Hammer of the Gods | Led Zeppelin | Hiatus

1: Like a Child Girl

Over a hundred thousand fans cheered in the near distance, exiting the Baltimore Civic Center nostalgically. Jimmy could hardly hear them through his blistered ears, but he knew they were there, dauntingly standing in front of emergency exits, threatening to riot should Led Zeppelin refuse to reclaim the stage. He didn't care-- he was tired, sweaty, and deprived of his Jack Daniels. Girls who had stuck around since before the show flocked around him and the other three band members. Still he didn't care-- he was bored of their naivety at the moment, though he knew he'd end up with the brunette next to him, anyway.

For once, couldn't there be a soul who could understand and level with him? Could someone just come up and say, "Hey, I know you're a musician, but lets talk about astrology or dogs?" Was that too much to ask? 

He downed a swig of the sharp whiskey he possessed in a square bottle in his hand just as two intimidatingly hefty security guards entered the dressing room, the arms of a young girl between them in their hands. She wriggled unsuccessfully in the attempt to free herself, dropping a note pad and pencil from her hands as she did so. Jimmy watched in interest as the girl's feathered red hair thrashed every-which-way as she fought to free the grip of her captures. Her emerald eyes flashed from the guards to Jimmy's own brown ones, hatred dissipating as a helpless expression painted itself on her face. A shiver went up Jimmy's spine and he took his booted feet from the couch arm and planted them on the floor respectfully.

"This girl says she's with Rolling Stone," one guard reported. "Do you know her?"

Before Jimmy could save her, Robert burst, "We don't like Rolling Stone, here! You all post farce shit about us, we're not giving a murderer bullets for his gun. Good day."

"I'm not with Rolling Stone, idiot," she snarled. "Do I look like Cameron Crowe? I'm here to interview you guys for a local radio station, 1039 Baltimore's Head Rock Station. We've been playing Zeppelin IV since Monday for your concert today."

There was a pause and Jimmy said, "Let her go. I'll do the interview." Ruefully, the guards released the girl and she retrieved her pad and pencil. Robert shot Jimmy a demur look and he ignored the narcissistic singer.

Possessing a bravado unmatched by even Mick Jagger himself, the girl took a seat opposite Jimmy and adjusted the bottom of her Levis over a pair of clogs. She gave a hmmpf of contempt before looking up at Jimmy, paper and pencil in hand, with her static, undressing green eyes. "Your guards are stupid," she spat.

"I beg your pardon?" Jimmy retorted, studying the girl in all her feisty glory. He could feel his pulse now, could even hear it in his ears.

"My name's Cat Stevens. No relation to the musician, but when your name's Catherine, it's always nice to shorten it to be confused with someone famous."

Jimmy took a sip of his Jack to buy some time to digest Cat's bluntness. "How old are you?"

"Hey, I'm conducting the interview here," she shot, waving the end of her pencil at him. "Thanks for letting me do this, by the way, and forgive me for coming across rude. Just a warning."

Her warning is a bit late, Jimmy thought. Yet he was fascinated with her, enamored even. "How old are you, kid?" Jimmy asked again as the girl fidgeted in her chair. He took a swig of Jack and drew a sleeved arm over his mouth.

"Kid?" she scoffed. "I'll have you know I turned 18 three days ago and I graduated high school on the first. I'm not a kid."

"I remember that attitude," Bonzo observed. "I hated being called 'kid.'"

Cat gave a thankful expression to Bonzo and pressed on. "So would it be okay if I could interview you all?"

Everyone hesitated in their own discussions and thought. Jimmy answered for them, "Why don't you interview us all separately for your little radio station? We won't have enough time tonight," he added as Robert took the hand of a groupie and left the room, "so maybe-- if you're groovy enough-- you could come with us back to the hotel."

"I'd have to call my mom," she explained, excitement evident in her character.

"I thought you were an adult?" Jimmy jeered.

Cat paused and kneaded her hands. "I couldn't pass this up but... I'll go." She frowned.

"Ace!" Jimmy cheered whole-heartedly. He slapped two hands down on his knees and rose, grabbing his Jack bottle from the floor. He tipped it toward John Paul Jones dominantly and breathed, "You can interview Jonesy first," before leaving the crowded dressing room like the recluse he was. Cat was prepared to object, but Jimmy had disappeared.

He reflected on her as he walked around backstage aimlessly, knowing he had a job to do but not all too inclined to do it. Her fiery red hair, feathered on her cheeks, diluted her already pale freckles and her kohl-rimmed emerald Soul-Windows burned fresh in his mind. She had an under-developed set of breasts and he found himself wondering if she was 18, though it didn't really matter. She was far to rebellious for him, too unsubmissive for his liking. Then again, he wasn't used to forwardness and self-respect when it came to women backstage, so he found himself in astonishment of the rouge journalist that had sent shivers from his spine to his fingertips.

Had he spotted a tattoo on her sleeved wrist? It couldn't have been such a thing; that would be too masculine. Aires, he thought. Entirely too incompatible with Capricorn. She was compatible with Robert, ironically. He recalled her words of her age. Three days ago would make her a Gemini and Jimmy nodded to himself; compatible with and much alike her male astrology counterpart, Bonzo. That is, if she were being honest, which he found far fetched. A blade of jealousy stabbed him, ebbing away almost immediately. Such a fool to call in Zodiac...

His fingers itched to play out a chord he had invented the previous day. He drank his whiskey and swung the empty bottle at his side, his lanky arms brushing against his thin thighs camouflaged under his custom black satin moon-star-sun show pants. Cat, like one of those agile toms that used to grace his childhood garden. Oh, how far he had soared for the meaning of Cat to be redefined from laymen's terms. Cat, flexible, curious, and carefree. Dominators of the house. She resembled her name in nearly every way, and she even had the esteemed ability to wedge herself into every crevasse-- of his mind, that is.

His name put an end to his thoughts and he was whooshed away to other responsibilities, but not before he concluded his thoughts with a quote that would soon after haunt him. She's just too rebellious.