I'll Wait

So I posted a day late-- I know I promised to post it last night, but I ran out of time, so here goes!
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As I waited at the airport for Daphne Lawrence, thoughts were strung up in my head. I found myself wishing that Jimmy were with me, that he wasn't famous and could take me places. Although he couldn't drive, it would have been nice to have him at least ride out with me. Guilt ebbed itself into my conscience as I imagined "Jimbert" a normal Londoner holding my hand as we walked through Hyde Park. No mobs, no paparazzi, no worries. Bianca's face flashed before me and I was reduced to studying my boots blankly.

In what seemed like a few minutes of no thinking but was really near an hour, an announcement over the loudspeaker informed me that Daphne's charter had landed and I was in the right wing to pick her up. My thoughts, once awakened again, returned to normal Jim and normal Jenni hand-in-hand in Hyde Park. I physically shook my head in the hopes that my dreams would be erased as a stewardess made her way to the booking podium. The Beatles' Twist and Shout began playing quietly in the back of my head and I fought the urge to dance and breathe "finally" as Jimmy was pushed out of my mind.

After about twenty minutes, the gate opened and a herd of nicely-dressed people with suitcases swarmed out of the hall into the wing. I strained to see where Daphne was but failed to spot her in the sea of people. I glanced down at my watch nervously, my toe beginning to tap to the rhythm of my speeding heart. Finally, at the very end of the herd, walking deliberately as she adjusted a coat on her arm, Daphne made her way into the wing. Through the throng of people, I followed her and tapped her on the shoulder.

Turning faster than expected, her face softened with recognition as soon as she saw me. "Jenni Carsons?"

"Daphne?" I asked in reply. She grinned and adjusted her coat again. "Do we just leave? Do you have to fill anything out? I don't quite understand airports."

"Yeah, yeah, we can just leave," Daphne responded cluelessly.  I was automatically reminded of how absent-minded Daphne was compared to her brainy sister; there was no doubt as to where the brawn had gone. "Did you drive here?"

"I had to jump through some hoops, why?"

"America is so rad!" she exclaimed. "The ladies just drive themselves! The women are so independent and out-spoken."

"Rad?" I laughed. "American term?"

"Groovy, hip, whatever you want to call it. I forgot our English adjectives in the midst of my New York life. Oh, you'd love it there! You and Bianca! It's bigger than London, but Central Park is smaller than Hyde."

"Okay, you can tell me about it on the way home," I promised, plunging my hands into my coat pocket and digging around for the keys to Robert's Coupe Deville, the one Jimmy had gotten a ride in the first time I met him. Daphne followed me without another word.


Once in the car, Daphne's things thrown in the back, she continued her verbal tour of America. "AC/DC is by far the best band ever. Jim Morrison died I think last year-- can you believe that? And you know how concert tickets are around ten dollars here? They're six-fifty in the states! Oh! Dollars! Ha, look at me! I'm all Americanized..."

"Are you living with Bianca for now?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?" Great, I thought. More competition. Plus, this cunt's got a big mouth and she's constantly pissing around and-- Oh! I'm starting to sound like G, the boys' manager! But aren't older sisters supposed to be the un-annoying, smart, proud ones?

"Let me key you in. We're living with a band right now because Bianca is dating the guitarist. Do you remember James Page from Epsom? He was in your year when he dropped out."

"Yeah, he came over a bit. I told everyone in America that I knew Jimmy before he was famous with his fan-dangled crew of Adonises. Wasn't he in a group before Zeppelin?"

I paused as the car in front of me turned. I thought everyone knew who the Yardbirds were? I thought they were as popular as the Who? Maybe I'm mistaken and they're only as popular as Traffic and the Faces... With a great deal of self-discipline, I ignored her comment and continued with what I was saying. "We're living with Led Zeppelin and Bianca is going steady with Jimmy-- DON'T say anything. We made up a room for you, but you can only live with us on one agreement, and this is a moral agreement. We're not so asinine as the Stones to have you sign things before even speaking to us-- Look at me! I'm saying 'us!' Ha! I meant the boys. But the agreement is that you don't go out to the Evening Post, The Daily Mail, The London Post, any of those tabloids and exploit our charges for your own gain. Agreed?"

Daphne thought for a moment and I made a mental note to myself to dumb-down my vocabulary. "Why would I do that?" she asked in reply. "While I was in America, I noticed that the Americans are so much more ill-mannered than us English..."

I tuned her out for the rest of the way home. As long as she promised not to exploit the band, ha! As long as she promised to keep her grummy, cushy Americanized fingers off my Jimbert, my man. True, he wasn't mine (yet), but I knew deep down that he and Bianca weren't meant to be. It had become obvious to me the day I had had lunch with him and Bianca; I was even surprised then that they were friends. He was well-mannered, well-rounded, well-disciplined, talented, business-savvy, and curious where she was obnoxious and go-with-the-flow. And although I had to admit I was a go-with-the-flow, un-business-savvy person myself, I knew that there was a connection Jimmy and I shared that he and Bia lacked.

But Daphne was a whole n'other story. She was easy; too easy. I knew well enough, having been around these lads since August and it being November, that as soon as a fresh piece of easy meat walked through the door, the guys would jump it and dump it. It had been two days since a groupie-- whom I saw as more of an home-order prostitute  since groupies didn't tend to be around a band when they weren't at a concert-- had been at the manor while Robert's wife was away and I new he was bubbling with withdrawal. Daphne was just the lighter to his joint for now, and I didn't mind. So long as she left Jimmy alone.

American Woman

The house was dark and quiet except for the TV. The bright screen burned Bianca's eyes and she blinked frequently, not wanting to move from the tight grip of Jimmy. He was fast asleep, as he was normally the first person to fall asleep in any situation, and his chin was on her head with his arms wrapped firmly around her shoulder like a stuffed animal. Bianca was close to falling asleep too; the BBC documentary on Princess Diana was drab and she had had a rough day at Apple wrestling with a band she had never heard of called the Cherrie Bombers. What a dumb name, she though. What was the point of misspelling "cherry?" Unless it was supposed to be "Sherrie" like the name and I've been calling them the wrong name right in front of them. Oh! Now I'm embarrassed! How could I--

Bianca jumped as the phone on the wall next to the kitchen rang obnoxiously. Quickly, she wriggled out of Jimmy's warm grasp and sprinted to the phone, hoping it wouldn't wake anyone. She grabbed the pea-green receiver off the hook and held it to her ear breathlessly. "Hello?"

"Bianca?" responded a familiar voice. "I tried calling the number you gave me but it was one number off. Is this Bianca?"

"Daphne?" Bianca asked, knowing it was her sister the second Daphne had said her name, even when her voice was very Americanized. "Daph, why are you calling so late? Is it an emergency?"

"No--"

"Then this better be good."

"Bumble-Bee, I'm coming back to Epsom! Yeah! I lost my job at this club called the CBGB and I can't afford to pay New York rent so I'm coming home! I hope there is room in your apartment. Is Mom still around? I could live with her..."

"Daph, I'm living with--" Bianca paused, recalling that J. Edgar Hoover had all the phones tapped in American, and reworded her thoughts so as not to give away Jimmy's house. "Just fly to London and I'll pick you up. There's plenty of room."

"Okay, thanks! I've been planning my flight for some time so I'll be departing early this Thursday, so expect to pick me up at 3 in the evening on Friday."

"Daphne, I can't do that, I have to work at EMI. I- I'll send my mate Jenni and Cheev-- Er, Jenni. She's blonde, sort of short in statue, wears leather pants a lot, likes exposing blouses... Green eyes--"

"Oh! That ace girl you used to bring over to the house who always got in trouble? She was my kind of person."

"Yes, Daphne," Bianca sighed. "She'll pick you up Friday at 3. Dress nicely, you know they won't let you on those planes if you're in scrubs. See you then."

Bianca slammed the phone back on the hook and growled. She hated her sister and she knew having Daphne around would make her life all the more stressful. Not to mention, she was the one to worry about with Jimmy. She'd steal him right out from under her. It was a good thing Jenni was so reliable around him.

"Who's coming?" Jimmy asked, making her jump again. She turned to face him as he leaned against the Cathedral archway.

"My sister Daphne," she growled. "Is it-- Is it okay if she lives with us for a while until she gets back on her feet?"

Jimmy was silent, making Bianca's heart hammer against her ribs. In fact, he never replied, just remained silent as he took her hand and lead her back into the living room and fell asleep again on her shoulder as Princess Diana waved at people with that stupid parade wave.

Friends

"How could you do that to the poor man!" Bianca's words echoed through my mind over and over until they developed a new meaning for a different person. She had nearly been dragged out the door with Cheever as Jimmy stood pridefully on the landing on the marble staircase, watching as Bianca sputtered and stammered after Cheever, telling him he should stay. He had packed his bags quickly and was out the door by 9 this morning. She was so upset that Jimmy had actually fired Cheever that she had moved all of her things back into her original room across from mine and refused to leave it.

Jimmy's only excuse for the firing of Cheever besides the obvious problem of funds was that, "Bianca, we don't know if this man could go to the news about us. The last thing I want is to open up more newspapers with my face on them telling some blasphemy about how I'm in a rut or some cockamamie story like that. It was for the best that Cheever leave our residence."

"But it's gear if we get a maid, right?" Robert asked. "A french one, with those little black and white dresses and heels. Oh, ho, ho! Come on, Jim, a french maid cleaning up the place. Bon agrees."

Jimmy ignored this and took Bianca's hands in his, looking into her eyes like I wished he would look in mine. "You know you mean a lot to me--"

"Save it, Page. How could you do that to the poor man?" With that, Bianca had stormed up the stairs and toward her room in a huff, leaving Jimmy to shrug as if nothing had happened and Robert to gaze after Bianca absent-mindely.

Now her final words were ringing in my ears, a witness to her anger and his collectiveness, and it had taken on a different meaning. I had a photo shoot today, and Donovan Leitch was coming over as well. I had ignored my growing love for Jimmy for a man I had only met once and was not very familiar with as a musician other than his four hits, Jennifer Juniper, Sunrise Superman,  Mellow Yellow, and Season of the Witch. I had thrown away all chances of ever getting Jimmy, especially whilst Bianca was ticked at him, just for Donovan. In my mind, I had backstabbed Jimmy, even if he didn't like me, and I felt that I owed him something although I didn't... How could I do that to the poor man?

My body took me through the motions of greeting and preparing the models for the photoshoot, but looking back, I have no recollection of it. All I remembered was asking Bonzo for permission to take some pictures in the gazebo of his garden and he had said yes. In the garden, Donovan's car had pulled in and I had called to him against my better judgement. All I got in return was a tall wave and he turned to jog up the steps into the house.

After two hours of shooting, my body once again took me through the steps of cleaning up and dismissing the models. I knew I'd have to develop the pictures and send them into Levi's, but right now all I wanted to do was follow the sounds that lead to the kitchen and the hall connecting the kitchen and the cardroom. Donovan and Jimmy sat in the kitchen. Robert and John Paul had a recording to do at the studio for a new song and were going to be gone the entire day while Bonzo was still downstairs, practicing.

"Good afternoon, Jen," Jimmy greeted merrily as he sat at the island with Donovan standing on the other side of the bar. At the pet-name, a shiver was sent down my spine and I smiled. "How did the photo shoot go?"

"Brilliant," I replied. "Levi's are nice trousers. Expensive as Hell, though. If I had a nice paying job, I'd get a pair. Afternoon, Donovan."

Donovan nodded as I sat beside Jimmy and stared at the man I so longed to see. He grinned at me and dropped his eyed while Jimmy turned to face me. "Bianca's still in her room, eh? I'm a terrible person for not feeling bad about firing Cheever. She has this thing about her... She's one of the two people who can make me feel the consequence for something so simple as sacking a man I had no intention of keeping in the first place."

"Who is the other person?" I asked, hoping he would reply that it was me.

"Me mum," he replied humorously, as if I should have been able to guess. "That takes a strong woman, mind you, to make me feel guilty for something so small and inadequate." Jimmy stood and walked around the island to stand beside Donovan, making another sandwich with the ingredients left out.

I gave an uninterested nodded and looked over at Donovan as he finished off his sandwich. "Did you two already practice?"

"Play," Jimmy corrected. "And yes. Donovan wants to show me one more thing before he takes off for Scotland, then the house will be quiet. I know how you like the quiet."

Donovan eyed me a tad disapprovingly and I hastened to make myself seem more appealing to Donovan. "No, I actually quite like the noise. I think it's a great honor to be in the same house with Led Zeppelin, and telling you not to practice is as stupid an idea as telling a mourning dove not to sing. I respect the beautiful music, but... not when I'm sleeping."

Donovan and Jimmy smiled at me before looking down at their hands. Donovan muttered something to Jimmy and turned to leave the kitchen. I excused myself and hustled after Donovan, knowing Jimmy knew that I liked the Scotsman. As the hall hosting the arches to the kitchen, dining room, and living room opened into the foyer, I caught up with him and he turned to me.

"Did I forget something?" Donovan asked, patting his pockets with a serious expression. "I should I brought a cup of water, right?"

"No, you didn't forget anything," I breathed. A stroke of courage waved through me and I added,  "Well, maybe me."

Donovan looked taken aback. With a tinge of disgust, he sighed and place his hands on my shoulders and the world seemed to slow down. Wrinkles formed between either of his eyebrows and he looked torn. "Look, Jenni, I must say that I thought it was sweet that you're interested in me, as I know you are, but... I don't believe I've cheated on my wife once in our three year marriage. I love her more than anything and I can see us living until the end of our time."

"How did you know...? Never mind. Come on, Donovan, she'd never know. We could have a secret relationship. I know you like me too. Don't be a futty-dutty! You were interested in me yesterday, I knew it."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I was only amusing you. You are beautiful, but I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize me and Linda or either of our kids. Look here, dear, don't feel down. I'd snatch you up if I weren't in a loyal engagement. I think you're chasing after the wrong guy if you think I'll leave Linda for a lady I hardly know."

"Fine," I sighed. I was used to rejection, apart from rejection on a celebrity level, and it wasn't something foreign to me. "I understand."

"Good." He gave a nervous laugh and squeezed my shoulders before kissing me on the cheek and turned to continue toward the sound room. With a sigh, I also turned, but toward the dark hall I had just left.

Jimmy stood in the doorway of the kitchen and frowned. In a second I was in his arms in the foyer, the strength and heat of him squeezing me tightly toward him. It felt like a brotherly embrace, a warm, comforting embrace that I never wanted to leave, but I didn't know why he was holding me. I wasn't complaining, not one bit, but if he thought I was sad he had another thing coming. Having not truly liked Donovan for any reason other than his looks, I didn't feel that regular breathless feeling I normally got whenever I saw Bianca and Jimmy doing anything romantic.

"Er, Jimmy," I began as Jimmy swayed us back and forth sweetly. He rested his chin on my head and I breathed in his musky cologne fondly. He was a virtually scentless man, which was quite amazing, and just the slightest smell of cologne clung to his exposed collarbone. I meant to tell him that I wasn't truly upset, and why would I be, but his embrace was so tight and inviting that I decided against it. It was tight to the point that he could have pushed all the air out of my lungs but I wouldn't care. I'd love to die in his arms and no others, know that my last breath was his and that I had died in the comfort of his arms, his scratchy, stubbly chin rested atop my head.

As we swayed onward, softly and hardly evident, Jimmy whispered, "I don't know what to do to make you feel better." Kiss me, I thought. I could feel Jimmy swallow his spit and relished in the closeness. "I apologise for the bluntness of Don. I suppose it was better than leading you on, right? I'm so sorry. Don't even think about it anymore, Mama. Just don't cry. We'll always be mates, you know that, right? Please don't cry."

"I don't cry," I snapped indignantly, closing my eyes wearily, my face pressed against his chest. Another pet name...

"That's the attitude."

Although I was a tad frustrated at the misreading of the situation of Jimmy's behalf, I was grateful for our embrace. Even if he had said "mates." He didn't understand and it irked me. I wanted him to know that I loved him and that he should love me too and that Donovan was just a small crush. But in this moment, whether or not we were friends or lovers, I wanted nothing more than to be held tightly by him.

Jennifer Juniper

Once Robert and I returned from our "date" (which was rather a nice conversation between two mates over lunch and a brisk walk around inner London), I ran into the half-bath next to the study and fixed my hair and makeup. I was thankful that I didn't wear much makeup in the first place, because it probably would have run by this time. As the last sounds of some Led Zeppelin-Donovan composition died away, I rushed to the mouth of the sound room and fixed myself before any of the four men downstairs could come up.

Jimmy was the first to emerge into the hallway, followed by Donovan and Bonzo, then John Paul. When Jimmy saw me, he gave a wild smile and grabbed my shoulders in a friendly manner for a second before leading the rest of the boys down the hall toward the foyer. I followed them, keeping tabs on Donovan. When the five of us reached the foyer, Jimmy, Robert, and John Paul got into a conversation while John Paul retreated up the stairs and on to the landing where he turned down the hall toward his room.

Donovan ignored me, examining a plant in the corner instead, until Jimmy walked over to him and escorted him to the door.

"Don't you want to get your guitar and equipment, Donovan?" I ask, hoping it sounded as nonchalant vocalized as it did in my mind. He eyed me from over his shoulder, Jimmy's arm on his back, and smiled.

"I'll be back." He grinned wider and opened the door, letting a large gust of cool wind inside, ruffling every one's long hair and just barely tussling Donovan's Beatle-length.

"For guitar, right?" I called before he closed the door behind him. He stopped and looked back again, his eyebrows raised in satisfaction.

"I'll make time for you, sweetheart, no worries."

I screwed up my face in mock confusion and responded indignantly, "I have photo shoot tomorrow out back for Levi's. I don't have time for the likes of you." The strange plan that had formulated in my seductive and persuasive mind was going perfectly as planned. I had hoped he would come back, and just hearing that he would gave me hope.

He wasn't Jimmy, but he was damn near as attractive, as hard as it was to believe, and my plan seemed fool-proof. I would do my usual tease-and-please, my way of playing hard-to-get. It had worked in ever instance throughout my life except with Jimmy, although I hadn't really applied it to him, and I knew it wouldn't fail with Donovan. The tease part was pretty self-explanatory. Tease, mistreat, test, all the hard-to-get characteristics. Then, when the man had gotten trapped in the dark seductiveness of the tease, I'd snatch him up somehow, like a Venus Fly Trap. Somehow.... I hadn't exactly thought how I would snatch Donovan up, and I hoped he would be the one to make the first move, but I knew that in the heat of the moment, something would give. Oh yes, the tease-and-please, hard-to-get seduction stage was only beginning and there was no difference in comparison with a Venus Fly Trap.

However, my plan was not specialized to the fly-- er, person--, and could fail in some circumstances. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, because I'm matrimonially obligated to hope you don't have time for the likes of me," Donovan smirked, reading my mind. I frowned and narrowed my eyes. He turned to Jimmy's inquiring face and continued, "Linda is doing just fine, by the way. Her and the kids. God bless them, every one. It's been three years now and I love her more as the days pass by. Well, thank you for having me over, Pagey. Brilliant seeing you and Bon and Jonsey again. I remember when we were all session pals back in '67, was it? Ah! Gear. I'll see you all tomorrow. Sleep well, carry on Planty." With that, he gave a nod and closed the large door behind him.

Jimmy turned to me as I stood next to the stair banister and rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Well, I suppose I should get to sacking Cheever, then?"

As Jimmy headed upstairs, I sighed and stared absent-mindedly at Robert's feet while he stood fixing the time on his watch. When he finally left the foyer with Bonzo, I sank to the steps and laid on my back tiredly, staring up at the tall domed ceiling. I couldn't have Jimmy because he and Bia were "happy together" and I couldn't have Donovan because the wanker was married. Letting out a sigh, I closed my eyes and mentally prepared myself for tomorrow.

Mellow Yellow

Tuesday came and went swiftly with nearly no recollection of the day, as far as I could think. The looming Wednesday had come all too quickly and I was set today to go on a date with Robert. Coincidentally  I'd miss the arrival of another one of my favorite musicians to the manor; Donovan. For the past few weeks, Jimmy have been working fervently on learning new approaches on the guitar and Donovan was just the Scotchman to teach him some folksy plucks.

As the clock in the study chimed two times, I rose from my reading nook and set Gone With the Wind on the sill bench of the window. The date was set to take place in fifteen minutes and Robert was probably ready to leave. The nerves in my stomach clenched as I thought of going on a date with a man I knew more as a brother-- that had to be some sort of sick incest! It had to! With a long, drawn out sigh, I exited the study and debated for a minute whether or not to join John Paul in the recording room and hide from Robert. The stairs were so close and so persuading....

I cleared my throat and continued toward the front door, my heart hammering. I was sure Robert would see it pounding heavily and I tried desperately to make it stop, but it wouldn't and I grew more and more nervous. Naturally I wasn't a nervous date, but with Robert around, I was a nervous wreck. I didn't want anything to happen that might jeopardize our friendship, and moreover, I didn't want Jimmy to suspect I had a thing for anyone else but him. As I neared the door, I heard Robert call from the hall on the other side of the stairs, "Go ahead and get in the car, Jen! I'll be out in five!"

Doing as I was told, I trekked to the door and before I could open it, the devil-designed knocker rapped on the door outside and the door swung open. My heart nearly stopped and soon calmed as I recognized the familiar and handsome face that stood in the doorway. Those dark eyes, black hair-- which, as I had only realized, I was a sucker for-- cut in an edgy Velvet Underground fashion, the patterned Renaissance style blouse (Oh! what were those called?), the tight pink chino trousers with Chelsea/Beatle Boots, that flowery scarf-ascot that matched nothing of the ensemble, the all-around outfit of a person from the last decade: Donovan.

We stood there for a moment, searching each other's eyes for any sort of indication that one of us would move, which neither did. My lips parted some-what, ready to greet him, but I couldn't speak. He was the most handsome man I had ever met, besides Jimmy and Keith Moon, and Paul McCartney didn't count because I had never met him. Finally, noticing the awkward tension building, I moved aside and let Donovan inside.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am," his sweet, thick Scot accent carried through the air, making me swoon. "You wouldn't know where Jim might be, do you?"

"He's..." Oh, drat! Where was he? "He may be in the living room or in his bedroom. I could check for you, Mister--"

"Leitch. Please-- just call me Donovan. If you could escort me to his bedroom, please. I can see you're dying to lead me somewhere."

"Pardon?" I snapped indignantly. This was why I couldn't keep a boyfriend-- I was too fierce and quick to the draw. But Donovan seemed impressed by my hiss rather than offended. He grinned and entered the house fully, taking in the foyer like everyone who ever visited did. The gold light was always what first caught the guests. "Well, just for that, Mister Donovan, I'll find Jim and you can just wait here."

"Very well," Donovan grinned wider, his tone sounding as if he was hiding something. As I began to walk toward the stairs, I glanced back at him.

"You didn't want to go looking for him at all now did you, little man?" I asked, seeing through him. He tossed his head back and laughed. "Very well, you go check the living room  I've have none of that cheekiness from a man I hardly know, let alone a Scot." Donovan's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion.

Just then, both Robert and Jimmy exited the living room, obviously having cut an important conversation short just in time to see the two people in the foyer. I wondered if it had been about me. Donovan's eyes, previously having been locked on me, now searched Jimmy. Donovan turned and walked toward Jimmy with a chipper expression. They took hands and shook vigorously, smiling and greeting each other.

"How is your wife?" Jimmy asked as the two separated hands. He was grinning like a fool and Robert seemed to be lost in thought.

Donovan threw a fixed glimpse at me, and replied steadily, "Please, Jim, not in front of the pretty unmarried lady. But for your benefit, she's well. Three years this year, she and I."

"Congrats!" Jimmy exclaimed. "I haven't a clue in all my life where My Lady is, neither Scarlet. Dear, dear Scarlet. My Lady has her somewhere and Rob's been dying to see her lately; a baby play-day with her and Karac Pendragon and Jason, Bon's son. She's around two, I believe."

Jimmy was married? I thought. At this time, Robert escorted me out of the manor, but not before I sent a final glower Donovan's way. He seemed thoroughly unaffected and instead stared at me over his shoulder with seductive heavy lids.

♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫

I knew Robert was talking, but I wasn't listening. I was thinking-- fantasizing, rather-- about Donovan and that look of pure interest in his eyes. He undoubtedly equally as handsome, as mysterious, as fashionable as Jimmy, as hard as it was to admit, and he would surely be equip enough to take Jimmy's place, considering how Jimmy seemed altogether uninterested in her.

"Jen?" Robert asked, concerned. I blinked back to earth and faced him sweetly. I placed my hand on his left thigh and he smiled. 

"Do you like me like a girlfriend?" I asked incredulously.

"I...." I muttered, not taking his eyes from the road. "Do you think of me as a beaux?"

"No."

Now he eyed me. "Oh thank God!" He laughed obnoxiously. "So this was just Bianca's doings?"

"Completely," I sighed with relief. "Can we still go to lunch in London?"

"Why not? Bianca would kill us if we came home early because she's the bleeding boss. She wants us to have sex tonight or something wholesome and sensible." He gave me a humorous glance and I retracted my hand. "We'll just tell her we felt more like.. like--"

"Brother and sister!"

"Precisely! Besides, you like Jimmy, don't you?"

A surge of embarrassment, pride, and dignity swept through me like the tides of an ocean and I snapped, "How did you know?", my cheeks becoming red.

Robert laughed again. "It's only obvious. You talk to me about the lad all the time, I'd be damned if I hadn't figured it out by now. I also noticed a little spark between you and the Scot a bit ago."

"Donovan Leitch."

"I know who he is. It's your own self that felt the need for everyone to know his name. That gives it away right there. But no need to worry, dear, your secrets are beyond safe with me. I may be Jimmy's best mate first, but I never go back on my word."

"Oh, thank you Rob! That means a lot. If Bianca found out how I felt about Jim-Jam, she'd never want to be my friend again, and neither Cynthia nor Florence nor Pamela-- Bonham-- are as good a friend as she is."

Love Reign O'er Me

Like promised, today would be the day I meet Keith Moon. I was both excited and extremely worried; where would I be if Keith had decided today was a perfect day to do a line of cocaine or a bucket of LSD? My house and possibly my own important possessions could be mutilated, broken, or used as weapons. Who knows? He may even drive right up the front staircase and into the front doors, or crash into the lovely fountain out front. He could tear up Bonzo's garden! He could set a bomb off in Jimmy's manor and still I would agree that he was one of the most exciting men in the world.
A knock on my bedroom door woke me from my thoughts. "Master Carsons, Master Page has called you to brunch," Cheever called through the door before I could roll off my bed to open it.

I groaned. "Thank you, Cheever," I yelled back irritatedly. Bianca had yet to fire the butler, even after everyone had told her yesterday, and if Jimmy weren't so good-hearted, he'd surely have taken care of it by now. I flopped back down onto my canopy bed again and stared up at the rich gray fabric draped from the four posters.

Cheever knocked on the door again. "Master Carsons, Master Page has requested you be there this moment. He also bades you wear this outfit for the day's events."

For the second time that day already, I groaned. "Bring it in, Cheever," I called, annoyed. The doors opened and Cheever made his way to my giant bed quietly. He held a coat hanger in his left hand. He draped it and the hanging outfit on the bed.

"Master Page says the outfit is appropriate for the meeting of Mister Moon and brunch. He wishes you be downstairs in the dining hall in ten minutes-- and be prompt." Ignoring Cheever, I sat up and pulled the outfit toward me. It was a black lace leotard with black satin leggings, black lace-up leather boots, and a heavy furred Groupie Jacket. "Oh! yes, and Master Page told me to inform you that a bra isn't necessary... ahem, 'it never is.'"

"This outfit is entirely inappropriate! He obviously wasn't making a point to be conservative, the randy bastard!" I rubbed my nose. "Dreadful."

"Master Page says you may wear that... or nothing," Cheever replied, avoiding direct eye contact.

I sniffed. "Thank you, Cheever. I'll be down in ten."

"Shall I tell Master Page you'll wear the outfit?" Cheever asked.

"You can tell him I'll be down in ten minutes. Thank you."

Cheever left and I hoped off the bed, shuffling toward my closet. I easily pulled out a premeditated outfit of dark blue denim bell bottoms and a Zombies "Odessey and Oracle" tee. Quickly, because in this wretched house I never knew when someone would barge in, I changed into the clothes and tossed my ripe clothes on the floor of my closet.

The third time someone knocked on my door, it was John Paul, his expression changing once he saw my casual and semi-conservative outfit. Although everyone in the house considered me a spunky, rebellious type of hard-ass, I'd much rather were a Monkees shirt or an Emerson, Lake, and Palmer tee over a slutty suit.

"Oh thank God!" he breathed with relief. "I was worried you were going to wear that sleazy leather jump-suit! Jimmy picked it out and I told him it was dreadful and revealing-- very degrading. Anyway, if Cheever wasn't already here, Jim told me to tell you you need to be down in the dining quarter in ten--"

"I know. I have-- what?-- five minutes left? You can't give a girl a ten minute interval to get ready! Men! You're all fools, I swear to God!" I slammed the door and retreated to my vanity. I didn't want to be mean to John Paul. He was so fabulously pleasant to be around, and, being the incessant talker that I am, I could hold a conversation practically with myself with little or no interruption. However, it was a must that I turn him from be because I needn't any more competition with Jimmy, and John Paul was just in the way. Now Robert liked me too, and Bonzo was on the fence. Usually this would be a great honor, but for me, when all I wanted was Jimmy, it was terrible and I knew I had to let the boys down easy.


I wouldn't like to say that Keith was completely sober, but he had definitely put on his best behaviour because he hadn't done any collateral damage yet. I sat beside Jimmy, who sat at the head of the table, in the dining room.

"Pagey?" Keith called as he entered the house. I glanced toward Jimmy and blushed. When I had first sat down, I was very surprised that he hadn't addressed the fact that I wasn't wearing his chosen clothes. He hadn't even stirred, like I had intended. I had wholly hoped that he would be upset or fawn over my rebellion, however small it was.

"In here, Moonman!" Jimmy called, and Cheever led Keith into the dining room. My heart fluttered at the sight of one of my greatest idols. Jimmy stood and I felt it proper to do the same.

Keith wore a Roger Waters-inspired flowery blouse with Renaissance-style sleeves and a flared collar. His legs were wrapped in tan bell bottoms and on his feet were a walnut-shaded pair of Dingo boots not unlike the brown clodhopper pair Jimmy wore everywhere for ever occasion. His hair was askew and his eyes were highly dilated and irritated.

"Misses Page?" Keith asked as he looked me up and down, grinning. I held out my hand for a handshake but he took it daintily and kissed my knuckles in an exaggerated bow.

Jimmy laughed, cleared his throat, and motioned to the chair opposite me at the table. Before going to the other side of table to sit down, Jimmy and Keith took hands in a firm handshake and a slap on the back, exchanging small talk for a second.

Keith sat down with a grunt and addressed me as soon as he was situated. "G'day, missus! How are you on this brilliant fall day?"

"Yes, it is quite beautiful today, isn't it?" Jimmy interrupted before I could talk. "We should go for a brisk some time soon, eh? Sounds nice to me, mate."

"I'm alright, thank you," I replied with a glare toward Jimmy. He smiled and I knew he was laughing at me in his mind. "How are you, Mister Moon?"

"Keith. I'm splendid!" Keith exclaimed, slapping a hand down on the finished table. "I apologize for being late-- I was over at Starr's house teaching Jason something about drums."

"Starr?" I asked.

Jimmy butted in again. "Ringo."

I held a hand toward him for silence irritably. "I know who Ringo Starr is, thank you. I'm only the world's biggest Beatlemaniac."

"Really?" Keith asked, intrigued. He leaned forward over the table on his folded arms. "I could introduce you to Starr, if you're as much a Wholigan as I've been told."

"Er, Loon, I don't think an introduction on your part will be entirely necessary," Jimmy observed. "I could just as easily introduce her to George Harrison as you could Ringo. He and I go back some years."

"I could introduce her to Mick Jagger," Keith one-upped, eyeing Jimmy competitively. "Yeah, I don't know what is going on between him and Pete. I swear they're both nancies planning on eloping together after Jagger ditches the wench he's with now. They're both as hydrogenated as Bowie."

Jimmy turned to me. "Would you like to meet Clap? Or Jeff? Beck?"

Keith waved away Jimmy's offer denouncing. "Guitarists only know guitarists, really. Drummers, now we know everybody because everybody knows us. Speaking of, where's Bon?"

"Upstairs," I replied before Jimmy could add to the conversation. I began to feel awfully awkward as the two went at it.

The two were silent for a moment, eyeing each other with bright eyes until both began laughing. Jimmy spoke between giggles, "Shall we go for a walk? Bonzo wants you to see his garden."

We ditched our food before it ever got there and I knew Leenin was going to be mad. As we walked around the house and toward the large garden on the right side of the large property, Keith and Jimmy were at it again, discussing musical trivial and other things about tour. I soon blocked them out and walked along until I got to the gate of Bonzo's Beatles-"Rain"-inspired garden. Trees and vines and flowers wrapped themselves around everything and not a single place in the garden, besides the gravel walk way and the floor of the wooden gazebo, was occupied by a plant of some type. Vines curled around the support rungs of the gazebo and the fence squaring the garden.

"Ey, are you two morons going to stop talking long enough to see Bonzo's pretty garden?" I asked, ashamed I used the word "pretty" in an assertive sentence. The two looked at me as if I had just gotten there and separated, Keith going down the walkway and leaving Jimmy by my side.

"I like the other outfit better," Jimmy whispered as he pushed past me. I grabbed the back of his cardigan and pulled his heavy weight toward me. He looked down at me, a seductive and enticing glint in his eyes. Out foreheads touched and he said sweetly, "You can't stand not to break the rules, hmm? I payed a lot for that outfit, I'll have you know."

"I payed a lot for this Zombies band-tee," I said, not at all retortfully, although he took it as such. "And I got these pants for twenty! I don't live a cheap life, mister."

"I know you don't, Misses Page." He grinned a wicked grin and turned to follow Keith, his cardigan flying behind him. He called after Keith, "Hey, Loon! Would you like to stay for supper?"

In the Evening

"Is Jimmy a good man?" I asked while we sat on the couch in the living room ignoring the television as it softly played a BBC program.

"Of course," Bianca replied. "He's never treated me patronizingly or vainly in all his life, even for such a man of his status. I'd like to think I'm the luckiest girl in the world to be dating him and not have the press know. If the Daily News found out!"

"The... the press don't know you're an item?"

"Of course not! Could you imagine how swarmed I'd be and how hated Jimmy? It's better this way."

"I'm sure, Bia. Look, dear--"

"No. I want it this way. If they find out, it'll be the end of us. I even let Jimmy have decoy groupies!"

"Er.... Bia, I think they're real groupies and he's just taking to them when you're not around. I think you're misinterp--"

"Jenni, stop. Jimmy loves me and I love him and we have always been this way. It's not 1950 any more, Jen. Two people can engage in certain activities outside of matrimony and still be faithful. If you don't trust Jimmy as a person, that's one thing, but I trust him."

"Is that a bass? Are the boys practicing in the basement again?"

"Yes. Ritchie spent the night because Jimmy wanted to get Space Truckin' down. What he should be doing is practicing his own material. That one song they always open with he said is starting to sound like crap. Oh, what was it? After their public--"

"Rock 'n Roll? From what I know about the band, they like opening with that. The song, Bia, not the genre. And didn't the Daily News report something about them playing a song called No Quarter for the first time this year on tour? Why yes, I do think they did. That song's one of my favorites from the new album, Houses of the Holy. Bia?"

"How and why do you know all this?"

"Well, I have a lot of down time as a photographer. Which reminds me-- I have a gig Thursday for Levi Jeans. They're becoming popular in the States, you know! Anyway, I know a lot about Led Zeppelin."

"You sound like a real fan."

"I am, of course. Who couldn't be?"

"How can you even contain yourself?"

"I may have a backbone, but I know how to carry myself like a lady. Besides, Rob wouldn't like me as much as he does if I flipped it and went berserk on these lads."

"Little Robbie likes you? How sweet!"

"Stop calling him 'Little Robbie'. He's only maybe three years younger than us after his birthday last month. I'd much rather be 26 than have old age setting in at 29."

"Jimmy's 29, too; he's not old."

"No, but you don't see him looking pleased that he'll be turning 30 in January. January, right? Oh! Speaking of Jimmy, guess what I'm up to tomorrow!"

"Hmm?"

"Jimmy invited Keith Moon over! Keith is the one man I've always wanted to meet! I can't wait."

".... I'm sorry, but who is Keith Moan?"

"Moon, Bianca. He's the drummer from The Who? The guy that always throws his drums? Took horse tranquilizers? Best friends with Jimmy-- with the entirety of Led Zeppelin? Nearly killed Pete Townshend by means of a flying cymbal? Oh, Bianca, you're so uncultured. How can you be English and not know any English bands?"

"I know the Rolling Stones! They're a randy bunch... I don't quite enjoy them, though. They're too rebellious."

"But that's what rock is!"

"I prefer something more captivating, my apologies. Have you ever heard the Doors? Their lead singer died last year. American."

"You know about some no-name band from American, but you don't even know who The Who are? I'm disappointed."

"I've met the Bealtes; does that count for anything?"

"No, because you work at their recording studio!"

"They did a charming little diddy few years back in '67 I believe. Abbey Road? It's what we named our studio and that's how I know."

"Mercy.... You're not helping your case, darling."

"What was it we were talking about? Oh! So, Robbie...?"

"Don't mention it, B. Planty and I are just good friends."

"Oh, really. I dare you to go on a date with Rob tomorrow. Wait, Keith is coming over... I dare you-- no, I Black Dog Dare you--"

"Pun intended?"

"What? Anyway, I Black Dog Dare you to go on a single date with Little Robbie Wednesday. A real one, and I'm entitled to free-rein planning. Oh! You'll just love it! A brisk through the park, dinner at a nice restaurant, possibly not coming home until hours of the night..."

"Black Dog Dares have no effect on--"

"Triple Black Dog Dare, you coward!"

"I'm no coward, B! You know I'd just as well go down to a bank and shoot-up the place without a dare, that's how courageous I am."

"You'd nick a bank but you refuse to spend a night with Robbie? Come on... Come on, I see that grin. There's someone else, huh?"

"What? No! Ha, no, it's just-- it's... Oh, Bianca, why Wednesday? I have a gig Thursday and--"

"Yes? or no?"

"..... Fine, Bianca, you win. I will go on a date with Ji-- er, Rob-- Wednesday."

Hey You, Don't Tell Me There's No Hope At All

Sunday (meditation day)

There were many reasons why I liked Jimmy-- no, loved Jimmy. For one, he was irresistible with that poofy, long, curly black hair and smoldering black/brown eyes. His facial features were masked and hidden by his bangs a lot of the time, adding a certain sort of allure to him and making his far more attractive than he really was. From what I had seen, he was very fit, very muscular, and was never afraid to wear just a jacket with no shirt. His smile was beautiful, perfectly white and straight, and it always pushed his cheeks upwards and made his eyes sparkle. His smile was nearly intoxicating; one of those smiles that automatically made you feel at peace and want to smile as well. Seldom did he give a genuine toothy smile, but rather flashed people with a patronizing type of grin. It always filled me with pride when I could make him have a genuine smile and those straight teeth flashed down at me.

Jimmy had a fabulous sense of humor. No, it never beat Robert's talent for sarcasm, puns, and inappropriate one-liners, but he was funny enough to make the entire house slap their knees in a fit of laughter. His humor was subtle and misunderstood at times; for example, he had named his first Les Paul "Fretless Wonder" and that was hilarious! Well, at least to me because I understood the second meaning to it, of being free of worry. Not to mention when he smiled I got to see his wonderfully stunning teeth. When something was too funny for just laughter, rather than doing the typical flop-on-your-stomach-and-pound-the-floor-with-your-fist thing, he always gave a cute little kick of his legs like he was pedaling an invincible bicycle. It never failed to make me laugh at his laughter when he kicked his feet in giggles.

Every time I had ever seen him play electric guitar, which had been twice (surprisingly) because the rest of the time it was just acoustic, or else I was out of the house, Jimmy did this cute little dance. I had never seen him dance before, as I didn't know him all too well, but the little bounces and clicks he did with his head and feet while playing was almost too much for me to contain myself for. It was beyond adorable. He also made this extreme lip-purse that make him look like his lips were being pushed against a glass wall; every guitarist had their Guitar Face, and Jimmy's was the lip-purse with closed eyes. And need I bring up his insurmountable talent on guitar? He was far better than Beck, Clapton, Hendrix, and Richards without a doubt in my mind. Oh, he knew it, too; he knew that he was a virtuoso with a knack for perseverance, determination, ambition, and skill and his confidence in this area of his work was what really made him attractive  He was sure of himself but not full of himself and he knew he was one of those few people that could accomplish anything they set their mind and heart to.

I was one of those people, too, and Jimmy was the thing I wanted to accomplish. There were so many similarities between us; we both loved the arts, drawing and painting in particular; we both could play guitar, although there was no hope that I would even parallel his accumulating skill; we both liked nature; we were both each other's ideal partner, me being a blonde artist and Jimmy being a black-haired, black-eyed sex-God musician; we both loved rock music and were living, breathing, walking Rock Dictionaries with everything from Abbey Road to Ziggy Stardust in our Rolodex; I was a photographer and he was gladly my muse; we both found the same things funny, specifically Robert's filth jokes; we both loved animals and wanted to get one for the manor, but Bianca was allergic; we both wanted Cheever sacked even though time and time again Bianca had "forgotten" to sack the poor man and he was carrying on cleaning our manor for a lot more money that Jimmy wanted to spend; we both knew the value of a dollar; we both felt unusually uncomfortable having each other in the house.

I knew Jimmy had to like me more than most other girls or else he wouldn't have let me live in his manor. The fact that he was always on my side in every argument involving Bianca said a lot and I was positive, positive, Jimmy would be mine some day. Bianca was just too controlling for him, an all around nag. I wouldn't be surprised if Jimmy left Bianca for me in the coming months; I would, if I were him. Now, don't get me wrong-- I loved Bianca, but I would never be the foolish bloke to date her! I'd get out of that relationship with one half of a gnawed arm and slave clothes on; that was just was Bianca was. A slavedriver. A nagging, boring, cubical-style slavedriver who was in no way alike me which caused me to even wonder why we were such great of friends, not that I regretted our friendship.

But who was I convincing? There was no hope for Jenni Page and we all knew it, especially Robert who had taken a liking to me quickly. Oh why? why couldn't Jimmy like me as much as Robert or Bonzo secretly did!? And God knows if John liked me as well because the poor mouse-man was too quiet to speak to me much. I needed to pull out my A-game and step it up a notch if I was ever going to end this jealousy that raged inside me like a wildfire whenever Jimmy and Bianca were romantic together. I had to end the jealousy before it ended my friendship with Bianca, but I was afraid that it would end any way this Jimmy ordeal ended up. My heart sank at the thought of losing either one of the two as close companions over the other. I sighed. I had no idea what to do and I needed to formulate a plan for the new week.

A thought hit me. Two days prior, Jimmy had told me Keith Moon would be coming over Monday as promised. That's where I would start.

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."

Get it On, Bang a Gong

(3 in the morning)

I crawled into my comfortable empty bed after studying my room one last time. Clothes were still strewn about the floor in front of my dresser and mirror. My small vanity on the far wall was riddled with makeup products, magazines, hair-care products, and anything you may find in a girl's bathroom all with a thick dust that permanently clung to the air around it as a result of applying so much powdered makeup. I could write my name in the makeup dust on the vanity mirror.

My walls were striped with three different sized  and colored stripes; one stripe, the second largest was a standard dark blue; the largest stripe was an aqua blue that was nearly teal; the thinnest stripe was white and it was used the separate the dark blue and the light blue. My carpet was very interestingly decorated; it was a cheetah-print shag fabric I had found at a local home improvement store. Besides the flashy colors that were probably more appropriate for a teenager, there were many feathers and many dream-catchers hanging from the walls. A large painting hung on the back of my door depicting a native of Ireland on a bluff leading a horse down to the green shores below, feathers in the horse's hair. Four feathers of different birds ranging from a Sparrow to a Hawk were tied to every poster of my bed and a dream catcher hung from the canopy.

Ever since I had learned about the Native-Americans in my American Literature class in Epsom, I had been fascinated. They were like Hippies, but they weren't fake and they lived a healthy lifestyle. Even the old guitar of mine (one I had picked up at a pawnshop, not the B.C. Rich Mockingbird Jimmy had gifted me) had a feather tied around the third fret. Feathers were everywhere, not unlike my posters. Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Who, Jimi Hendrix (with and without The Experience), The Doors, Black Sabbath, Dire Straits, The Yardbirds, Them, The Kinks, ELO, Fleetwood Mac, The Monkees, Mamas and Papas, Loggins and Messina, Elton John, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, (even though Robert had requested not to see his face every time he walked into my room, save the mirrors), and various other posters clung to every inch of my walls. For the sake of Robert-- and to spare myself from any further midnight heart attacks as a results of scaring myself--, I had put the Led Zeppelin poster over my overhead mirror. Sadly, it only covered a part of it, but this way Robert didn't have to see it and I could wake up without my own vivid green eyes staring back at me, ultimately scaring me every morning.

My bed itself was comfy, even if Jimmy had intentionally set it the exact color of Epsom's uniforms to hassle me. The bed was a pillow top with a comforter that became puffier the more air it got, the more it moved around. My pillows were heaps of Heaven and I instantly became drowsy at even the whiff of them; they smelt like me after a long day, a smell I would forever associate with being tired. I felt bad for taking everything I had for granted; back at my old apartment, I wasn't even allowed to paint the walls. That was probably why I went all out on the ones I had now, but it was high time I be grateful... that time being tomorrow.

I yawned and patted my outer thigh, checking that I had changed into my night gown. I had lost all previous memory of allowing Syd to sleep in the bed with me, so when my door opened at a quarter to four, my eyes shot open and I rolled to face my murderer. "Who is it?" I asked groggily.

"Sy- Sy- Syd," slurred a man so heavily intoxicated and high that he couldn't even make out his own name without staggering. He tripped into bed, landing on my legs. I hated drunks. I didn't mind when people got high or did any drugs (save Meth and Heroin of course), but with my own father being a terrible drunk, the very sight of a person staggering or slurring or falling was enough to enrage me to the point of breaking a bottle over their heads. That's not to say I didn't drink, of course; hypocritically? yes, but it was inevitable that I hate the likes of a Drunkard.

"You're pissed on the whiskey again, huh?" I asked rhetorically. He crawled toward my pillow and out faces were close together. I screwed up my face at the smell of alcohol on his breath.

"D-di-dijo do dah!?" he gurgled incoherently. "You know you want this, Princess... you know you do! You want it all, and a bag of chips too-- ha! ha! ha!"

"Good Lord," I groaned reproachfully. "LSD's wearing off, right?"

"Do-do- do you.... You want--"

"'This', I know! I want you to go sleep in a guest room. Or Bianca's room, at any rate. She's sleeping in Jimmy's, the lucky thing." I hadn't caught myself in time. My eyes widened at the last sentence and my heart sped; I was thankful only an unconscious man had heard me say that I was jealous of Bianca-- was I?

"See, they're sleeping together... What'd'you say we shag, eh?" he burped in my face and I whined before turned to face the other way. "They're sleeping together. Why don't we?" Syd pushed his way into my bed behind me and my eyes widened more, worried he would rape me or do something of which I was not strong enough to deflect.

"Syd, get out of my room. I want to sleep and I'm afraid you're going to--"

"To what? Have a good time? Why I- I think I might." Syd wrapped and arm around me and I swatted him away, only for his arm to tighten. I was surprised when I instinctively screamed.

"Help! Help! Jimmy! Robert! John! Bonzo! Bianca! Cheever! HELP!" I screamed, terrified. "Help!"

"Oh hush, you tease," Syd slurred. He clamoured over me, resting while half-on, half-off of me, his face near mine. I tried to punch him but he grabbed my wrists quickly; very quickly for an intoxicated man. I screamed for help again and he kissed me, dripping Jack Daniels and whatever else he had practically inhaled tonight all over my lips. "Now, Peach, Syd's gonna... gonna take you to a place you've never known--"

The door to my room opened and the light flipped on. I was hoping to God it was Jimmy, here to save the day, but it was Robert, woken from his slumbers by my blood-curdling screams of sheer terror. "What?" he muttered before fully understanding the scene playing out in front of him. He stomped over to the bed, grabbed Syd by the left pant leg and under his neck, and pulled him off of me with a strength only men with adrenalin rushes would know.

"Geroff me!" Syd snarled as Robert knelt over Syd, his fist raised. Jimmy entered the room with a white shirt and briefs on, Bianca close behind him in her pink night robe.

"What's going on?" Jimmy asked, his messy hair bouncing wildly as he glanced between me and the brawl between Robert and Syd on the floor. He rushed over to pull Robert out of the fight and Bianca ran to me, wrapping her arms around me as I sat up in bed.

"What happened, dear?" she asked soothingly. John and Bonzo barged into the room together in a trot; both were shocked at the sight of Jimmy holding back Robert and Syd on the floor in the fetal position with Bianca and I hugging in bed.

"What in the Hell?" Bonzo asked no one in particular. He looked at me. "Are you alright?"

"Fine!" I announced loud enough for everyone to hear. Jimmy turned his head to study me up and down, making sure it was the truth. He lingered on my raised knees before turning back to Syd. "Syd was trying to have sex--"

"He was trying to rape you, he was!" Robert roared, his eyes burning with hatred. "The drunken bastard, I could've killed him, I could have. I heard Jen screaming and I--"

"He told me he dropped Acid, too," Jimmy added, cutting Robert short. "That's why I was surprised when he said Jen would let him sleep with her." My heart sank as I realized the emotion in Jimmy's eyes just a few hours earlier that resembled jealousy was just worry.

"You're positive you're feeling okay?" Bianca asked me quietly while the boys discussed what to do with Syd, incapacitated on my carpet. "You could sleep with me in my room! Jimmy'll be fine being alone one night."

"No, I can sleep in here," I said, a suggest burst of excitement hitting me. This had to be the weirdest morning in all my life.

"You sure?"

"Of course," I replied. She gave a disappointed lip-pucker and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you." I addressed the room, now. "Will you please all get out of my room so I may sleep?"

Eventually everyone left with Jimmy loitering at the door. "I'll be in bed soon, Bumblebee," he told Bianca. "I need to make sure everything is okay with all of my house-guests." Once everyone had left, Bonzo leading Syd down to the couch in the living room once he awoke, he closed the door and walked to my bed softly. I pouted and drew the blankets up to my neck as he settled down beside me. I scooted so he could lay next to me.

For the longest minute, neither of us said anything and neither of us moved. I could only see the slightest sliver of his forehead above the Zeppelin poster and I wanted so badly for him to break the tension, to talk to me, or even for him to touch me. Something that would break the tension that had mounted since Syd walked into my room.

"Led Zeppelin?" Jimmy asked as though he weren't in the band. I studied the poster of the four men standing in front of the Mothership, their symbols floating around. "I heard they're an interesting band."

I turned my body to lay on my right side, facing him. "I thought you said Syd was a good guy?"

"No one is as good as they are sober," Jimmy concluded, crossing his ankles and interlacing his fingers over his stomach. "You saw his peak of terribleness and Robert's tolerance for such bastard-like actions. He really cares about you, Robert does. Although you're five years older than him, he sees you as a little sister. Sometimes more. Do you have romantic feelings for Robert?"

"No. Do you?"

"Always," Jimmy laughed. "I apologise for the whole ordeal. I figured Barrett would be on his best behavior near a lady of your class, but-"

"'Lady of my class?' You're mad!" I gave a snort of laughter then was caught in a fit of giggles. I crawled closer to Jimmy and rested my head on his broad chest. "Will you give me guitar lessons?"

"Of course, name your day."

I nestled deeper into his chest. "Will you answer any question I have about you and Led Zeppelin?"

"Any time."

"Will you let me take exclusive pictures of you all and sell them?"

"Never."

"Will you spend the night with me?"

"I would love to." I got up and threw the covers from me, making my way around the bed and toward the door. I turned off the light and the moonlight outside illuminated my room in a fresh blue color. I settled back down onto Jimmy's chest and threw the covers over him. He smiled and rested his head atop mine.

"Jimmy?"

"Yes, Jen?"

"Do you regret letting me live here?"

"Not a day goes by that I do."

I smiled to myself. A few minutes of silent fell upon us and I knew I had to interrupt it one more time. "Jimmy?" I whispered again.

More irritatedly, Jimmy responded, his heart beating in my ears, "Yes?"

"Thank you. For letting me live here, for wasting your money on all my ideas, and for tonight. For everything. I owe you a lot."

"You owe me nothing.... Goodnight, Jenni."

"G'night, Jim."

My inspiration for this scene! :)

War Pigs

Well, there was an anti-bullying assembly at school Thursday that made a lot of people cry and I didn't because I was telling jokes with my friend Aaron the entire time. I was telling him how grateful I was that I appreciated my life any way it turned out because I love living and my ex-friend and infamous bitch Megan took it upon herself to say, "Hey Jenni, knock it off. That's not funny", to which I snapped my fingers like a ghetto lady, laughed, and retorted, "Snappity snap. That's bullying. Bitch swerve!" I'm sorry, I guess I forgot that American is a fucking communist country that doesn't like opinions! Oh wait, that's right-- we're not communist and we support free speech.... Hmm. In that case, Megan, you can go fuck yourself.

Anyway, because of Thursday, the baseline of this chapter and the one after (because it was too long to make into one) will be based off of my dumb-ass encounter with the world's biggest bitch. That is all!

______________________________________________

(Friday)

It was Friday and Black Sabbath was playing on the stereos around the billiards room. "Generals gathered in their masses, just like witches at black masses. Evil minds that plot destruction, sorcerer of death's construction. In the fields the bodies burning, as the war machine keeps turning. Death and hatred to mankind, poisoning their brainwashed minds!" rang through the room as cigarette and joint smoke billowed through the open windows and into the darkness outside. Robert had just lit an incense stick and had taken back his seat at the poker table.

Around the table were six loud, boisterous, and intoxicated men; the Quartet, Syd Barrett formerly of Pink Floyd, and Chris Dreja formerly of The Yardbirds. I had to admit that Syd was really attractive and mysterious, being a person who was attracted to men with dark eyes and hair of course. A cigarette hung limply from his lips as he held his cards fast to his chest, his eyes focused on the pool in the center of the table.

Bianca was standing over Jimmy rubbing his shoulders and whispering words of encouragement. I, however, crouched between Bonzo and Syd, leaning more toward Bonzo. Rather than words of encouragement, I was whispering hints to Bonzo and he was nodding in understanding. The house seemed so much emptier without the wives around and I found myself soothing Bonzo's homesickness more often than not.

"You can't help him," Syd leaned over and whispered. I could feel the rouge in my cheeks burning through and I tried to hide my face.

"I'm not helping," I said coolly, "I'm pointing out the obvious that is not so obvious. Bonzo could do this all himself."

"Then why doesn't he?" Syd laughed. I lowered my lids and chanced a look at him. He was smiling down at me, a large ring on his right hand glinting in the adequate light of the Billiards room and his sullen eyes pierced me inquisitively.

Prepared to stand, I was surprised that it was Bonzo who got up. He tossed his cards on the table, put out his cigarette, and addressed the remaining five and Bianca, "I'm turning in early. We've got a press conference to be at tomorrow and I need my beauty rest. G'night, mates."

"G'night, Bonzo," Jimmy said, a cigarette in his lips, without looking up from his cards. The rest of the boys wished him a well rest and Bonzo left for upstairs.

Sighing, I stood and said my goodbyes as well. "I think I'll grab a piece of custard then go on up to bed. Bianca?"

"I'll be in the kitchen in a minute, the game is getting good!" she smiled. I laughed; this, coming from a person who thinks a "Full House" is a Catholic reference. I nodded and went through the passage to the kitchen.

As I pulled a piece of custard out of the fridge, Syd entered, leaning flirtatiously on the door frame, his eyes like X-Ray scanners. I felt very vulnerable, but I knew Syd was a good guy-- or so they boys had said.

"You know," he said, casually strolling toward me at the island, "I remember this house. T'was Dave's. Gilmour, if you didn't know." I nodded. I had already known that from the time Jimmy told me the first day we got here. "He loved this place. The bedrooms are huge, the living room is a work of art, and the lovely little dinning hall was always my favorite room. It was cozy with that wee fireplace on the wall."

I scooped a piece of custard into my mouth and nodded, trying to ignore how sexy his face was with that added mystery. He leaned over the counter and studied me with heavy lids and obvious interest. I smiled and looked down at my desert.

"Don't be bashful," he said softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tablet of something. He stuck the tablet on his tongue and pressed it against the roof of his mouth, not taking his eyes off me. "Want one?"

"What is it?" I asked as he pulled out a second one for me. I examined the object in his hand and I automatically knew what it was. The unmistakable Mickey Mouse wizard on the top of the square of paper; it was Acid. I hadn't seen it since 1968.

"A minor grade LSD," he replied enthusiastically. "It will last you until midnight."

I glanced at the clock on the wall, amazed that I was actually open to doing Acid again. I clicked my tongue by accident and looked back at Syd. "It's One A, Syd," I observed. "You're saying it'll last me the entire of today?"

"It isn't one in the morning," Syd argued. He looked up at the clock. "Aye, I guess it is. Very well, it'll last you until four."

"I'd prefer sleep, sorry," I turned the tablet down, my expression giving away my longing. I fixed my jaw and looked up into Syd's confident face, trying to hide my excitement. "Are you sleeping over?"

"I ain't driving home after I dropped Acid, now am I?" he laughed. He walked around the island and stood closely next to me. "I could stay in your room. I won't tell me Mum."

"You're a self-destructive fellow, aren't you?" I asked. He breathed a chuckle of laughter, ruffling my hair. "I'd rather not have you in my bed if you're going to be fighting dragons or something wild all night long."

The kitchen door swung open and Jimmy entered with two cups. He seemed to not notice us and I resumed my eating while Syd walked up to Jimmy and patted him on the back. "'Ey, Jim, do you think it'd be okay if I spend a night here? I just dropped some low-grade Acid and I can't make it home."

"Sure," Jimmy replied, filling one cup with Jack and setting the other in the sink. He kept the bottle for himself and I assumed the cup was for some one else. He threw his head back and gulped a large amount of Jack Daniels, running his sleeved arm over his mouth when he had swallowed. "There's plenty extra rooms--"

"Jenni already invited me to sleep in her room," Syd interrupted. Jimmy sobered right up and looked at me inquisitively. I hadn't heard Syd and I was confused.

"Did she?" Jimmy asked rhetorically. He seemed slightly offset by this with an emotion that I couldn't decipher in the drunken state that I was. "Very well...."

Season of the Witch

I startled from my sleep, panting heavily as I recognized my surroundings. I was on the couch in the living room. It was dark and a blanket had been drawn over my body. Rain pattered on the windows and a bang came from the kitchen. I jumped up and held the blanket around my shoulder with one hand and searched in the darkness for a weapon.

"Oh shit," came a high-pitched voice from the kitchen. Terrified, I grabbed a cork coaster from the coffee table and stalked toward the kitchen door. Slowly, my heart racing, I pushed the swinging door open and threw the coaster at the first person I saw. "Ow!" Jimmy shouted. "Mother fuck! Why in bloody Hell did you throw that?"

I sighed with relief. Jimmy was picking up the bread tin he had apparently dropped and wasn't doing anything Black Magic-y like I had feared. Rubbing his lower back, he placed the bread tin on the counter and gave a sharp, painful breath.

"Why did you throw a bloody coaster at me?" he repeated. He bent over and grabbed the coaster and set it on the counter. "Oh, well it's definitely bloody now, isn't it? Real fucking bright, you schmuck. My back is killing."

"I'm so sorry," I apologized sincerely, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Crazy dream-- I didn't want to take any chances."

"You haven't had a crazy dream until you've done Cocaine and fallen asleep afterwards," Jimmy laughed, then became serious after realizing he had revealed information he hadn't planned to share. "Forget that." He sat at the island and patted the chair next to him. "Come tell Papa what scared you. After you've told me, then I'll beat you for throwing that fucking coaster.... joking of course."

I smiled and sat beside him. We didn't turn the chairs, but Jimmy swiveled his body to face me and I stared at the open stove on the far wall of the kitchen opposite me. "Well," I began without hesitation, "you were in it." A shudder raked my body when Jimmy calmly set his hand on my knee. I looked at him and he held a steady gaze as if he didn't realize his hand was where it was. I cleared my throat and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "Anyway, you were in the dream and you were possessed over this weird Black Magic- Witchcraft anchor-shaped symbol you had--" Jimmy's hand slid a few centimeters up my leg and I froze.

"I do dabble in Occult," Jimmy said. "It sounds like the Cross of Salem; it can be good or it can be possessively bad. That may be what it was. Zoso is an Occult symbol, as well."

"Really?" I asked, watching Jimmy out of the corner of my eye. "What does it-- Oh!" Jimmy placed his hand on my inner thigh and I began to shake and shiver. "Jimmy--"

"I told Leenin to go home. You were asleep and I didn't want him to make dinner if you were going to sleep. We'll eat left-overs. Do you know what I want to do right now?"

"I have a guess," I breathed as Jimmy rubbed his hand up and down the length of my thigh teasingly.

"Really? I want to get," he whispered in my ear now, "high. Name your drug and we'll do it. I have Cocaine, Acid, Wacky-Tabacky, and Heroin."

"Is none of the above and option?" I asked, pushing away his face and the nauseating smell of Jack with it.

"Pick one or we could just fuck."

"You're a real catch. Bianca is a lucky woman," I hissed sarcastically.

"Come on," Jimmy begged, retracting his hand. "Don't be a Sore Sally."

I sighed. "We can do the grass, but that is it!" I pointed a finger at him. "And you're giving up Heroin. That stuff is nasty-bad!"

To both my luck and my relief, the sound of the front door opening and closing with bodies in the foyer rang through the house; John Paul and Bianca were home and I was free of my Page Trance (Page Rage, if you will). I smirked at him and he frowned, then winked and excused himself from the kitchen.

Black Magic Woman

Jimmy and I were the only ones in the house today. Bianca and JPJ were out at a mechanic's because John Paul's car was acting up after Bianca had taken it for a spin, and Robert and Bonzo were on an unnecessary road trip to a visit Robert's mother up north in West Bromwich, Straffordshire.

Something loud from upstairs-- a bang, I believe-- woke me from my nap on the couch in the living room. After a silent minute or so, I brushed it off as a bird hitting the window and stretched. The living room was a beautiful and elegant room. The walls were a tan color with white molding and there weren't any curtains on the floor-to-ceiling lattice windows. The whole room was a dull blue haze not unlike the one in my apartment the morning of the dinner. Storm clouds outside were forming and the clock on the wall said that is was only 4 in the evening.

There came a great clanking of pots in the kitchen and I jumped, holding my heart. I knew it was only Leenin beginning tonight's meal, but after the bang from upstairs, I wasn't sure whether I had imagined it or not. Leenin entered the living room through the door separating this room and the kitchen.

Leenin was a young man with brown hair who was famous in the house for being gangly  slender, and polite. He looked appalled at the moment and let out a hefty breath, audible even from where I lay in the flowery couch near the fireplace.

"You heard that bang from the second level, aw well, correct?" he asked timidly. I stared at him, my eyes wide and my heart racing a bit. I nodded. "Who is up there?"

"I believe Jimmy is," I replied. "In his room. Do you want me to check if he's alright?"

"Would you?" Leenin began kneading his hands together and I felt sorry for him. "Mister Cheever is out getting groceries, otherwise I'd have him see to it."

I put out a hand in a call for silence. "I can check. What's for supper?"

"A roast." Leenin sighed and left for the kitchen once again. As soon as he was back in the kitchen, another bang erupted from upstairs and I jumped again. I wanted to cower in the corner of the couch; these bangs were the type of bangs that a person falling would make. They sounded like an engine backfiring-- a more of a pop!-- more than anything else.

Summoning up all the courage I had, I exited the living room into the foyer and began climbing the marble staircase. As I reached the second floor, I could hear talking from Jimmy's room and I automatically felt relieved. I was grateful it wasn't something paranormal or demonic living in our house, that it was just Jimmy possibly throwing things in his room.

Cheerfully, I walked down the left wing of the passage and knocked on Jimmy's door at the same time another bang shuddered through the door. I recoiled, then knocked again, to no reply. I knocked a third time. Still no reply. "Jimmy?"

There was a chanting from within and I began to worry again. I cracked one of the two white doors open slowly to see what Jimmy was up to. Jimmy was kneeling on the floor with his back to the door, a giant shape made of flour laying before him on the carpet. Candles lined the shape and the room seemed darker than normal. A shutter ran through me and Jimmy chanted something in Latin.

"Jimmy, what are you doing?" I called in a slight whisper, pushing my head through the door crack. He ignored me, so I walked in and shut the door behind me. "Jim-Jam?"

Jimmy chanted something again and I walked up to him hesitantly. I touched his shoulder and whatever trance he was in was broken, scaring me even more. Jimmy stood and turned to me; as soon as he recognized who it was, he became angry. He grabbed my four arms and pushed me against the door, his eyes smoldering behind his wispy  curly black hair. The smell of sweat on him was overwhelming and beads of liquid sweat dotted his forehead.

"What are you doing in here!" he growled. Tears welled in my eyes because of the discomfort and fear. He shook me for a second. "Answer me!"

"I- I- I... There was... What's going on?" I managed to whisper. Jimmy's eyes flickered. "Jimmy?"

"Leave," he ordered, pressing me against the door harder. I gasped. He dropped my arms and backed up.

Terrified, I opened the door, my eyes never leaving his brown ones. Something came over me as I saw the shape in my peripheral view. It resembled an anchor somewhat and I automatically knew it was something that tied in with witchcraft.

"No!" I shouted.

"Hey!" I sprinted past Jimmy and dragged my foot across the shape, flour flying up in a billow of smoke. Lighting struck outside and a body rammed into me, holding me as we rolled into the wood frame of the bed.  I flipped to see Jimmy sitting on top of me, pinning my arms down again. His eyes were burning with hatred and I screamed.

"What did you see?" Jimmy asked. He was much stronger than I had ever given him credit for and he weighed enough to make my breathing difficult.

"What has gotten into you?" I spat back, my breathing becoming labored. Suddenly he became himself again,  shaking his head and lightening up on my arms. "Jimmy, what in the Hell?"

Another lighting strike. Jimmy crawled off of me and sat, Indian-style, beside me. I got up quickly and made a wide circle around him, trying to get to the door slowly. "Wait," Jimmy stopped me, his body looking weak. "I- I apologize for all of that--"

Jimmy's door opened and Bianca stood there with keys in her hand, horrified and out of breath. "What was all the banging? Jenni? Are you okay? You look pale. What in God's name happened in here?"

I looked at Jimmy and he stood. "It's fine, Bianca. I'll meet you downstairs."

"But Jim--"

"Downstairs," he repeated. Bianca nodded and closed the door. I turned to leave. "Stop." I faced Jimmy worriedly. "You saw none of that."

"What is 'that', exactly?" I asked, pointing to the demolished anchor.

Jimmy sighed. "Black Magic. Occult. That sign means Good, if it's made correctly. I didn't make it correctly."

I nodded and glanced down at it, my heart still racing. "What happens if it's not made correctly?"

"The maker or the house could become possessed."

I was furious. "You risked the sanctity of yourself and our home!?" I shouted and scoffed. "You're ridiculous! And by the way, Ow!" I rubbed my forearms. "You're strong."