ah would choose where Ah served, so Ah enlisted in th'Navy. Ah was in fer four years, two months, an' twenty-eight days.'

Thang stared at him in awe. Bog realized it was probably the longest conversation the two of them had ever shared. 'Did you like it?'

'Aye. Ah did, actually.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Why th'sudden interest in mah naval career? Are ye thinkin' o' joinin' up?'

Thang bobbed his head, rattling his teeth in his enthusiasm. 'Yeah. Not the Navy. I've been thinking about joining the Marines, talking to the recruiter downtown.' He bumped Bog's arm lightly with his fist. 'Can't make a living playing guitar, right?'

'Ah see ye've been talkin' t'Harry.'

Thang's eyes widened comically. 'Are you crazy?! Your grandfather terrifies me.'

Bog patted him on the back. 'That just shows ye're an intelligent human bein'.'

Marianne was the one who organized them. She got Bog to supply them with miniature transistor radios – not for free, of course – and she'd charted the most popular music stations and assigned each of them a station to monitor. After three days of near-constant listening, they'd gotten used to hearing the latest hits in the background as they went about their business. Maybe that was why Marianne almost didn't recognize it when the familiar drum intro came on as she was mailing letters on the afternoon of the fourth day. Her eyes widened as the guitars kicked in, and she nearly swallowed her stamp in her excitement. Stuffing the letters in the mailbox, she took off down the street, screaming like a banshee. When she reached the street corner she hesitated, spinning in a circle while continuing to scream. She needed to find the guys, but she wasn't sure where any of them were at the moment. Then she brightened. While she had no idea where Roland, Sunny, or Thang were, she had a pretty good idea of where Bog would be. Sucking in another breath, she raced downtown, screaming and dodging around confused and slightly nervous pedestrians.

As she came up on the Army/Navy store, she saw Thang standing at the door, wearing a uniform jacket and admiring his reflection in the store window. She couldn't remember at the moment which station he was monitoring, but they obviously weren't playing That Thing You Do. He was far too calm, something that she needed to correct immediately.

'We're on the radio!' she screeched. Thang squealed, jumping three feet straight into the air. Without giving him time to recover, she pulled out her earphone and jammed it in his ear, grinning as his face lit up.

'We're on the radio!' he yelled, grabbing her arms and spinning them in a circle.

'We're on the radio!' she agreed, retrieving her earphone and continuing her race to Patterson's. She glanced over her shoulder to see Thang adjusting the station on his radio before running after her.

He overtook her, turning around to run backward so that they could share their excitement. 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!' he stated.

She grinned widely, concurring with his sentiment. 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!'

Bog had been listening to his assigned station, but Harry came up behind him and yanked the earphone out, grumbling about listening to the radio when he should be waiting on customers and ordering him to help a couple of ladies who had just come in. He was explaining the finer points of washing machine colour schemes when he heard distant screaming. His sales pitch trailed off as the screaming got louder, and he realized it was coming toward the store. And it sounded vaguely familiar. He blinked in surprise when Marianne and Thang ran past the window and fell through the door.

'WE'RE ON THE RADIO!' they yelled in unison.

'We're on th'radio?' he asked cautiously, although he realized he could faintly hear the familiar song coming from their earphones.

'WE'RE ON THE RADIO!' Marianne repeated, and launched herself at him, making him stagger as she wrapped her arms around his neck and screamed into his ear. He returned the favour, screaming into her ear and twirling her around once before setting her back on her feet and running for the clock radios. The three of them clustered around the radio, Bog plugging it in while Marianne tuned it and Thang watched over her shoulder, dancing from foot to foot.

When their song came on, they cheered and hugged each other. Bog could hear Harry complaining in the background, but he didn't care. Thang ran over to the large radio in the centre of the store, working the knobs and dials like a professional while Harry yelled at him to keep his grubby hands off the merchandise. He had to hit the side a couple of times, but then the sound kicked in and the store was flooded with their song.

There was a squeal of breaks, only just loud enough to be heard over the music, and Sunny and Roland threw themselves out of Sunny's car, leaving it in the middle of the street while they ran to join the impromptu dance party in Patterson's. As soon as Marianne caught sight of Roland, who was looking slightly confused, she shrieked and tackled him, kissing him soundly.

Everyone was yelling and jumping around. Bog was aware that both Harry and Lizzie were glowering from the back of the store, but their disapproval couldn't dampen his excitement. He wrapped a long arm around each of Thang and Sunny's necks, bouncing them once while laughing maniacally. Soon all five of them were dancing around the big radio, as if it was a bonfire and they were celebrating a pagan ritual. As the last chords died away, they let out a whoop and collapsed in a messy, happy pile.

Griselda charged from the back of the store, hauling Bog to his feet and squeezing him tightly around the middle. 'My boy's on the radio! I'm so proud!'

He hugged her back. 'Thanks, Mom!'

Without letting go of Bog, she managed to wrangle everyone else into the hug as well. 'I'm proud of all of you!'

Bog grinned so wide it felt like his cheeks would split. It was a good day.

He was still riding that high when he called Tina that night. 'Tina! Did y'hear? We were on th' radio!' It seemed like that was the only thing he could say since Marianne and Thang had crashed into the store.

'Oh, I can't believe I missed it.'

'Well, it played three times this afternoon.'

'So you said. But it's not like I haven't heard your song, Angus. I have.'

He pulled the phone away from his ear and squinted at it for a minute. She didn't sound like she appreciated the enormity of the situation. Shrugging, he said, 'Hey, y'know what? There's a big rock 'n roll show this weekend in Pittsburgh. Guess who's playin'?' He grinned, imagining Tina cheering him on while they played to a packed house.

'This weekend? Oh, you won't believe what I have to do. You remember my toothache? Well, I'm getting the crown replaced on my number three molar, and it's going to take all day at the dentist.' Strangely, she didn't sound upset about it.

He frowned. Griselda had mentioned something about the new dentist, but he couldn't remember what it was. 'All day? At th'dentist?'

She hummed distractedly, and he could hear rustling on the other end of the line.

'Ye're gonna miss a whole bunch o' screamin' fans goin' crazy over yers truly!' Bog didn't drink, but he had to wonder if this giddy feeling was anything like being drunk. He felt uncommonly friendly toward the world.

'I think I'll survive. Anyway, I'm tired, so talk to you soon. Don't get into any trouble down there in Pittsburgh.'

'Eh, y'know me, Tina. Ah never do.'

A loud whine came over the line, and he winced. 'Tina? Hello?' There was no answer, just the howl of what sounded like a hairdryer. He shrugged, replacing the handset. Tina might not appreciate the importance of the day's events, but he wouldn't let her indifference ruin his mood. He leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head and grinning at the ceiling. It was a good day, and the weekend would be even better.

I was sorely tempted to rechristen Phil Horace to Phil Coulson, because I kept writing Coulson, but I decided that would be too confusing. The Irish guy Bog served with is my dad, and the main reason that Bog is in the Navy rather than the Army like Guy. Most of this chapter feels kind of meh, but it's necessary. And it gets me back into the story.

More importantly, it's one chapter closer to that glorious day when Marianne drops Roland's cheating carcass.