"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.
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