The sweet sounds of music wafted from Jonesy's room and per curiosity, for the first time in my life, I entered his room. The walls were of a velvet red fabric, awfully distasteful but not shabby, and the furniture of luxurious pine wood, stuffed cushions where-ever they could be. It smelt heavily of incense, even with the windows open to cool off the heat given by the small hearth in the corner. It honestly looked as if Jonesy had attempted to make a living room out of his bedroom. It was quite amazing, something I'd have never expected of the mute man.
Jimmy sat beside John on a red, plush Rococo chair, a celtic-designed guitar in his hands while John strummed a mandolin skillfully. Jimmy smiled up at me. They were playing the familiar tune of Hey Hey What Can I Do.
"Doom Doom do do do do do,
er e er e er,
ee ee ee..."
I smiled and rested upon a perch of fine Moroccan (it soon became evident that John had combined several styles to create a Cedar feel) craftsmanship in interest, watching the two play heavenly. I relished in the warmth of the room, not only in temperature, but also in mood, as I listened acutely. They stopped with a final strum of the mandolin and Jonesy, who hadn't shown any knowledge of my presence, looked up at me with an approval-seeking grin.
Jimmy reached for a rocks glass on a table between them and downed a swig of scotch so easily it could have been water. "What're you doing?" he asked casually.
I glanced at the falling snow out the window and thought of a better reason than I heard music. "When are you guys going on tour?"
"That shouldn't concern you," Jimmy replied softly, politely. "Really."
"I heard music," I sighed with slight frustration at my failure to think faster than I usually did. "That was really good by the way."
"The mandolin has been known to bring women to their knees," Jones stated matter-of-factly. "As do I."
I laughed, but Jones remained serious. I coughed to a stop and looked around the room. "I like it in here, it's cozy. Why haven't I ever been in here?"
"Because this isn't Jimmy's room," JPJ laughed, finally. "I think I have the nicest room of the entire second-floor. Robert's room is dysfunctionally cluttered with expensive Greek furniture and Bonzo's room is a pig sty. Quite literally, actually. Apart from it being a dreadful mess, he themed it Sheep Farmer from Brum. Rustic this, rustic that. Rubbish. This room, this room is like a Welsh cottage you never want to leave."
"I should theme my room," I suggested, newly inspired. "Something like American Indians or Laser Floyd. Maybe AC/DC-themed."
Jimmy cleared his throat and studied me with abused eyes, a knowing expression in them. "John and I were just talking. We thought it'd be nice if..."
"For Christ's sake, Jim," John snapped. "When we get our dates for the tour, you're invited to come with us."
"With you and Bianca?"
There was reluctance in John's reply. "You, Ricardo, Jimmy, me, Rob, Bon, and G, on tour. He has some surprise to tell us tomorrow, and we should get the dates very soon. You'd pack up and we'd go. Jim's leaving the house in Bianca's charge."
My heart skipped a beat and I became extremely lightheaded. "Come on tour with Led Zeppelin?" I breathed. "In America?"
Jimmy nodded, his expression masked. "If you don't mind groupies."
I nearly fell out of my chair in my blind excitement. "I don't mind anything!" I had lost all feeling in my arms and I could hardly speak. I knew I had some time to go before we left, but for the time being, I was floating.
I AM SO SORRY! I lost track of time and entirely abandoned this blog. I have such a good future for this blog, BEAR WITH ME! I will update THIS WEEK. We've also reached 9000 views (horray!), so your picture is below.
I can't say much- I've been busy all day shopping for this and that, as well as seducing my stoner crush. For the basis of this post, I will elaborate. I hate to say that I'm going to have to go into more detail tomorrow for I cannot today. Anyways:
Today we mourn the untimely death of John Henry "Bonzo" Bonham who died on this day in 1979. He was perhaps the greatest drummer of all time and remains to be the only one of Zeppelin that has passed on (knock on wood he is the last! Yes, I know they can't live forever but THEY HAVE TO.) He was a daredevil, an alcoholic, and a loving friend, father, and husband. His symbol, the three interlooped circles, in the occult symbol for the Trilogy; his home life, that he loved tenderly; his career, which he hated and enjoyed at the same time; and everything else, which he lived fully. Eventually his alcoholism turned fatal and he died in Jimmy's house after passing out after having consumed over twenty or so orange Vodka shots as well as a bunch of whiskey.
I'll go more into it tomorrow, but I have no time today. I am so sorry. Listen to Moby Dick in memory of the greatest drummer of all time (I'm learning Moby Dick on guitar and it's fun to play):
It's about the psychological nature of Jimmy. It features pictures never seen on here, as well as songs and such. So check it out if you have the time! Clever name, right? I'm good with names.
My new chapter for here is all about Jonesy and Jimmy, since I haven't talked about him much. I was inspired today. So expect that around.... mmm, Wednesday? Don't hold me too it obviously.
Anyway, love you, baby baby baby baby babes! :)
~Ms. Revolution
Also, I'm working on a new chapter to WWL! Sorry for the delay! Enjoy this in apology:
Sorry I'm late! I think we've established long ago that I am NOT a punctual personality. I've been busy converting WLL into a Tumblr! Woo! Here's you picture. Lots of love! Squeeze those lemons!
Personal messages now feature these quotes from the story!
I know I said I wasn't going to be around today, but I lied. I'm evading homework right now (Oh lord, I have so much to do yet!)
Anyway, yay or neigh on these quote bubbles? I think they're cute. Look over previous personal messages for more. Perhaps I'll do Robert, Bonzo, John, and Jenni ones. But who could I cast for me? The gorgeous Farrah Fawcett?
Disclaimer, they never said these things outside this story (as far as I know).
Anyway, happy birthday, Robert Anthony Plant! :) For some reason, I'm in love with this picture, and I hope you are, too.
A happy birthday is due to Robert Plant tomorrow! Happy almost birthday, Percy! I won't be around tomorrow to post this, so here it is now.
Fun fact about the Golden God: in the early days of the New Yardbirds, while touring in Denmark and all those Scandinavian countries, a short while after Keith Moon (above) had suggested the name "Led Zeppelin", Planty stopped into a bar. He had a few drinks, but the real story here is that as Robbie went to use the bathroom, he took a marker and wrote "ROBERT PLANT OF LED ZEPPELIN" on the wall to see how it would look when he was famous. The owner promptly painted over it.
The black and white ones are at Bad Company's Austin, Texas show during their 1974 tour of America. Bad Company was the first band to be signed to Swan Song-- Led Zeppelin's own record company-- and the only successful one at that. Most of the members were from Free, with hits like Alright Now. Paul Rodgers, the singer, later went on to form a band with Page in the late 80s called the Firm, which lasted a few years before the band split and he took Freddie Mercury's place in Queen in 2005. Amazing how all of this was off the top of my head! Thank you, books!
In honor of the first day of Woodstock, my favorite event in all history, 44 years ago, I present a Hippie-based chapter. Peace and love!
_______________________________
Of course, it wasn't until midnight that it was actually finally 1974, but I like to think it was the moment that Jimmy had kissed me that the new year had begun. He was still awfully stand-offish, but just the idea of having to hide our affection was enough to make my heart throb in merriment. As I sat across the dining room table from Jimmy, I couldn't suppress a smile.
"I think I'm going to become a hippie," I mumbled out of the blue as I stirred my oatmeal unappetizingly. "They have more fun."
Jimmy gave a snort of laughter. "Hippies are fake. When I was in San Francisco last year-- er, two years ago-- all of what was left over from the 60s were walked dead on the streets, babbling about Timothy Leery and the death of Hendrix and Joplin. What you should be is a transcendentalist."
"Someone who meditates?" I asked.
"I know you're an anarchist. So are they. They're into that peace and love shit, too, but they don't sit around and do nothing but complain. They go out and get the peace, you know?"
"Like John Lennon?" I pondered. He nodded and I digested his words. "I think I'm going to become a transcendentalist."
He finished up his breakfast and stood, smiling down at me. "Be whatever you want to be, just continue to be a photographer, okay? Bad Company are coming over at one, G'll be here around twelve. Stay away from Paul Rodgers, you're his type."
"Jealous much?"
He looked toward the entrance before saying, "No, just protective. Bianca's got to work at four, and the guys and I will be back from working at five. We should do something."
"Maybe!" I called after him as he left, and I smiled to myself, running my hand over my mouth to try a relax the wretched muscles causing the smile. Maybe hiding our affection wouldn't be so bad.
♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫
"I want something that says, 'We're Bad Company and we just don't give a single rat's ass.'" G stood behind me, breathing down my neck as it was, impatiently watching as his new band fidgeted in the studio above some bookstore in downtown London. Jimmy had suggested me as the photographer for the promotional shoot and I knew I couldn't disappoint.
"Okay, Curly," I directed, waving a finger at the curly brown-haired man up front, "move a little to your left. Blondie, take one step forward, and you two get a little closer. Light-guy, I need a bit more on Curly. Beard, please stop laughing. Don't Give A Single Rat's Ass attitude, guys. Right, hold that."
I snapped a picture and Blondie looked away, taking a drag off the cigarette in his hand. Peter paced in frustration, pulling at his beard. When Blondie had reset himself, I snapped a few more pictures, G stopping to waddle over and examine my progress.
"You know we can't tell how they are until we get them developed," I drawled, eyeing him with slight contempt. "You can trust me."
He said nothing but went back to pacing. I rolled my eyes and Curly laughed. I glared at him and he became serious again, so I took another picture. "We really need music in here," I observed as I squinted through the view of the camera. "Could somebody turn some music on?"
There was some shuffling, then a, "We don't have a record player or a radio."
"I'm in a room of musicians and nobody owns anything musical? No guitars?" I scoffed. "Okay, Curly, sit between Beard and Dimple, and Blondie, stand off to the side like so."
"I have a guitar," Curly said innocently. "It's on the wall behind you."
Without looking away from them, I called, "Anyone know how to play? Besides the band."
Who ever had picked up the guitar was amateur, but I was grateful that we were at least serenaded in The Ballad of John and Yoko. I snapped a picture of Bad Company just as Curly was about to sing, "The way things are going, they're gonna crucify me." My frustration level was pretty high, but I figured that working with these guys was a lot easier than working with, say, Jim Morrison when he was alive. In the end, though, I was glad the so-called Paul Rodgers hadn't noticed I was "his type."
After the shoot, while I waited around for G to take me back to Henderson Collige, Blondie made his way over to me. I snacked on a piece of cheese and I swallowed quickly to reply to whatever he had to say. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled a ducktail joint from his pocket and held it out to me. "Photographers deserve credit, too."
I smiled up at him and took the marijuana without another thought. "Yeah, well, I never photographed a band before. You were my first."
"Boy, do I love that sentence," he all but moaned, slowly bringing his arms into a crossing position, hugging himself for a moment. "Make good use of that, I saved that from when I went to a Bob Dylan concert a few years back. He gave it to me because he said I looked like Neil Young."
"I don't see it," I laughed. "But thank you. You wouldn't... You guys wouldn't want to share this with me, would you?"
Blondie smiled for a second, glanced over his shoulder at his three bandmates, and replied, "I couldn't think of a better use of it."
Sorry for the late post. The Breakfast Club and The Runaways were on consecutively last night and I couldn't pass them up. If you haven't seen either, I highly suggest both. The Runaways is a rockumentary on The Runaways (Joan Jett, Lita Ford, Cherie Curie; first all girl rock band in the late 70s) with Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning, though. Highly suggest both!
________________________________
The air had been strange ever since Jimmy had stopped me on the catwalk. It turned out he had been accommodating a girl in Robert's room, but he had still stopped to ruin my otherwise enjoyable night. I was never going out with Rod again, but I talked him up so much in front of Jimmy that it seemed like I might. He was as jealous of us as I was of him and Bianca. I knew something was going to give soon, but what, I had no idea.
I wasn't even Bianca's friend anymore. Friends talk, go places, trust each other. We did none of that. The last we had spoke, she asked-- with modest distaste if I ever saw any-- if I'd be joining them for New Years. I don't like to think that Jimmy broke us up, more that Bianca was in the way.
Seeing that the jealousy was only slightly working with Jimmy, I'd take a new approach for New Years. He didn't want me? I don't want him. There are other guys I could be with, Rod included. Why, I had a photoshoot the day after New Years with a band called Bad Company for promotional shots when they legally join Swan Song some time early next year.
Jimmy couldn't know how much I disliked Rod. Rod had no character, no personality, no spunk. He seemed utterly surprised that I had shown up. But if Jimmy knew that, he'd have leverage, and that was the last thing he needed. Robert said to give up, but only I can make that call. I was going to win this, I was! Jimmy would be begging for me when I was done.
"Jenni, limo leaves in 20," John Paul called softly through the door. "If you don't hurry, you're going to tear up the town with Bon and Pat in his Royce. Oh, and dress warm; it's nippy."
I struggled to pull the leather bodysuit on over black leggings. Jimmy would drop dead when he saw I was actually going to wear the outfit he bought me for my meeting with Keith Moon. But I couldn't pull it on. It didn't fit around my thighs. Frustrated, I kicked it off and ripped my leggings from my legs. Sighing as I sat on my carpet in just my underwear, I opted for a more suitable pair of denim pants and a feathered tunic. The Doobie Brother's Captain and Me played on the turntable in the corner and I couldn't help but dance.
A knock on my door interrupted me and I stopped abruptly. "Yeah?"
"John told you 20, right?" Bianca called. I rolled my eyes at her feeble attempt to hold a conversation with me. Rather than reply, I took the needle from the record, grabbed a small wad of money and a tube of Lipsmackers, and pushed through my door, walking right past Bianca and down the stairs.
♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫
The nine of us, women out-numbering men, sat around a VIP half-moon table at White Puckett in downtown London. The boys and I celebrated December 31st with a round of whiskey while the ladies sipped feminine drinks that turned me off upon arriving at our table. The guys laughed and talked about God-knows-what, I wasn't really paying attention. We were waiting for Peter and Richard to show up and I could hardly contain my agony in sitting next to Bianca.
It wasn't that I hated her, but that I disliked her for an unjustifiable reason. I had worked since August to seduce Jimmy, and the moment he confesses to me that he liked me too, he goes right back to her. Was he acting? What was he trying to prove? Both Jimmy and Bianca were my vice and I couldn't take another moment listening to them talk.
"I need to use the Lu," I announced to the group.
They bade me goodbye and Pat said, "Hurry or you'll miss the ball drop! It's Eleven-forty-five."
I nodded and rolled my eyes when she could no longer see me. I was the only one here who didn't have someone to kiss when the ball dropped, anyway. I heard squeaking on the vinyl bench, like Jimmy and Bianca had scooted down to make more room, as I strutted toward the bathroom, hoping Jimmy would watch me as my heels clicked down the hardwood floor.
A hand grabbed my elbow as I reached for the bathroom door far from Bianca's vision. I turned quickly to see that Jimmy had followed me, an exasperated look on his face. He looked both ways and asked, "Can we talk for a minute?" Before I could say yes, he pushed me into the bathroom and locked the door. I was speechless as he sauntered to the mirror and adjusted his hair. He spoke to me through his reflection, "I know what you must be thinking. 'Jimmy told me he liked me, then left me for Bianca!'"
I was taken aback at how accurate he was. "No, I hardly care about that little--"
"You probably took Rod out just to make me jealous, didn't you? Don't tell me you didn't. You don't talk to the man for five months and just out of the blue you go out with him. Sounds like you're trying hard to make me feel worse than I already do."
"How could you feel bad?" I nearly shouted. "You've got somebody to kiss this New Years and I'm just left having to watch you two be happy because I can't move out. Why would you ever tell me the things you did if you didn't mean them? Why did you even take me to Scotland?"
"You want the truth?" Jimmy snarled, turning from the mirror to me. "I suggested taking you after the whole Richard thing because I felt bad for you. Twice in the same year you were nearly defiled. And I know your type; you could have told Ricardo and Syd 'no' if you wanted to, but you wanted me to come to the rescue, and I bloody well did. I said those things because I meant them, every word. But right now my hands are tied between my wife and daughter, my girlfriend --who, if I leave, will be homeless-- and the type of woman I've been waiting for since I started this Godforsaken business. My life doesn't revolve around you and it never will."
I watched him straighten the cotton scarf around his neck, pursing his lips with dissatisfaction at what he had just said. I wasn't sure what to say, but I let my lips say whatever was on my mind. "Then I suppose you'd better stick with the way things are going for you. I hope you and Bianca live happily ever after, Jim." I started toward the bathroom door but Jimmy hurried over and pressed his back to it.
"That's not the response I was looking for, Jen."
"I can get down on my knees if that's what you were looking for, Master," I spat. He looked away from me in thought and I knew that the idea paired with the name Master had given him an idea. "That's not what I meant."
"I know. Look, I've been thinking, and-- do you know anything that's more exciting than hiding our relationship from a person in the same house?"
"What're you alluding to?" I asked incredulously.
Jimmy took a few steps toward me and I stood my ground. "I'm saying, we can be together. We just have to hide it from Bianca. Like now, for instance, would be a perfect time to do all the things we've been missing out on since Scotland."
He leaned in to kiss me and I took a step back. "You're ridiculous." I thought for a moment in his silence and added, "You're asking me to have an affair on your affair?"
"It only seems fair."
I smiled and looked up at him slowly. "I don't know how I could say no to that."
Jimmy checked his watch and announced that it was Eleven-fifty-seven. "Do you want to stay in here for the ball drop?"
"Don't you think Bianca would get a bit suspicious when she noticed you weren't back in time for the ball drop?"
Jimmy hesitated and grinned. "Lets have our own ball drop first. Ten... nine... eight..." With every number he inched closer and closer towards me. I began counting too.
A knock on the door disturbed us and I heard Bianca's voice calling outside in search of Jimmy he stopped counting but his eyes never wavered from mine. I called back, "He's not here, this is the ladies' room!" After a moment, I whispered, "Five... four..." he joined in with, "three... two... one..."
Our lips met and he held me tightly in his arms, running his hand up and down my back slowly. We separated and he murmured, "Happy New Year," before kissing me again.
WOW, thank you guys so much! I don't know what I'm going to do for 10,000 views because I'd never figure it'd go that high, but it has to be a GREAT picture! Perhaps a Great Pants Party featuring Jimmy's best pant-icular fashion statements...
Yeah, there's only one picture, but this is the best picture I've ever found of Jimmy. It shows his personality pre-heroin-addition so well. How can you not love this foolish Adonis? He's so skinny and tall... gangly...
If you ever sent a letter to Jimithy in the 70s and were lucky enough to have him write back, you'd be sure to get this return address in the reply. And no, ignorant people, it's nothing satanic. That is pan, whom I only have knowledge of through my mythology studies, which I do a lot of on my downtime.
Pan is the god of shepherds and goats. He was extremely horny, in both aspects of having two horns and pursuing every nymph, naiad, and dryad around. He is said to have invented music, not Apollo, by using river reeds as a pan flute. So Pan is like Jimmy in a way, which really helps in understanding why he would choose the goat man of all possible gods.
I'm not sure about the water vase or the shepherd's staff though.
I sifted through the fridge blindly, biding my time before my date that night. I wore a sweet-heart style navy blue dress that reached my knees, my silver heals hanging from the hat rack near the front door. It was the first time since I first met Jimmy that I had felt pretty, dressed to the nines in clothes that didn't belong on unorthodox, unsophisticated me.
"If you're looking for the ham, I ate it all," Bonzo informed me as he ate a ham sandwich at the cafe table. He took a bite of his sandwich and laughed like a lunatic, spitting foot all over the table.
I chuckled a bit, but I hadn't been looking for the ham. I closed the fridge and leaned against the island, examining Bon as he tore at the sandwich and studied the snowy forest outside the three lattice windows. "What're we doing for New Years?"
"Heading over to White Puckett for drinks, watching the ball drop." He took a mouthful of sandwich and continued, though it took me twice as long to understand his Black Country through a full mouth, "Pat and Maureen and Mo are coming. Charlotte'll be doing French shit over in France. Frog Legs. Jimmy's going to propose to Bianca."
"What?" I snapped. "He can't do that! He's married!"
Bonzo smiled at me. "Joking."
"Oh, pull the other one. I've got a date with Rod Stewart tonight, and if all goes as planned, Jimmy'll think twice about leaving me for Bianca."
Bon rolled his eyes. "Whatever tickles your box. You're not going to get through to him, the raunchy bastard." He gestured with his sandwich and a drop of mustard fell to the floor. "You've been had."
I hesitated to digest what he had said. "Well, why would he have said all the thing he did if he didn't mean them? I mean, really, what kind of 'raunchy bastard'--" Bonzo's eyes dilated and his eyes flicked from mine to behind me, trying to hush me-- "would lie right to an innocent girl's face?"
"Whose a raunchy bastard?" Jimmy's voice came from behind me. Bon laughed. I froze and turned to face him, my mind already completing a lie.
"Rod Stewart," I lied. "He and his wife split."
"I didn't know he was married," Jimmy recollected with a puzzled look on his face. "What about him?"
"I've got a date with him in a few minutes at Oracle's."
"Oh! Do you need a ride? I can call in a chauffeur." I narrowed my eyes and fumed secretly as he kept calm. He was supposed to get jealous! Angry, even! He was supposed to shove me into a wall and tell me that I couldn't go because he loved me!
"No," I spat. "He's picking me up in a limo. Thanks." I walked around him and stormed out of the kitchen and into the foyer, forgetting to eavesdrop what he would say to Bonzo once I had gone.
♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫
I got home from the date late, sneaking in and closing the castle door slowly behind me. I took off my heels and tip-toed to the living room, peering in to make sure nobody was up. The tv flashed on the sleeping face of Bonzo and I continued up to my room in silence.
The moment I stepped foot on the cat-walk, a black entity stepped forward. I stopped dead in my tracks and gasped as the figure walked a complete circle around me. Figuring it was one of the spirits in the home, I was taken aback when Jimmy's voice joined the shadow.
"You must have had a good date. It's past midnight."
I rolled my eyes as he settled in front of me. "Yeah, just don't tell Mum, Dad."
"Funny," he snickered. "You may want to get to bed."
"First of all, I don't know who put you in charge of me--"
"--I do own this house--"
"-- and you really need to go smoke something. Second, where you waiting up here just to give me a hard time?"
Jimmy hesitated. "I was... I was discussing things with Robert. With a girl he picked up at White Puckett."
I couldn't suppress my belligerent laughter. "Cheating in the same goddamn house as your girlfriend. You egotistical piece of shit."
"I beg your pardon?" I said nothing as I walked around him to my room. He called after me, "I'm sure Rod is so much better!"
"Oh Hunny," I tisked as I turned the nob to my bedroom door, "jealousy doesn't look well on you." I shut my door before he could say anything.
The bi-master copy (the one they test while the master is locked away) of Led Zeppelin II was so bass-y and heavy that the needle jumped off the vinyl when they tested it. Because of this, they had to remaster the album. They called it the Robert Ludwig (RL) master.
I apologize for the unprecedented hiatus. You all shall have a story by Wednesday. I'm on another mission from God. Help me! None of you motherfuckers were of any help before! I've got new film to learn more about:
This one isn't the same day, but he's wearing the same cute outfit.
Same day (?) circa 1969. I'd put money on it being 1969. Perhaps they're in France? But no, in 1969, they were only in America. The grass is green and they're wearing long sleeves (must be chilly), so it has to be the north east. East coast... New York? Pennsylvania? Maybe it's England?
Mark, far left; Jimmy, second to last. Circa early 90s.
Guys, I'm seriously about to cry. MARK SLAUGHTER, MY NEW HUSBAND, IN THE SAME PICTURE AS JIMMY PAGE, MY OLD HUSBAND!? I'm almost in tears. I'm going to die.. I'm hyperventilating and I don't know why... This is too fabulous.
R.I.P. Jenni. She was a fabulous writer, loved dearly by her two husbands. She wasn't mormon. Just greedy and lonely. 1997-2013
I lounged in the study on the window seat, examining the words of Nevermore by Edgar Allen Poe but not recognizing them. My mind was clouded and I couldn't think straight, let alone read. Jimmy had said all those things, done all of that romantic stuff-- why would he just go back to Bianca? Footsteps became more apparent as a person clicked up the stairs from the soundroom.
It was Robert and he glanced into the study on the way out to the foyer. He stopped and backed into the room, turning to face me with a humorous grin. "I have a joke. How do you organize a galaxy party?" I said nothing but looked at his feet unhappily. "You planet! Get it? Do you get-- What's wrong? Was it the joke?"
"No, it was a good pun, I just..." I faltered and threw the book at the bookshelf on the end of the window seat. "Fucking Jimmy!"
Robert shuffled over and I made room for him to sit at my feet. He touched my knee and said softly, flipping his hair over his shoulder and gesturing gracefully with his hand, "I'm sorry, Butterfly." I screwed up my face at the strange pet name and he continued, "I told you, Jimmy and I are no guys to get messed up with. Us, the Stones; all we want is a woman for the night. I don't want you to get hurt like the women I've been with-- don't tell Maureen-- so I'm telling you right now, if you like Jimmy as much as it seems you do, move. Don't stick with him. He won't want you after he has you. Your best bet is to go out and settle for someone far from the musical profession. Marry a Hobbit."
I laughed. "What is it with you and Lord of the Rings? And sheep?" He squeezed his face together and made the most disturbing face I'd ever seen. He relaxed, slapped my knee, and got up to leave without another word. "Robert?" He stopped and gave me a sidelong glance. "Thanks. I'm taking all that to heart."
"Groovy. Hey, are you coming with us to London Saturday for fireworks and New Years celebrations?"
"I didn't think I was invited."
"Of course! You can be my date." We both laughed as we remembered Bianca's failed attempt at getting us together. "Talk to you later." He left and I remained with my thoughts.
