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Boys got Rhythm

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Disclaimer: this story is pure invention, and with this I do not mean in any way to offend the memory of Bon Scott or besmirch the reputation of AC/DC or those close to them.

This story wasn't written for profit.

 

 

She let the telephone handset slide down, as if it had been covered in soap. And when the beating of her heart came down to her throat, the only things she could do were start screaming and crying.

"Bon is dead, Kimmy..." reported Sarah, and without wasting time, with the tone of her voice broken by sorrow and anxiety, she had also explained how and where.

It had happened a few hours before, on the seat of a Renault 5, in the icy night of that February in London, city in which he had chosen to return.

Bon had died alone, dingy, on the seat of that car wrapped only by a blanket, after having spent another evening of alcohol and who knows what else, one of those evenings for which he was so famous.

Apparently he had lost his senses, and his friend who had accompanied him had not been able to wake him up and bring him into the house, and so, simply, he had gone to sleep.

The next day he found Bon in that same car, in the same position, but he was no longer breathing.

Bon Scott had been very important to Kimmy.

He was a very sociable person, always ready to have a good time but at the same times with a great emptiness within himself, which brought him to get drunk more and more and to have sex every night with a different woman.

Kimmy had understood all these facts very well, but she had not done enough to help him.

Indeed, having listened to the prejudices and appearances, she had chosen to fall in love with another boy of the band, who then had left her for a blonde whom he had met in Europe.

That was one of Kimmy's biggest mistakes.

For quite some time the girl had had to say goodbye to AC/DC, after years spent chasing them during their climb to success.

She had loved them with all her heart, mind and body and they had reciprocated by sharing with her their food, their roof, their beds.

At that time, however, the situation had changed a lot.

The only one of the band that had been in contact with her was Cliff, who in his last phone call told her that everyone was fine, and the brothers were already thinking about making the new album.

And then there was Bon, who had never forgotten about her.

It was not in his character to completely erase from his life the people who had been so important, not even at the height of fame.

Before Christmas holidays he was back in Australia and he and Kimmy had met again.

They had been very well together on that occasion, but they both knew that their love story would not have a future.

The Young’s were accustomed to breaking contact with anyone who had been excluded from their friendships for any reason, without great tragedies.

And so, the last thing Bon had sent her had been a Christmas card, sent from his parents ' house, near Perth, where he had spent the holidays.


"Hey Kimmy, how you doing?

It's not bad for me, really. I'm finally relaxing.

Sometimes I find myself thinking about what my life would be like if you were here with me now.

Probably my mother would adore you, as cute and kind as you are... even if she'd be shocked if she knew how nasty you can be!

Well, now what's done is done. Life will go on and we both know how to find our way.

Always remember that you're unique.

Merry Christmas.

I love you.

Bon. "


The girl read those words with her eyes full of tears.

She felt empty as a plastic bag, without a trickle of energy.

She couldn’t believe that Bon was dead, he who looked like the portrait of life itself, always ready to have fun and entertain other people, the prototype of the rockstar to adore, because when he sang on a stage could transmit the vibrations of his voice to whoever listened to him.

Destroyed, Kimmy spent at least a quarter of an hour crying desperately at the foot of her bed.

When she finally opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the cover of “Highway to hell” that was showing itself in front of all the records she owned.

There was the picture of all five AC/DC, Angus had horns in his head and a devil's tail in his hand.

Bon smiled.

Since she was no longer a person liked by the band, oddly enough, she couldn’t stop listening to that album.

She got up, took it and put it in the first drawer she found.

Then she walked into the kitchen and started drinking from a bottle of Jack Daniel's, greedily.

The memories immediately began to come out.