A N G E L (Roger Daltrey)

Fourteen

Roger's POV

The taxi ride to the airport was quiet. Silent, misty fog hung over the city of Chicago like a blanket. It would almost definitely clear once the sun had finished coming up.

I stepped into the airport and made my way to Janice's gate, scuffing my shoe back and forth against the floor like a giddy schoolboy. Through the big windows, I could see her plane rolling towards me.

Slowly, people began to trickle through the gate. They all had tired eyes. Some were carrying suitcases, others were carrying sleeping children. Most of them carried paper cups of coffee.

And then there was Janice. Her brown hair tangled around her shoulders, her eyes swollen and puffy from both sleep and a lack of it, and dragging her suitcase clumsily beside her. She was the most stunningly beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Roger!" She called, beaming. In her haste to get to me, she tripped over her suitcase. She stumbled forward a few steps, but managed to catch herself.

I laughed and said her name, rushing to help her with her things.

"Oh, love," I began as I lifted up her luggage with ease, "I don't mean to laugh. I don't. But you're a trip. Quite literally, this morning."

She hooked her arm around my free one, leaning into me and smiling.

"What do you mean?" She asked with a giggle.

"Mm?" I looked down at her.

"You always say I'm a trip! What's that supposta mean?"

"Just that you are." I answered vaguely. "You're just different from any other girl I've ever met. In a good way, of course."

She blushed. "Well thanks, then." And slid her hand down my arm and into my hand, lacing our fingers together. I gave it a squeeze.

"Say, why aren't people swarming the famous guy in the airport?" She asked.

I shrugged. "Eh. For every person that knows who I am, there's another hundred that don't, and another fifty who do but can't be bothered."

"That's fair." She seemed satisfied with my answer. "But I'm always bothered by you." She smiled rather stupidly up at me, like a little girl.

"What's—" I started, confused.

"Oh! Er, ugh, not that I'm bothered by you, but, like, more like you bother me."

I stared at her, fighting back laughter.

"Or not that you bother me. But. It's like. I'm bothered by your presence. Well, no, that's not right either. You—ugh. Roger, you make me hot and bothered, alright?"

The laughter finally escaped, and I cackled out across the building. Janice couldn't have been any redder.

"Stop that!" She cried. "You stop it right now! You see, this is exactly what I mean!" She stamped her foot and buried her face into my arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I apologized once I had gotten a handle on myself. "Jan, for what it's worth, you make me hot and bothered, too."

"Yeah, I better." She muttered, grinning.

I just shook my head, putting her luggage in the trunk of our waiting taxi and opening the back door for her. I told the driver where we were going and we were off.

"What happened to your car?" She asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Pete had to run some errands last night and he still isn't back. Hard telling what he's got himself into." I sighed.

"Oh." Janice said. "So then you've all just got the one car between you."

"Well, Pete has his own car back home. And I have two other cars back home. Bit of an auto guy, I am. But I keep a car here in the States because it seems like I'm here quite some bit lately. I've got an old chum that lets me keep it in his shed for free, and free is cheaper than a rental car every time I take the ol leap across the pond. Then the only trouble is getting it to me, but that's still better than dealing with a rental."

"Well that's smart of you." Jan commented. "I hope Pete brings it back today." She snuggled her head against my shoulder.

"I'm sure he will, he's quite responsible, all things considered." I wrapped my arm around her and rubbed her shoulder.

When we arrived at the hotel, I had to nudge her awake. She roused with such a jump that I was half afraid she was going to scream.

"Oh!" She said, putting her hand on her chest. "Oh, I forgot where a was for a sec, ha."

"Sorry, lovely. Are you alright?" I leaned up and paid the driver.

"Yeah, totally groovy."

I ushered us into the hotel.

"Hungry?" I asked.

"Starved." She replied.

I led us into the hotel breakfast, setting her bag down by a table for two. The place was completely empty, as it was so early in the morning. With the excitement of a child, she scurried to the food and began filling a plate. I followed behind her, grabbing an orange and a few pieces of bacon.

By the time my toast popped up and I sat down, Jan was tucking into her food.

"A donut and French toast?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Only God can judge me, Rog." She took a long swig of her orange juice.

"Where did you hear such a phrase?" I chuckled.

"Well, when I was a kid, my mom couldn't afford nursery school. So she sent me to Sunday school instead, because it's free. And they taught us there that only God can judge us, and that really, like, stuck to me, I guess." She shrugged and licked some powdered sugar off her lips.

"Wow. You are—"

"A trip, I know." She smiled at me, and my heart turned a somersault.

We ate our breakfast in lighthearted conversation. Janice swung her legs as we talked, gently kicking her suitcase with every swing. It was things like that that made me enjoy my time with her so much. Her childish habits made me feel young, too, and it was a nice way to feel.