1976

Harry

Brooklyn, New York

3:26 am

A few weeks passed by since I had fired our old manager Jules. It goes to show you that even your heroes will disappoint you. Not to say that he was my hero, but he was a man of business that made bands rise to the top. Now, well now, we had no manager or person to set us up for gigs.

After the tour, we got paid and came home, but not before we made a friend by the name of David Bowie. He was a great guy and we told him we would love to work with him, exchanging information, we parted ways.

It had now been two weeks and he had decided to call us and ask if we'd like to have a coffee and talk. With this happening later today, I couldn't sleep at all. I sat in the living room with Mitch and Deb, working on a song. There was no tension between us anymore, the guys realizing how little money we actually received, thanking me in the process.

"Billie wrote a song and I don't have the nerve to tell him that it's not that good," Mitch spoke up. Deb was walking back and forth singing lyrics differently each time.

She stopped to turn to Mitch with a frown. "You don't start out writing good stuff. You start out writing crap and thinking it's good stuff, and then gradually you get better at it."

"So you agree," Mitch says back.

"No I don't, what I'm saying is that he might actually like what he made, so don't be an asshole." he was about to speak up but Deb continues. "Besides it's not like we all haven't written shitty songs. It takes hundreds of bad lyrics and tunes that don't work to get one decent song. Right hon." she said towards me.

"Yes dear." I strummed my guitar. "One of my worst songs was this one I wrote when I met Deb. It makes no sense but it was how I felt." both of them turned to look at me in confusion. "Ignore me I'm sleep deprived."

"Smoke some grass and go to sleep then, we're only up because you're up playing your guitar loud and stuff." Mitch tied his hair up. It was like we were competing to see who would cut their hair first and I think he was going to win because I was getting sick of my hair.

"Deb won't kiss me if I smoke weed." he looked to my wife for confirmation.

"I don't like the smell." she agreed once again singing a lyric. "can someone please play something and get me out of this hole I'm in?" she came over to sit on my lap.

“Stop stressing, or all that blonde hair will fall out.” Mitch jokes.

“If all that bleach hasn't killed her hair, the stress will definitely do it- ow!” I yelled at the feeling of Debra's nails pinching my nipple.

“Don't make fun of me, I am your wife.”

“Ah okay, I'm gonna get you back,” I warned her in her ear.

“Oh, I'm so scared.” she should be.

I eventually did fall asleep, I know it a little childish, but I never slept better than when Deb lets me lay on her while her fingers brush through my hair. Sometimes she sings and I fall right asleep. We ended up waking up two hours before we were supposed to meet David Bowie, my head on a pillow instead of Deb's chest.

We were to meet at a small cafe here in Brooklyn where he had visited once. I was nervous because I had a strange feeling that our bad luck with our manager could turn around. We needed something to really have us become mainstream instead of just the occasional fan on the street. I was sick and tired of being broke.

I stood up and went to the bathroom where I could hear Debbie singing to some song I hadn't heard before. I opened the shower door and she screamed turning slightly. Her hair was pushed back and without the makeup, she looked her actual age of twenty-one. “Don't do that.” she hissed.

“Why, I just came to join you.” I stepped into the shower and switched places with ber under the warm water. I knew there were only a few minutes before we would begin feeling the cold water.

I watched her as she used a sponge to run over her arms and legs. I looked around the tub to see if I had any soap left and only saw the stupid green bottles with the long-haired woman on it that smelled like berries. I sighed picking it up and scrubbing my head. “You're gonna smell like me.” she teased.

“I like smelling like you.” I winked, making her cheeks blush.

She scooted closer to me and kissed me on the lips, gently biting my bottom one. “You haven't made love to me all week.” I smiled gently running by hands down her spine. My fingertips just barely grazing over her soft skin.

“I'm sorry, princess, how about I make it up to you?” I bent forward, holding her in my arms as our lips met for a gentle kiss that slowly built up to a full make-out session. I could feel the water on my back becoming colder and groaned as I pulled away. “Let's get out of the shower first.”

She nodded rinsing off quickly and letting me finish up. I met her back in the bedroom where she sat in her towel waiting for me. There was something so sexy about Debra after a shower. Her skin soft and her face fresh with no makeup on. Her long legs inviting me to rest my head between them.

“Take me.” she pulled my towel off my hips. I didn't have to hesitate as I laid her down on the bed and took care of her. It was gentle and sweet until I felt her nails down my back and her sweet dirty mouth telling me to fuck her.

And so I did.

I reached down to hold her thighs by the back of them, pushing them up to her chest and reaching that spot deep within her that made her legs shake. “Harry!” she cried as she came around me the first time.

Our eyes locked for a moment, her gentle hands over the sides of my cheeks, holding me on her gaze. It was at this moment that I knew that she held my entire life in her hands. This woman could destroy everything with just the look she was giving me right now. “I love you, baby.” I whimpered, feeling lost in the moment.

“I love you, please cum for me.” I nodded quickly, burying my head in the crook of her neck and thrusting harder until I felt myself give in to all the pleasure.

David Bowie was a beautiful and respected man, you could tell as people walked past us at our table that clearly we didn't deserve to be seated with him. “I quite like your style,” he told Debbie who had on her makeup and her hair teased the way she always did. She was wearing an oversized shirt as a dress with a pair of thigh-high boots. Those boots and her completely naked was one of the greatest Christmas presents I could have asked for last year.

“Gosh, thank you. Can I be honest, I think your style is beyond iconic.” he seemed very humble and kind. I could tell that Deb was completely enthralled by the man sitting in front of us.

The one thing I noticed was that there was an empty seat beside David and it was really becoming strange as to why he had an extra chair. “So, you're going on tour soon, have you found an opening act?” Billie spoke up suddenly from across the table.

“Smooth, you fucking pothead.” Josh shook his head.

“Green isn't it?” David spoke up.

“Yeah…”

“What's the story behind the color nicknames, I find that quite amusing.” he leaned forward.

“It was a thing when we were teens,” I told him the story behind it, explaining that Deb became Blondie when she changed her name. “You know quite a lot about us, I don't believe that you just happen to stumble upon us.” he chuckled shaking his head.

“Quite the contrary, I've been hearing about you for a while now and I've secretly seen you perform a few times. I know bands like you, good music and a talented frontman- woman, excuse me- yet you don't get any sort of credit or make it anywhere. I appreciate your style and so does a good friend of mine.” He stood and pointed towards the front door where at that exact moment, Iggy pop walked in with a huge smile on his face.

I tensed but felt Debs hand intertwined with mine. “Afternoon children.” he smiled walking over to hug David Bowie. He took a seat and ordered a black coffee and a side of has brown before clearing his throat. “Long time no see, what are we talking about?”

The last time we saw Iggy pop was the night he slipped us drugs in our drinks, leading to a threesome between Debra, a groupie, and myself.

“I was just about to tell them, gentleman, blondie, how would you like to go on tour with us?” we all sat in our seats.

Iggy leaned across the table to Deb and me with a smile, “consider it an apology.”

Thanks for reading. Xx

-k