Turn My Page | Led Zeppelin

Thank You

  After Jimmy had finished getting ready, instead of the previous plan, Peter had left Vicky with a producer to act as a security guard and driver, and instead of going with the band to the press conference, Vicky would be shopping for clothing during the whole time that the boys were at work.

  When Vicky had asked why they didn't just pick up some clothing at her house, Jimmy replied with, "You're not going home any time soon, love." Since then, Vicky had been ignoring Jimmy and his petty attempts to win her over. It was hard to do, yes, but Vicky figured it was the best thing to do for the moment.

  So when it came time for everyone to leave the hotel for the day, Vicky went with the producer. While she was in the car, Jimmy had managed to break away from the crowd and his band mates to come up to Vicky. Through the open window, Jimmy spoke.

  "Get something pretty," he stated, handing her a small wad of American money. Facing the driver, he continued with, "Please make sure she doesn't leave. Make sure she's safe." With that, Jimmy reached his head in and kissed Vicky on the forehead. She frowned at him, but exploded on the inside. 

  After Jimmy had left, Vicky rolled her window up and began a conversation with the security guard about his family. She learned that his name was Rod-- short for Rodingham-- and that he was from Kent. Rod had two children, Amelia (8) and Devon (13), and a beautiful wife who hated that his job required he be away from his family for such long periods of time.

  Then, on approaching the inner city of San Diego, the conversation turned to Vicky. She had found   the ride extremely awkward, but now that the subject had changed, she hoped for the best.

  She explained to him why she was with Zeppelin in the first place, saying that it all started in her home town of Maryland where she had met Jimmy back stage and how he seemed infatuated by her. At that point, Rod had interrupted and apologized for doing so, but continued anyway.

  "He really was," Rod had added, referring to how Jimmy had been absorbed with Vicky. "He would sit back stage writing songs for some bird named Vick or Victoria. I thought it was just a groupie, but I see now who it was really modeled after."

  "What were the songs like?" Vicky asked.

  "All of them had strong guitar solos," Rod replied, "if I do remember correctly. They were all based into a sweet melody, see, but the melody was so complex and cosmic that it nearly moved me to spirituality. Don't get me wrong, I'm a strict Christian, but at my time of hearing it, I felt like I was God.

  "In retrospect, I guess it's Jimmy who is the real God-- at guitar, that is," Rod continued. "But no, dear, he wouldn't shut his trap about you. Since that concert, he hasn't been pissing around with any groupies (as far as I know). At first I thought he was all sixes and sevens, until he told me it was just a sickness. I asked him if he needed a hospital and he told me that it was just a minor flu-- Where do you want to shop?"

  Vicky had been so entranced by his words that she didn't register his question at first. Then she said, "I don't really know San Diego yet... What about that one?" She pointed to a store on the corner with a window full of generally modern clothing. Rod pulled the car up and Vicky hopped out, thanking him and telling him she would hurry.

  Inside a bell on the door rang and an immediate smell of a sweet perfume hit Vicky's nose. The inside was much larger than she had first thought. There were dresses, lingerie, underwear, shirts, pants, shoes, and accessories; all colorful or semi-feminist. Everything in the store was splendid and Vicky began picking out clothing and putting together outfits.

  In the dressing room, she shuffled through the wad Jimmy had given her. She counted around one hundred dollars. She wasn't going to use it all, and thought she she should get him something in return for his generosity.

  Thinking of what he might want that she could afford, an odd and adventurous idea made its way into her mind. She returned to the racks, picked out a few more things that would help her with her present, and paid for all items. 

  Leaving the store, she smirked to herself and made sure that her purchases were secure in their store bag before hopping into the Toyota with Rod and leaving toward a cafe for lunch. She hadn't yet bought enough clothing, but she was sure that would change in a matter of car rides.

  The press conference ended after what felt like six hours. I knew it had only been two, but the prospect of now having to go to a recording studio that we had signed three years back wore down the day. The lads and I were all parked inside the studio, waiting for the director to get his things ready before we could do a thing.

  I held my Les Paul lightly, the weight of it rendering me too lazy to do a thing. Robert stood in the corner, smoking and playing with his hair like he always did. 

  Bonzo came up to me and offered me a smoke. I took it gratefully and waiting with the rest of them, thinking of what Vicky had bought. She had been ignoring me since the whole shower epidemic this morning, and I didn't know why. I threw her out of my mind and concentrated as we began working.

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  After two hours of start-stop playing, boredom had worn us all down and we all called it a wrap. When the recorders told us we might have to retake some songs soon, Bonzo murmured loud enough for them to hear, "That shit's so fine, Jesus couldn't see it with a microscope, bloody fools." They brushed it off and we all left for the hotel.

  In the limo, which was hard to get in because of the fan swarm outside, Peter  told us to be in the rooms we were this morning, so there was no confusion.

  He then asked if our groupies were still there. Rob replied with an "Of course." Peter sighed and turned to John Paul, which he only did on occasion.

  "What did you do with that one bird with the red hair?" he asked.

  "Who?" Jonsey asked. Then he realized who it was and added, "Oh, her! No, that's Jim's love." He turned to me and smirked. "Isn't it, Jim?"

  I said nothing, just looked causally out the window to my right with my arm on the top of the seat. They knew not to talk to me when I was looking out the window.

  After about a half hour, we were almost to the hotel. We were rushed up to our rooms because of a large crowd forming outside. I had forgotten what room I was until I saw three rose petals on the floor in front of one room in particular.

  Taking in the sights and finding them vaguely familiar, I tried my key in the door and it fit. Before I could open the door, Robert came flying down the hall and ran right into me in a well formed tackle. We both laughed and he pulled me up. I wondered why he had tackled me, until he spoke.

  "Rich and Pete say to be ready tomorrow by eight. We're doing a signing, then recording more, then we've got a concert in Inglewood I believe."

  "Okay, mate, thanks," I told him and he slapped me on the shoulder, then left. I screwed up my face and gave another laugh to myself as I opened the door.

  Inside was dark save for red candle light. Soft music played and it smelt better than the deserts my Mum would bake up in the summer for all the kids in North London. I knew instantly that it was incense, leading me to understand what was to come next.