Chapter Text
1997 – Present Day
Mike Wheeler had yet to look up at the camera. He was busy inspecting the cuff of his Ralph Lauren sweater. He had his lips pressed in a thin line, his brow furrowed, contemplative. It was nearing November, and Kelsey didn’t know why he insisted on doing this outside. The audio was going to be poor already, but she didn’t say that. His property was private enough that the sound of traffic couldn’t reach them.
“You ready?” She clicked the camera on, the blinking light coming to life.
Mike sat up straighter, finally looking into the lens instead of at her. “How long is this going to take?”
His hair, still black for the most part, curled in the same way it used to in the old photos Kelsey spent years parsing through. He was graying a little, sparse strands like salt in the waves. His eyes were tired, worn, and there were distinct lines etched into his face like a man who had seen too much.
“As long as you want it to,” she said.
Mike bent one leg over his knee, crossing them, and placed his hands on the arms of the lounge chair. He took a deep breath, chest filling out the front of his sweater. His jaw was tense.
“So, the others, they also agreed to this?” He asked.
“They did, yeah.” She adjusted the light on the camera, looking at him through the viewfinder. “Start from the beginning. How did you become a part of the band?”
Mike exhaled a huff of a laugh through his nose. He rubbed his fingers over the grainy wood of the chair. “Well, in Hawkins, boys my age had two choices: becoming ‘The Man’ that sat at the head of the table with a newspaper, not giving a damn about the world around them, or there was the war. I didn’t want any part of it. Both options were a death sentence in their own way. You get killed in the trenches of Vietnam, or you become a slave to some no-name corporation that was polluting the very air you breathed.”
“I always wanted more, even when I didn’t allow myself to really hope for it. Back then, it felt like my world was so small. My mom was a big drinker, so she wasn’t really in the picture. Who knows what happened to her after I left, but my dad was a different story. He was always there in the beginning, a part of the house for as long as I can remember, until he left. Then, it was really just me and my sisters. We weren’t too bothered by the whole thing. Mom was a chore to deal with. Dad… he couldn’t be bothered with us too much unless it was to remind me that I was going to end up just like Mom.”
“It was why the friends I had meant so much to me at the time, why they still mattered decades later. They kept me sane. So many of the guys we went to school with were pulled out for the lottery draft, but we got lucky. Lucas, Dustin, and I managed to skirt by unscathed, but we couldn’t say the same for everyone else. We had some guys we knew who never came home. It was… It was a tragedy. There was a weight on the entire country at the time, and for some reason, it had everyone feeling special in their grief. I wasn’t exempt from that.”
“You see, Lucas was always this huge romantic back in the day. He was like a puppy dog discovering a chew toy for the first time.” He chuckled to himself. “God, to him, a girl breaking his heart was just about all he could take when we were in high school. It was the usual teenage angst, but I told him– I said, ‘There are plenty of girls out there. Plus, you can play guitar.’ I guess that gave him the idea to start a band.”
—
“Oh yeah, I remember that.” Lucas grinned as he spoke, petting the head of the sleeping dog in his lap. “We were running the mile in gym class. Can you believe that? We were still doing that archaic shit even when the world was at war. It seemed stupid to me, like, here we are running around a football field in these tiny little matching shorts, and my buddies were overseas trying to stay alive. It’s easier to talk about now than it was at the time.”
“Is that what inspired your music at first? The war?” Kelsey asked. She had brought a chair over to perch herself next to the camera, so it felt more like a conversation than an interrogation.
“It inspired Mike, that’s for sure.” He scratched the side of his face, the edge of his well-kept beard that had the same flecks of grey that littered Mike’s hair, albeit a darker shade. “I mean, you couldn’t help but think about it all the time. I remember we used to play in his basement. His mom never complained, always knocked out cold by the time we’d get home from school. Mike was a lot more passionate about the whole thing after I proposed the idea, so he used some of the money he had been saving up while working at the ice cream shop to buy some shitty amps and other equipment.”
“Dustin already had his own drum set that his mom got him for Christmas the year prior. It was a pipedream, to him, but he liked to mess around on them for fun, and he was pretty damn good at it, too. We didn’t even have lyrics at first; we were just getting the hang of some of the instruments. Dustin had his drums. Mike had learned to play guitar way before any of that. I think he bought it with his dad’s credit card before he bolted. Anyway, I already knew I wanted to play bass. A lot of people think the bass is pretty useless, but they just don’t know music. Dustin and I were more than happy to back Mike’s guitar.”
Lucas leaned back against the couch. The dog startled and jumped to the floor, shaking off the sleep that clung to it, and trodded off with the soft clinking of its collar.
“It was a ragtag group of kids just having some fun. We didn’t get serious until we played at this dive bar just outside of Hawkins. We had played something like ten proms, some sweet sixteens, and some engagement parties. We weren’t even that big around town. People knew us, sure, but it wasn’t like we were getting recognized on the street. Anyway, that show at The Pitcher changed everything.”
—
Dustin was smiling, watching Kelsey as she fiddled with the camera and tried to get it to stand up straight. They had set up in his study. He was rolling a crystal paperweight around over the surface of his desk.
“Sorry, I don’t know why it won’t just— There! Perfect. Are you ready?” She clicked the record button despite not getting an answer.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he said.
“Very funny.” Kelsey sat down in the chair that she positioned just behind the camera. “Can you tell me a little bit about the early days of the Brave Brothers?”
“Wow. I haven’t heard anyone call us that in years. Did Mike tell you about that, or did you find one of our flyers in those archives of yours? Mike came up with the name. Shocker, I know, he wasn’t all that original. We were fooling around in his basement, and we didn’t even have a keyboardist or a second guitar player. It was rocky at first, but all bands start out that way. In those days, you only really mattered on the radio, and all we had going for us was word of mouth around town. It was Lucas’s idea to start playing at bars and not just sit around waiting for some chick’s mom to ask us to play at her daughter’s birthday party.”
“It was sometime in the fall of ‘70, and it was a cold season that year. No one was really going out on a weeknight, so we didn’t expect a huge crowd, but The Pitcher was packed. Maybe the people thought some liquor would keep them warm. We were the only live act of the night. ‘The headliners,’ Lucas called us, even though it wasn’t even a real show. We were performing for a bunch of drunks who couldn’t remember their own name, let alone ours. My hands were raw and red from all the rehearsals earlier that week, but it didn’t matter. I knew that was the price I had to pay to be a good drummer. Regardless, we were totally rippin’ in there. That was before it all went to shit.”
“What happened?”
Dustin rested his elbows on the desk and ceased his fidgeting with the paperweight. He avoided looking in the lens. “Did Mike tell you it was okay to talk about his family?”
“I’m not cross-contaminating the interviews.”
He sighed.
“Alright. His dad was a piece of shit. I hated the guy, even before he left. He was always talking down to Mike and the rest of us. He acted like you weren’t any good to the world unless you were sat behind a desk in some cubicle or office. We were in our early twenties, practically still kids, and Mike hadn’t seen his dad since he was thirteen or something. Nancy had raised him, you know, since his mom was down for the count, an alcoholic who couldn’t function without a bottle in her hand. They were both taking care of Holly, too. What was I saying? Right, his dad. We were up on that stage, playing some cover of a song, and I could tell something was up with Mike. He was playing fine, but he turned around for half a second and his face… he looked like he was about to puke.”
“We rushed through the end of the song, and Mike all but ran out the back. Lucas and I went after him, and that’s when he told us. His dad was there, sat at the bar, watching us play. He was pissed. Absolutely fuming. He worked himself up like that all the time. So, he stormed back inside with his guitar and confronted his dad. He shoved the guitar at him and told him to take it back. It was bought with his money, after all. I don’t know what he was hoping to get out of it, a reaction, maybe. Ted didn’t give a shit. He told Mike he knew he wasn’t going to go anywhere with the band, that he’d play in shitty bars for the rest of his life and end up just like his mom.” Dustin sat back and smiled a little. “That’s when the crazy son of a bitch smashed his guitar. He told his dad to go fuck himself and stormed the Hell out of there.”
“And?”
“And I punched Ted so hard he fell on his ass.” Dustin laughed. “Yeah, we never played there again. After that, we were shoved out by the only bouncer they had, and Mike got all serious. He said, ‘We’re going to be the biggest band in the world.’ I believed him.”
“Was that before or after he started seeing Jane?”
Dustin’s expression softened. “Jane joined us shortly after. I knew her from the neighborhood. We used to walk home from school together when we were kids. You couldn’t help but fall in love with her, even then.”
—
Kelsey already had the camera rolling when Will came back into the room. He was dressed comfortably, professional, in a loose blouse with the top few buttons undone. His hair was messy in the sort of way that was reminiscent of the pictures Kelsey had stored in her boxes back at home.
“You need anything before we start, Honey?” He asked.
She shook her head. “Just you.”
He smiled at that and sat down in the chair across from her. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. When did you fall in love with music?”
“I think I loved it before I even knew how to walk. I don’t really remember a lot from when I was that little, you know, but I had these… these vague impressions of my mom. I hadn’t grown up with her, but she was there the first few years after I was born. She left before I could remember her face. I remembered her voice, though, and the lullabies she’d sing to me. Growing up with my dad was hard. Music saved me. I would steal his records and sing along to them in my room when he’d lock me in there so I could be kept out of the way when he had people over. I was a shit singer as a kid. Pitchy. I loved it, though, feeling the music like it was an extension of myself.”
Will crossed his legs and laced his fingers together over his knee. “‘No one wants to hear your voice,’ he said to me. I was singing so loud they could hear me in the next room. Well, I sure proved him wrong, didn’t I? By the time I was fifteen, I was hitting the strip almost every night. I mean, what a time to be alive if you loved music. I saw Cream at the PAC Center, and Zeppelin at the Whisky. Snuck backstage for The Who at the Shrine. The whole world just seemed so big and beautiful. I would be right there, in front of the stage, watching these artists play. The thing about stars, though, is that they get greedy. They see someone young and pretty and think they’re entitled to them. People like to say I was naïve. I wasn’t naïve, I was a baby.”
“I didn’t know what I was getting into. Back then, I just wanted to be a part of that world, and I was willing to do anything to get there. I would bump elbows with some of the biggest names in the industry, split a joint with a producer, or have a singer buy me a drink. Was I out of control?” Will shrugged, smiling. “Probably, but I was having fun, too. That was when I started writing, and that was better than drugs. I wouldn’t share them with anyone, but one day, I came home, and my dad was standing in my room reading my journal. It… I asked him if they were any good, and all he said was, ‘You’re a pretty boy, Will.’ As if that was all I needed to hear.”
“You weren’t supported, then? Despite the money you had?”
“Yeah, no. People love to talk and say all sorts of things, like my career was handed to me. That’s not what happened. I built it. I made it all on my own. It took me a long time to even sing for other people. Do you remember Chance Lawson? I was sleeping with him for a little while back in ‘70. He was the second person to go through my lyric book, said I had some good stuff in there, and started singing one of them. ‘Stumbled On Sublime’ was at the top of the charts for four weeks, and that son of a bitch still claims he wrote the whole fuckin’ song.”
“Being a queer kid back then, you couldn’t stand out, and I used that as a shield for a long time. That was, until I got sick of being walked all over. Guys like Chance steal your work and slap their own name on it. They get the credit. I was sick of it. I would sleep with these men, they’d make a muse out of me, and become the somebody with the great idea. I was never the muse. I was the fucking somebody.”
“What changed?”
“I met Robin,” Will said, tilting his head. “She was some intern at this label, dreaming about becoming a producer for the next big thing. I met her at a party in the Hills after a show and, at the time, I had no idea just what kind of luck she’d bring me. Robin got me up on stage. It happened after we shared a bottle of wine and she saw right through me, said she could tell I had something special about me, and I deserved to be heard. I sang as the opening act for some no-name band that didn’t end up going anywhere. If you wanted to be discovered, though, that was the place to be. Robin introduced me to Jim Hopper that night and, two months later, he signed me to his label.”
—
“I met the Brave Brothers at a show in Indianapolis,” Max said. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray. “I was in a little band of my own called The Screwballs. It was fine enough; we were on the road, traveling from state to state, playing wherever we could. We had a few gigs lined up in the summer of ‘71. It wasn’t much, but we were getting paid in cash, and a girl had to eat. We were on at eight, the Brave Brothers on at ten. It was a great night. We got a crowd going. Some of them even knew our stuff and were singing along. When we ended our set, the boys stayed back in the dressing room to do some lines, and I wasn’t going to stick around. I went out back for a smoke. In those days, you could still light up a cigarette inside, and no one would bat an eye, but I liked the quiet.”
“That was where you met them, wasn’t it?” Kelsey asked.
Max smiled. “Something like that. There I was, enjoying the peace, when all of a sudden this gaggle of boys and these two girls stumbled out back. They were all buzzing with energy, like it was their first night on earth. The tall one, Mike, was chugging a bottle of beer and the others were egging him on. Jane was begging him to slow down, giggling, but he finished it in record time and threw the Goddamn bottle against the wall of the neighboring building. I was shocked by the audacity of it. I mean, who does shit like that?”
“Anyway, Kali was the one to notice me first. She apologized, laughing as she did, and that was when the others finally noticed me standing there. Lucas was the one to recognize me. He said, ‘Hey, you were just on stage. You were great up there.’ I told him I already knew that, but thanks. Mike was a Goddamn whirlwind. A hurricane. He was fooling around with Dustin, wrestling with him, while Jane introduced herself. Lucas asked if I was going to stay to watch them play, and that it was going to be a good show that I couldn’t miss. I believe I said, ‘Why would I stick around?’”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, I did. They were good, but there wasn’t anything special about them. I found out later that what I thought apparently didn’t matter to the agent who was in the crowd. Eddie Munson, this guy who was making a name for himself out in L.A., told them they needed to get the Hell out of Indiana and go West. That was where all of the real shit was happening. Apparently, Jane wasn’t all that happy about it. If I’m not mistaken, she actually broke up with Mike when he broke the news to her, and right before they left, a month or two later, she showed up at his place with her bags and got in that van. Mike, Dustin, Lucas, and Jane took off.”
“What happened to Kali?”
Max frowned, eyes downcast. “I didn’t know her that well. She sounded really cool, though, based on the stories Jane and Dustin told me about her. Kali died in a police chase. She wasn’t even the one they were after, just driving down the highway at the wrong time, and the guy on the run slammed into her. Hit the driver’s side, and it crumbled like an empty Coke can. Mike wrote a lot about her when I first joined the band. He used to say all of those depressing songs were about the war, but The Six knew better. It wasn’t until Steve called him out on being such a downer that he changed his style.”
“Anyway, I came into the picture after that. Lucas called me from a payphone somewhere in L.A. and asked me to fly out there to join them. I was in Phoenix by then. I didn’t want to hear him out. I was scared. Any girl in this industry knows that a risk isn’t just a risk. It’s the life or death of your career.”
“What made you say yes?” Kelsey crossed her legs.
Max grinned. “Jane. Lucas had the phone taken from him by Mike while I was on the line. Mike was droning on and on about why I should come out. I just kept thinking, ‘Who the Hell does this guy think he is?’ I asked him to put that girlfriend of his on. I remember her voice like it was yesterday, the shyness of it when she answered the phone. I asked her if it would be worth it, if these guys really had something worth joining. She said yes, that she wouldn’t have tagged along out West if she didn’t see something in them. I booked my flight the next day. She’s the reason I joined the band. She’s the reason I stayed.”
—
Jane flattened her hair. She was dressed modestly, in a dress made from a soft fabric. Her eyes were tired, worn, like she lived a little too much in a short amount of time.
“You okay?” Kelsey asked.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”
“Tell me about it, the beginning.”
Jane smiled to herself. “I met Mike at the laundromat. It was the first time I felt as though my life was starting. He acted like I was supposed to know who he was. In Hawkins, everyone knew who Mike Wheeler was, and not because he was in some band. He asked me out right then and there. He said, ‘If you give me your number, I’ll write you a song.’ It was a line, you know, but it was his first time using it and I fell. I fell so, so hard. It was almost immediate. Love at first sight. I didn’t make it easy for him, though; I made him beg for it. I remember the first time I sat in on a practice of theirs, and I knew they had something. I introduced him to Papa later. He was strict, more than most fathers. I hadn’t spoken to him after I left.”
“He hated Mike. Which, honestly, made him better in my eyes. He got me to break free. The move out West, it seemed so awful at first, like I would die trying to get there. Except, I knew I had to go. Kali died. She died, and she didn’t get to see the Brave Brothers make it big. I had to make it happen, for her, for my sister. That’s when I became the creative director for the band. I loved being behind the camera, capturing every moment, but that was when something in me snapped.”
“I showed up. Mike was already in the driver’s seat of Lucas’s van, and Dustin was loading their bags inside. I remember it clearly. It was pouring rain. I mean, cats and dogs, Kelsey. I was soaked. I showed up with nothing but a suitcase and an attitude. Dustin gave me this huge hug, like he was afraid I would change my mind. Mike jumped out of the driver’s side and ran around the van to hug me, too. He was thrilled, I mean, absolutely on cloud nine.”
“What was it like? Moving out there with them?”
Jane laughed. “God, it was Hell. We got this place on the outskirts of L.A., a rundown house where the previous owner died in. Lucas swore up and down that it was haunted.” She looked to the side. “Mike and I shared a room, obviously. We all lived in the same place together, like a patchwork family. It was awful. Mike would stay up late writing and, when he did sleep, he’d snore like there was no tomorrow. I guess I should have been grateful, you know? Sharing a bed with him. Honestly, it just felt like our bedroom was a pitstop on a greater trip.”
“Then, Max came. She was my best friend right away. It was like filling a space that Kali left behind. She was fiery and quick-witted, always speaking her mind. She never tried to bullshit me as the others did. I always felt… they were trying to protect me, all the time. It started right after they got signed. Lucas and Mike were out late on a beer run, and they saw Jim Hopper walk right into the convenience store. Mike ran in after him, according to Lucas, and they got his card.”
“When did they become The Six instead of the Brave Brothers?”
“Oh, God. Did Max not tell you this story? We were packed into this little booth at a diner when Max said she refused to be referred to as a ‘brother.’ We were deliberating it forever. I think we came up with a thousand names before we decided. Mike had said, ‘I don’t think the five of us will ever come up with a name.’ Then, Max goes, ‘What about The Five?’ It was Dustin who came up with The Six. He wanted Kali to be a part of it, even after she was gone. From that day forward, they were The Six, even if it didn’t make sense. We knew what it meant, and that was enough. About five or six months after they got signed, they made an album. Then, they were on tour.”
“What do you remember about the tour?”
Jane leveled the camera with a sobering look. “I remember everything.”