When Steve decided to form a band called The Sex Pistols, his best friend Violet Webb found herself swept away by the dream for a better life, filled with sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. But soon, the dark underbelly of the music industry would reveal...
We had set off early in the morning the next day around four as everyone wanted to get back to London, plus we had another gig at the 100 club tonight.
I was sat in the front talking to Glen when he whacked me on the shoulder.
"Oi what you-" I shot back turning around,
"Shush" he hushed, nodding his head over,
I followed to see John with Violet cuddled on his chest, one arm around her waist and the other behind his head, both sound asleep.
"What d'you think she sees in him?" Glen whispered,
"Dunno, maybe she's got a thing for redheaded maniacs" I shrugged, my mind already running through all the ways I could make John disappear without a trace if he oversteps a boundary,
"It's odd don't you think? they were at each others throats only a few days ago"
"It's how it all starts Glen" I told him, thinking of me and Chrissie, the first time we met she wanted to do me in with a cricket bat and now we were making music,
Maybe this Violet and John thing ain't all bad? Still I don't trust him with her.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
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Violets Outfit:
Somehow the pistols had scored a contract with EMI and were now about to go on an interview with Grundy. Violet was ecstatic when Malcolm suggested she go on too, she had never been on live tv before or tv in general for that matter.
Everyone was sat in a room backstage waiting to be called on.
"Oi don't be nervous" John comforted Violet as her leg bounced up and down,
"I'm not" she scoffed looking anywhere but at him until he took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over it softly,
"You look great"
Violets leg instantly came to a stop at this "thanks Johnny" she whispered with a small smile,
Steve however didn't have the same kind look about him as he glared at the pair before stomping over.
"Excuse me" he quipped pushing himself in between them awkwardly, forcing them apart,
John glared at the side of his face bitterly, watching as the guitarist downed the last of a bottle of whiskey before letting out an obnoxiously loud burp.
