Mothership

Happy Birthday Bonny!

Please disregard the fact that I nearly forgot Bonzo's birthday... But here's a bit of a bio on the heart and soul of Led Zeppelin, then an interesting fact about him:

Born John Henry Bonham in 1948 in Redditch, Brum, England, Bonzo (as he was better known) became one of the founding fathers of the debauchery that comes with being a rockstar. One of the first to throw a TV out of a window or drive a motorcycle through a hotel, the drunkard was not only known for his antics but his talent. He knew how to drum with four sticks or even his fingers and was known to not be afraid to do whatever he wanted. When he joined Robert Plant in the Band of Joy in the mid-60s, he was noted to have said to Robert, "You're great, but your band's shit. You need a drummer like me." He hopped from band to band until he landed in Led Zeppelin where he made more than enough money to satisfy his lust for cars (always having 16 at any given time), drugs, and bourbon. He died September 25, 1980 (thus ending Led Zeppelin forever), but still remains to be the best known drummer to date, still known as "The Beast" among beasts.

Fun Fact: During the taping of When the Levee Breaks on Led Zeppelin IV, the band just couldn't get the rhythm right. So one day, when Bonzo-- drunk as usual-- stumbled into one of Jimmy's abodes they had all been staying at in Scotland,  he dragged his drum set into a hallway of the mansion that had cathedral ceilings and began laying down what is now one of the most ominous, well know, and most rhythmic drum beats of all time.

A Special Extra Fun Fact: Around 1970, Bonzo was having troubles with his drums falling apart from hitting them too hard, so Ludwig made him custom drums with added size to the bass drum (they made him two but Jimmy hated how loud it was and hid the second one) for more sound, and they also crafted John Bonham- brand drumsticks, thick enough to endure the abuse but not so big as to be... Well, Cheech and Chong size. Infact, with his new bass drum (and even before it), Bonzo was so loud acoustically that during concerts in the early days, they didn't even amplify Bon's drums, and they didn't put microphones near them because he was so loud that people in the way back could still hear him.

And to think that all along Bonzo's goal was to be recognized as more that just the drummer, when really he achieved more than being above drummer standards. There is no doubt who the best drummer to have ever lived is-- any man that can make a song just with drums is enough to make any Bill Ward, and Tommy Lee, and Phil Collins bow down in worship. Rest in peace Bonzo. May you drum after death, and have a wonderful birthday, where-ever you are.

Bon and Keith Moon!

And Ringo! [Sorry for the watermark...]

Can't Always Get What You Want, But You Get What You Need

"Would you kindly seat your arse permanently to that seat?" Ricardo scolded Bonzo as he drove the band and I north toward Dudley. Bonzo, knackered per usual, had been persistently bouncing around the back of the limo, less than excited to be doing another show on Christmas Eve. He really hated the gig life and I never understood why-- then again, I was no professional musician. Bonzo did what he was told, but not before he got a few mocking words in.

I was grateful Jimmy hadn't invited Bianca or Charlotte. He sat closely to me, even under the mindful gaze of the all-knowing Robert, and his hand nearly touched mine. I knew Jimmy wasn't a hopeless romantic, and if he were to make a move he would just do it-- the type of mentality that just comes with being one of the world's most popular bands of the year-- rather than flinch and squirm and do little school boy moves. But as we sat there, close at hand, he tried nothing, ignoring me the whole way until Ricardo announced we'd be stopping for petrol at the next station.

Jimmy now turned to me, his eyes light and his voice very friendly, and asked, "I suppose you're bored, eh? Want to stretch your legs a bit?"

"I figured I'd walk around the limo a few times to get the blood re-circulating," I piped nervously. Why was I nervous? I'd been living with him since August! "What'd you have in mind?"

"I know a great antique place up ahead--"

"No," Peter interjected from where he sat across from Jimmy, his massiveness taking up what could have been two seats. "Not in these parts, not with the letters we've been getting on your life. You know what I mean." He cocked his hatted head toward Jimmy as if to emphasize his final sentence.

Jimmy turned to me and drew close to my ear. He whispered, his breath rustling my hair and tickling my ear, "G doesn't know what a nice hat can do for a man."

I didn't understand what Jimmy had meant until we pulled into a station and Jimmy had snatched the hat off his manager's head. Furious, G spat, "Give that back right now you fucker! Give me my hat!" He made an attempt to catch Jimmy's shirt tail, but missed.

Jimmy took my hand and pulled me toward the door. He sat on his knees as he pushed the door open with his unoccupied hand and he burst into the winter brightness, pulling me behind him. He turned to me and I realized that he had held my hand. My cheeks burnt red and he smiled down at me. "Right over there. I love antiquing." He nodded toward a small shop next to the station and he lead me to it confidently.

He looked more than handsome in his stolen fedora adorning his head. His wavy crimped hair flowed beautifully beneath it like a waterfall and I could hardly contain myself from giving a loving sigh. The goofy, daring smile on his face was enough to make just about anyone jump him. His perfect, white smile; his dark doe eyes; his shiny black hair, longer than mine; his now scruffy face, so handsome and unbeatable; his thin body, as a result of his liquid-diet that I made a mental note to change; and finally the confident, self-obvious ora that clung to him, not so strong as to make him arrogant, but not so week as to make him as shy as we really was. He was truly magnificent, a work of art, something that the world would never see again.

As we entered the antique shop, the smell of mothballs, old leather, and something undetectable hit my nose and I coughed it off until I became acclimated. We nodded at the Shop Keep and Jimmy glanced back to make sure I was okay and headed straight for the books while I, on the other hand, made my way through different isles, searching for the records. There was pottery, dolls, books, trinkets, toys, paintings, fabrics, clothing, jewelry, and finally the records. I thumbed through a few old-old classics from people like Bing Crosby and found the ones that interested me.

Several discarded copies of the Stones' Their Satanic Majesties Request sat warping at the back of the milk crate, unable to collect the listeners previous albums had. Singles ranging from the Beatles to the Monkees faced me and I knew that even if I wanted to buy them all, neither Jimmy nor I could afford it. Well, Jimmy could and would afford it, but it would be rude to have him buy so much.

"Jen?" Jimmy called from across the store, his voice already giving away that we had to leave. I directed him toward me and as he approached me, he validated my observance of his tone. "I haven't found a thing and I'm sure the car's full. Is that a Robert Johnson?" He pushed past me politely and flicked through the albums until he got the one he had noticed. "I'll be."

"Yeah, there's some Beatles and Monkees in there," I began. "You wouldn't mind buyin--"

"We'd better go--"

"--They'll be worth something some day!"

"Come on, lets go," he ended, taking my wrist and all but dragging me from the carton. I pouted and he paused, taking my shoulders and leaning so that our foreheads touched. "If I got you those LPs and fourty-fives, would you except that as a gift for your wonderful Christmas present?"

Ah, the Christmas present. It had been eating at me since I had given him his Sonny Boy Williamson album with the handcuff key in it. Did he think I was too brash? Did he not like me as he must have noticed I do him? I was sure he would've told me what he thought of the key, but he hadn't and my nerves that had previously dissipated now shocked awake again through me.

"No," I replied casually, biting the side of my purposefully pouty lip. He frowned slightly and eyed my lips as I gnawed on the side of them. "I won't except anything in return. The gift was complimentary."

Suddenly, and with such swiftness that it almost never happened, Jimmy kissed me. Fat on the lips, his dry and mine probably a bit too wet from licking them constantly. I quivered with adrenaline, wanting more, but as Jimmy pulled away and blinked at me knowingly, all that could fill the silence was his cocky words, "Then that was complimentary."

In the distance we could hear Ricardo calling for us to get in the limo, but I felt frozen in time. I took Jimmy pulling me until I finally shook myself conscious. He lead me out to the limo, glancing back every now and then with a worried expression and I stumbled toward the limo clumsily, my eyes clouding with emotion. I didn't even care that I had missed out on a mint Please Please Me Beatles album.

Jimmy had finally done it. I had finally done it. I had kissed the man I loved.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time

There was a ghostly feeling about the house as I awoke in my large Gothic room. Bianca was in her room and Jenni was in her's,  and Charlotte lay asleep next to me with Scarlet in between us. The house was a faint blue and although I knew well over a Baker's Dozen of people were nestled tightly in their blankets on the bleak December morning, I couldn't help feeling lonely. The house seemed empty. 

I laid in bed a few minutes longer, remembering the previous morning's activities. We had celebrated Christmas for the benefit of the mongrels as I had no share in any Christian behavior, and it had been a splendid day. Today, however, we would be leaving for Dudley or where ever Peter and Ricardo were going to take us, but it just seemed as if no one around was breathing.

After having discussed inviting Jenni along with Jonsey yesterday morning, the clock had struck eight and all the kids became rampant. The ones that were not yet old enough to understand what Christmas was let alone their alphabet were carried downstairs by their mothers and a huge congregation gathered in the front room, larger that previously expected. There sat Peter in the large winged chair with it's back to the fireplace; Jeff Beck on the loveseat beside Paul Rodgers from Free and Bad Company; Rob, Bon, and Jonsey beside their families opening gifts with exaggerated surprise to cheer the children; Jenni and Bianca on the arms of a rococo chair opposite G; Ricardo and his new woman in close leather chairs; Leenin had later joined and stood at the archway across from the kitchen doors; and both my and Bonzo's parents later showed to visit everyone. The time was indeed splendid, even if it wasn't Christmas and even though there was so St. Nick. As long as the kids enjoyed themselves, I did.

Jenni had sat uncomfortably through it all, with sideways glances from Bonzo which, under my gaze, faltered and returned to something less suspicious. She would look at me with intense curiosity and Bianca would notice our stares and look away unhappily. The giving and receiving of presents was ended with kisses and hugs and much rejoicing, especially among fathers and daughters.

At the end of it all, when Charlotte had kissed me lovingly on the cheek and I to her, when she had taken Scarlet and led her into the dining room after the rest for Christmas breakfast, Jenni had called my name softly from the foyer, her beckoning eyes visible through the archway from where I sat. My own curiosity peaked and I had stood fast, nearly overturning my own rococo chair in the process. Swiftly and nonchalantly I met her in the center of the foyer, near the gold and green evergreen that stood taller than the castle doors. She had pulled me close.

"I couldn't give you your gift in front of everyone," she had breathed and a searing pain was sent through my veins. She brandished a Sonny Boy Williamson album out from behind her back and handed it to me. "Bonzo said you didn't have this one."

"No," I had agreed. It was in fairly well condition for being two decades old and I examined it. There was nothing to it and I was slightly turned off by the gift. But I grateful wrapped my warm around her and thanked her sincerely, which she seemed to enjoy. 

"You might want to empty it when you're by yourself. It... It may get warped. Do with it however you like-- however you like." With that, she grinned wickedly and left for breakfast before I could tell her she was coming with us to Dudley.

I had brought the record to breakfast with me and sat naturally at the head of the table, interest eating me. I preened my hair every time Jenni glanced my way. What would warp the album? And how did Bonzo have any hand in this at all?

After breakfast I had joined the rest of the gents and pulled the album out of the sleeve. A small little key fell to the floor and Robert had stooped to grab it for me, studying it as if he were a master of keys. When he noticed that I had been waiting for it to be returned, he handed it to me and apologised.

"What kind of key is that?" he asked. "Why was it in the sleeve? You're gonna warp the vinyl!"

"This key?" I repeated. I studied it for a moment, and it became all the more familiar. It was my missing handcuff keys. Another shock was sent through me and I couldn't help grinning to myself. "It's--"

"That key?" Bonzo shouted from the wall of the soundroom. "That key is the key that you lost Robert-- that's why you can't carry a fucking tune in a bucket! You're off key!"

Everyone in the room beside Bonzo, who was topping off his orange juice and brandy, belted out in laughter. My mind was reeling, trying to make sense of the gift, when it hit me. Jenni and handcuffs. I erased the possibility from my mind and set the album down, shoving the key in my pocket.

Later that night I had told Jenni about Dudley and she had agreed and left immediately for packing. I wanted to thank her for her gift a little more personally, but I couldn't think of a way to do it. Now, as I laid in bed, an idea struck me. A devilish, extreme, and pleasing idea that might possibly cost me a friendship, but it was worth it-- it had to be.

3000 Views!

Thank you all! I've reached 3000 views and as promised, here's your rare photo of dear Jimmy. I like this picture a lot-- I mean, look at the size of his hands! It says a lot, it really does! I'm not sure as to the history of this picture yet-- I'm not sure when Pagey broke his wrist, but it looks to be around '75, which would make sense because of a car accident that kept the band at home instead of touring. Anyway, the next goal is 4000!

The End, My Friend

"Through me you enter into the city of woes,through me you enter into eternal pain,

through me you enter the population of loss.

. . . Abandon all hope, you who enter here."

~ Dante's Inferno

The next thing I knew, Jimmy ran into the room and stepped over Richard who groaned on the floor. He was closely followed by Bonzo, Mo, Pat, and Robert. Jimmy pushed my head up and forced me to focus on him. I didn't want to move from where I was sprawled on the bed so I managed to stay limp.

"Are you okay? What happened?" everyone muttered. Jimmy, being the man of few words that he was, signaled for the mass to leave. Bonzo picked up Ricardo and cared him out the door after the others.

Once alone, Jimmy brought his face close to mine. The frustration of possibly having to explain what just happened made me bust into soft, rolling tears. I was exhausted, drunk, and violated. Luckily Jimmy could tell and crooned, "Second time this's happened. You must be simply irresistible." He didn't ask me to give him a play-by-play and he hadn't mentioned my crying, both of which I would have become twice as frustrated with. I was grateful. Instead, he wiped away my tears-- if any.

I pulled my self up and leaned on my pillows. He sat at my feet and placed a hand on my leg. We said nothing for the rest of the night, even when we finally arrived home to Henderson Collige at 9, the cabin devastated and a random girl joining us for Ricardo's benefit. Jimmy put me to bed in his room because it was "warmer" and spend the rest of the night dribbling some tunes in the sound room  trying to figure out Stairway alternatives.

At a quarter to four in the a.m., I darted awake, gasping for air. My eyes were automatically acclimated to the blue room, even with tear crust on the corners, and I watched, petrified, as a black figure floated from my nightstand to the King's doors and disappeared in the plum carpet. I threw the covers from my overheating legs and sprinted to the doors, throwing one open and running right toward the grand case. I skipped down the steps and hurled down the hall off the foyer toward the soundroom stairs. No lights were on, so it seemed from the top, and I collapsed in fear on the first step, where sleep overtook me again.

♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫

"No, she really was," I explained seriously to John Paul as he cupped his tea in his hands at the dining table. He nodded understandingly and I continued. "Richard really shook her up. After Syd, and now this--"

"You didn't leave her on the steps, did you?" John Paul asked as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, prepared to leave. I shook my head and explained that she was in her room. "Jim, you've gotta get her out. She never goes anywhere, she's probably lonely. She's not the strongest--"

"Don't say that too loud. She'll slit your throat if she heard she wasn't strong," I cautioned. "You know, I've been thinking... maybe we should take her with us tomorrow when we leave for Dudley? She wouldn't mind being at a concert-- might love it. Lord knows she loves Ten Years After. Then there's something else..."

"What?"

"You don't think she hasn't been leaving the house because she hasn't got a job, do you? I mean, photography isn't the most stable job in these parts. Maybe after Dudley we should take her somewhere, like France, and get her to some real photography classes."

"Jim, you'd honestly take a friend all the way down to Paris for classes?"

I hesitated before I exploded. It was time to admit it to John Paul, nay, the entire house save Bianca what I really thought. But something else held me back. Something that told me a secret love for a woman I couldn't have was twice as hot as having the whole house know. True, it would break one of my best mate's heart, but Bianca should have seen something like this coming from a guy like me. And what if Bianca were to move out? I felt my excitement rise for the possible disarray I could cause in a secret affair with the leather-bound artisan who sleep in her gray silk sheets upstairs.

I had forgotten what John Paul had said in my lapse of excitement. "We'll take her to Dudley with us tomorrow after Christmas. That ought to get her spirits up to par-- ought to."

Make This Your Facebook Cover Photo!

(At Boleskine House)

Have A Drink on Me

The last day we stayed at the cabin on the river-- the name of which I've long forgotten-- was one of the most dangerous days I'd ever experienced.

It was the 21st of December and Jimmy had already announced that all of us-- the three men, their wives and children, and Peter Grant (their manager)-- would be celebrating "Christmas" at his house the 23rd, however strange it seemed to me. He also announced that we would be joined by Jeff Beck and his family, as well as Richard "Ricardo" Cole, their tour manager who had just returned from working with the Stones in America. The boys would be gone for Eve, Christmas, and the day after.

The radical side of me thought that is was only hospitable that Jimmy invited everyone to celebrate at his house, but the superstitious side of me saw the danger in celebrating a Christian holiday in the home of a Black Magick practicer. I had no clue what might happen, but for the few months that I lived in Henderson Collige, weird things had happened that I normally would have tried to leave. However, my financial and housing situation kept me at Henderson Collige, where black shadows roamed the halls just as much as I. Pictures of Aleister Crowley, the self-proclaimed Father of Occult, hung in every corner of the house, the eyes following anyone who passed. Things could be found moved, hidden, or ripped. With me being a very light-hearted, open-viewed Catholic with feet in every possible known spiritual belief, I found myself, at first, overwhelmed by the possibly of having a poltergeist in the house, which I soon became acclimated with. So how would the daunting spirit in our house react as we set a cross in a pine tree in the foyer? Yule times definitely had nothing to do with occult practices.

As I packed my bags in my room by my lonesome, I could hear the commotion downstairs rise. I heard a door open and everyone cheer and clap, and I even heard a champagne bottle pop open, followed by approval from everyone. By comparison, my room seemed lonely. As I continued to pack, wondering who had arrived, my door creaked open and in ran Jason Bonham. He sprinted to my bed and smiled up at me.

"Why, hello little Jase," I greeted, hosting a kind smile on my face. "How are you, Sugarpie?"

"Somebody's here," he replied, distractedly looking at the open door. "He's coming to Christmas with us. Jenni?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you like Daddy?"

I tried holding back my condescending laughter. "No, Sweetheart, your mother does. Can you keep a secret, Jase?"

He sat up quickly, excited. "Yeah!"

I looked both ways and leaned toward him. "I like Daddy's friend, Uncle Jim." Jason's mouth widened into a circle and he scraped at his cheeks. Without warning, he slipped off the bed and waddled to the door. "You promised not to tell, Jason," I warned, standing up straight.

"I'm not telling him," he announced, grabbing at the butt of his trousers. "I'm telling Uncle Jim!"

"Telling me what?" I heard from the hall. My heart sped and I glared at Jason, mouthing Don't tell him! The door opened wider, nearly toppling Jason over, and Jimmy bent down quickly to apologize to Jason. He straightened up and sauntered toward me.

"Merry Yule Tide," I murmured to him as I turned to pack more shirts into my bag. I heard Jason run down the hall and I prayed something would come of this privacy. Jimmy sat on the bed politely and I smiled at him.

"Back at you," he responded in his soft Epsom accent. "Ricardo just got here. He's following us home. We're leaving at eight."

I glanced at the clock on the wall and turned to Jimmy, watching snow fall out the window behind him. "What are we going to do in three hours? I'm almost finished here and Mo has to finish and we could leave."

"Ricardo wants to destroy the place," Jimmy replied matter-of-factly. "We never get our security deposit back, let me just say. Why don't you come downstairs? Your lifeline is downstairs." He laughed.

"Jack Daniels?" I asked and he nodded with a grin. "I like it, but that's your lifeline, Hun."

"So, I happened to notice that somebody trifled through my things in my room," he drawled, unworried. "I know it wasn't a nick because nothing else was moved. I am missing a key, though." My heart pounded against my chest and I avoided eye contact. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

I watched through a window in my hair as a wicked smirk grew on his face. "No I don't, sorry," I replied. "Ask Charlotte."

"Charlotte? Maybe I will." He started to get up and I turned to him.

"No, don't ask her!" He eyed me with that same annoyingly attractive smirk. "It'll-- it'll turn up." He grabbed my forearm and pulled me toward him. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as I looked up into his eyes. He smiled and brought his face down close to mine, our foreheads touching and our eyes burning into each other. He quickly let go and left the room, glancing back humorously. I glared after him and finished packing.

♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫

"Jenni, Ricardo; Ricardo, Jenni," Bonzo introduced. Robert stood in a corner of the room, his hooded eyes locked on Ricardo angrily. I took Richard's hand politely and he kissed it sensuously, glancing approvingly back at Bonzo. I pulled my lip up disgustedly and went to join Robert in the corner.

"Richard drives me mad," Robert reported to me, shoving his glass toward Ricardo, music and commotion booming in the background. "He's a daft little bugger. Airey. Does a real shitty job, but Jim likes 'im cos they think alike. Like the same women, same sex-- I beg your pardon. He was the one who shoved that mudshark up that girl's--"

"Okay--" I cut in sharply.

"--back in I think '70? Or '69. Right sick that is, Jimmy taking the rap. He's a womanizer; Ricardo is. I never liked him. Stick by me tonight-- he'll wreck the place and fuck you. Or Bianca. He's bloody untrustworthy, but Jim wont give 'im up."

"He cant be that bad," I interjected.

Just as I said that, Ricardo jumped on the sofa and raised his glass. "To whomever we take to bed tonight!" he shouted, taking a swig of his bourbon and giving a satisfied hiss. "Fuck 'em hard, boys! Now, I'm gonna throw this girl in the snow!" He grabbed Bianca forcibly by the arm and pulled her onto the sofa where he tried to pick her up as she kicked and pushed.

Jimmy rushed forward and forbade him from doing such a thing. I found myself jealous that Jimmy hadn't rushed to my defence, but I would soon regret my wish.

In the dark hours of seven, when the party was in full swing and the kids were playing or else asleep upstairs, I went up to finish my packing. Unbeknownst to me, Ricardo had followed me. I went to the window to fold my AC/DC tee, watching show hit the window. Two arms took my shoulders and spun me around, slamming me into the log wall.

"Hey there, Hot-thighs," Ricardo breathed, his breath tainted with alcohol, pinning me to the wall. "Got plans for the next hour?"

"Hot-thighs? Clever... Actually, I have to pack, so if you just... want to move your arm..."

He laughed but kept me between him and the wall, which scared me but excited me all the same. He played with the top button of my teal blouse and I tried pushing him away. He was too strong. I tried ducking under his grip, but he lifted me up. "Where're you going? I'm just teasing..."

"I'm sorry, I really don't feel that comfortable with you. Back off!"

"Hey! Calm down, okay? Calm down," he hissed, bringing his hot lips to my neck.

I attempted pushing him away one more time, even attempted kicking him, but I was too pinned. "Help!" I called twice before he held a hand to my mouth and unbuttoned my pants. He picked me up and threw me onto the bed. I tried to crawl away but he grabbed my foot. I called Help a few more times as Ricardo slithered on top of me, putting a hand over my mouth. I tried to rip it away or bite it, but nothing worked.
"Ever used a wool and tinsel sock for a condom?" he cooed. I cringed and he let this thumb count my ribs. "You're a screamer, aren't you?"

My bedroom door opened and Bianca stumbled in, drunk. Ricardo and I froze and she didn't seem to notice the predicament I was in. When she did, her eyes glazed over and she ran out the door. Ricardo turned to me and riped open my blouse with both hands, allowing me to scream more. He buried his face in my chest and I continued to scream.

Ricardo paused in his attempt to get in my pants and slapped me across the face-- hard. Had my arms not been pinned down by his knees, I would have rubbed the mark to keep it from stinging. I called for Robert, trying hard to focus all my energy on him.

Suddenly Bonzo busted into the room and marched up to Ricardo, throwing him to the floor. He leaped onto the man and threw a right and left hook, leaving Ricardo unconscious on the floor. Bon paused before turning to me and standing. He shuffled toward me and rebuttoned my blouse, muttering, "Cocaine, Cocaine, Cocaine..."

I couldn't speak, so he did for me. "You need Brandy. Ought to calm you. I'll get Jimmy, just relax, Jen."

I was too transfixed and perplexed to stop him.

You Need Love

Later on that night (the 20th), when the house was dead and all the kids were silent tucked in their blankets with their parents, I made my way silently to the kitchen. My throat was parched and I couldn't stop thinking about what Bonzo had convinced me to buy Jimmy. It was obscene, ghastly! A Willie Dixon album with a small key shoved into the sleeve. My first worry was that it would warp the vinyl, but I immediately began to worry about what would ensue upon the finding of his stolen handcuffs key-- thank you, Bonzo. Would Jimmy introduce me and his handcuffs? Or his whips, not to mention? Curse him for being such a lady-killer, I thought.

The kitchen door burst open entirely unexpectedly and I jumped. It was Charlotte, and her groggy appearance told me she was only going to be semi-conscious long enough to make her peace. I handed her my now full cup of water but she rejected it with a wave of her hand. Sadly, she slumped against the counter and sighed, running a hand through her stunning blonde hair.

She shook her head, avoiding eye contact with me. "I've got to tell you," she sighed as she crossed her arms over her loose white night shirt, "I think zomzing fishy is going on."

I raised my glass to my mouth and pretended to drink. She knows about my Christmas present... "Yeah?" I breathed into my cup, fogging up the sides.

"Mmhmm, Yes, zomzing fishy." She turned to me. "You dont zink Jimmy es cheating on me, do you?"

I coughed up the bit of water in my mouth immediately. Impulsively, I replied naturally, "No."

"Ahh," she breathed, relieved. "Good, good." She eyed the floor. "I was suzpicious about zat Bianca. He likes her, I know."

Something inside me snapped. "He doesn't like her! Ha! Never! Why, he likes m-- you. I've never seen him with anyone else. Bianca? Preposterous. She's not even his type!"

"Zen what es his type?"

I hesitated to take a sip of water. "Beautiful women."

Charlotte only nodded before yawning and biding me goodnight. I growled and dug my fingers into my palm. Jimmy would be mine.