David's lips had gone blue by the time he had crossed the border, and his thin trousers weren't keeping his legs warm, his hands were an angry red and he was trying to generate heat with friction. There was no heating in his car and he didn't appear to have enough petrol to take him all the way home, he dragged out the car's last bits of life as far as he could till it stalled on a main road somewhere in Middlesex. "Shit, come on come on.."He mumbled profusely. He was honked at a few times and really didn't want to get out and draw further attention to himself in his garish suit. In the end he had to. He knees knocked together as he pushed the car closer to some bushes out of harm's way.

It was now about if he should wait, walk or hitch a lift. He chose the latter and found himself stopping cars by the tens. There was a guy with a great dane in a Voltswagon which appeared to be more roomy than a mini crammed with young women, and he apologized to those who were willing to pick up his royal freakyness. The guy turned out to be a quite cultured fellow – hardly surprising since he had this van and he travelled with his pet who slobbered all over him.

"So what brings you out here?" The man huffed through his beard.

"Country drive went wrong..." He said sheepishly.

"Trying to get away from somethin'?"

David hadn't a clue what to say, he distracted himself with the dog who was seeking his affection. "Err who knows?.I just walked out of a party and headed for the open road."

"Must have been some shit party..." The dog barked his agreement, and the man swiftly put on some tunes. "Are you in the music business?" The man asked absently.

David blinked. "What makes you say that?" By the minute he liked the man even more since he was willing to give him a lift not knowing who he was.

"I don't know...you look familiar, and you have that look that says 'show business', and most young chaps do music."

"Yes well...doesn't everyone make their own music?" He chimed, though really he was preaching and the man guffawed.

"Yes I suppose they attempt...I play guitar me, play mind you- doesn't mean I'm a musician...I play badly."

David often criticized his own talents. "You shouldn't put yourself down, don't let the punters know that...they might hear your quirky tunes and think you're some new modern radical."

"You're a manager aren't you?"

"No, I'm just a father...I have a 3 year old who I talk to, not really sure he listens."

"They listen when they're young, when they're older they just want to get away."

The man had some good insight, it was short lived when he yelled obscenities at a woman driver cycling a roundabout. When they got to a familiar street they pulled up, he departed the casual acquaintance and made his way on foot to his home. He saw the light on in the living room and eased himself into the hall, the commotion in the other room stalled as if waiting his arrival, he made himself known to his wife, babysitter and Zowie .

"Finally got back have you?" Angela sneered. David had no intention to be civil.

"Can I ask why Christine is still here? –Sorry sweetheart." He aimed at the teenager holding Zowie. "Weren't you capable?" Angela crushed her cigarette; he bet she was imagining it was his neck.

"I didn't come home last night." She stated, as if that was supposed to be his problem.

"I see, so Christine here kindly stayed to watch our bundle over night."

"-It was no trouble reall-"

"No, I'm going to pay you thrice." David went through his pockets.

Angela stood up. "Where's the car?"

David froze, he doubled back right out of the room and went to the phone. The services he spoke to were swift, and judging by his wife's expression she wasn't too happy. "Ran out of petrol." He said meekly. Angela brushed him off and clumped upstairs in her stilettos, he wasn't deterred by the slam of the bedroom door, but his poor Zowie was startled and burst out crying. He allowed the babysitter to put him in his playpen before accepting her extra pay-packet.

"Thanks... Angela wasn't back that long by the way."

"I figured." He mumbled.

"It's lucky Mick came round when he did." She chortled, David merely blinked at her – was that what she had said, Mick?

"Mick, Ronno...Mick Ronson?" He sputtered, he watched her face turn to a frown.

"Yeah...shouldn't I have let him in?" She said cautiously, worried she had done something wrong.

"No, that was fine Christine. He's good with kids, probably gave you a little company?" He added sheepishly, he wasn't sure if he should pry more, he didn't want to sound overbearing or needy. "Erm..did he show himself out?"

Christine nodded. "He stayed right up to an hour before Angie came home, he is such a delight, it must be great working with him?" She said politely.

He merely nodded getting a little dazed. "Um yeah, he'll probably pop round more often...since you got on like a house on fire." Christine laughed giving him an affectionate shove.

"Hey Mr Bowie...I thought he had a girlfriend."

"Rock 'n' Roll." He wiggled his eyebrows before gratefully letting her go off to spend her pay check. Soon as the door was shut he pressed against it. My God, Ronno here...why? If his damn car hadn't had broke down he would have seen him, they would have had a laugh – that could have been the reason he came round to him, though why in the early hours of the morning? He shied around the possibilities because they were slightly graphic. He turned to go upstairs and fleetingly caught his reflection waving, he jarred.

"Woaw." His heart leaping into his throat. "Enough." He whispered on edge. "I want to rest." He milled over to his bureau to pour himself a glass of neat whiskey, it burned and soothed as it went down his throat and he swore he could hear multiple sighs coming from his tiny frame.