KIND OF WOMAN THAT'LL HAUNT YOU

Chapter Two

The TARDIS door flung open and the Doctor bounded out the door.

“Welcome to the 1970’s, Rose!” he said.

“Are you absolutely sure it’s 1977, and not 1877?” Rose asked, stepping out behind him.

The Doctor gave her a hurt look.

“That…was a once in a lifetime fluke that will not be repeated,” he said.

Rose snorted.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The Doctor sighed, shut the door, and took her hand.

“Come along, I’ll prove to you it’s 1977,” he said.

They walked out of the alley and looked around. Rose groaned. She knew right away that this was not London and it definitely wasn’t the ‘70’s. She gave the Doctor a pointed look.

“They have Nintendo Wii’s in 1977, eh?” she said, pointing to a nearby billboard.

“Yes, they were a well kept secret in 1977 in…”

He looked around at the buildings.

“Wherever we’re at,” he finished.

Rose sighed and pushed past him. She noticed a discarded newspaper sitting on a bench. She picked it up, glanced at the date, and walked back to him.

“Los Angeles Times, July 27th, 2009. Nice try, Doctor, but you’re off by about 32 years, not to mention you’re on the wrong side of the Atlantic. I swear to God, I could ride a blind, drunken horse through the vortex and it would get to destinations better than your TARDIS could.”

“Now wait just a minute!” the Doctor said, angrily, “my TARDIS is reliable and she has taken us to the exact locations we wanted…87.94 percent of the time, but still, that’s better odds than the blind, drunken horse.”

Rose sighed.

“Well, as long as we’re here, we might as well make the most of it, yeah? Wanna go get some chips, somewhere?”

The Doctor’s eyes boggled.

“What is it with you? Everywhere we go, you have to eat!”

“I wouldn’t be talking if I were you, at least when I order something, I don’t wolf it down in two big gulps and go back for more,” she said, “besides, you like chips as much as I do, so don’t complain.”

The Doctor shrugged.

“Ah, well, I guess we can add ate chips in LA to our ever-growing list of chip spots,” he said, “besides, now that you’ve said something, I do feel a bit peckish. So, let’s go see if we can scope out a place to eat…and bring the paper with us. I like to scan it and see what’s going on, at this moment in time.”

Rose handed him the paper and they went off in search of a place to eat.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting across from each other in a booth in a small diner. Luckily, the Doctor carried small amounts of different kinds of money and credit sticks on his person at all times, so they would never be short of cash. Both of them had ordered burgers, chips, and a small Coke. Rose was munching on a chip, staring out the window at the people passing by, while the Doctor read the paper. She glanced back at him and noticed a grin spreading over his face.

“What?” she asked.

The Doctor turned the paper around and showed her the front of the entertainment section. Rose read the headline.

FLEETWOOD MAC ROCKS THE STAPLES CENTER TONIGHT.

“Well, well, Rose. Apparently, we will get to see them in concert, after all,” the Doctor said, happily.

“You don’t want to go back and see them during the Rumours tour?” she asked.

“Nah, this is fine. Actually, I’d prefer to see them now. There are some songs I love that came after Rumours. This way we’ll be able to see them perform all their greatest hits.”

“I can’t believe they’re still touring after all these years. How old are they now?”

The Doctor scanned the article.

“Stevie’s 60, Lindsey’s 58, Christine’s 66, John’s 64, and Mick’s 62.”

“Geez, they’re really old now.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrow.

“You do realize you are saying that to a 901-year-old man, don’t you?”

“Yeah, well, you can regenerate, they can’t,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of still putting on a great show. They may be in their late fifties and sixties, but I seriously doubt any of them are using a cane right now. Actually, at this point in time, they are all past their drug and alcohol problems, so we’ll get to see a concert where they aren’t stoned out of their minds, which wouldn’t have been the case back in 1977. Just, trust me, Rose. We’ll have a great time.”

“I know we will. I always have a blast whenever I’m with you.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear that,” the Doctor said, “and, in addition to seeing them, I have another brilliant idea.”

“Which is?”

“I’m gonna use my little ‘ol psychic paper to help us get backstage and meet them personally. I believe you and I will pose as journalists for a small, independent music magazine and land ourselves a one-on-one interview with the band.”

After getting directions to the Staples Center, the Doctor and Rose hurried back to the TARDIS. The Doctor insisted that Rose dress up a bit in order to convince the band they were legitimate. Rose went up to the wardrobe room, looked around, and found a white blouse, grey skirt, and matching jacket. She took the clothes back to her room, put the outfit on, put her hair up in a bun, put on some hose and black flats, and applied some light makeup. She walked into the console room and noticed the Doctor had changed into his dark blue suit with white plimsols. He looked over at her and whistled softly, staring at her with approval.

“Very nice, Rose, you clean up good,” he said, “you need to wear this all the time.”

“Not on your life. I hate dressing up. Once we do this, I’m going back to jeans and t-shirts.”

The Doctor made a face, but said nothing.

“Well, I checked online and there’s a local rock magazine called All Access. So, we’ll be posing as journalists for them. I asked the TARDIS to make up some press passes for us, so we’ll be able to get through security.”

He held up a laminated badge. Rose recognized the picture from one that she and the Doctor had taken while they were exploring Cirrus. It had Press at the top in big bold letters, and her name, and All Access magazine underneath that. The Doctor clipped it onto her lapel and did the same with his.

“There. Now, we are ready for our exclusive interview with Fleetwood Mac. So, my fellow journalist, shall we go over the Staples Center and meet the band?”

“Yup!”

The Doctor linked arms with her and smiling, the two of them headed out the front door.

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