Capricorn Season - Jimmy Page

Chapter 30

She liked the beard. He looked rugged, in his own special way. The appeal of his beauty was always the defiled innocence of his smooth face. When he told her that he was growing it out she thought he would look horrible. But when she saw him she didn't think that at all.

She was laying on her stomach on the bed, feet in the air, and kicking them like a schoolgirl. He was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, doing his hair and getting ready for the day.

"Have I ever told you how much I love the beard?" She asked, locking eyes with his reflection. 

He smiled and turned to look at her. "No, you haven't. I was getting a bit nervous that you hadn't said anything about it yet."

"Well, I love it," she kissed the top of his head, "Now I've said something." 

"I'm glad you do. I think it looks nice."

"You look like a sexy professor like that." She was referring to his outfit. He wore a white dress shirt, complete with ruffles, and a nice pair of trousers.

"That's kind of the look I was going for. Scarf or no scarf?" He held up a green silk scarf. She thought it complimented his outfit well and told him so. He nodded and began to tie it.

"You should try it like this." She reached her hands around his neck.

His breath hitched as her hands brushed against his skin. The scent of her filled his nose, an unmistakable smell that only she possessed. It was floral and vanilla. He always thought it was wonderful. He thought it could be a mix of her shampoo and deodorant.

"That looks marvelous, thank you." He spoke breathlessly. 

They had been together for eight months and she still made him dizzy and fumbling. He couldn't deny her effect, didn't want to. She smiled sweetly and sat back on the pillows, continuing the reading of her book.

How could she be so unceremonious, so laid back, when she was absolutely breathtaking?  She was stunning, certainly the most beautiful woman he had seen, but didn't seem to care.

She thought this way about him too. She often thought how he didn't seem to be cognizant of how wonderful he really looked. Sometimes he was even insecure, which was always a laugh for her. The only time he looked poorly was when he chose a bad outfit, which she always had something to say about.

"You need to change. A red scarf clashes with a yellow top and the plaid printed pants don't match anything you're wearing!"

"No, the red scarf matches the red pants. There is yellow in my pants and yellow on my top. It goes together."

"Fine, but you're the one who is going to look bad."

"I don't look bad!"

"That outfit is a disaster. I don't want you to leave the hotel like that." She was mostly joking, ending in a laugh. But it was true! He looked terrible.

"Is this criticism or care?"

"Care, I promise. Trust me, Jimmy, it looks bad."

"I disagree." He shrugged, "And I'm wearing it to the show."

"Alright, but it's your fashion funeral."

His outfit today looked much better. His colors matched and he was presentable. "Love, I think you should start getting ready. We have to leave soon."

"I think I'll just go like this."

"Can I give you some fashion advice?"

"Oh, no. Does my outfit look that poor?" She laughed.

He grimaced, gesturing to tell her "a little bit".

"Fine, I'll change. What is the weather like?"

"Hot. It's August."

"Good point." 

She chose a pair of shorts and a short top. The shirt she wanted to wear was in Lorelei's possession. She didn't mind, because she had asked. Robert and Jimmy never did. Yesterday she caught Robert sifting through her clothes!

"Um, what are you doing?" She had been watching him rifling through her things like a rat. He jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, Jesus, you scared me!"

"I ask again, what are you doing?" She shifted her weight and put her hand on her hip.

"Looking for something to wear."

"Can you at least ask? Jeez. What do you want?"

"That flowery blouse you wore last week."

"Robert, you can't fit in that!"

"Yes, I can! I'm slim."

"Fine," She threw the balled-up shirt at him, "but if you stretch it out I'm killing you."

"I won't, I swear." He did.

She looked at the blouse now, wearing a frown. It still fit, although now loose and frumpy. Perhaps she'd just have Richard do her laundry and he would shrink it for her. He was a lousy tour mother.