1974 - A David Bowie Fanfic.

Rainy day.

"Thanks Larry," I say still in shock.

It was just after 1 a.m., Kev would be worried about me but I just wanted to be alone after meeting David Bowie. I walk out of The White Horse, it was pouring down, heavy drops lashed down on my ripped dress that Bowie had commented on, my wavy curls had already been drenched and were plastered against my face, the only thing keeping me warm was the denim jacket. My heavy eye make up was already down my cheeks, as if I had been crying hard.

The rebel that I was, I walked lazily round the town, drunk people falling out of the closing pubs, and I avoided eye contact with anyone and replayed the conversation I had with David. David. David Bowie grabbed my waist... Called me darling...

He was everything I dreamed he would be but more.

I had to tell someone... Not Kev, what about Ellen? Or she might go starstruck like I did... I decided to just keep it a secret for now. It still didn't feel real.

I route around my pocket to find my key to the house, my fingers, cold as ice from the rain. I unlock my door, the only people that lived here now was me and Kev because El was away.

"Where the hell have you been?!" He shouts at me as I close the door behind me.

"I'm - I'm sorry, I got a little lost in thought." I was startled by my welcome home.

"You stupid cow you had me worried sick! Who've you been with?! Where've you been?! Eleanor left hours ago...!" He says shouting aggressively.

"No one, I went to the pub, had a few drinks, that's all, I've just got a massive headache so I'll just head to bed." I say peeling off my jacket and rubbing my eyes that had black stains of mascara on still.

"I'll - uh -I'll see you upstairs then." Kevin mutters to me quietly.

"I won't be long." I mutter back.

I fling on one of my big shirts that had been washed and dried earlier that morning and threw everything in the wash - the dress I could fix a different day but for now, all I wanted was sleep.

****

The following morning I woke up alone, Kev had gone to work and wouldn't be back till the evening. Last nights shouts replayed in my head, I had never seen him so angry... If I told him about meeting up with David Bowie, he'd never let me leave the house again even if David was a celebrity.

I roll over in the bed and think about the incredible man I met last night... I quickly get out of my bed and run down to my denim jacket which was now dry, I reach into the pocket and find the little napkin. Pleased, I kiss the napkin and bite my lower lip looking at the black ink and handwriting.

I picked up the phone and dialled the numbers in. The phone began ringing and my breath began to get heavy... I was nervous.

"Good morning, how can I help?" I hear an American woman say to me.

"Um, is David there?" I ask cautiously... I must have the wrong number.

"Can I ask who's speaking?" She says in a bitchy way.

"Tell him it's his rebel, Ros." I say with a smirk and a lot more confidence.

A minute passed and suddenly the gorgeous British accent spoke. "Well hello Ros, you're my rebel are you?"

I suddenly cringe... Did I really say that I was his rebel...?

"Uh, I didn't mean it like that I just-"

"Darling it's fine, it's fine, I quite like that title, Ros the rebel!" He says and I giggle at his comment. "So, how can I help you today?"

"Well- I- uh-" I stumble my words nervously. "I just wanted to check that this was your number... Who's the American woman that answered?" I ask carefully.