stories from the city; damon albarn

9-

The after party was blazing, it was over thirty people on the now empty NME stage, including members from Oasis, Blur, Pulp, The Beastie Boys, Beck, Radiohead, Waverlength, Rage Against the Machine and surprisingly enough, Nick Cave. It had been a while since the festival had closed and now, it's only inhabitants were the musicians left who wanted to party.

Older attendees of the festival, such as Maxis Elrich and Elvis Costello were having a more intimate hang out in Maxis' trailer instead, which had pushed Chloe out of her father's trailer and towards the stage where hoards of young people were making fools out of themselves.

Liam Gallagher was standing by himself, tucked away in the corner, nursing his cigarette gently. He had his eye on someone, but had decided on watching from a distance. He didn't want to cause a scene at the moment or start anything in front of so many musicians that he had a natural respect for.

Besides, his brother liked her. He wasn't going to make himself look like an idiot in front of Blur folks or any of these other musicians. No matter how inviting her smile was. He could wait and find a better time.

Instead, as he looked around the room, he caught sight of Chloe Erlich and decided to make his way over. "You're looking lovely tonight." He says in a friendly manner.

She gives an awkward smile before saying "Thanks. I got tired of wearing merchandise for my dad. Had to switch into something else."

"Ever thought of being a model?" He says, offering her his cigarette.

She takes it, and lets out a puff of smoke before hanging it back to him. "Not really. That's Joan's thing. She's really good at all of that, fashion, the runway."

He grins "you've never thought of trying it have you?"

"I mean I've been offered. My friend Stella thinks I'd fit the vibe of her clothing, or whenever she designs for a fashion house. I've always declined. I like taking photos much more."

"You have a knack for that. Can't wait to see how my picture turned out."

"I'm sure you'll see it in NME."

The Gallagher gazed out upon the now abandoned plot of land, looking at the muddy and trampled ground. No crowd. No people. Just the dark air and earth surrounding them.

"It's more terrifying now, seeing that there's no one left. Makes you wonder."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's scary. Wondering how many people were out there, what they thought, who they are, where they've gone."

Chloe thinks about it for a minute, he was getting more philosophical than she thought anyone who was as arrogant as him could. 

"Let's be friends." She decided calmly. "I want to be friends." She adds

"Great. I've always wanted to have famous friends." He chuckles

"You are famous. You just played Glastonbury."

"Whatever."

She pulls out a sharpie from her pocket and reaches for his wrist, scrawling out her phone number on his hand, writing a C under it, just for clarification.

"If anyone asks who's it is, just say it's a fucking stripper or something. I don't want random people calling my house."

"Yeah, of course."

"When you're in London look me up. Or maybe you can show me Manchester. I'm always looking to travel."

"Do you do tours?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you photograph bands on tour?"

"I have."

"Would you be interested?"

"Maybe when your album drops." She shrugs. "I need to hear more Oasis before I can make that decision with a clear head."

Damon Albarn was having a terrible time trying to clear his conscience.

That was an understatement.

After getting a talking to from Maxis Erlich, he felt vile. His life was slowly turning into a mess, and he was only realizing it after getting a long lecture from a man he looked up to growing up. 

Damon was watching the three people he'd been intimate with recently talk, as if there wasn't any tension or any issues between them. He was watching Justine flit along wittily as if she wasn't still thinking that he had been fucking the woman in front of her. It was a triangle and he was the point, sucking on a pint of beer because he honestly didn't want to talk to anyone at the moment.

Perhaps worst of all was that in the midst of it all, he had found another pretty girl that he wanted to know desperately, but now couldn't. He didn't want to disrespect Maxis Erlich, even though he probably wouldn't find out.

He had to figure himself out.

Damon loved Justine.

He loved the time they spent on top of one another, the time they spent writing, playing, the way she talked to him and treated him. He loved how she smelled and smiled. He loved everything about her. Their embraces post concert meant the world, and he thought she was going to be a star.

But- that didn't mean he couldn't ignore how he felt about everyone else. He couldn't ignore the way his best friend walked, or pushed their glasses up. Or the way Avery looked in a Blur shirt in his bed, or how she could effortlessly bend over backwards on stage and elsewhere. Or how the supermodels had lovely legs. Or how the TV Host had a great voice.

He was attracted to other people. He wanted to fuck other people. So he would. And Justine was okay with that. They'd operated that way for awhile now.

What Justine didn't like was that he was awfully close to some of his friends and how they'd spend the night over and over and how it was easy to tell when it wasn't a friendly sleepover. She didn't like the obscene drugs, the random joint studio sessions. The fashion shows. The club parties.

She didn't like how he described the people she knew he fucked more than once. The way that they mattered to him, the way that he'd save them in a heartbeat.

She wanted Damon to be monogamous in some ways, emotionally perhaps.

And now more than ever, maybe she wanted him to herself sexually.

And that was something Damon couldn't give.

Especially as he was beginning to find someone else just as equally interesting as Justine.