behind blue eyes ― jimmy page

vi. SIX

︵‿︵‿୨ 1972 ୧‿︵‿︵

IF THERE WAS one thing that Sadie Scott could never be accused of, it was having a small appetite. In fact, she ate so much her friends favourite joke was that only 10 percent of what she ate went to her tiny stature, and the rest to her massive ego (of course, she disagreed with that assumption). But nevertheless, it wasn't a surprise to any of her band-mates when they finally broke from recording for lunch and, within seconds of sitting down at the sunny café down the road from the studio, Sadie had ordered herself an impressive sized veggie burger and two serves of chips.

"I still think we need to redo my vocals on the first track." Sadie was only half-listening to Penny she as the rest of the band discussed their upcoming album (again).

"You're nitpicking, Pen. You're vocals are fine," Rene said while she took a sip of her water, the ice cubes tinkling softly against the inside the glass. She took her time on setting the cup back down before addressing the group again. "Besides we have much more important matters to discuss now we're out of earshot of that nosy sound-tech Becky."

"Such as," Lela prompted, bored.

"Such as," Rene tapped her chipped purple nails against the rim of her glass as a smug grin started to appear on her lips, clearly building up to something she thought was going to be great. "The fact that Sadie is currently wearing a man's shirt and the same damn bra from yesterday."

Sadie's eyebrows suddenly shot up as she looked over at her the bassist. "H-How did you know?"

"I didn't, actually, until you just confirmed it." Rene and Penny both laughed while Sadie huffed, defeated. "So, when are we getting details on him? Did you meet him at Jimmy Page's party the other week? Have we met him too? God was it that hot bartender — what was his name again, Allen? Alex?"

"Michael," Lela corrected.

A stone was starting to sink inside of Sadie's stomach with each syllable, and the blonde found herself staring down at the wooden table instead of her friend's curious brown eyes. "It doesn't matter who anyway, nothing even happened. I just lost track of time last night and accidentally fell asleep on his couch. That's why I'm wearing his shirt."

None of the girls were satisfied by that answer. Even Lela, who prided herself on never caring about anyone else's business, narrowed her eyes at their mumbling lead vocalist, who shrank even farther back into her chair. She suddenly wished she had the power to sink through the floor and disappear into the pit of her own embarrassment forever. "Okay..." Penny went on, "but that still doesn't answer the question of whose house it was. Just give us a name."