Love In Her Eyes

2

Keith? As in the gorgeous lead singer of The Yardbirds Keith?

"Pardon?" I asked, dumbfounded.

Peter Grant sighed.

"You caught his eye, he can't stop thinking about you, and now he wants to meet you.
Are you in or not, sweetheart?"

"Surely you're mistaken," I suggested.

"Front row, green sweater, long blonde hair, good looks.
Trust me, miss, I'm not mistaken. The boys would've fired me by now if I messed up on matters such as these."

Another chuckle from him.

I swallowed nervously.

The rational voice in my head warned that this sounded too good to be true.

The adventurous voice, however, prodded me forward, asking, 'what are you waiting for?'

After taking a deep breath, I looked up and said: "Okay. Yes. I'd love to meet him, too."

The manager didn't seem surprised by my response, he was very casual, as if he'd known my answer all along.

"Great. Follow me."

So I did just that.

We approached a big, white door labeled BACKSTAGE PERSONNEL ONLY, that required a key.
Mr. Grant produced one swiftly from his pocket, unlocked it, and in we went.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode right out of my chest.
Was I really about to meet the band?
And more specifically, the lead singer, whose eye I supposedly caught?

Oh, wait until Cynthia hears about this- she'll never believe me.

We walked down a series of brightly lit corridors, all of which were full of what I presumed to be the backstage crew; busy bodies dressed in black running around with head sets and clipboards.

We took a sharp left, and I briefly saw the stage as we passed by.

"Out here," he murmured.

Peter Grant pushed open one last thick metal door, and I was surprised when we stepped outside.
I gladly welcomed the cool evening air as it blew across my face.

There, parked just a few feet from us, sat a glossy black limousine idling.

"Just a moment," Peter said with a smile.

He opened the door and stuck his head inside the limo.

I stood a few feet away, waiting, with my hands clasped together.
Trying to appear calm and collected.

"Oh, sweetheart, what was your name?" The manager asked in a polite voice.

"Guinevere."

With a quick nod, he leaned back in and said something else to the boys.

Then he stood back, leaving the door fully ajar, and motioned grandly to the limousine.

"Hop in, love."

"Okay," I responded in a small voice.

Then I put my shoulders back, fixed on a bright smile, and stepped towards Peter.

Really, this wasn't like me at all to "hop in" with a group of boys, not to mention ones that were technically strangers. And especially when I hadn't a clue where we were about to go.

When I slid into the limousine, Peter shut the door behind me, and I was instantly greeted by five pairs of curious eyes.

The first four were, of course, the band members: Keith Relf, Jim McCarty, Chris Dreja, and Jimmy Page. The fifth belonged to a female. She was resting her head on the shoulder of Jimmy Page. I noticed how her thin arm cradled what was unmistakably a pregnant tummy.

The lighting in the limo was very dim, but it only seemed to enhance the feel of luxury. Each of the boys had a drink of some sort in their hands, and were leaned back casually in their leather seats.

Keith was the first to speak.

"Hello darling."

"Hello."

"I'm Keith." As if I weren't aware.

"Guinevere," I replied with a smile. "But you can call me Gwen."

"Gwen," he murmured, testing it out.

"I'm so glad you could come spend some time with us." He spoke very smoothly, like an actor reciting lines he'd been practicing for awhile. Even so, I felt myself blush.

"Thank you for inviting me."

Suddenly we were moving, and I leaned back in my seat a little.

"Did you like the show?" Asked the drummer, Jim. He was sitting on the other side of Keith, and he leaned around him to make eye contact with me.

His dark eyebrows raised in an amused way, awaiting my answer.

"Very much so," I said fervently. "You were all fantastic!"

"Beautiful and complimentary," said Chris, who was sitting across from me. "Good choice, Keith. I like this one!"

Keith gave Chris a wink, and then put his arm around my shoulders.
As we pulled away from the arena and onto the road, I leaned into Keith just slightly, and inhaled his scent of cologne and tobacco.

It was invigorating.

We'd been driving for maybe fifteen minutes when we turned into the parking lot of Madame JoJo's nightclub. I recognized the neon sign from years of driving by it with my parents. Never before had I stepped foot inside.

As the boys downed the remaining liquid in their glasses and began to get out of the limo, I touched Keith's forearm and looked into his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I'm not old enough to get in here..."

"Oh not to worry, love. You're with us. It won't be a problem."

He was right - The bouncers at the entrance didn't even question me, so long as my arm was hooked with Keith Relf's.