The next few days seemed to mesh into one. Steve would arrive at the office, and continue on his article. Everything felt normal around the office. No one mentioned Steve leaving. No mentions of a going-away party or any congratulations. Steve didn't seem to mind, though. He tried his best to contain his excitement. He received praise from his parents, mainly because he was leaving the house for the next couple of months. Steve lacked in the friends department so he had no one to call about it. The best he could do was call up his friends from college but he knew they were all on the same level. And talking about it could ruin the whole point of the assignment. He didn't want his old friends to spread the news, possibly reaching back to the band in some kind of way. It was best to keep it a secret.

Tapping on his desk with his worn-out pencil, Steve stared at the typewriter. Pressing on a key every few moments, his focus was slowly drifting away. All he could think about was the assignment and what to expect from it. His eyes diverted towards the clock. Holloway had failed to send any information about the assignment. Steve had been waiting every day for that fax to come in so his dream could turn into a reality. It wasn't until Barbara waddled over to his desk.

"Delivery for Mr. Harrington, the future superstar of journalism." Barbara gleamed before throwing a packet onto Steve's desk.

Steve sat up in his seat before cracking a smile. "Is this the information? For the trip, I'm supposed to leave for tomorrow?"

Barbara shrugged. "Holloway has been busy. But yes, the future of Hawkins relies in this packet."

"Busy scratching his ass?" Steve grinned before grabbing the packet. He flipped through the pages before nodding. It was a detailed itinerary of what to expect from this assignment. Steve had been given the job as a backstage assistant. There was nothing glamorous about the job but at least he could lay low. Steve looked up from the packet before pushing it back onto his desk. "I'm so excited, Barb."

Barbara nodded. "I'm excited for you. God, being so close to Nancy Wheeler is going to be a dream. And Eddie Munson? He's beautiful."

Steve shuttered. "No. Not that. Getting to be the first person to write an actual story about these people. Granted, I don't know anything about them but that's what's going to make it perfect. They'll never suspect a thing."

"But..." the redhead paused. "Hear me out. Aren't you considering why they never do interviews or anything? They just want to keep their private lives...private. I feel like this whole undercover thing is a little messed up."

Steve just shrugged. He didn't care about any of that. Everything leading up to this moment has been player correctly and he wasn't going to let Barbara ruin that for him. "Barb, this is journalism. You don't take others feelings into account. It's all about the story. Giving the people what they want. And what they want is dirt about this band. I find it suspicious that they don't talk to anyone. Like they're...hiding something."

"I think it's cool. They just want to be appreciated as artists. Just want the world to know that their music is amazing and that's all you need to know about them. I just think it might be tough to get information about their personal lives. They barely even do photoshoots."

All the brunette did was shake his head. "I promise you, I will succeed at this. Holloway will not get the satisfaction of placing me in local news forever. Plus, knowing nothing about them will make them love me even more. I'm also just going to be a stage manager assistant. They'll never suspect a thing."

"If you say so. Just don't get your feelings hurt."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would you get my feelings hurt?"

"I hear Nancy Wheeler is even prettier in person. Total heartbreaker, too. They also call her a bitch."

Steve laughed. Falling for Nancy Wheeler? The lead singer of the band? Absolutely not. He had no interest in getting to know any of them romantically, especially Nancy Wheeler. "Nancy Wheeler being a heartbreaker? Bitch, I can see. Just by her demeanor on stage. Doubt she's a heartbreaker. No one knows anything about her."

"Except the guys she sleeps with." Barbara snickered.

"And I won't be one of them."

"Yeah, whatever." Barbara glanced at the clock. "I'm off. Just like the rest of us. Maybe you need to go home and prepare for tomorrow."

Steve grinned. He was off to Indianapolis the next day. The first show would be the day after. His smile only grew wider at the thought. "You're right."

Steve pushed himself out of his chair before collecting his things. He stuffed the packet into his small briefcase. Tucking his chair in, Steve clenched onto the handles. He stood before Barbara with a smile. "No going away party for me?"

All she could do was shrug. "Afraid not. Not many people are happy."

"They're just jealous because they didn't get this assignment."

Barbara nodded while pursing her lips. "I'll see you in a couple of months. Be sure to fax anything important that happens. Holloway would appreciate it."

Steve glanced over Barbara's shoulder. Holloway sat at his desk, phone clung to his ear. The brunette faced his attention back to the redhead. "For sure." He extended his arms out for a hug. "I'll miss you the most."

Barbara giggled before stepping toward him. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight bear hug. Steve rests his chin on top of her head. "Be safe, Harrington."

The two pulled away from each other. "Of course. See you." Steve flashed a smile before turning to exit the office.

"See ya! Remember what I said! Be careful of Nancy!" Barbara called out as Steve exited.

He looked up at the sun as the door slammed behind him. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Steve would be waking up tomorrow with a purpose. His future depended on this story. And he was pretty damn excited.

------

Steve slammed the trunk of the cab. Standing next to him was his suitcase and a small duffel bag. The suitcase contained all his leisure clothing, while the duffel bag was all of this work stuff. Pens, pencils, sketch pads, and more. He vowed to keep that duffel bag out of reach from the crew. Steve popped the top of the suitcase and gripped the handle. Slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder, Steve hauled towards the window of the cab. Leaning down to come face-to-face with the driver, Steve smiled. "Thank you for driving." He dug in his pocket and retrieved some extra cash. "Have a good rest of your night."

The cab driver took the cash with a nod. Giving a tap on the hood of the car, Steve backed up and watched the cab drive away. Watching the car drive off felt like a surreal experience. His eyes peered to the right, looking up at the Market Square Arena. Cars lined around the side with a tour bus to complement. Gazing over the building, Steve finally let out a sigh. He was able to take it all in. That his dreams are slowly becoming a reality. 

The building stood tall. The base was concrete, a bland color. Above the concrete sat a red space frame, looking over the street. Steve tilted his head to the side. Fishing into his bag, he pulled out the packet. 

Arrive at Market Square Arena 

Find the entrance to the arena. It is to the left of the street, marked with a sign. 

Await to be approached. 

Steve shuffled through the rest of the packet. It was filled with basic information about the band. Their names, ages, instruments they played, and a picture attached to each description. He let out a soft sigh before beginning his trek inside the building. Walking up to the doors, Steve found the signs that Holloway was referring to. "Here goes nothing." He scoffed before opening the doors.

Bypassing the long hallways, Steve managed to find an entrance into the actual arena. The squeaking of his luggage made his skin irritated. His feet dragged along the floors. His jaw dropped slightly as he took in the arena. Rows lined along the walls, filled with seats. Lights were flashing. The creek sound of microphones wouldn't stop but Steve didn't mind. He had to get used to this. A stage sat at the front of the arena, people buzzing around. Many were adjusting the lights, fixing up the speakers, and setting up the stage. On the stage sat a microphone in the center. A set of drums was placed towards the left of the center, pushed to the side. Several crew members were setting up a platform where the drums would be, Steve assumed. "Wow." He whispered to himself. "This is real life."

Feeling weird about standing there, Steve made his way toward the stage. He set his luggage down near the floor seats, shoving his hands in his pockets. The rock and roll world was so unfamiliar to him. Setting up stages and preparing for others seemed pointless to him. Being able to travel the world was a plus to him. A soft smile appeared on his face as realization hit. He was only getting closer to the dream.

"Excuse me?"

Steve turned around. He locked eyes with a man. His mustache was prominent, shaping his lips perfectly. His hair was pushed back a bit, revealing a small scar on the corner of his eyebrow. He was a bit stocky but stood at a tall length. He wore bright yellow pants, hugging his thighs a bit too tight for Steve's liking. Attached at the hip was a red, chunky belt. Matching the pants, he wore a mustard-colored blazer. His undershirt was a dark brown, with white stripes facing vertically. A few buttons were undone to show off his chest hair. The man placed his hands on his hips.

"Are you lost?" The man questioned.

Steve stumbled back a bit. He was quite taken aback by the stern tone. It reminded him way too much of Holloway. "No, uh..." He paused and glanced back at the stage. "I'm Steve Harrington. The new stage manager assistant?"

The man crossed his arms over his chest. "New stage manager assistant?"

Steve nodded before gulping. "Uh, yeah."

"No. That's wrong." The man sighed before pressing his fingertips to the top of his forehead. "Our stage manager doesn't need an assistant. I was told I was getting a new assistant."

Steve's heart dropped into his stomach. Had Holloway fucked up? This wasn't going to end well. "And you are?"

The man looked up at Steve. No smile was cracked. Just a straight line across his face. "Jim Hopper. Manager to Five Seconds to Hawkins."

Steve's eyes grew wide. Holloway didn't just screw up. He completely signed Steve up for the wrong gig. He was looking forward to blending in with the rest of the crew. But being assigned to the manager of the band would ruin his whole plan. Being Jim's assistant would mean Steve would be with the band all the time. Every second of the day. A lightbulb went off in Steve's head.

Steve flashed a wide smile. "Oh! You're Mr. Hopper? Crap, I must've gotten the assistant position messed up. Sorry about that." He chuckled nervously. Jim stood impatient. It only made Steve more nervous. "Guess I'm your new assistant?"

Jim sighed. "And you're already a pain in my ass. Grab your shit and let's go." He didn't say another word after that. Jim spun on his heel before walking backstage.

Steve quickly grabbed his things and raced after Jim. This would be perfect. Granted, Holloway screwed Steve over. But Steve would use this opportunity to his advantage. Being with the band twenty-four-seven would give him easy access to friendship. They would confide in him. Spill their lives. It was picture-perfect.

Jim shoved the curtain out of the way and began walking towards a door. Steve followed behind in a rushed manner. "Sir, where are we going?"

Jim continued walking at a pace. "You're my assistant now so you have to meet the band. Not only will you be helping me out, but you'll be helping them. I can't handle all of them."

Steve nodded and continued the fast walk. "So what exactly does my job entail?"

Jim grunted. "Seriously, Kid?"

Steve just shrugged.

Jim rolled his eyes. "You're going to be running errands, keep track of our traveling. Especially the times. The band is late all the time so it'll be your job to get them on the bus on time. You'll also basically be in charge of speaking to venues if they have any issues. If anyone from the band needs help, you're their go-to man. Got it?"

Steve nodded. "Got it, Sir."

Jim didn't say anything after that. Steve was scared of this man. He felt that Jim could see right through his bullshit act. Anxiety rose in Steve as they approached the green room. Jim opened the door. "Jesus Christ." He muttered.

Steve peered over Jim's shoulder. He gasped softly at the sight. "Shit."

The room was trashed. Beer cans are scattered along the floor in an unfashioned manner. Wrappers of snacks were stacked in the trashcan, and several of the plastic surrounding the floor. Clothes were thrown around the room, hanging onto the couches and chairs. Several members sat, cracking jokes with one another. The smell of cigarettes filled the room. "What the fuck?" Jim spoke.

Everyone turned their attention towards the door. Steve could make out every member of the band perfectly. Studying their magazine covers and the packet paid off at this moment.

"Jimmy!" A tall, long-haired man stood up and waltzed over to Jim and Steve. He wore tight jeans and matched them with a navy blue long-sleeve buttoned-up shirt. His dark curls were prominent, bangs covering his forehead. His demeanor was ambiguous, full of life. There were no thoughts behind his drunk eyes. He wrapped his arms around Jim and gave him a soft pat on the back. "Jimmy. I missed you so much." His words slurred.

The man looked up and locked eyes with Steve. Steve gave him an uneasy smile. "Who's your new friend, Jimmy?"

Jim glanced back at Steve before sighing. "Everyone, this is..."

"Steve. Harrington."

"Steve Harrington, my new assistant. He'll be with us the whole tour. Be nice, would you?"

"Steve, man, it is a pleasure." The man dropped his arms from Jim and moved on to Steve. "I'm Eddie. You're gonna love it here, man."

Steve nodded. Eddie Munson. Lead guitarist of the band. Specialized in electric guitars. "Pleasure to meet you."

"SO formal." Eddie laughed before turning back to the group. "Jim, we got this. Leave Steve alone with us so we can all meet properly."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine. But if you all don't clean up this room and get to the soundcheck in ten minutes, you're done for." Jim turned his attention. "Good luck. Your job starts now. Ten. Minutes."

Steve nodded and watched Jim leave the room. He placed his suitcase and bag to the side. Eddie came up to Steve and wrapped his arm drunkenly around Steve. "Alrighty, everyone. Let's go around the room, shall we?" Eddie smiled and pointed. "Billy, you first."

Billy looked up from his guitar. He laid shirtless on the couch, jeans dark as the night. His hair was long and pushed back into a low ponytail. His mustache was similar to Jim's but not as shaped evenly. "I'm Billy. Rhythm guitar." 

Steve already knew these people. He didn't need an introduction. Being able to study faces and connect them to their names was easy as writing a story about a pointless scholarship.

Steve nodded. "Pleasure."

Eddie chuckled in Steve's ear. "We're going to the left." Eddie adjusted his posture and stared at the scene in front of him. "Mike. Mike! Michael! Hello, Earth to Mike!" He yelled towards the couple locking lips on one of the chairs.

Mike Wheeler. Drummer of the band. Related to Nancy Wheeler, the lead singer. Possibly the two who started this whole thing. 

Mike pulled away from Eleven. The bangs on his head stuck to his forehead with sweat. Strands of hair were messy, Eleven's hands still latched onto locks. He wiped his mouth, looking up at Steve and Eddie. "Who's this?"

"If you weren't so busy making out with El, you would know this is Jim's new assistant." A redheaded girl fired toward Mike. She rolled her eyes before looking into Steve's eyes. "I'm Max. Keyboard. That's Mike, he's on drums. The girl he's sucking face with is Eleven."

Groupie, Steve thought. "Nice to meet you guys."

"Guys!" A feminine voice echoed from the bathroom. Walking out, Steve locked eyes with the person. "Where the fuck is my pick? Did you take it again, Billy?"

Billy just shook his head, not looking up from his guitar as he strummed lightly.

The girl sighed before looking at Steve. "Hello, stranger."

Steve felt his heart skip a beat.

"Robin!" Eddie called out. "He is NOT a stranger. This is Steve Harrington. Jimmy's assistant."

Robin gave Steve a soft smile. Her hair was cut short, stopping just before her shoulders. Curtain bangs framed her face. Her ocean-blue eyes popped out of her head. Thick lips and freckles scattered her cheeks. Steve felt his knees go weak. He knew of Robin Buckley from his light research. But he never imagined her to be prettier in person. "Hi." He coughed out, scratching the back of his head. 

"Hey." Robin giggled before extending her arm out for a handshake. "I'm Robin. Bass." She glanced towards her guitar.

Steve took her hand and shook it lightly. "So nice to meet you."

"Ditto." She pulled her hand away before crossing the room to sit with Billy on the couch.

"We're missing a few people. But this is the band!" Eddie smiled.

Eddie stood in front of Steve, placing his hands on his shoulders. "You're gonna have so much fun with us. Jimmy has such a stick up his ass so if he's hard on you, forget it. We're all going to get so drunk and high every night. You have no idea how much fun you're gonna have."

Steve smiled softly. "I'm very excited."

Eddie's smile grew wide. "That's what I like to hear! God, we're going to be such great friends."

Steve opened his mouth to speak but he heard the door click open. He turned his attention to the door and there she stood.

Nancy Wheeler. Lead singer of the band. Her hair was wild, dark as a raven. Her locks were styled into loose waves. She had similar curtain bangs to Robin's but hers were thicker, longer. Nancy had long, full eyelashes. They batted softly against her cheeks, exposing her sky blue eyes. Low-waisted jeans hugged her frame, stopping just below her belly button. They were frayed, flared, and light-washed, lining up to the trends of the time. She wore a red halter top, tied in the back. Her dark boots completed the outfit.

"Who the fuck is this?"

Ouch. Steve crossed his arms over his chest. Barbara was right about her being a bitch. It made sense. Lead singer meant being the biggest brat of them all.

"Nance!" Eddie smiled. "This is Steve!"

Nancy furrowed her brows.

"He's Jim's new assistant." Max chimed in. She stood up from the chair and waltzed over to them. "He'll be with us the whole tour."

"Great," Nancy said before rolling her eyes. "I'd love to stay and chat but we've got a rehearsal to get to. Jonathan is already out there."

"Yeah, cause he's a kiss ass to Jim." Billy snorted before getting up.

Steve glanced down at his watch. He noticed that minutes had passed and the band was bound to be late. "Yeah, Jim needs you guys at rehearsal."

"Thanks." Nancy flashed Steve a fake smile. "Let's go!"

Steve grimaced. The band talked about Jim having a stick up his ass but Nancy seemed to be the same way.

"Let's go, Steve." Eddie smiled before exiting the room.

The rest of them followed. Steve stood back a minute and sighed. The number of personalities this band had was insane. Keeping track of all of them would be a hassle. Steve rubbed his temples.

"Don't worry, Harrington." Max walked up to Steve with a comforting smile. "They're great people. A pleasure to have you with us."

Steve nodded. "Rehearsal."

Max giggled. "Yes, sir."

She turned around and walked out of the room. Steve followed closely behind. He noticed the dynamic of the group. Eddie bounced back and forth between groups as they walked down the hall. Robin stayed with Billy, usually tugging at his jeans or teasing him in some way. Mike locked hands with Eleven. Max followed behind, alone. Nancy leads the group, her feet dragging along the floor.

Steve gulped. They're great people. He just had to keep reminding himself that.