Woman Like Me | Keith Richards ✅

2

I knocked on the door and then took a step back so that I wouldn't be completely in the face of whoever opened the door... but as it turned out, I hadn't needed to worry about that. The door opened and nobody was standing there - or, as it turned out, nobody at my height was.

After momentary confusion, I looked down and saw the little boy, Marlon, standing there, confused, looking at me.

"Hello," I smiled as I bent down so I was eye-height with him. "Is your mummy or daddy there?"

"Mar?!" I heard a male voice calling out from inside the house, "is there someone -" he cut himself off as I saw him scoop up the little boy into his arms - just as he had done forty minutes previously when I had been watching him from upstairs - and then push the front door open some more. I stood up again and smiled at the man. "Ah," the man said in an amused tone of voice, "attic girl."

"Box boy." I replied, hardly thinking about what I was saying.

"Well I wish I was still a boy," the man replied, "because my God you are just divine -"

"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise and slight disgust - this man was at least twenty years older than me... but he was attractive, and the whole rocker look which he was going for really suited him.

"I'm so sorry, darling!" He exclaimed, suddenly realising what he had said. He put his son down, "Mar, why don't you go help mummy in the kitchen, huh?" Marlon nodded and toddled off back down the hallway beside him. "I am so sorry about that." The man apologised again, "sometimes I speak before I think, I -"

I held up a hand to silence him. "It's quite alright, Mr Richards."

"You... you know my name already?" He cocked a head at me in surprise.

I smiled and nodded. "My mum told me. Actually, that's why I'm here - she sent me over with a loaf of her pumpkin bread for you and your family to enjoy." I held out the basket to him. Gratefully, he took it, peaking under the kitchen towel at the bread.

"It looks delicious. Please thank your mother for me. And you can call me Keith, really. And your name is...?"

"Keith," I mused, not hearing his question, "Keith Richards..."

"No," he grinned, "that's my name, darling."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, looking back up at him and grinning. "You're Keith Richards!"

"Yes," Keith confirmed, "for the last forty years, now."

"No," I said, "you're the Keith Richards!" I clapped my hands together in glee. "I love The Rolling Stones! Oh wow! To have you living just next door is super awesome!"

Keith looked less than impressed, to say the least. "Yeah..." he trailed off, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, "listen, darling, why don't you come in for a few, eh? My wife was just heading out to the shops. We could talk about the band a little?"

I nodded gleefully, unable to believe that this was happening to me. I was meeting the Keith Richards! Keith turned and led me down the hallway, calling behind him for me to close the front door.

I followed him into the living room, not surprised to find that the Richards' home was a lot larger than mine and mum's. Keith was already sitting on a settee in the middle of the living room. He gestured to the other side of the eight-seater corner sofa and I sat on it, looking around for a few seconds before Keith said, "so what is your name?"

I bit my lip. "Lenny Moskovitz."

"Lenny, huh?" He raised an eyebrow at me and I nodded, feeling like I was under interrogation despite the open and airy living room with the patio doors open. Beyond the neat flower beds I could see all the way to the sea, just a few hundred yards from the end of our back gardens. "What is Lenny short for?"