Space Truckin'

(8:30 a.m.)

I woke up alone to the dreadfully loud, pounding sound of Deep Purple's Space Truckin' downstairs. Actually, further than downstairs; it sounded as if it was coming from the recording studio in the basement. Either way, it was making the whole manor pulse with the heavy bass and riffs. I groaned and crawled out of bed, anger bubbling in the deepest part of my stomach. They knew not to practice when someone was sleeping.

I pulled on my bathrobe and slipped out of my bass-ridden bedroom and into the loud hall. I saw Bianca emerge from Jimmy's bedroom as I reached the stairs, pulling a silk robe around her. She scoffed audibly and shuffled up to me. "Goodmorning," she growled.

"Yeah," I remarked sarcastically, my voice raised to the level her's was in order for her to hear. "Rather peaceful." She gave a hmmpf of contempt for the causers of such noise as we descended the grand staircase next to each other. "I haven't talk to you for quite some time! Strange, how you can grow separate in such a large house with so many people."

"Well, that, and the fact that I've been working a lot. And when I haven't, Jimmy's been preoccupying a lot of my time. He's a thousand times better than I would have ever expected. He's so sweet, so mysterious." We reached the bottom of the stairs and instinctively made out way toward the study on the left side of the house where the stairs were located in the hall.

"A boyfriend shouldn't be mysterious," I observed with a nervous laugh masking my concern. I swear, if anything else is said about the wonderful things Jimmy is, I will pounce on him, I thought with a smoldering look and pursed lips. It wouldn't be right for me to take Jimmy from Bianca, but it was hard not to at times. Yes, I had come to the realization that I was, in fact, jealous of Bianca.

We turned a corner and walked through the mouth of the hall with openings to the study, half-bathroom, den, and tea room. The noise grew louder and more aggressive as Space Truckin' ended and the familiar riff to Smoke on the Water began. Bianca and I stopped before the staircase leading down to the red-shaded, dark recording room. Hand in hand, grinding our teeth against the terribly loud, full, humbucking riffs that sprang unmistakably from a Gibson, Bianca and I descended the stairs and were greeted by the sight of Jimmy, John Paul, and a familiar man all looking down at their instruments playing mindlessly to Smoke on the Water. Jimmy stopped and so did the rest, but not on my behalf.

"A?" Jimmy asked. "Or D for the intro?"

"The combination that I normally use," replied the familiar man, "is something like ADCBACDCAB... something like that, just repeated."

"Okay, I'll figure it out then," Jimmy muttered, studying his fingers on the frets. I cleared my throat before they could start playing again and the three men looked up at me. "G'morning, ladies."

"Did we wake you?" the familiar man asked, worried. "My apologies"

"Yes, you did!" Bianca snapped. "And God forbid you use the insulated, padded, quiet sound booth, you three! I work with them every day, I know you get the same play in there only better-- and it's quieter." She walked up to Jimmy and kissed him. He received the kiss, looking into her eyes and jealousy bubbled under my skin. I promised myself I would come to terms with my longing for Jimmy later this weekend, so as to sort out my feelings.

"Sorry, ladies," Jimmy apologized. He raised a hand toward the man and introduced him. "This is my pal, Ritchie Blackmore from Deep Purple."

"Deep Purple?" asked Bianca, her tone very confused.

I cleared my throat and clicked my tongue against my two front teeth. "They're a rock band. Have you ever heard Smoke on the Water? You know, smoke... on the wah-ter, fire in the sky!? The song came out last year."

"Oh!" Bianca laughed as if she has forgot. "Right. They're American, right?"

"They're from here," I groaned frustratedly. How could Jimmy love someone who knew nothing about the rock culture? Someone who thought at first the Yardbirds were homeless people down by the train tracks, then actual birds in a yard! Jimmy could do some much better, and that was where I came in.

"Oh! Of course. I forgot!" I caught part of Jimmy's good-hearted eye-roll before he looked down at his guitar again, his long straggly hair masking his face. "Jimmy, where were you last night? You never came to bed?"

My heart stopped for a moment. If Bianca found out Jimmy had slept in my bed overnight, I'd have it for sure. Not that we did anything, but Bianca was a naturally suspicious person and wouldn't listen to reason. Jimmy first looked at me then at Bianca with a straight face and searching eyes. "I couldn't sleep after that Syd episode. I made sure he stayed in the living room and I finished off the ham from Thursday."

Jimmy knew this was partly true; he had gotten up to grab a bite around six in the morning, but he had went straight back to bed; he hadn't even checked in on Syd. He was more concerned with the person in his bed at the time being than the person who had tried to sleep there.

"Are you three going to play the entire Machine Head album?" I asked. Bianca looked at me, confused. Regardless of her job at Apple Corps., she knew nothing about rock music. She was virtually useless at her job except for the paperwork and interviews she did. Jimmy examined the knobs on his Les Paul for a second before looking me in the eyes.

"Well, actually," Jimmy corrected, "we were just going to start Hush, then The Temple of The King; Ritchie loves that song."

"Well, of course he does!" I snapped, putting my hands on my hips. "The whole fucking album it's on is about him. Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow? Well, you three have fun. Bianca and I are taking Robert out for some lunch--" (an idea that had hit me just that moment that was a fantastic way to get out of the house with the obstructive noise Jimmy, John, and Ritchie were making)-- "I'm afraid if I eat here, my plate will fall from being shaken so much. Honestly, Jim; you knew your Les Paul would shake the house."

"A Fender wouldn't do Ritchie's songs justice," Jimmy almost whimpered. He glanced at Ritchie. "Gibsons are the only justifying guitar for such jurisdiction."

"Very well," I breathed, looking at Bianca's tired face and suppressing a yawn. "Where's Bonzo?"

John Paul replied for once, looking up from his bass. "He and Patty went to cultivate the garden. We have a press conference at six, so don't keep Robert out too long; Richard says we have to be at the plaza by four."

"Yeah, yeah," I waved away his comment. "Where is Syd?"

"He's still on the sofa in the living room," Jimmy hissed. He was obviously still angry with Syd, and I couldn't blame him. I nodded as Bianca and I turned to climb the stairs that would lead us back into the quiet hall beside the study. When we reached the top step, Hush began and the whole manor began to shutter again. I sighed.

♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫

It was a surprisingly peaceful Saturday afternoon and all the hub-bub of Epsom had died down. All the people were sleeping in on their free day. It was the perfect setting for Robert not the be spotted in public. We-- Bianca, Robert and I-- decided to eat breakfast at a local diner, having been risen from our calm slumbers by a bass-y rendition Space Truckin'. Robert, who was not in any manner a good driver (I was fearful I'd lose my life on the roads with him), drove us to a neighboring diner called Mama Mildred's Good Eatings, a place that was popular with the townsfolk. 

Although Epsom, Surrey was right outside of London, it was a very quaint town. Although there were many people, many roads, many cars, and thousands of children, it was a wonderful city to settle in. There was never too much going on and there was always the scenic view of trees that you could only sometimes get in London, depending on where you were.

As we entered the diner, a bell on the door rung. Four elderly couples sat in booths around the restaurant; the only people who would possibly hassle Robert, and I knew they wouldn't because they probably didn't even like rock music. Robert chose a seat for us at a red and blue colored booth near the cashier's desk. The building was small and resembled more of a pub than a diner. The themed colors were red, blue, and white after the Union Jack and the diner itself was bright.

"Erm... What do you two want?" Robert asked as he leaned over the table. He glanced behind him. "I hate this. Going in public. The band. It's like, once you're famous, you can't have any fun."

"But blondes have all the fun!" I laughed with a look at Bianca. She stuck her tongue out at me; Bianca hated being brunette but knew she would look terrible with any other color hair, so she had to live with the bark-brown color. "I would know. Blondes are all the rage, Planty."

"True, very true," he murmured pensively. "But I can't even walk down the street in London or New York any more without being recognized and forced into some autograph. It's exhausting, and I swear, the next person who asks for an a--"

"Hello," greeted the waitress. She wore a red dress, white nurse shoes, a white apron and nurse-style hat that hardly sat on her curly red hair. "My name is Phyllis and I'll be your server today. What can I get... You're that fellow from that band my daughter loves! Erm.... Lead Seppelin!"

Robert groaned and placed his face in his hand before turning and facing Phyllis with one elbow on the table and the other on the back of the booth bench. Robert sat by himself while Bianca and I sat together, sufficient room for both of us. "I am," Robert responded, not catching her mispronunciation.

"Oh my! My daughter is just in so much love with you! Robert Pant, right?" she asked, pointing her pencil eraser at him.

"Plant," Robert corrected wearily. "I'll give you an autograph if you could please give us our menus and get me a nice cup of tea with two cubes of sugar and some milk."

"Certainly!" Phyllis piped, her blue eyes shining. She turned to Bianca and I. "What do you two want to drink?"

"Same thing," we both said at the same time. "Without sugar for me, please," I finished my order. Phyllis smiled back at Robert and left for the menus. 

"I need to spend a penny," Bianca muttered as she stood. "Be right back." She left for the bathroom and I looked at Robert.

"Jimmy slept in my bed all night last night," I blurted out softly, for only Robert to hear. His eyes began to shine and he looked me up and down. "Well, this morning at least. After that whole--"

"Syd incident, yes. I bet that didn't fare well with Bia. I'd be almost fearful for Jimmy's life, what with the tightness of which she keeps his leash. He's practically her slave, except Jim gets sex."

"She doesn't know about it. Ha! If I told her she's surely hit Jim over the head with a pan! And we didn't do anything. I just slept with my head on his chest.... Do you think he likes me, Robbie? I mean, I know he likes a lot of girls, but you're a good friend and--"

"I don't think he likes you any more than he does me, and knowing Jim wouldn't have sex with me unless extremely hammered, because I am good looking and it is had to resist all this,--" he wiggled his body like a belly-dancer for a second-- "I would say he sees you like John Paul and I see you; as a little sister."

"You forgot Bonzo."

"Now, Bonzo does like you. He thinks you're nice, sweet, kind, and helpful."

"But I'm none of those things!"

"Bonzo thinks you are because that is the only side of you he has seen. I, however, have seen you drunk beyond your wildest action at my birthday party a few weeks ago. You were quite enjoyable to watch, actually. But back to your question. I will ask him nonchalantly if you want."

"Feel free," I breathed as Bianca emerged from the bathroom, a smile on her face when she saw me. "The tension and awkwardness between us couldn't get any worse."