Hammer of the Gods | Led Zeppelin | Hiatus

3: Carry On

Jimmy's hand hovered over the hotel room door, making sense of the wanes and knots in the wood to pass the time. The watch on his wrist harassed him, consistently fixed on 4:29 a.m. but never flipping to 4:30. He had told himself that when the clock finally struck 4:30 he would knock on the door. He prayed to no one in particular that the clock wouldn't advance, that he wouldn't have to wake Cat for the continuation of the tour.

4:30. He glared at the watch and a shiver was sent down his spine. 4:35, he told himself. A figure down the hall caught his attention and he looked toward the source, lowering his hand. Robert, a toothbrush dangling from his mouth, exited his room and caught Jimmy's eye. He removed the toothbrush and flicked his chin toward Jimmy in recognition. Against Jimmy's silent hope, Robert began walking over when Cat's door opened.

He looked down at the toweled figure of Cat in surprise and her eyes widened. She turned and held the door, prepared to close it. "Wait," Jimmy ordered. She looked up at him. "You need to be ready by 5 o' clock."

"Okay," Cat snapped, again preparing to shut the door. She saw Robert, smiled, and looked over at Jimmy again. She grabbed his shirt and tugged him toward her. "Come here. I may need help packing." She pulled him inside and gave Robert a snide look before slamming the door.

Inside was a peace-scene. Where every room on that level had either a gaping hole in the wall or broken furniture littering the floor, Cat's room was prim and tidy. Her bed, though in slight disarray, was made properly and even her bedside table lacked personal trinkets. The dim light of the lamp in the corner cast long shadows on the beige walls, but there were no holes.

Cat, combing through her wet hair and gripping her towel tightly, eyed the bed skirt hanging from her seemingly unslept-in bed. With a huff, her gaze shot up to Jimmy's black eyes and a fire danced behind them. She wiggled her nose and looked at her toes once more before truly settling on his face.

"I despise Robert," was all she said. Jimmy couldn't tell if he was surprised or defensive for his friend, but he said nothing. Who was he to criticize her opinion, no matter how blunt it was? "He's so cock-sure and selfish. I can't stand him. Everything with him is surface-level, it's not introverted or interesting."

"Well, I'm sure that once you got to know him," Jimmy began, "you'd--"

"I don't want to know him, that's the whole thing. I really don't. I don't want to do his interview. I just want to do yours and go home."

Jimmy sat softly on the end of the made bed and glanced around the room, trying to think of how to word his next sentence. "You are going to have to learn how to put up with him, Cat. We're going to be together for a bit." He digressed. "I came here to tell you that we're leaving soon. G-- er, Peter Grant, my manager, wants to talk to you about this interview. If you need fresh clothes, the groupies are taking clothes down to the wash right now. You could throw your clothes in with our laundry."

Cat threw him a confused look. "And parade around in a towel? I'll wear day-old clothes. I'm probably going home soon, anyhow. I have three more interviews to do, that shouldn't be too hard. Don't look."

"Huh?" Jimmy looked over at her as she turned her back to him and dropped her towel. His jaw dropped slightly and his eyes traced the bumps of her spine down her back all the way down to her butt. "What're you--?"

She walked to the bathroom door and threw him an amused sidelong glance before entering it. "I said 'don't look'."

He stood and leaned against the wall beside the bathroom door, crossing his arms uncomfortably. "You know, this is no way to treat your guest."

"Oh?"

"Proper etiquette would be for a host to partake in activities with their guest, not... take leave to another room." He swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to process what she was trying to do. He wondered if she had tried to tease him on purpose, or if she was teasing.

She walked out of the bathroom pulling her yellow shirt down over her chest, her day-old bell bottoms fastened tightly to her stomach. He eyed the shirt absent-mindedly and Cat seemed pleased with her burlesque. She walked right by him and grabbed her notepad and paper from the edge of the bed. "Oh, would you look at that?" Cat breathed as her eyes darted about the room. She smirked and threw him a seductively devilish look. "I guess I didn't need help packing. Thanks for your help, anyway. Where's Grant? I can talk to him while I've got half and hour to spare."

Jimmy was devoid of all thought. "Why would you need to talk to G?"

She wrinkled her nose and smiled. "You said he wanted to talk to me. Nevermind, I'll find him. I'll tell the maid the drool wasn't on your chin before; maybe we'll get a discount." She winked and left without another word, the slam of the door sending Jimmy into an abyss of thought.

How silly of him it was that he would be so fascinated with this girl, and how cliche it was as well. What had she been trying to do when she dropped her towel? Did you see her arse? he narrated to himself. Of course I did, I'm you, and we were right there! Did you see that mole on her spine? How could I not! What would you have done if she were turned the other way? He immediately changed his thought to the last rugby game he had watched, repeating in his head the first ideas that came to mind. Rugby, Rugby, Rugby, footy, footy, footy square, square, square, grass, grass, grass. The throbbing he had experienced died down some but he was still aware of it. 

She must have thought him an idiot for forgetting what he had said to her prior to her tease. Anger flared in him at the thought of being ridiculed by such a lowly person. His blood boiled and he wanted to hurt her, in the most chivalrous sense of the term. He wanted so desperately to have a sincere conversation with her, to find out what she had built her wall around. What was she hiding? She was probably just a lonely, sad person on the inside and Jimmy wanted to be the person to find that out. It was a game now, he told himself. He had to find out her story before anyone else could, before anyone else could steal her from him. Steal her inner core, that is. He was in no way intent on being with her, it wasn't that kind of "steal". 

The fact that you have to go out of your way to clarify that you don't like her, that you just want to crack her shell, proves that you feel otherwise, he scolded.  But now he drew a hand over his chin in the case he had actually drooled, which he hadn't. Everything she said was so clever, she was just so impressive without effort. Hell, he was a star and he could get any girl he wanted without even saying the word! Cat was nothing! But that was his problem. In the narrow world he had created for himself including those closest to him, it appeared the only person not attracted to him was Cat, thus making her so appealing to him.

Everyone gushed about how easy it was for a guitarist to get birds, how they just threw themselves at musicians. They did, there was no doubt in that; groupies were a lovely treat after having fun on stage. Yet, nobody discussed how hard it was for a guitarist to love. To give and receive compassion from a woman like an average citizen. If it weren't for the fact that he did it for his soul, Jimmy would have quit the business earlier. It was difficult; you couldn't trust anyone, there was no "love", and often times he worked himself sick. His soul craved it, though. He was set out to produce music for the masses and do that he would. If only he could have an average life and still feed his soul... He rolled his eyes at his own superiority complex and pushed himself from the wall. 

"I'll tell the maid the drool wasn't on your chin before," he mocked in a stingy accent, his lips pulled in to a disgusted snarl. He slid a piece of his bangs behind his ear and opened the door to resume what he had been doing before he had to wake the beast that drove him mad.