"I am the echo of your past"
I was a plain waitress. The bar seemed indifferent when I started, but soon I found myself surrounded by musicians. Musicians and the girls that followed them like maenads. It was a whole circus, a show, and I was the spectator, hidden behind my little apron as a shield. The girls I envied. They seemed free, with long hair, broad smiles and fur coats. They seduced with mischief in their eyes and cherry lips. Being with the star made them a star. And all I could do was testify, doe-eyed.
July had come, sticky and hot, when you showed up. My thighs, mellow and sweaty, stuck together under my skirt. I ran around taking orders. I almost dropped the tray of greasy burgers when my eyes accidentally landed on your lion's mane. You looked older, mature in a way, skin still smooth like sand. Your hair grown out, a sea of gold on your shoulders. I swallowed hard, my mouth threatening to glue shut. I sauntered over on wobbly legs like a newborn foal.
"Hello, and welcome to the Rainbow bar and grill, what can I get for you?", the song I sang everyday. The long-haired men froze as they recognized my accent, thick and british, just like theirs. The tall, skinny one with dark hair in curls, I recognized him as Jimmy Page, snickered with squinting eyes. I didn't dare to look at you.
"We'll just have a round of drinks, love", a rather large man to my right said, his voice rough and booming. I scribbled down the orders, quickly. I looked at you, cautiously, as if my gaze would break you. Something in your stone blue eyes flickered, like a flame in the wind.
"A beer please", you mouthed the words elegantly, and I tasted them in my mouth. Please. You held my gaze for too long, locking it and throwing away the key. I turned away too hastily. My face burned from something else than the heat and I combed through my long strands with clumsy fingers, tangling. T. Rex echoed from the speakers, the music merging with voices that came from every corner. The bartender placed the drinks on my tray and I stretched my back. He laughed, a snorting, vile sound as he saw my flushed cheeks. It followed me all the way back, chasing down the passageway. I placed everything down on the wooden, worn table and a choir of "thanks, love" bellowed.
A satin hand met my hip. I turned back to the table, recognizing your fingertips. Nimble but rough. As I was brought back to your eyes, your voice in my ears:
"Where do I recognize you from?" I nibbled my lower lip, like a ripe cherry. Soft and full. I didn't want to tell you the truth.
"Shouldn't I be the one recognizing you?" my voice was dry, foreign to me. Your face relaxed, eyebrows rising and you laughed. Breathy and deep. My answer was a small, nervous chuckle, a hand instinctively brought to my hair, tangling again.
"I take it you do", you sipped your beer, liquid gold, eyes still glued to my heart-shaped face. I shrugged my shoulders, again too hastily, always too quick. The movement lured another laugh from your thin, feline lips. Making you laugh sparked something ecstatic in my chest. Leaning back, lips pursed, you finally spoke again.
"Tell me your name"
"It's Bonnie"
I scratched a spot right beneath my throat, hands restless, probably leaving a red mark. Your eyes lingered, following my hand.
"A pleasure, Bonnie"
I opened my mouth to answer, but a hand on my shoulder made me turn around. "Table five, two margaritas", a familiar, nasal voice spoke. It was Lula, another poor little waitress. A texan girl, truly a southern belle.
During the evening a heavy feeling occupied the bottom of my stomach. As if I just lost a battle. I wanted to talk to you again. Me, the waitress you recognized and forgot. I found myself wishing for long legs and sparkling eyes. As I leaned against the bar I watched the clusters of people on their drunk highs, presumably other highs as well, loud laughters filling the space. Reluctantly, I let my gaze slip to your table in the back, now flooded with people. The lot of you were the main attraction of the night. I wondered what it felt like, having all of the beautiful people to oneself. Having people desperate for ones attention. They grabbed at everything they got, a look, a sigh, anything. They were like piranhas, ravenous. I looked at you, quickly. Just a sip for my dry throat. Your eyes were already on me. Curious, searching eyes. I felt naked for a moment. Exposed. A big hand gripping the beer bottle, you lifted it up as our eyes connected. Like you were proposing a toast. A cheshire smile on my lips, answering you with a small nod. I turned away, ashamed, blushing like a child.
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As my shift was coming to an end I lounged in the break room. Not for very long though, until Lula called my name. I sighed deeply, preparing myself for a lecture. Everything was always a lecture with her, a life-long lecture. I walked in behind the bar, watching her engage in conversation with a tall man. His face was covered in a full beard. Small eyes, big nose, broad mouth.
"Lula?", I muttered, watching how she batted her eyelashes, giggling at everything he said.
"There you are! Mr Cole here was asking for you", Lula's eyes bore into mine like daggers. I had no idea who he was, confusion clouded my mind. How he made Lula writhe before him was another mystery, she always wore a permanent frown on her face. I stood beside her in front of the man, shifting my weight to one hip.
"Yes?", my voice dripping with suspicion.
"Hello there, darling. Robert wants to see you", he ate me up with his eyes, head to toe, sucking the meat off my bones. A gasp from Lulas peach lips.
"Robert who?", I looked from Mr. Cole to Lula. I already knew. The man shrieked with laughter at my question. Between gritted teeth he managed:
"Robert bloody Plant"
