Chapter 20: My Iron Skin, part 1

The garage was furnished with furniture that could be said to have seen better days when Captain America was alive. Half of it had been cleared out and converted into a rehearsal space. On the far wall, next to the clothes rack, hung a poster showing a full-length Tony Stark posing in his armor.

"Holy Mary, so you weren't lying!" whistles when a black girl I don't know whistles when she sees us.

She has gorgeous, shiny black hair down to her shoulder blades and her instrument in the band is a synthesizer. For all my love of music and the work of one infamous king of pop, I'm just an amateur and don't even know what to call the role of the musician at the synth.

"I'm afraid to imagine what you told them about me," I say.

"Only the good stuff," M.J. replies with the same chuckle. "You guys, this is Peter Parker, my boyfriend."

"Gabrielle," the girl squeezes my hand tightly while flashing a smile, "as you can see, I'm a keyboard player, it's nice to finally see you in person."

"Well, you know Liz," she switches to the next band member, MJ.

"Hi," the classmate waves at me, but her greeting stops there, she's obviously not as cheerful as Gabrielle's. By the way, I didn't know she played guitar.

"And on the drums we have..."

"Gwen," I interjected, "you keep giving surprises..."

"Hi," Stacey said with an awkward smile. She obviously knows what I mean, "I... wasn't expecting to see you here, either."

She looks like she wants to say something else, but decides not to do it in front of her friends.

"Oh, so you two know each other?" Mary Jane wonders.

"We met at Connors Labs," I say.

"Yes, I work there," Gwen adds.

"You never said..." Now it's Gabrielle's turn to wonder.

But Gwen only shrugs uncertainly in response.

"So, you really are as wonderful as Mary Jane said," Gabrielle smirked, looking at me.

"It depends on what she's told you," I said, "and by the way, if that's what I think it is..."

I pause expressively and look at M.J., she's blushing slightly. Bull's-eye! I know what you're telling your friends here! In fact, there was no need to tell them, because Mary Jane's behavior had changed since that night at the club. She's become more self-confident, and that's obvious to anyone who's known her long enough.

"...that's just the tip of the iceberg!" I finally finish my thought.

"Peter!2 Mary Jane exclaimed. "I didn't say any such thing!"

"Oh-ho-ho," Gabrielle laughed, "how far have you two gotten?"

"Shut up," M.J. hisses at her, but there's no anger in her voice, just an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

After we finished getting to know each other, the girls decided to start rehearsing. I was entrusted with the responsible role of the first listener of their new hit. The band had big plans: a performance at the Bunker, they said, was just a trial run. They were not going to become yet another unknown indie rock band, occasionally playing their own gigs. Something like that is what I expected from Mary Jane. In a past world, though not immediately, she did become a famous actress.

I sat down in a shabby old chair with springs sticking out and sat up to listen. The girls started playing...

Oh, it was not what I expected. There are different kinds of rock. I was hoping for something upbeat, easy, like Elvis songs, something that would have fit M.J.'s high-pitched, melodic voice. But instead I was bombarded with a torrent of heavy rock bass, the likes of which Venom isn't ashamed of, and the singing was more of a shout-out. A note of caution - never call Bobby to M.J.'s gigs. Until the girls were done, I tried to keep a dispassionate expression on my face.

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I have nothing against heavy rock, I even listen to it sometimes, but it doesn't suit the girls. And the lyrics themselves... the song suggests the listener to take, as they say, the bull by the horns and get her prize in the form of a guy. Maybe it's okay for the natives, but it makes me cringe.

Finally, the last guitar chord struck by Liz's long-suffering instrument fades, and a heavy-breathing Mary Jane turns to me:

"Well, what do you think?"

All the girls are looking at me expectantly, waiting for my grade. Be honest or be nice?

"To tell you the truth," I start, and everyone immediately looks up, "you girls play great, and you, MJ, sing..." I pause for a moment.

I pause for a moment.

"But..." - Mary Jane picks up on that. "There's definitely a but!"

"The song itself," I wiggle my open palm in the air in a gesture that conveys my ambivalent attitude, "might be okay for a second-rate nightclub, but... No meaning, no melody, no... how should I say, tenacity... virality, no desire to hum the chorus."

"So is it a bad song? - M.J. asks and I notice that all the girls are grumpy.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't think of anything better," Liz says defiantly, "we don't have any frickin' songwriters lined up."

Suddenly I realize:

"So you wrote it yourself?" Yeah, this is awkward, "Wha if..." I start to say, but I stop myself in mid-sentence.

They can't hold it. I wanted to offer the girls something from the repertoire of the king of pop music of my world, something that the local Jackson would never do, but I realized that they can't do that.

"Tell it like it is," M.J. exhales dolefully, thinking that the flow of my criticism has not run out yet.

"I mean, what if you didn't focus on heavy rock, but instead chose a broader genre, took a theme that's on everyone's radar, and wrote a song?"

"Peter," MJ starts, "we've been writing this song for a month. It's not that easy."

"Hmm," the poster of the Iron Lady comes back in front of me, "what if I wrote a song like that for you?"

Since there's no pop music in this world that I love, why shouldn't I give it to him? After all, Jackson's lyrics aren't the only ones I can remember. I'll just have to learn how to write down music in notes... yes, to compose notes based on my memories, it can't be that hard, can it?

"Can you write music?" Gwen asked incredulously.

"I'm a quick learner," I grin. "Besides, I have an idea."

I point to the poster.

"Let's write a song about her. It's like a tin can in everyone's ears."

"That..." Mary Jane says skeptically, "might work."

And even though Liz and Gabrielle have their doubts about whether someone who hardly knows anything about music could write a song, Mary Jane and, strangely enough, Gwen persuade the others to give me a chance.

Actually, their doubts are quite objective, but they don't take into account one fact. I already have an ironman song ready, I just need to figure out how to properly bring my memories to life.

With the feeling that I'm doing a good thing, I dive into the process of learning and composing. If my favorite musicians in this world have found themselves in other vocations, I will introduce the world to the creations of their doubles.

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