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The bathroom floor is sticky. My shoes pull along the linoleum with a grip that causes a sour feeling to rise in my throat. A tall, beautiful girl told me that you'd been after me the entire night.
Dance music with its rhythmic beats flows around the club. Couples slide and move on the floor in a flash of primary colors and my heart seems to mimic them.
The first time I saw you was the hotel lobby: everyone trying to fall into your orbit. You glowed, even in dark pants and a silk shirt, leaning into your manager and avoiding the photographers and pretty people. All of you joined me in the elevator. I thought there wouldn't be enough room, but I pressed against the railing in the corner and studied your profile. A delicate face. A face for an artist. I remember clearly the way your eyes softened to mine, how you seemed to look into the depth of me.
"You're here," a voice powders over my shoulders, warm and rhythmic like flowing honey. It's the angelic singer from your band, Robert, who hooks his arm in mine and leads me to a private room at the back of the club.
"All of you were waiting for me?" I ask as he pushes aside a heavy curtain.
"No, just Page," he breathes and gestures. You are sitting, legs spread, on a couch. A lamp illuminates the right side of your face. Your vision moves to the doorway, and as it was in the elevator, you've grabbed me.
I step forward along the lush carpet. There's a sweet, nearly sickly smell in the air, and I realize it's the perfume I wear, rising with the heat growing on my body.
"It's good to see you again," you tell me. "Come sit."
The lapse in the crowd ends and all the partygoers fold back into one another. I join you on the sofa. Our knees touch.
"Such a happy girl you were last night," you tell me instantly. My mind whirls. I think of you and me, drunk, dancing with others in your drummer's hotel room. How you pulled me close. How you reminded me of a wizard with your flowing hair and bitter smile.
I swallow many fears. "I'm worse when I'm sober," I reveal.
This causes a laugh to bubble your throat. "We're quite alike . . . I wonder, how do you feel about traveling?" You flick a British pound coin between your dexterous fingers.
"I like it. I like traveling. Why?"
"We're on tour in the United States. Have you ever seen the country from a private jet?"
Every stone in my mind falls into place. I realize, suddenly, the goal of this production.
I shake my head in a long, languid motion and find your hand. The movement of your fingers stills and you stare, almost amazed, at the touch of our skin.
"Jimmy, yes, I'll join you for the road," I say, and watch your green eyes meet mine. Perhaps the clarity of my words surprises you. All charming smirk is gone, drowned in your whiskey, and your mouth parts with no sound.
As soon as the facade breaks, it's rebuilt, and you lean into me, swirling me:
"Then it's decided. Come with me, back to the Hyatt. Be my dream."
And I do. And I am. At least for the summer.
For -Somebody_to_Love- Thank you for waitingsuch a long time!! This will be my last chapter. My love for JP is strong and wild but I feel I'veexhausted all ideas. Here's the ending, for now. Who knows whatstories will come to me in the future. I plan to work on a Sandman (comic series) book sometime later. Stay tuned! Much love to all who've read.
