In which Trixie Holloway only ever wanted to have a good time, and Damon Albarn just couldn't help himself.
The wild nights, of the Party Professor and the Slutty Superstar, led to an academic in the newspaper for all the wrong reasons. Battling the...
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Musicians.
Trix had a love hate relationship with them.
She loved their sass and their attitude. Their allure and their shagability. No one was a better lay than a musician. It could've been their creativity or their romance, but there was no one else like musicians.
Musicians who took what they wanted and never looked back. Who didn't care about much, not women, not their health and certainly not about anyone else. Those who played it cool and thought sunglasses and cigarettes would mask their feelings from the rest of the world.
Musicians who would only ever break Trixie's heart.
Damon had broken her heart by being a successful musician, Blur had achieved their goal of keeping the dream alive. Their new album was a hit.
Damon had broken her heart by leaving for tour, travelling the world and leaving her on her lonesome. Actually, that wasn't entirely true, Blur would be gone for just over two weeks, then they'd return for an extra long summer before the actual chaos began.
She was over the moon for him, of course she was, but that didn't mean she couldn't be selfish and wish he'd never left at all. These two weeks would be a preview of what she'd endure alone in the autumn.
Damon wasn't the only one on her hit list however, Brett Anderson had also fled the country. He'd rocked her world in a bathroom stall and then buggered off to play his critically acclaimed album to the world. How was she supposed to have an open relationship when the six foot, dark-haired musician she fancied had pissed off for what was to be months?
So, Trix was alone in London.
Yes, she technically had Jade and Jerome to keep her company, but she wasn't getting laid. Women have needs, and sometimes those needs have to be addressed.
So what is a woman to do when she's sad and lonely? Drink of course.
Trix knew it was pathetic, but she'd headed to the pub... By herself.
She didn't really know what her plan was, apart from drink herself under the table and hopefully make a few friends along the way. No part of her wanted to visit somewhere full of old men, the type of people she was surrounded by in Manchester growing up, so she headed somewhere Damon had talked to her about countless times. She couldn't count on her hands how many times he'd professed his love for the place as they sat in bed together, chatting away into the night.
The Laurel Tree, a lowkey gay club, that played music from the 60s and held open welcoming arms for mods and those with punk-rock hairdos. So naturally, as soon as Trix got to the front of the rather long queue, the bouncer didn't bat an eyelash, her short red hair wasn't out of the ordinary in a place like this.
