Mad rapping on our door erupted at a quarter to three the next morning, the actual morning of Christmas, and I rolled out of bed, pulling my shirt down low over the front of my panties. Opening the door, I noticed a coked-up Bonzo and Ricardo buzzing around. Both eyed me but said nothing.
"We know whose on the fourteenth!" Bon shouted and I shushed him, glancing back at the sleeping Jimmy. "It's the!-- it's the Stones. Keith 'n--"
"Jagger and Ronnie," Ricardo supplied, "and Fuckface on drums. They've got dog bags for guests of smack-- here." He handed me a sandwich bag of what appeared to be-- but I knew all too well not to be-- flour.
"No, really, I--" I began.
"You have to go up there," Richard insisted. "I told Keith about you and he wants to meet you!"
I grinned. "Does he really?" The two nodded fiercely and I hesitated. "Let me get dressed, two minutes." I closed the door and navigated through the dark to my overnight bag, feeling around for my brown Corduroy pants and tan tunic. I tossed the drug bag into the bed absent-mindedly.
Jimmy moaned, then grumbled, "What's going on?"
"Shh shh shh," I cooed, "quiet Tiny Dancer, you've had a busy day today."
With another moan Jimmy faded back to sleep and I pulled on my pants and shirt, my heart racing. I slipped on some mod heels, pulled my hair into a tail, and rubbed the makeup from under my eyes. I swiftly went back to the door and swung it open, but Ricardo and John were gone. My heart still soaring, I shuffled toward the elevator. Once inside, I pressed fourteen, happy the adviser was home for the night. Tapping my foot to the ruckus upstairs, my heart once again took a plunge. Was I really going to meet Mick Jagger!?
The elevator opened to quite a sight. A man I didn't know was racing down the hall on a motorcycle, jumping off in time for the motor cycle to crash through a window and fall to the street below. I gasped and exited the elevator, walking wide-eyed through the hall lined with groupies. Ricardo's head popped out from a doorway, signalling for one of the nearest groupies to join him. Upon seeing me, he pointed to a room across from him and mouthed "Keith Richards!"
I smiled and adjusted my clothes before strutting into the room, ignoring the disapproving shouts from the groupies in line. Inside, the room was painted yellow but ruined so much that it was almost impossible to tell what else the room may have looked like. A shattered table lie on the floor between six seated people, two of which were Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, girls in their laps.
"Excuse me?" I shouted over the music blasting in the corner. Keith and Mick looked my way but neither seemed to care. I walked up to Keith and whispered in his ear, "Richard Cole sent me, my name is Jenni Carsons."
He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. "Don't you see I'm sort of busy? Go wait in line." To the girl in his lap be added, "No, not you, Sugar, stay there."
I growled and left, looking for Ricardo. Anxiously, expecting far worse, I glanced into the room he had disappeared into and was relieved when I saw that he was just making out with the girl he had invited in beside several other men I had never seen before bar Robert, who had just joined the party. "Ricardo?" I snapped.
He pulled away and looked at me with drunken grogginess. "What?"
"I thought you said Keith wanted to meet me!" I crossed my arms in frustration. Richard broke out in hysterical laughter, pulling at his hair before studying his own hand. "Nevermind." Seeing that I was obviously not welcome, I stomped out of the room and back down the hall toward the elevator.
When I got back into the room with Jimmy, he woke up long enough to inquire, "Where did you go?"
"The Lu," I lied in immense frustration. I had had a wasted morning when all I really wanted to do was sleep.
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