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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"You're going to hate me." Damon whispered.
Trix and Damon were laid in bed, it was late at night and they'd stayed up watching the strangest things on the television, those shows that only get aired because no one's awake to watch them. The pair of them had habitually slumped to bed like robots, ready to power off for the night and Trix had been moments away from sleep when she'd heard Damon.
"What?" She groaned, rolling over onto her side to face him, all she could make out was his tired eyes blinking at the ceiling, the curves of his lips and the slope of his nose. "You're going to hate me. Jamie invited us to his place for a party, I'd said you'd come with me." "What?!" She snapped, suddenly feeling more awake than she had all day, "You know we can't stand each other." "Oh stop whining, you and him are as close as siblings. You fight and fight and fight but you still stomach each other, don't give me that bullshit." Damon groaned, tired of the petty feud the pair seemed to have with each other, a feud that he was always thrust into the middle of. He knew that Jamie secretly thought Trixie was the fiercest woman he'd ever met, and he knew that Trix secretly thought Jamie was one of the most decent people in London, and he also knew they'd never tell each other that.
Trix fell asleep that night with a frown on her face, like a moody teenager that couldn't find their size in a top they liked. She was going to Jamie Hewlett's house tomorrow and she couldn't put it into words how much she was dreading seeing that cunning face of his, just like she had all the other times she'd seen him in the past year. Whether it be at the pub or a special event - she'd squabbled with him every time.
Which is exactly why no one knew why Trix had turned up to Jamie's house on time.
When parties have a start time, they always mean rock up an hour or two later when you're already tipsy so you don't drink all my booze - and it seemed like Trixie had forgotten that etiquette. With Damon out visiting a friend before the party, she'd made her own way there, grimacing up at the white townhouse with a scowl.
It was pretty, that much she couldn't deny, from its glossy red door to its hanging baskets full of draping petunias. Part of her couldn't believe that four blokes lived here, not until the door opened as she stepped into the front garden and out rushed Jamie Hewlett in his underwear, his housemate chasing him with a pillow.
The brutish boys skidded to a halt when they saw Trix in front of them, her long legged figure in nothing but a shimmering gold dress.
"Trix?" He frowned, not taking any notice of the passers-by's who were gasping at his immodesty, "What are you doing here? Where's Damon?" "I was hoping we could talk."
There was no dispute, Jamie and his severely embarrassed housemate let her walk straight into their home, her beauty looking out of place as she delicately sat in a sunken armchair, she didn't belong here.
