Capricorn Season - Jimmy Page

Chapter 2

That night, all Jimmy could focus on was having time off. Even just a few days. He was very excited. This was the reason he couldn't get anything right. His guitar strap was digging into his shoulder, the body was smacking into his hip, and he kept messing up notes. By the end of sound check he was pissed off at himself. After putting his guitar down, he sighed heavily and pushed his hair from his face. "Are you alright?" Robert asked. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just fucking it all up today!" He said angrily, stopping off stage. Robert looked stunned at the other two. They shrugged and continued to pack their things up. Usually Robert would go after him and try to fix whatever was wrong. But he figured that Jimmy was a big boy and could deal with his own problems. Right now, Robert needed to call home. Carmen had started to be really talkative and he was excited to hear from her. "I'll be back in time for the car. Just give me a sec." He called to the guys as he jogged to his dressing room.

Bonzo and John looked at each other, confused with the other two. They seemed to be in their own little worlds most of the time. While they were obviously best friends with Jimmy, they knew very little about him at times. He was a mystery to most. He was very selective with who he told his feelings to. Sometimes Robert could get it out of him, but most of the time he kept to himself. "Jimmy's been weird lately. A couple towns back, we shared a room. And he was saying all kinds of weird stuff in his sleep." John said to Bonzo. "Yeah, he has been. I bet he's back there destroying his dressing room again. This happens every time. He must just be homesick or something. You know that we all tend to go a little stir-crazy when we've been gone too long." Bonzo shrugged. "You might be right. But he doesn't really have a family or home to miss. I mean, we all have wives and kids. But he's just... kind of on his own. I feel kind of bad for him." John said. "Well maybe that's his problem. He's so fuckin' whimsical that he's hard to connect." The two shared a laugh at Bonzo's words.

When the show was over that night, Jimmy practically skipped to his hotel room. He tore off his sweaty clothes and settled into bed. He closed his eyes and immediately fell into a deep sleep. No show to worry about, no party to attend. He was carefree tonight. His sleep was short lived, but sweet. When he woke up it had only been two-and-a-half hours. He shook the sleep from his eyes and got up. He figured he would explore the city and try to find his materials. From the noise below, it seemed pretty lively.

He set out onto the street, walking alongside the heavy traffic. He was happy that even in the bright lights of the city, people couldn't recognize him. He got a break from being Jimmy Page, guitarist of Led Zeppelin. He was just Jimmy now. Who he had always been. Just a kid from Hesston with a guitar. Now in New Haven, he was very far from England. He could hear music being played from a small bar down the block. He thought he would go there and see the local scene. When he walked through the door, the lights were dimmed and the band was in the middle of a song. They were doing a cover of Whole Lotta Love. Jimmy rolled his eyes at first, but then began to feel amused. Of course they would be playing a zeppelin song. His spirits were raised when the band began to play an original. It was quite good, especially for a new band. He recalls a lot of his early work to be shite.

He started to look into the crowd. Less than half of the audience were actually paying attention. The only people who seemed to care were the people dancing off to the side. Everyone else was looking into the bottom of a bottle or chatting someone up. He was just happy no one was asking him to sign anything. The longer he sat, the bemusement started to leave him. 

Why was no one asking him to sign anything? Anytime else he went anywhere he was rushed by hundreds of people. He couldn't even walk around his own hotel floor without being mobbed. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. 

He downed his third drink of the night. As he slammed his drink on the table, he looked to his right. There was a woman, sitting and looking at him. He smiled small, then looked back to his empty glass. "Do you want another?" Her voice was sweet like a song. He looked up at her, confusion on his face. "Not many women offer me a drink." He laughed. "You look like you need another."