"Drugs, sex, and sun salutations."
Harry Styles thought he would never make it big, but that all changed when he ran into public relations manager, Celestial Gray. With long lists of problems on both sides and an unusual duo, the two never imagin...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
REBEL REBEL chapter one january 21, 1975
Anger was a bitter aftertaste that lingered in the back of Celest's mouth, her makeup tarnished and she's spent, unsure on how to properly broach the emotions she felt at that moment. A fool, a damn fool blinded by her loneliness seemed to be the general consensus, but there was a bitter twang to it that was aimed directly at the shortcomings of her now ex.
"He couldn't keep it in his fuckin' pants, huh?" She growled lowly to herself, as bitter and biting as the air that bristles past her ankles and has the hemline of her skirt tattering with the sudden breeze. She's not exactly got much of a habit for it, but a situation like this warrants a smoke and when she's walking into the bar that's become quite a staple to allay the pain of every heartache, she's met with the aroma of that very vice, as well as dust, the pungent scent of spilt beers from yesteryear and well, life. Her parents never understood her longing to pursue a career in public relations, but it sure did pay well, so Celest got away with it.
Her heels clicked as she slid past a pool table on her way to the yawning expanse of mahogany they call a bar, patrons staggering and swaying to the live performance some poor soul was giving. Ah, that's new. She thought to herself, her gaze fixated on the now neglected jukebox in the corner, already collecting even more dust. She boosted herself up with the railing that was hidden on the stool as she tried to drown out everything bad going on in her life, throwing her black handbag onto the counter beside her. Her eyes fixated on all the bottles of alcohol, trying to decide which to choose like a child only being allowed one sweet, delicious chocolate bar out of fifty.
This wasn't the usual upscale swanky bar her associates would attend, oh no, this place was a stalwart, irish ran and older than anything with whiskey nose afflicted patrons that sing in a gurgling, drunken choir near closing time to old songs from that same, old jukebox.
Finnegan's Bar shunned change, abhorred modernity and remained defiant in the face of LA and it's ever changing idea of cool. What's left of the carpets is sticky and stained, the decor is outdated, dust lingers on every surface within eyeshot, the lighting burns canary yellow and there is a constant muggy patina to everything that bathes everything in a hazy filter within its reach - Finnegan's was home.
"What can I get for ya, darling?" The bartender asked as he shuffled his feet towards Celest. He was tall and thin, his brown hair curled in an afro. He wore slight bell bottoms and a simple Rolling Stones tee, which is probably why she liked this place so much. No cringey black and white uniforms, no loud blaring music, just a calming atmosphere as far as most clubs around here were considered. Celest's eyes wandered the wall of alcohol, her better judgement deciding against buying a whole bottle to down by herself in one sitting.
"A shot of your hardest whiskey" She said with a smile to the man leaning on the counter in front of her, earning a weird look in return. "I just caught my boyfriend cheating, I need it."
