Chapter 6
He couldn't recagnise himself. He loved it. His dark ripped jeans, red bleach splattered tank, thick boots, bandana tied around his arm. Wrist bands. And whatever she was putting on his face. It was his sixteenth. So the bohemians were throwing him a party. He'd become weary of Jackson 5's mother, she just didn't like him. She was putting paint and anything she could get on his face. So far he had blue lips, gone wild with red and black on his eyes. His hair wasn't blonde anymore either. She'd dyed it brown and pur red, blue and even white/silver spray in it. He looked amazing.
In the bar there was music, not the computer recorded crap he'd been used to. But real music, there were bohemians banging on tins and plucking strings they had tied around boxes. And there were posters. Of rock stars from the age of rock. That's where he had got his name. He'd chosen the name 'Paul Mccarteny' who had also been known as 'Sir Paul Mccarteny' or 'Big Macca'.
They got a drink and had fun, you were only sixteen once.