Being Mötley Crües photographer was never easy.

Especially when you and the drummer hated each other.

So, when you knock on Tommy’s door for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, you’re not surprised when a blonde headed girl Waltz’s out of his dressing room, shooting you daggers on her way past.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” Tommys familiar voice rang through your ears, as he leant against the doorframe. He had that all too familiar smirk on his face and a light raise to his eyebrow.