Elena practically flew forwards, her hand only just managing to stop the rest of her from slamming into the dashboard. She blinked once and slowly looked to her right.
"Are you joking?" she asked monotonously. "What the fuck was that?!"
"Don't blame me, blame the fucking pigeon on the road!" John pointed ahead of him, one hand gripping onto the steering wheel. Elena followed his pointed finger and sighed.
"Bon..." she began. "That's a fucking badger."
"Huh?" He squinted, struggling to see a thing through the persistent sun. "Gah!" he grunted, waving his hand relatively in the same direction of the sun as he started the car up again, continuing their drive. "El, will you pass me my sunnies from my bag?"
Elena looked at John as if he was speaking an unfounded language. "You're such a diva now," she huffed, but smirked to let him know she wasn't serious. Though she was certain he knew her enough to know she could never be snarky to him.
With an exaggerated sigh, she turned and stretched over in between the two car seats, reaching for John's bag. She pulled it over to her and got to unzipping it, just as he made quite a sharp turn, causing her to fall sideways into him.
"My God, get your arse out of my face."
"Stop making stupid driving decisions, then!"
"Why don't you bloody drive? You're old enough now."
"I'll end up killing someone, mate." Elena rummaged through his bag, looking for his sunglasses. She snorted when she came across handfuls upon handfuls of spare drumsticks. "You got enough sticks in here, Bon-Bon?" she asked rhetorically, finally finding his sunglasses and retrieving them.
"Here y'are," she plopped back down into the passenger seat, holding the shades out for John.
"Cheers," he thanked her, clumsily putting them on his face with one hand, poking his eye in the process. "We're almost there, by the way."
Elena nodded, taking in the more urban character of their surroundings. It was a contrast to where she and John had grown up and spent most of their time. Sure, they weren't all the way out in the countryside, but everything was within walking distance from each other. The closer into Birmingham you got, the more bus stops and taxi ports came into view, and the more reclusive passers-by seemed to be.
John had learned the ins and outs of Birmingham for the most part, ever since he started to pursue drumming full time and had to make these journeys in and out of the city. His recent endeavour, a band eccentrically named Crawling King Snakes, had inspired new confidence in him. The colourful landscape of musicians he had come across had never been more vibrant than the one he found himself in the middle of now. More than anything, hope was peeking over the horizon.
"So, what should I expect from your new bandmates?" Elena asked, resting her legs on the dashboard and tracing her finger across the grooves on her brown corduroy trousers.
"Nothing too crazy. Expect a lot of Welsh from Dave. Paul's quiet... Dunno, they're just chilled out guys." He shrugged.
"Not really giving too much away, are you?"
"They're hard to describe, to be honest with you. You just have to meet them," John chuckled.
Elena left it at that and sat back, enjoying the rest of the car ride. The radio had treated them nicely that day, feeding them with the slick tunes of Little Richard and The Drifters, to Elvis and The Everly Brothers. All music the two friends enjoyed throughout the years. Elena had taken a recent interest in The Rolling Stones, a sharp turn from what she was used to listening to. Growing up, she found her place in the Blues, and Soul. She could listen to the likes of Ella Fitzgerald and Nat King Cole for hours and never tire of their silky vocals; the pure emotion and heart that went into each stave and syllable rang deep within her, and she felt every word like kitten kisses upon her ears.
Since John decided to become a full-time drummer, she'd been exposed to a wider variety of music that seeped from the essence of da blues to form a complete musical revolution that had quickly grown on her. The first time she heard the Stones was during her late night shift at work. Minimal pay for a 17-year-old, but the pub's great company and tunes cancelled out the meesely wage. Satisfaction stuck with her all night. I can't get no...neh neh neh nene neh neh... All. Night.
The flood gates were swung open once she stepped foot into the record shop in search of more Stones. That's when she first came across Bay City Rollers, Cream, The Yardbirds... it was a whole different world and Elena hoped with her entire being that there would be more of it to come—that it wasn't a mere diversion in the chaotic lineage of music evolution.
Bag over his shoulder, John led Elena inside the building, where Crawling King Snakes had booked out a small space for a couple of hours in exchange for £100. Dave was somewhat peeved that they had to spend that much on a couple of hours, but was easily convinced nonetheless.
"Ayy, there he is!" Paul exclaimed, raising his arms in the air as he spotted John at the door with his female companion.
"Ayy, y'alright, mate?" John greeted him with a manly hug, slapping each other's backs in the process. It amused Elena greatly when she witnessed John in the presence of other guys; his entire demeanour toughened and he gave the facade of a sharp-tongued lad's lad. Yes, he had it in him. But the correlation between that and his surroundings was too coincidental for it not to be causational.
The room really was small for a jamming session. Four yellow strip lights hung above, and the carpet was worn and colourless, as though waiting to be quenched by the kaleidoscopic symphonies of talented musicians.
"Dave, get your arse over 'ere," Paul waved his hand over to the other male in the room, long-haired and lost in thought with a blue bass guitar slung over his shoulder.
"El," John began, slinging his arm around Elena and bringing her beside him. "This is Paul Martinez and Dave Edmunds—guitar and bass. They're mental. Beware."
Elena laughed and shook her head, holding out her hand to greet the two men politely. They reciprocated the greeting with friendly smiles, one accompanied by a cigarette hanging from his lips.
"This is Elena. She's my best friend, partner in crime, and primary critic. If anyone knows what sounds good, it's this girl, here," he proudly introduced with a squeeze of her shoulders against him.
"Good to meet you," Paul said through the muffle of his cigarette.
"Right, El, I need to set up properly, you're alright just hanging about, yeah?" John checked, putting his bag down on a nearby chair.
"Mhm," Elena nodded with a smile. "I'll be here." She watched as John made his way over to the drum riser to get to work on tightening the drum skins and double checking placements.
With her arms folded comfortably, she took a small step backwards, only to collide with something, or someone, coming through the door behind her. She turned her head and moved out of the way immediately. "Oh, sorry..." she instinctively apologised before looking up at the person in question.
"Nah, yer alright, luv, I was just gunna skim past you."
Her chestnut eyes fell in line with two striking orbs of blue—expressive and welcoming. He had thick, curly hair that traced the fine line of dirty blonde. It looked like it could easily switch up in the glare of the sun, with how delicate it seemed. It fell into strong sideburns that stopped just short of his chin, framing a dimpled grin that dismissed her apology.
"Ah, Bobby!" Paul called in the midst of lighting a cigarette. The blonde grunted and looked over at him with a dissatisfied glare.
"Will you stop calling me that?"
"Bobby Bobby Bobby Bobbehhhh," John joined in, in a crouched position by one of the snares. With a boisterous laugh, he popped his head up, gesturing a drumstick at Elena. "Elena, Robert, Robert, Elena."
Robert's brows lifted in realisation, a smile once again taking over his features as he turned back to Elena with his hand held out. "Ah, you're the one he's been talkin' about, then." Clasping his hand in hers, he leaned in to give her a welcoming peck on the cheek, as he did with all the women he came across.
"Great to know he's been talking about me," Elena responded loud enough for the drummer to hear, earning a distracted middle finger from him in retaliation.
"Oh, he's mentioned you a fair bit, yeah," Robert nodded.
"That's disconcerting..."
"No, all good things, luv, don't worry." Robert waved his hand in dismissal.
They naturally drifted further into the room as everyone hooked themselves up to the few amps they had lying around. Robert was itching to get started. He'd been looking for other strong musicians with a similar zest for life to jive with for a while, and hoped that Crawling King Snakes could at the very least lead to something magnificent. It made him all the more nervous to test out new material, though, now that he had an audience. Not just any audience, either. The presence of John's female companion, who Robert wasn't blind enough to recognise as physically stunning.
Even though this was simply an opportunity to jam and test out different sounds, he knew he had to get it right. Whatever it was. Early on, he learned that leaving a not-so-impactful impression on the ladies was the last thing anyone should do when performing. It would be a notch on his ego, an ego he was subconsciously trying to craft around the slightly sensitive, yet lively, 18-year-old boy that he was.
Little did he know he had already made a lasting impression, simply by the way he greeted Elena at the door. There was something extremely European about his way of saying 'hello,' in a sense that it held the weight of a respectful, gallant gentleman. To Elena, that was extremely comforting and unique; exactly the kind of person she'd enjoy surrounding herself with.
The way he chose to dress himself... wow. She'd very rarely seen men adorn their bodies with such delicate material, bohemian and Eastern-inspired all at once. If there was one thing Robert was, it was remarkable, exceptional... abnormal—everything the world was missing but didn't know it needed. And that was just by the way he dressed.
It was fair to say Elena's interest in this eccentric boy was piqued.
Incidentally, the feeling was mutual. Robert was instantly caught up in the way her deep brown hair fell in natural waves down her back, tamed, yet allowed to sway freely with every movement she made. And her eyes, fuck, they were so big and captivating. He'd already picked up on her accent, always one to take note of such things. Alluring, unapologetically informal. So care-free. He only hoped that his first impressions of her were accurate. It would be a shame to see something so beautiful turn out to be the complete opposite.
"Bonzo's a great drummer, isn't he?"
Elena, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back, cocked her head in Robert's direction. "Bonzo?"
"John." He nodded his head towards him.
"He's a fantastic drummer. Always thought that of him." Elena's voice was soft as she admired him from afar.
"How long have you two been together?"
The brunette had to steal a minute to confirm she had heard correctly. She had paused amid her smile in John's direction. "Who?" she checked, glancing at Robert.
"You and John."
"Oh God, no," she was quick to shake her head, face falling flat. "No, no..."
Robert's light smile fell slightly, and a soft shade of pink infiltrated his cheeks. "No?"
"Yeah, no."
"No, what?"
"We aren't together," she insisted with a gesturing finger between herself and her best friend. "Hasn't he told you he's married?"
Robert's eyebrows scrunched up, sending a curious glance over at John. "It's never come up in conversation, I guess."
"It was recent, to be fair." Elena watched Robert's analytical observation. "He's got a one-month old son, as well."
"Well, shit," Robert breathed, running a hand over his face. "Sorry, I just assumed 'cause of how close you two seem to be..." Behind the comfort of his hand, he scrunched up his face in embarrassment and shook his head. "Fuckin' Bonzo..." he muttered. Crawling King Snakes hadn't been together for longer than a couple of months, and none of the eight sessions they'd had thus far consisted of private-life talk. Each of them were too preoccupied with the music and forming a cohesive combination of personalities to delve into the lives of one another.
Elena's swift dismissal may have translated as abrasive, and she became quickly aware of that as soon as Robert hid his face behind his hand, inaudibly scolding himself. She didn't jump to reassure him, however. His sensitivity to the smallest misunderstanding was captivating. Rare. There was no need to maintain emphasis on something that clearly left him unwillingly flustered.
So, she changed the topic, focusing on the nickname Robert had used twice now.
"You call him Bonzo?" Elena smiled, not only at the name, but the way it sounded on a Black Country tongue.
"Yeah, well," Robert chuckled, showing an off-centre slant in his smile that emphasised the dimple on his right cheek. "He was insistent on calling me Bobby, so I thought I'd call him something that would piss him off even more, but..." He shook his head, watching his bandmate test out each drum to perfection. "He actually didn't mind it, so it's stuck."
"Bonzo..." Elena tested the name in her own mouth, the cadence different in her Lancashire drawl. "It fits him, dunnit?" She said through a grin. "I've always called him Bon-Bon."
"Like the sweet?" Robert looked down at her, resting his hand on the wall beside her head casually, the small blip in their conversation fading into obscurity.
She nodded, still looking at John. "Mhm. It was actually an accident," she pointed out, glancing at Robert. "I guess I struggled to say 'Bonham' when I was 4."
"Blimey, you've known him for that long?"
Elena turned her head to him fully, her mouth dropping open a bit. "Alright, calm down, how old do you think I am?"
"I-I didn't mean it as in 'you're old'!" Robert laughed. "You can't be much older than us!"
"I'm actually younger than John by a year, so..."
"Well, I'm younger than him by a few months."
"So, there you go, I'm not old."
"Listen, luv, I was simply shocked by how long you've known him," Robert incessantly defended himself, much to Elena's amusement. She smiled at him, looking back at John.
"Nah, I bloody wish I was older."
"And why's that?"
"Can't drink yet, can I?" She gave Robert a pointed look.
"That's right, you can't." He feigned distress, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "The struggles of being 17 in England."
"Oh, I know, it's torture," she played along, resting her head back against the wall.
He smirked. "So, you're a drinker, then, eh?"
"Well..." she shrugged, "A bit, yeah. I work in a pub as a waitress, so sometimes I can have half a pint at the end of the shift if there aren't that many people in. Which hardly ever happens." She rolled her eyes.
"I've only recently turned 18, so I'm still trying to get used to buying alcohol in the shops without worrying about being caught," Robert chided. "What pub d'you work in?"
"The George Inn. It's like slam in between here and up in Walsall."
"I see..." Robert nodded, chewing his lip in thought.
"That being said, I want to move a bit closer to here, eventually. Not entirely in the city centre, though, I like the countryside a bit too much."
Robert just smiled as she spoke. He took in every piece of information, enjoying the way she'd speak in her hometown slang every now and then. She definitely spoke a lot, but Robert didn't mind. He admired it.
"Like, closer to the city, but not completely in the city... d'ya get what I mean?" She looked up at Robert, completely unashamed of her rambling.
"I get what you mean, luv," he reassured.
"I know this might be weird, but I just love being surrounded by nature. It's how I grew up—how both of us grew up," she gestured between herself and John, who was almost done. "And I have a thing for plants. Being in the city doesn't really reward you with that stuff, does it?"
Elena watched as Robert's smile widened, seemingly proud of himself. She raised an eyebrow. "What's that look for?"
"You have a thing for plants?" he asked.
"Alright, I know it's a bit... nerdy, or whatever, but yeah, I do. I like the smell of them when you've just watered them, and the reflections they make when the sun hits them in the right spot. They brighten up a room. There's just something... comforting about them."
"You really don't need to defend yourself, Elena." She liked the way he said her name. It was almost like he was testing it out for the first time. "I'm a bit like that with nature. My parents used to take me over to Wales every year on holiday, and we'd stay right in the heart of nature. Right on the coast. It was great." He folded his arms, glancing over at John. "Aren't you bloody done, yet?"
"You're the one yappin' on over there 'bout God knows what, don't have a chomp at Bonz!" Dave scolded, punctuated with a funky run of notes from his bass.
"Oh, shit," Robert snorted, his face flushing where his sideburns faded out into a light beard. "Guess that's me cue," he said to Elena, a small boost of confidence overtaking him in the dawn of stepping in front of a band. "Oh, by the way, my last name is Plant. And I've been known to brighten up any room," he teased with a boyish wink.
Elena couldn't help but grin, as much as she tried to resist looking silly, as she watched him walk up to the mic stand.
If Robert didn't feel some kind of pressure before, he certainly did now. He'd just bigged himself up in the most pretentious way possible, in his mind, by using his name. His bloody name! If he could, he would have slapped himself, right in the face. As he stood there, right in between his bandmates and the inquisitive gaze of Elena, he felt it brewing in the pit of his stomach. A certain drive. A metaphorical shove to let go. To show off. To submerge himself in the euphoria he called music. To do everything he'd admired his idols for for so long now.
In this moment, he finally caught the essence by a fleeting blink of an eye, and he grasped it as firmly as he did the microphone, determined to never let it go.
Unsure of what she was expecting from the seemingly delicate, unruly-haired, sapphire-eyed young man in front of her, Elena sat on the edge of her seat as Robert exorcised such visceral sounds from her mouth. Unlike anything she'd ever heard. She watched as he got completely lost in the rhythm, shaking his curls around in time with each riff.
The perfect combination of what she'd grown up on and what she'd recently ventured into.
It left her speechless; a big deal for someone like Elena, who rarely managed to keep her mouth shut. She had to distract herself, keep herself from acting like a babbling idiot before Robert even thought about asking her for feedback. So, whilst Robert helped John with some wires at the end of their session, Elena struck up a conversation with Paul, eager to know about his influences. But as much as she tried to focus on what Paul was saying, her eyes betrayed her mind, and made brief but definite glances at the singer on the drum-riser.
Robert bit onto his tongue as he concentrated on winding up one of the wires that had previously been connected to his microphone. John was busy complaining about how they had to make sure they left the room the way they found it, despite the state they found it in. They'd be blamed for it either way. Young, aspiring musicians were blamed for everything these days.
He made sure to nod along, but stayed entirely fascinated by Elena, making hidden glances over at her as she chatted with Paul. Her hair that struck him upon impact now became an accomplice to the rest of her; the two hours he'd been in her presence was enough for him to know he wanted to see more. He wanted to know her, learn from her.
"Uh, Bonz'," he interrupted John's rant. He took another moment to succumb to the temptation Elena unknowingly laid out for him, her own cheeks adorned with faint dimples when she laughed. Finally able to tear his eyes from her, he looked at John. "Is, uh..." He nodded his head in the relative direction of Elena. "Is Elena gunna be around a lot, d'you think?" He tried to make his inquisition as casual as possible, nonchalantly hanging the wire in his hands up on one of the hooks behind the drumset.
Whilst John Bonham enjoyed his off-peak ramblings, he wasn't naive, and he most certainly wasn't an idiot. This wasn't the first time another guy had come up to him with a question about his childhood best friend, wondering if she was single, if they were a couple, or anything of that nature. It wasn't a common occurrence, but it happened enough for him to recognise that tone and look in the eye of any man who asked about a woman with an underlying interest in getting to know her.
He stood from his seat, stretching his back out with an exaggerated groan to cover up the smirk on his face. "If she's not working, I should imagine she'll be around us a lot," he responded, watching intently at Robert's reaction. But Robert knew he was being watched, and tilted his head in an attempt to cover his expressions with the curls atop his head. This'd be fuckin' easier if my hair was long...
"You don't have an issue with her bein' around, do you?"
"No," Robert answered immediately, lifting his head up to meet amused eyes. "Just... it was just a question," he sighed, giving up as Elena appeared at the bottom of the drum-riser, smiling at John.
"Yep, almost done, El," he responded to a silent question he knew she was about to ask. "What time you s'pposed to start your shift?"
"Five," she answered, folding her arms and sending a comfortable smile over to Robert.
"What'd'ya think?" Robert asked, jumping down from the riser.
Elena's smile widened, but her response was cut off before she could even begin.
"What do you mean, 'what'd'ya think'?" John chuckled. "El loves anything I do, isn't that right?"
"'Ar Bon-Bon is clearly very modest," Elena teased, sending John a wry grin before turning her attention back to Robert. She considered him for a second, the earlier elation settled in her chest for now, and she was able to respond with a coherent elegance. "Not bad, Plant."
Robert answered with an equally elegant nod of appreciation.
"Right, all done, love," John huffed, joining them. "Ready to go?" he asked Elena. She nodded with a hum of approval. "Same time next week, yeah?" John turned to Robert, offering a manly hug once again, which consisted of a half-hug and a slap on the back. Receiving confirmation, John fished out his cigarettes in preparation for the ride to Elena's work.
Before leaving, Robert made sure to give Elena another gallant kiss on the cheek, letting her know it was nice to meet her. She responded in kind, giving his arm a small squeeze in the process.
And as he watched the dynamic duo leave, Robert found himself already restless for next week's session, where he'd hopefully get to see Elena again.