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?"

700 views!

 

I've gotten 700 views! Thank you everyone for helping me (SLOWLY) reach the goal! Here's a rare picture of Jimmy Page in return! My next goal is 1000!

Merry Christmas! Hope your beards from November are keeping you warm!

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."

I Have a Surplus of Rare Zeppelin/Jimmy Pictures

He's a Capricorn, by the way :)

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.