Under My Thumb // Mick Jagger

006

I sit in one of the chairs in the backstage room as Mick and Keith debate whether or not I'd be allowed to watch their show tonight. It took a lot of Keith's convincing to persuade Mick, and a lot of questions from Mick, but eventually Mick agreed.

The guys were just leaving the room to head onto stage when Mick walked over to me. I look up at him from the chair. "Look at you," he says. His lips form the faintest of smiles as he looks me up and down before settling on my eyes.

"What about me?" I ask. I felt my face flush with his attention solely focused on me. How easily I blush is something I've grown used to, but I will always hate it. I hated knowing other people could tell when I was flustered, especially since it happens so often.

"Oh, nothing," Mick let's out a long breath as he speaks. He grabs the strap of my black tank top and holds it in his hand. He was thinking about something while he intently focused on the fabric between his fingers.

I remember deciding to bring this shirt over some of my other because it was smaller than the rest and wouldn't take up as much room in my backpack. "As much as I love this top on you..." he stops speaking and looks around the room, eventually walking to the other side and grabbing the jacket he wore earlier.

He walks back over to me while taking the pack of cigarettes out of the coat pocket and tossing it on a table. "Wear this. It's much cooler out there than it is in here. I don't want you freezing," he says, handing me the jacket.

"Thank you." I take the dark blue jacket from his hand and timidly put it on with Mick watching carefully as I do so.

"I hope you'll become more comfortable around me, Ria," he says. "I'm not trying to scare you. Do I scare you?" He tilts his head to the side, eyes filled with curiosity. I watch his tongue run across his bottom lip.

"I'm...I'm not scared," I whisper, crossing my arms and sinking down into the chair like it would make me disappear.

Mick lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. "You're still a terrible liar, you know? If that's true then you'll be able to look me in the eyes while telling me." He squats down to become eye level with me.

I frown, disappointed with myself for how easy it was for Mick to see through my lie. He rests his hands on my bare knees—the skirt I wore only went down to my mid thigh. I look at the floor and to the left and right of Mick—anywhere except his eyes.

"Ria," he drags my name out in a low voice. It wasn't an angry tone, just a serious one. "Tell me. What's so scary about me?" He adjusts himself again so he could look at my eyes.

"I'm afraid that..." I start but then stop to look up and blink to try to prevent my watery eyes from spilling over. The last thing I needed was my mascara running down my face. The thought of crying in front of Mick again wasn't something I wanted either.

Mick waited patiently for me to regain my composure, and sooner or later, I look back down at him and continue my thought. "That you're going to leave me if I do something wrong," I whisper.

Mick replies almost immediately. "That's silly," he says. He takes my hand that I didn't even realize was tightly gripping the jacket he had given me and gently pries my fingers off the fabric. "That's silly," he repeats himself and shakes his head.

"I'm not gonna just let you off like that. I don't care how badly you think 'mess up.' You're not going anywhere—not if I have anything to say about it," he says. He cups my hand with both of his. "You know I'm here to protect you. It would be pretty stupid of me to say I'm protecting you by making you leave, wouldn't it?"

I nod my head, agreeing with him.

He looks down at our hands and gently rubs my palm with his thumb. "I can't expect perfection, Ria, and it's not something I want from you either," Mick says. "I just want you safe and happy."