Time, She Will Be Your Living End (David Bowie Fanfiction)

My Heart's Aflame, My Head's In A Whirl

Hey! I just want to start by apologising for not posting a chapter last week. It was partially incomplete and my mind wasn't really wanting me to write but within the past week I've boosted up a bit. Sometimes I might post once every two weeks depending, I hope that's okay with you all? I also want to thank you all for reading this! I hope you enjoy this chapter. You can sort of tell that my mind wasn't up to writing in the first half of this... Enjoy!! <3

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David's life is certainly a busy one; it's much more hectic and all over the place than what I once thought it was.

In the car, on the way to the studio in Soho, David invited me to join him at the Speakeasy where he's doing a late night performance. When he asked me to tag along I was apprehensive at first; he said he's performing quite late, and while that isn't too much of a bother, I was just worried about Angie, as always. She certainly knows how to start a fight, but cannot finish one unless she is, of course, the victor of it. I assumed Angie might want to be there however, after her and David's argument the chances of her making an appearance is very slim. For all I know she could be packing her bags and preparing to go back to Cyprus.

After a short car ride we made it to the Soho recording studio and outside  the building was Marc and a young woman beside him, holding his hand. David got out of the car first and quickly ran round to the other side to open the door for me. He held out his hand  and I stepped out of the car, right leg then left. Upon exiting the car he linked arms with me. A plaque on the brick wall read 'Trident Studios'. It still felt like a dream.

"You alright, David?" David unlinked his arm from mine and went to hug Marc, followed by the young woman next to him. "Annie, this is June." Marc introduced me to her. From the moment I saw her I thought I recognised her as June Child, and I wasn't wrong. She was ever so pretty with flowing light, golden brown hair and wide blue eyes. I said 'hello' to her with a beaming smile. David and Marc led the way inside. "I'm Marc's girlfriend, well, fiancé. We're getting married at the end of the month." We both followed the artists who were desperate and budding to get to work. "Congratulations, June."

She ran her spindly fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ear. "Are you David's girlfriend?" She asked, catching me by surprise. Surely she should know David and Angie well enough? "He's engaged himself, so no. I'm just a friend of his I guess you could say." We went up a spiral staircase and into a recording room. As we arrived inside June stopped me, holding her arm out. "Oh love, I know he's engaged to Angie." She stopped and laughed. "But thats never stopped anyone, has it?" She winked, then grabbing my hand to pull me towards the others, some of which I hadn't actually met just yet. I recognised one or two of them, both from old photos and the party. "This is Tony, he's mine and Marc's producer. You might have met him earlier?" David introduced me to Tony and the others. I knew it was Visconti! There was something about his face that just looked oddly similar. It might have been his nose, or eyes.

On the other side of the room was Marc, with June all over him. She kept planting kisses on his face and twiddling his curly hair. He tried to pull away and grab his guitar, but she'd just keep getting hold of his hand and placing it round her. "Oi! You two! Stop trying to get it on with each other." An older gentleman who was clutching a cigar in his right hand burst through. His attire consisted of a brown suit and yellow shirt, along with a funky looking tie. "Get it on? This dirty, sweet girl can't even unbutton her own shirt, let alone mine." Marc remarked as he pulled himself away from June, laughing. She herself began to laugh. As he described her, her laugh was dirty yet pretty sweet. It was almost quite high pitched and childish. The older man waded over to them with a red face, taking a puff of his cigar. He pointed his index finger out at Marc. "I'm warning you Mr. Bolan" he paused to inhale more of his cigar as he poked Marc's chest. "David needs to get this right, you need to get this perfectly right. Because if you screw this up not only do you fail yourself and not get paid, but you also fail him over there with the girly hair and silly bloody shoes!" He pointed over to David, shaking his hand in rage, as he shouted in Marc's face. But in true Bolan fashion, he just stared at the taller middle-aged man and blew a loose curly strand of hair out of his face with attitude and pouted. "Alright."