Title: Don’t Look Away: Prologue, Across the Ocean
Rating: R [language, alcohol and drug use, nudity]

Summary: Cadence Emerson Kersey travels to London with Jimi Hendrix. Pete Townshend meets Hendrix at a club and his life is forever changed.




Most parents likely would have hunted their daughter down, dragging her back to school or worse even home. But the Kerseys had never been normal parents. When their youngest daughter claimed she was dropping out of art school and moving to New York, they barely glanced up from reading their morning newspapers. When she phoned and said she was flying to London with a musician she knew, her mother merely reminded her that her older sister was getting married in six months and Cadence Emerson Kersey was fully expected to attend. The flighty young woman, only eighteen and a few months old, had little intention of ... well anything. Life was much too short to be bothered with such societal trivialities as her sister’s wedding. It would likely be some high society affair – and Cady wanted nothing to do with it. But she promised her mother she would call as soon as she returned to the States, nevermind she knew not when that would be.

The year before she was sitting bored in her senior class of high school, dreaming for the freedom and excitement of college. But now she was in a rundown hotel in London, the musician she was never far from, passed out on the floor. He could have slept on the bed; she certainly wasn’t the one who said they could not sleep together. But for whatever reason, Jimi preferred to sleep on the hard dirty floor. When he woke, she would have to ask him. Or perhaps she could just trick him into sleeping in the bed after his concert that night. He would like be exhausted, right? They both knew they weren’t going to have sex again, so there was no risk at all. It was very foolish for the man to sleep on the floor.

However it did provide the young woman the opportunity to lay on the bed, gazing over the edge at him. When he slept, he still had that magic that drew her to him nearly — no, exactly a year ago. She had escaped art school in Philadelphia with some of the kids she met in her classes for a week of “artistic development” in New York City. Wednesday night of that week, they ventured into Greenwich Village, finding themselves around small tables in the Cafe Wha? The man now asleep on the floor had entranced her from the very beginning and she could never explain why. He just had it. She never returned from New York City.

The past year had helped her grow artistically in ways art school never would have. But more importantly she was outside of the Kersey umbrella. Her father still funded her every desire, she never had want of anything material. New York afforded her the chance of a lifetime, her lifetime, and she wasn’t turning back. She still painted every now and then, but most of her life revolved around his. And she and Jimi weren’t even lovers. Oh they had tried it one drunken night and maybe it had even been good. Neither of them really remembered. Jimi’s lack of even attempting to touch her after that night had confused her immensely, but months passed and she grew accustomed to the poetry spouted from his lips but nothing more. She often wondered if he had placed her on this pedestal and touching her would defile the image he had of her. But Cady supposed it didn’t matter too much, because they both fed off each other’s artistic energy, he more than her.

The greatest gift Jimi gave her was freedom to see the world outside her gilded cage. Already he had shown her parts of the country she had only read about. And now she was in London while he recorded his first album. Life experience was far more valuable than school experience. Even at eighteen she knew that. And he did feed her desire to be everything her parents would not like, had they paid any attention to her. It had begun in high school, when she passed her math class with flying colors because she spent extra time after school “studying” with the teacher. She had brought a number of her male classmates to their knees as well. Even cutting off all of her long chocolate hair with a razor blade, wearing short skirts, and taking up smoking hadn’t gotten as much as a glance from her parents. Proclaiming she was going to art school hadn’t even shaken them to consider her at all. Her father merely patted her on the back and wrote the check. Would the fact she lived with a black man bother them? Would the fact he was basically penniless but massively talented bother them? Would the fact she smoked whatever he handed her and curled her tongue around any number of pills bother them?

Sighing she tucked a long dark brown curl behind her ear and glanced at the clock. Jimi still hadn’t moved and he needed to get down to the club with the band. Without much thought, she climbed out of the small bed, her hair curling around her naked breasts, and made her way over to him. Squatting next to the sleeping man, her fingers danced across his forehead before she leaned down and kissed him.

Jimi woke with an almost gasp, his hand circling behind her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue rolled into her mouth briefly. Suddenly he pushed her away, ending the kiss dramatically. His eyes shot to hers, confirming who the one kissing him was. His bleary eyes cleared as he looked her over. Her long hair concealed nothing of her perky breasts with their rosy, dime-sized nipples. She wore nothing from the waist-down either to conceal that part of her femininity, which was even further on display due to her crouching. He could not help but stare at her forbidden flower for a moment – at least until he remembered who she was.

“Cady,” he spoke, sitting up. “Where are your clothes, darling?”

She rolled her dark blue eyes and stood up, “You know I sleep naked, Jimi, especially when you come in late at night and heat up the room so much.”

“You need to—”

“I know. We have to leave soon for your concert,” Cady turned her back to him as she pulled a short dress out of the dresser that had four drawers, but only two of them opened.

Dusting himself off as he got to his feet, he stole a glance at her before the dress skimmed over her curves, his eyes settling on the heart-shaped freckle at the base of her spine. He itched to lean forward and kiss it. But he could not defile grace. He could not touch her, no matter how much he wanted, for he could not risk breaking the illusion, lose her as his muse. He truly did believe her to be the greatest muse to ever grace his presence. Since Cady approached him after the short set in Greenwich, since her hand touched his lightly, he had been on fire – musically and sexually. Only the latter part was unrequited, at least in terms in Cady. He burned that fire with any number of other girls, but not her. He was too afraid to lose it if he did.

Turning to face him, Cady caught something in his eyes she hadn’t ever noticed before, “Jimi?”

“Is that a new dress?” he quickly asked.

“Yes,” she responded. “You don’t think I’m going to have any trouble getting in tonight, do you?”

“Of course not. You’ll be with me.”



Standing in front of his closet, Pete looked over his choices. He really felt out of touch with the scene. Or maybe it was merely because he couldn’t fucking afford to be a greater part of it. Which he found ridiculous. The band was just barely scraping by but he couldn’t take a day job because of all of the band’s demands, nevermind the fact he never had had a day job. How was he supposed to keep up the appearance that Kit wanted him to if he couldn’t afford to buy whatever the new style was?

Sighing he snatched a random shirt off the hanger, hearing the wooden object clang around in the closet. Pete searched for the trousers that matched the shirt perfectly. He laid the clothes out carefully on his single bed before turning to pull out the matching boots. Taking careful consideration even to his underwear, he dressed in the chosen outfit and moved in front of the single small mirror in his flat.

His blue eyes instantly zeroed in on his nose. His big fucking nose. The nose his father teased him about all his fucking life. No matter if he wore the most fashionable gear or played in a band, all anyone ever saw was his fucking nose. God how he wanted to make a lot of money and... and what? Cut his nose off? Then he would certainly look like more of a freak then.

“Fuck,” he muttered, turning away from the mirror.

Grabbing what little cash he had and shoving it in his pockets, Pete stalked out of his room, out of his apartment. He joined up with a few other mods on the streets, barely speaking to any of them. At least until he actually saw someone he knew. With a half-smile, he clutched the other guitarist’s hand briefly, before they decided which club to head into. After Eric’s suggestion they go see this new band he had been hearing about, Pete lead the way to The Novelty.

They found seats at the bar facing the stage and ordered up their first round of drinks. Both men glanced around at the mod crowd, trying to pick out those that didn’t really belong. Commenting with a smirk about some punk kid who clearly was wearing last week’s fashion, Pete’s eyes drifted up to the stage as he took a drink of gin. A scruffy looking man made his way towards the center of the stage. For a moment Pete wondered what he was doing on the stage, but then he realized the strap across the man’s chest was a guitar strap.

“Is this what we came for?” he asked haughtily as he motioned towards the stage.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Eric responded.

The man adjusted the microphone, spun his guitar in front of him, and glanced out at the crowd of mods. Eric had mentioned that the guy was American, so perhaps he did not quite know how to handle the mod crowd. But by the time his voice joined his guitar, slicing through the air, Pete no longer had any doubt about the man on the stage.

He only doubted his own abilities as a guitarist.

When he left the stage Pete slowly turned to Eric on his right. The other guitarist met his eyes with just as much surprise. They both knew that the dark man leaving the stage had dramatically changed their profession. Whether anyone else in the club understood, Pete didn’t care. He had to meet the man. Immediately.

“Come on,” he grabbed Eric and pulled him towards the stage, intending to slip backstage.

The two easily made it backstage as both were known by everyone who worked at the club. All sorts of other people were backstage, but Pete’s reputation made most of them step aside for him and Eric. The closer they got to the guitarist the more he felt electricity running through his body.

And then he halted. They had reached the nexus, where the band was quietly discussing the short performance. But that wasn’t why Pete had halted. His eyes were trained on a young woman standing near the guitarist, her hand resting on his shoulder in a quiet possessive way – not that it dissuaded other women from frothing at the bit to get near him. She stood with such regal grace and indifference to all the rock shit going on around her. Pete almost felt as if her body, what little of it he could see, was surrounded by a powerful mandorla, protecting her from whatever negativity could be in the air. Long brown hair curled about her shoulders, held back from her face with a simple purple ribbon. Dark kohl rimmed her large eyes, paying special attention to the slight lift on the outside corner. A clear gloss drew attention to her full lips, the bottom lip a bit fuller than the delicately curved upper lip. The guitarist blocked Pete’s view of the rest of her, but he was certain with a face like that she could be nothing but perfect.

In that very moment he truly believed in love at first sight and prayed to whoever was above that she would look in his direction and feel the same overwhelming compulsion to push everyone else aside to be with him. Rather than look up at him though, she leaned down to the guitarist, whispered something in his ear, and turned to walk away. Pete instantly shifted to the side, letting everyone else flock around the man. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight. As she continued away from everyone, he finally had a glimpse of her body, at least a back view of it. She wore a mostly purple mini-dress, the skirt barely covering her ass as it was. For a moment he hoped she would stop and bend over, knowing full well bending incorrectly would afford him an unobstructed view of her ass and mayhap more. While she did pause, it was not to adjust her high boots, but rather to allow someone else to pass her. A moment later she disappeared through a door, the bathroom he thought. And Pete instantly knew what he had to do.

Skirting around the small crowd, or at least attempting to, Pete headed in pursuit of the beauty. A few stepped out of his way, not really understanding the reasoning behind the intensity in his eyes, not that he could have given any explanation had he seen the look on his face either. He merely had to get to her. But it wasn’t like he could just burst into the bathroom. That would not only be foolish but stupid. He had to make it a chance thing, not something he had been planning for... well the last few seconds at least. He had to... fuck, the door was opening. And he had no plan.

Her eyes went to his as she stepped out. An easy smile graced her lips and she did not divert her gaze at all. She held his gaze until... until he looked away. Maybe she was still looking at him. Fuck, she was looking at his nose, wasn’t she? Who the fuck did he think he was? She was beautiful, a goddess, and he...he was the fucking hunchback of Notre Dame, maybe even worse. He had no chance whatsoe—

“Hello,” a soft and very musical voice declared, drawing his eyes back up to her.

“Hello,” he responded.

She held out her hand, “I’m Cadence, but my friends call me Cady.”

“I... I...”

Her fingers wrapped around his, “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“P-Pete.”

She smiled at him again, a light illuminating his world in that very gesture. He could feel every finger curling around his. He would have sworn that he could feel her pulse in her palm. Everything in his soul seemed to center in her hand. Oh lord. He was done for.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pete. Are you from around here?” she asked gently.

He could not verbally answer. All he could do was nod. Her hand was still holding his.

Releasing his hand, Cady stepped closer, her lips near his ear, “Perhaps I’ll see you around then. Would you like to meet Jimi?”

“Uhhh. S-sure,” he responded.

“Come with me, Pete,” she stated, turning from him.

Oh he would follow her. He would follow her anywhere.



Sitting in the back of the bar, his blue eyes danced around the club. He wasn’t looking at the other mods, not in the least. He was looking for someone, the very someone he looked for every time he went to one of the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s concerts: the sexy girl who seemed to always linger about. Despite the fact she had spoken with him that initial meeting, Pete had not had the courage to speak with her again. His courage failed him so horribly in her presence that he made certain to keep others between them, disabling any chance at interaction. It was foolish, even worse than grammar school, but he could not help it. She was a glittering jewel amongst all those fools. He was ultimately afraid of ruining that, he supposed. And it would be him ruining it, not her. That was certain.

Jimi’s performance was nothing less than magical every time he graced the stage, that Pete could not deny. And it always provided him with distraction from looking for her. Sadly it never last nearly as long as he would like and his attention would once more turn to her.

He had absolutely no reason to be so fascinated with her and yet all the reason in the world at the same time. She was beautiful and even though he was never close enough to hear her speak again, he knew her every word was precious, musical. Why couldn’t he get closer to her? Was he really that worried about breaking the illusion he set up around her? No, it was because as long as he was enamoured with her from afar he was still loyal to Karen. And considering they were engaged, he ought to remain faithful to her. But dammit, he wanted – oh fuck, there she was. And she was... fuck, was she coming over to him? Quick he needed to... he needed to...

Pete looked around frantically, trying to find something to be doing when she arrived, trying to find some way to be cool. He couldn’t just be sitting there, drooling over her from afar. As he turned about, the back of his hand collided with his glass, sending it flying towards the floor. The glass shattered, the alcohol quickly adhering the sparkling glass to the sticky floor.

“Fuck,” he grumbled.

The shattered glass was quickly forgotten with the simple utterance of, “Hi, Pete.”

His eyes snapped to hers. Words failed him completely, not at all getting anywhere near his lips. She had to think that he was a complete moron. Oh god, she was looking at his nose, wasn’t she?

“Jimi says he’s going to be playing with your band soon. I’m really looking forward to that,” she sat on the barstool next to him.

His eyes widened at not only the fact she was sitting next to him, but that she apparently wanted to see him play. Why would she want that when her boyfriend was so amazing? He knew he could not come anywhere near Jimi’s playing. Hell, he was considering giving up and going back to graphic design. With Jimi around, there was no need to play gui—

“Do you write your own songs?” she asked, motioning to the bartender to replenish Pete’s drink.

“I...” he couldn’t answer.

Her eyes focused on him for a moment, “Would you go on a walk with me? Like until... dawn? I think Jimi is bringing Kathy back to the hotel again tonight. And I... can we just go on a walk?”

Unable to say no, or really anything still in that moment, Pete nodded. The relieved smile she eagerly gave him hit his heart quickly. He automatically reached out for her hand. The young woman paused, pulled a note from her purse, and handed it to the bartender. Had he any voice he would have argued against the girl paying for his drink, but as she had rendered him speechless, Pete could not even squeak an objection. But he quickly forgot even thinking about such a thing because her hand slipped in his and he instantly focused on matching his heartbeat with the one he was certain he felt in her palm.

Once out of the noisy club, Pete was certain she could hear his heart pounding over his breath. How was he going to be good company on this walk if he never spoke? And why him? And why would Jimi be bringing another woman back to the hotel if he had Cady within his reach? And if their relationship was really that open, why was she having issues with it? Did she want more from Jimi than he could give? Did she think that hecould give it to her? Why did Cady choose him out of everyone in that club who would love to take her hand?

“Can I tell you something?” she broke the silence of his thoughts.

He stopped, glanced around the street for a bench, and lead her over to it, again without speaking at all. Sitting down, he draped his arm across the back of the bench, trying to look cool and casual. Maybe if they were undisturbed for a few minutes like that he would be granted the power of speech yet again. Or maybe she would kiss him. Oh yes, that he was really hoping on.

Seated next to him, her blue eyes went to his, “I’m so tired, Pete. I adore Jimi and I’ve experienced so much with him. But... but...”

When she looked away, the girl who seemed always collected and confident, he was instantly concerned. Again he wondered why she was reaching out to him, but that wasn’t the heart of the matter. Her relationship with Jimi apparently was.

“What has he done to you, Cady?” he found his voice, a bit surprised at the defensive tone he allowed to seep out.

She shook her head, not looking back to him, “Nothing. Jimi has done nothing.”

The tone indicated a world to him. Oh how he wanted to delve into her relationship with the guitar impresario. But what would that really do for him? He couldn’t start comparing himself with Jimi in her eyes. He was fucking with Karen – well he was with her and he supposed that by sitting on the bench of the one woman in the world he knew was made just for him was probably fucking with Karen. He needed to get his head on straight and – reply to Cady.

“Cady, I don’t know you nor him. I ... I don’t really know what to tell you.”

Her eyes turned to his, “But least you’re finally talking to me. I thought you would never talk to me.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, Pete. You haven’t said a word to me since we first met months ago. Fuck for awhile I thought you were purposefully avoiding me. Am I that horrible that you don’t want to be—”

“God no,” he quickly interjected. “I...”

“See there you go again. Am I that hard to talk t—”

With no known reason at all, Pete had a sudden shock of courage and cut off her words by quickly kissing her. She gasped some, her lips parting under his. While he could have taken advantage of that, he restrained himself and pulled back. Hands framing her oval face he looked into her eyes, seeing ... well he wasn’t sure what it was. But he believed it to be an invitation to kiss her again, which he accepted.

Kissing her was like walking through the gates of paradise. Her mouth was soft and sweet, her tongue the perfect complement to his. Her fingers gently clutched the fabric of his shirt as she wiggled closer to him, falling so deeply into the kiss as he had. Never before had a kiss been the beginning and the end of him. He never wanted it to end.

But it did with her pulling away. Before his eyes opened, he heard the unmistakable sound of a sniffle. Did kissing him make her cry? Fuck, he really was an ugly loser. But no. Even though she ended the kiss, she hadn’t pulled away from him. Then why was she crying? And why the fuck hadn’t he opened his eyes to see?

“Cady?” he looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh god, everything,” she muttered, but didn’t look away this time. “You’re wonderful and perfect and I’m... I’m sorry, Pete.”

“Sorry? What for?”

She shook her head before pressing her forehead to his shoulder. Though he had no idea what was wrong, his arms quickly circled her. It was the least he could do and was a decent enough beginning to... whatever relationship this would develop into. If what this beautiful woman needed was to cry on someone’s shoulder until dawn, he would be that shoulder. He would be anything at all for her.



Leaning on the wall in the very back of the club, Cady’s blue eyes remained focused on Pete. She had met the other band members already, but to be honest she couldn’t even remember their names. Ever since their few stolen hours in the early rays of morning, she could not stop thinking about him. Whenever Jimi brought his girlfriend back to the hotel, she would merely slip out and waste time wondering about the British guitarist. There was so much in his eyes, so much more than she had seen in anyone else’s, and it excited and intrigued her. It was what drew her to him then.

She didn’t care that Jimi played that night too. Sure his set was magical as it always was, but that night she wasn’t tripping and she was only there for Pete. And she had every intention of pulling him aside after the concert and showing him how wonderful he was. Her attire, a short blue plaid dress, was chosen precisely because it highlighted her curves, dusted dangerously close to the bottom curve of her ass, and was guaranteed to draw anyone’s attention. Even Jimi has seemed more attentive to her prior to heading to the club. Pete had to notice her as well.

The Who’s set was electrifying, making it easy in Cady’s mind to dismiss Jimi’s set. She could practically feel the charge in the air and for a moment she was afraid that the violence and anger on stage would transmit to the crowd. With her alone in the back of the club, it was a very real fear. She needed to get backstage as quickly as possible. She would be nobody’s victim.

Making her way carefully backstage, waved on by the minimum security, Cady weaved through well-wishers and everyone else who thought they belonged back there. She walked past Jimi and his adoring fans, pausing only to ascertain where Pete was. Though she was warned to stay away from the band as they were likely to still be keyed up from their performance, Cady ignored it and headed to the room where they had regrouped.

Apparently she wasn’t the only woman seeking the band. Not familiar with any of the other women, she hung back, watching carefully. The band emerged a few moments later, the cluster of women going to the men. Before Pete even had the chance to glance around and maybe see her, a brunette woman with a sparkling ring on her left hand wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Cady’s heart plummeted in her fashionable platforms instantly. He was married... or in the very least engaged.

Straightening her back and throwing back her shoulders, she turned away, heading to return to Jimi. At least she always knew what she had with Jimi. And he was returning to the States soon. Then she could be on familiar land to regroup.... and learn to forget about Pete.