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."

Mothership

On this day in 1980, 2 months after the death of Bonzo, Led Zeppelin split. They issued this statement to the press on the decision:

“We wish it to be known, that the loss of our dear friend and the deep respect we have for his family, together with the deep sense of undivided harmony felt by ourselves and our manager, have led us to decide that we could not continue as we were.”

Swan Song

Since I'm to lazy to tell you how Led Zeppelin's appearance on Letterman's show last night (but John Paul Jones came out of his shell) click here for a brief summative and a link to the video.

Goal Achieved

Well, I guess I wasn't paying attention! My bad! I had said I needed 300 more views for a rare picture of Jimmy and I'm already at 500! Thank you all! Here's a rare picture of Pagey (my next goal is 700 views!):

Bebe Buell is a very well known Groupie who had been with people from Jimmy Page to Steven Tyler and this is a picture she got of Jimmy in 1974, if you hadn't figured that out already.

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! :)

Swan Song

Led Zeppelin in the White House

On Saturday, Led Zeppelin were honored at the White House by Obama partly on the account of the release of Celebration Day. While there, the remaining three members were awarded the Kennedy Center Honors ("“lifetime contributions to American culture through the performing arts"). To Led Zeppelin, Obama had this to say:

“When Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Paul Jones, and John Bonham burst on the musical scene in the late ’60s, the world never saw it coming. There was this singer with a mane like a lion and a voice like a banshee, a guitar prodigy who left people’s jaws on the floor, a versatile bassist who was equally at home on the keyboards, and a drummer who played like his life depended on it. When the Brits initially kept their distance, Led Zeppelin grabbed America from the opening chord. We were ready for what Jimmy called ‘songs with a lot of light and shade.’... It’s been said that a generation of people survived teenage angst with a pair of headphones and a Zeppelin album, and a generation of parents wondered what all that noise was about. Even now, 32 years after John Bonham’s passing, we all, I think, appreciate the fact that the Led Zeppelin legacy lives on...

"More than 20 million fans from around the world applied for tickets [to Celebration Day]. What they saw was vintage Zeppelin: No frills, no theatrics, just a few guys who can still make the ladies week at the knees. Huddled together, following the music.Of course, these guys also redefined the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle. We do not have video of this, but there were some hotel rooms trashed and mayhem all around, so it’s fitting that we’re doing this in a room with windows that are about three inches thick and Secret Service all around. So guys, settle down — these paintings are valuable! Tonight, we honor Led Zeppelin for making us all feel young, and showing us that some guys who are not completely youthful can still rock."

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...."