Summer Breeze

Part of me didn't quite understand why I had agreed to a double date without a significant double. I knew this would be the most awkward I had ever felt, but the prospect of meeting someone from Led Zeppelin was overwhelming. Bianca and I waited outside of Beaux's for about ten minutes discussing how she had met Jimmy.

"I had to be thirteen the first time I had met him," Bianca had begun. "He was new to the school and the district, having been from the other side of London. He had strange hair. Black, shinny, and normally long enough to cup his chin. I guess that was the first thing that drew me to him; the fact that this boy had enough bollocks to wear his hair longer than uniformly appropriate. He had this high-pitched voice that repelled all the gals in school, including my own girlfriends. The boys thought he was for the opposite gender, if you know what I mean.

"I came up to him one day in Grammar and asked him if he'd like to be friends. That's how it all began. He had told me that he was going to take up guitar after he had found an acoustic left behind from a family that had previously lived in the house he lived in at the time. It was a sign, really. He taught himself by listening to a James Burton character and some Scotty Moore. The kids at school laughed at him for loving skifle. Yes! I was thirteen, as was he, because I fondly remember him appearing on Huw Wheldon's All Your Own with his school-boy band and bragging that I was his best friend.

Bianca sighed. "Then he left at sixteen to tour with his friend Neil Christian until he got Glandular Fever. He came home and Patricia-- his mother-- and I took grand care of him. I believe I was in college then, studying business management. After Jimmy partially recovered, he pursued his second love in college."

"What would that be?" I asked pulling the flying strands of blonde hair behind my ear, trying my hardest to ignore the wind as it picked up. "A girl, right?"

"No, painting," Bianca corrected. I nodded in understanding, thinking to myself how compatible we were. He seemed like the all-around artisan, quite like myself. My thoughts became clouded with romantic thoughts about the man, much to my concern.

I was only brought back down to Earth when a black Cadillac Coupe Deville pulled into the parking spot before me. The passenger door opened slowly. I could not make out the figures inside until a black curly mass that was the person's hair emerged from the doorway. Jimmy took a step back and removed his sunglasses, tossing them onto the passenger's seat. He closed the door lightly and approached Bianca and I smoothly, watching his Dingo boots kick his purple Chinos the entire way.

The Coupe Deville drove away and Jimmy seemed unfazed. Not until he reached us did he look up. He put a finger to his lips as a call for silence and motioned toward the door.

"Don't say my name," he whispered to us as we made our way to the elegant entrance of Beaux's. The doorman was dumbstruck and speechless, luckily, as Jimmy passed by him. He pointed and stammered, but ultimately said nothing.

Inside was fit enough for the Queen, and I wouldn't be surprised if she had eaten here before. I got the impression that there was a real reason I had never stopped in here. The restaurant had few tables, so as to accommodate the large and luxurious black piano in the center of the room. The carpets were a rich red, matching the curtains on the several lattice windows that naturally lit the room. A golden chandelier hung over every table, and over every table was draped a cream silk cloth with golden trim. Needless to say, it was a place Bianca and I probably wouldn't have gotten into if Jimmy wasn't with us.

Jimmy shuffled over to the maitre-de and muttered, "Table for two-- er, three, please. Reservations for Jimmy Page."

The man flipped though his reservation book for a second. "You have reservations for two only, sir," the maitre-de informed Jimmy.

Jimmy groaned and studied both Bianca and I, as if he were weighing which one to bring in with him. "Who is your friend, Bianca?" he asked.

"My friend Jenni I mentioned one day," Bianca replied. "I-- she... she wanted to meet you really badly. I hope you don't mind." She glanced my way and I nodded.

"I don't, except the fact that I have reservations for only two of us. I'm gutted. We'll eat somewhere else, I suppose," Jimmy concluded, his face saddened and his body crest fallen.

The maitre-de had over heard Jimmy and ran around his podium to ensure all of our attention was on him. "No need to eat elsewhere, Mister Page. You and your lovely ladies can eat at the open table next to the Stewart and John party. Please forgive me for the hitch. Follow me."

Jimmy's face brightened some as we were led toward a table next to what appeared to be Rod Stewart and Elton John. Elton, clad in the most ridiculous glasses and ensemble I had ever seen, called to Jimmy, "I see you've brought your bitches! I brought mine, as well." He cackled and Rod hid his face.

"Nice seeing you again, my Queen," he laughed back. Bianca and I raced up to Elton and Rod and asked for an autograph. My mind was reeling; I hadn't been with Jimmy for five minutes and I had already met two very important musicians that I idolized.

"You two look lovely," Elton complimented. Rod avoided looking at us and instead took to writing on a piece of paper-- probably the lyrics to a song.

"Thank you, Mr. John," Bianca giggled nervously. I smiled as I looked down at the eccentric nancy, holding back laughter at his glasses.

"Please, call me Elton," Elton insisted. In the corner of my eye I noticed Jimmy standing uncomfortably by our table, looking a tad antsy.