“Right, then. C’mon in.” the harrowed, middle-aged man with long, messy greying hair named Michael Crowe AKA Mick welcomed her at the door of the large tour bus. She got out her notepad, as they entered the bus, lit only by sunlight streaming in through its windows and stinking  of cigarettes and alcohol. “Mick?! Oi, ya ol crow! Where are ya?! ” a voice called out, from a dimly lit corner of the bus. She put on her glasses to get a clearer view of her dirty, crummy surroundings. She’d just got them the week before and absolutely loathed wearing them as they messed with the posh attitude that she put on. She preferred to rather walk/cycle into walls (like she’d done numerous times before). They finally found him surrounded by a flock of pretty groupies. “He’s choosing groupies.” Mick whispered to a curious Ina as they watched him slump into his expensive looking leather throne chair  and watched as his choosing eyes wandered from one anxious girl to the next. His eyes rested on Ina who fidgeted about with her glasses. She was taken aback as he exclaimed- “Ya there, bespectacled groupie, c’mere! The rest o’ ya girls, get out!” She watched as the grumbling groupies pushed past her rudely on the way out. “H…Hey!” she stuttered, her eyes trailing from his leather pants to his bare chest as the handsome man stood up from his chair and approached her. “Ya get to live out yer wildest fantasies, lass.” he whispered charmingly, running a finger across a starstruck Ina’s lips. “Ya know, that sounds great…” she whispered dreamily, shuddering at his touch and succumbing to his charm. “Ahem! She’s not a groupie, sir. In fact, she’s a rock journo. Ere to interview ya.” Mick interrupted. The rock star staggered back, to her disappointment. “Yer a journalist?!” he asked, surprisingly amused by the revelation. She nodded. “Her? Seriously? What’s the interview for? Storytime magazine? Look at er, she’s far too young, Mick. Looks amateur to me. ” he mocked, bursting into insulting laughter. “That didn’t stop ya from almost shaggin er.” Mick muttered, remindingly. “Oi, I heard that! Relax, lass, I’m definitely not a paedophile! Mick’s just famed for taking cheap shots at me.” the offended rock star defended himself and assured Ina, before shooing Mick away unsuccessfully. “Well, I’m just starting out at The Rolling Jack magazine.” she decided to change the subject and introduce herself properly, handing him one of her uncle’s home printed visiting cards. “Oh, dear Lord! Oh…Wow! That’s a real magazine, eh? ” he exclaimed, suppressing his laughter and widening his eyes at the sight of the genuine visiting card that she’d procured as proof. He finally agreed to do an interview, on Mick’s insistence.
“Alright, then!  Let’s get started. Pity yer not a groupie though. The fun we’d have….” he muttered, saucily. She felt tingly (and also a bit uncomfortable) as he stared at her from behind the bar onboard his bus, before taking a swig from his bottle of vodka.  “Care for a Harvey Wallbanger? I like to think I concocted this delicious drink! ” he boasted with a grin, emptying the rest of the contents of the bottle into a highball glass filled with orange juice and ice, before swaggering towards her with the concoction and handing it to her. “I’ll pass.” she declined politely, averting her eyes from his bare chest which was so close to her face that she felt her cheeks turn beet red. “Why? Still not o’ drinkin age? ” he asked, mockingly. “No! ” the new adult replied, feeling insulted. “In fact, I’m eighteen…An’ a half! ” she continued proudly, before snatching the drink from him and taking a sip. The first time drinker sputtered and scrunched up her face in disgust at the taste of alcohol. “Well, try not to vomit…or pass out, for that matter.” he muttered, rolling his eyes at her inability to hold her drink, before proceeding to take a large sip from his drink.

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