A/N: Hello All! This is a story I started writing some time ago when I was on my Pirate Radio kick, but I rediscovered it the other day and revamped it a little. It's a bit of a Mary Sue, to be honest, but I'm pretty proud of it. No pairings except the beginning of OC/Simon (which will intensify in later chapters). So open your minds, put on a good Stones record and jump into the fog with me.
Chapter 1 – Times Are A' Changin
The rain outside pours steadily from the night sky, leaving streaks of raindrops on the car's window. I gaze out of the passenger seat drearily, clutching a folded up picture of my mother and I in my hand. It's all I have left of her now. I stare at the tall, dark-haired woman in the photograph whose hand rests on the shoulder of my 9-year-old self. I remember taking the photo; it's one of the few good memories of the old days, before she married my step-father. I was very camera shy then. It'd taken almost an hour just to convince me to smile. Now a small grin crosses my face easily at the memory.
"Amy, I'm talking to you. Are you even listening?"
Owen is in his usual happy mood. It's funny; I thought he'd be a little more excited at the prospect of me going away for a good long while.
"Not really." I say non-chalantly. He gives me a quick glare and then focuses on the road again.
I never understood why my mother married him. She literally could have had any guy she wanted; she was beautiful. But of all the guys in the world, out of all the guys in England, she chose Owen Adams. Stiff, boring, stick-up-his-ass, balding, selfish, I'm-smarter-than-you, Owen Adams.
I don't think the asshole ever really cared about me. I was more of an obligation because I always came first to mom. I think that's what got me through the past few years; just knowing that I was more important to her than he ever was. I also think this made Owen somewhat angry which never fails to amuse me.
"If it was up to me you'd never go anywhere near that scumbag." Owen continues.
The "Scumbag" he was referring to was my father. Don't ask me why he's a scumbag, I have no idea. I've never met the man in my 18 years of existence. The only thing I have been told about him is that his name is Quentin and he lives on a boat. This, frankly, worries me a bit. My poor mom wasn't exactly all there in her last few days and I'm wondering if she's sending me to live with some kind of old sea hermit she met in a pub one day or something.
Finally, as the rain begins to subside, we pull up to the docks. Owen pops the trunk and stalks around to the back of the car. I sigh as I hear his muffled, annoying voice.
"Are you gonna help me with this shit or not?"
I roll my eyes. "Can your puny body not handle two pieces of luggage?"
All I have with me is my suitcase and guitar case. Granted, there is probably several months' worth of clothing stuffed into said tiny suitcase, but hey, I'm a girl. It's kind of a necessity.
Owen gives me another death glare.
"Alright, whatever." I say, grabbing my stuff. I'm better off carrying it anyway. He probably wants to dump everything I have into the water right now.
We are met at the end of the dock by 3 kind-of-sketchy-looking boatmen who take my stuff and set it on their tiny tugboat. (At this point I'm thinking Owen has sold me into slavery and these creepy guys are taking me to their creep island HQ where I will be forever imprisoned.)
"Well" Owen says, standing tall and straight. "I suppose this is goodbye. You watch yourself on that…filthy ship."
He outstretches his hand, expecting me to shake it.
"Good riddance." I say, ignoring him, as I step onto the cramped boat.
With the push of a button, the engine roars to life (as much as a tugboat can roar) and heads out into the rough waters of the North Sea.
"There she is!" one of the men announce as we approach a lit, rundown ship in the darkness.
My eyes widen as I see the large, white letter painted on its side.
I stare for a moment, collecting my thoughts.
"There must be a mistake." I tell the boatmen quickly. "I'm supposed to be meeting my father, Quientin."
"That's where you're goin', love"
"But…this is the Radio Rock ship. Hold on, are you telling me my father is a DJ for Radio Rock?"
The man smiles. "That's somethin' you'll have to find out for yourself, now isn't it, darling?"
I can't believe it. I don't have to see Owen possibly ever again, I'm meeting my father (who is might be a DJ for one of the most popular pirate radio stations in all of Great Britian,) AND I get a free trip aboard Radio Rock. I have to be dreaming.
I was born in America, and lived there most of my life until my mom met Owen and we moved here. I wasn't very knowledgeable about British stuff, but it didn't take me long at all to discover Radio Rock. All the friends I made, and basically every other young person in my generation, usually had the station on all day. They played great music. Stuff you could really dance to, stuff my friends and I always partied to. They won't believe me when I write to them about this.
Myself and one of the men climb the thin ladder to the boat's deck.
"This way." He says as he picks up my bags and carries them for me. I wince as he holds my guitar case. That thing is more precious to me than my unborn child.
I follow him through a heavy metal entryway and a few small corridors. He stops in front of a room with a large, wooden door. He knocks.
"Enter." Comes a voice from the other side.
The door opens to the sight of an older man in a plaid-grey suit and patterned scarf standing in the middle of a room stacked with papers, old books, a desk, and a typewriter. He positively exudes cool.
"You must be Amy." Quentin says with a smile.
"That's me" I say awkwardly, still a bit in shock from the surrounding. There's a bit of silence.
"So, how are you?"
"Fine." I reply. It's a lie and he knows it. My father smirks.
"Darling, lying will get you nowhere in life. Well, unless you're a politician. Or maybe a hop in bed with a woman. Or in your case a man, or whatever you prefer. But that's beside the point."
I laugh. I'm really starting to like this guy.
"So Mary's dead? That's a shame. She was my first love, you know. And she said in her will she wanted you to live with me?"
Quentin smiles again. "Spectacular mistake on her part."
He takes a drink of some kind of alcoholic beverage, than grabs my stuff and walks out of the room.
"Come along!" he shouts back to me, and I immediately follow.
"So I see you're musically apt?" Quentin asks, eyeing my guitar and then throwing my bags in a random room.
"Yea." I reply. "Self-taught."
"Wonderful." He says spinning around to face me. "I think you'll fit in quite well around here. Now, let's go meet the family."
He leads me to a type of living room area where there's a foosball table, a dartboard, a bar, a small kitchen on the side, and DJ's scattered everywhere. I instantly recognize most of them. Dave, Angus, and the Count are over by the bar, while John from news and weather plays foosball. The first one I really see, though, is Simon.
His bright blue eyes lock on my hazel pair and for a moment they're the only thing I can see. I smile a goofy grin and butterflies start to flit around in my stomach. I silently tell them to go away as I become slightly flustered, looking away shyly. He smiles back at me.
Quentin clears his throat.
"Attention all, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Amy. She'll be staying with us until she's bored."
I nod and give a small Hello in everyone's general direction and then follow my newfound father around, making introductions. It goes well enough. Everyone is very friendly. Seeing as I'm the only straight woman to be on the boat in a while, they all flock to me with flirtatious grins.
But it was different when I get around to Simon. The butterflies flutter furiously this time as I shake his hand. He smiles at me, genuinely, and I flash him back a brilliant one of my own.
"It's really nice to meet you. I've heard you're morning show a few times before."
"Well you'll get to hear it all the time now." He replies in his Irish accent. We both laugh.
He's adorable. I think as we lock eyes again.
"Well, welcome aboard." He finally says.
"So gentleman" Quentin speaks above the mindless chatter and the room falls silent. "This means that there will be, for the first time, a woman living on the boat. No offense felicity."
"None taken." She speaks from the group.
"And she is" continues Dad "Most definitely not allowed to fall in love, or in bed, with any of you."
I walk over to Dave's pack of cigarettes lying in front of him on the bar counter and steal one from the box.
"Hope you guys can handle it." I say, lighting up a fag and throwing them a wink. The guys all gape and laugh and I throw one more smile at Simon.
"I like her." I hear the Count say as I walk away in search of the random room Quentin threw my stuff into. I'm tired and ready to collapse into a bed or a cot or whatever it is ships have for bedding.
I open every door I come across in the corridors and peek in, looking desperately for my clothes and guitar. After what seems like the 100th door I come across, I finally find my luggage in fair condition considering all that it's been through.
The room isn't half-bad either; a decent size with a small bed taking up most of the room. It's a little bare but it's…cozy. I throw myself onto the mattress and smile.
I'm living on the Radio Rock ship with my heroes, some of the coolest people in the world.
"Mom, you really outdid yourself on this one."
I swear I can hear her laughing.
I let myself relax and drift off to sleep with the sound of the Stones echoing through the huge ship. It's heaven.