Chapter Fourteen, Emotional Exhaustion
Posted by DiF on Saturday, August 13, 2011
Title: Midnight Shift: Chapter Fourteen, Emotional Exhaustion
Rating: R [language, alcohol, drugs and non-sexual nudity]
Summary: The aftermath of learning who her real father is hits Summer very hard.
Turning over in bed, Robert reached for Summer, his fingers finding nothing but air, cold air. He bolted up, panic filling his entire soul. While he hadn’t any reason to suspect otherwise, he had a feeling that wherever Summer might be, it could be dangerous, if not to her than to their relationship. He understood the night before led her to question everything about herself, but that didn’t mean she had to question their relationship, she didn’t have to run away, she didn’t have to... where was she? Throwing the light blanket aside, he stumbled out of the bed. First Robert checked the bathroom, but did not find so much as a trace of her. He threw open the bedroom door and stumbled down towards the kitchen, passing through the small living room.
As his bare feet slapped on the tiled floor, Summer looked up from the table where she sat before a sheet of paper, confusion in her eyes, “Robert?”
He squatted in front of her, taking her hands and kissing them quickly, “I woke and you were gone. I... I...”
Pulling her hands free, she surrounded his face and dipped down to kiss his mouth, “You’re silly, Robert. Where would I go? You are the only thing I know is true, for certain. Why would I leave you?”
“I... I don’t know. I guess I just ... panicked waking up alone,” he admitted.
“Silly,” she kissed him again. “But I’m glad you’re up. I’m getting hungry and there’s like nothing to eat here.”
Robert slowly stood, “So should we go get some breakfast then?”
“Can we... can we just go to the Riot?”
“Of course, sweetie,” he kissed her forehead. “We’ll get dressed and head to the Riot. I’m sure Bonzo will be happy to see you.”
Calling for the car, Robert watched the young woman make her way back to their bedroom. She didn’t bother closing the door as she stripped off the tee shirt she borrowed from him the previous night. Though his eyes watched as she dressed in one of her own shirts and hip hugging jeans, his attention was far more focused on the restrained emotion held in her actions. He knew his little girl was so torn up on the inside. He only hoped going to the Riot would help her in some fashion. Or else he would have to find some other way to move the world for her.
Sitting around a table on the roof of the Hyatt, Summer remained absolutely silent while she ate. Though Bonzo picked up on it, he left her be, figuring she would tell him when she was ready. However that certainly did not mean that he was going to leave Robert alone. Not ten minutes into their meal and the drummer once more dredged up the past. Within minutes they renewed the argument from their Band of Joy days: who owed who for petrol. Fifteen minutes into the argument, Summer pushed away from the table quietly and left the ballroom.
While it concerned Bonzo, Robert shook his head, “Leave her be, Bonzo.”
His bloodshot, brown eyes went to Robert, “What? You’re not even going to chase after her?”
“Cole’s gone. There’s no one to protect her from. And she has a lot on her mind,” he claimed. “Plus I can still see her out the window.”
“What happened to her last night? I’ve never seen our California girl so pale before.” he responded, turning in his seat to glance at her. “She’s not sick again, is she?”
“No. She just learned something last night,” Robert finished his tea. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
“Just like you’ll pay me back when you're ready?”
Leaning on the rail, Summer’s blue eyes looked out over the city. A soft breeze blew up from the bustling metro, lifting her wavy hair. Sighing she turned over the night’s new in her mind once more. It was true. She knew it the moment he uttered it. But that didn’t mean it sat well in her soul. She held nothing against Bob, never could. He probably would have been an amazing father had he the chance. It was all her mother’s fault – and Jerry’s. They were the ones in the wrong here. And oh how betrayed she felt. Everything she had been told was a lie. Everything.
“You know,” a gentle voice interrupted her thoughts, “if you look the other direction, you can see the ocean.”
Her unfocused eyes turned to her new companion, “Jimmy.”
His eyes quickly and astutely sized her up, “Princess, what haunts you?”
She quickly looked away, saying nothing.
Not about to give up, his fingers went to her chin, tilting her face to his, “Nothing should shade your sunshine. Let me take on your dark thoughts as my own and let go.”
Her eyes wavered before closing so that he could not look into her soul any more, “Jimmy, I... there’s nothing you can do.”
His fingers left her chin to caress her cheek, “Let me try, beautiful.”
Biting her bottom lip she pulled abruptly away, needing space between her and the guitarist. He would never understand. And there was nothing he could do either. There was nothing anyone could do to fix fifteen years of lies. Nothing at all.
His hand enfolded hers before she escaped out of his reach, “Is it the baby?”
“There is no baby.”
Pausing to contain his grin at that news, his face remained as passive as possible, “Is it Robert? I will personally talk to hi—”
“Robert and I are perfectly fine.”
“Princess,” he muttered, his hand squeezing hers, “unburden your soul to me. I cannot bear your melancholy.”
Her eyes opened and met his, “Bob Dylan is my father.”
He smirked, “No really.”
Summer snapped her hand free, the sad confusion in her eyes instantly turning to anger, “You want me to share how I feel and you scoff at news that has turned everything that I have been told all my life upside down? Fuck you, James Page. Fuck you.”
Before he could respond verbally, she turned and fled, heading towards the ballroom. With little hesitation, he hurried after her. His fingers circled her wrist, halting her flight and spinning her back to face him. Jimmy’s right hand went to her chin, tilting her face to his. Though unwise, he quickly kissed her.
“Forgive me,” he muttered softly. “Your declaration caught me off guard.”
Anger still flashed in her eyes, “Let me go, Jimmy.”
His fingers released her. Though she still wished to be away from him, Summer did not continue to leave. Instead she held his eyes, letting him see the myriad of emotions in her thoughts. Jimmy held her gaze as long as she did, noticing the door of the ballroom open in his peripheral vision; Robert and Bonzo stepping out. Briefly he wondered if the two had seen the kiss, part of him wishing it. But what truly mattered was how open and completely vulnerable the girl was in that moment.
“Sweetheart,” he spoke softly, “let us go sit and talk about this. Unburden your soul.”
“Summer?” Robert’s voice interjected.
Her eyes quickly went to singer. A moment later she darted into his arms. He smoothed her messy hair, holding her tightly, feeling her body tense in preparation for sobs.
“What did you do to her, Pagey?” Bonzo asked.
Hearing no indication in the drummer’s voice that he saw the kiss, Jimmy responded, “I was flippant in response to something Summer shared with me. For which I am ultimately sorry for.”
Kissing Summer’s forehead, Robert questioned, “Did you tell him about Bob?”
“Bob who?” Bonzo asked.
“Dylan,” Jimmy answered, knowing it would also answer Robert’s question. “Our dear Summer has a bigger musical connection than us.”
“Huh?”
Laying her cheek on Robert’s shoulder, Summer looked to the drummer, “Bob’s my father.”
“Oh shit,” Bonzo instantly responded. “Have you talked to your mum yet?”
For a moment Summer had no way to respond, not because she had no answer but because Bonzo seemed to instantly understand how she felt. How was it that the drummer knew but Jimmy who was supposedly more sensitive did not? Regardless she shook her head in response.
“Then we’ll go ring her right now,” he declared, taking her hand, leading her out of Robert’s embrace.
As they reached te elevator, Robert and Jimmy closely behind, John Paul stepped out. His eyes immediately brightened upon seeing Summer, his lips parting to speak. However he instantly picked up on the off vibe; his facial features shifting from pleased discovery to concern.
“Summer?” he muttered, stepping back into the elevator with the others.
“We’re going to call her mum,” Bonzo claimed.
“Because of the baby?”
“There is no baby,” the other three men said in unison.
“Then... are you okay, Summer?”
She shook her head, “Everything Adele has ever told me is a lie.”
Without asking, John Paul figured Adele was her mother. While he wanted to know what she meant by that and why it involved seemingly the entire band, he excused himself upon reaching their floor. He had a call he needed to make first: to cancel her appointment with the baby doctor. He would reschedule to get her back on birth control and then join the others to find out what Adele had done.
“I think,” Summer spoke as they reached Bonzo’s room, “I should do this alone.”
All three of the men stopped in the hallway. Bonzo threw open his door, motioning the blond inside. Eyes glancing at Jimmy, Summer squeeze Robert’s hand once more before releasing it and entering the room. Before Robert could trail after her – because alone couldn’t possibly mean without him – Bonzo pulled the door closed, folded his arms across his chest, and stared at the other two, daring them to tempt him.
“Bonzo, let me—”
“She said alone, mate,” he declared.
“But—”
“When she wants you, you’ll know.”
Accepting it, Jimmy headed down the hall to his own room. He had no reason at all to expect the girl to want him, even if his lips still tingled from their stolen, forbidden kiss. Robert was far more lucky than he likely knew.
“Bonzo, mate, just let me—”
“Nope,” he shook his head. “Go write songs with Pagey or something. Let her do this.”
“But—”
“No. Go on, Percy. Leave her be.”
Sighing and glaring at the drummer, Robert finally turned away. Though he really had no reason to spend time with Jimmy and certainly was in no mood to write songs, he found himself drawn to the guitarist’s room. Slipping in through the open door, he plucked a beer out of Jimmy’s fridge and plopped down in a chair. The two men drank silently, not even glancing at each other.
Still suspect of the guitarist’s intentions towards his girlfriend, Robert wasn’t entirely sure how to talk about... well anything. Feeling the tension from Robert, Jimmy remained silent himself, fretting perhaps Robert had seen the kiss. What would that mean to the band then? Did he fuck his band over because of no longer secret feeling for a girl who belonged to his singer? Was Robert about to—
“Bob fucking Dylan,” Robert muttered. “My girlfriend’s father is Bob Dylan.”
“Suppose this means you’ll call him Pops someday?” Jimmy remarked.
His blue eyes went to his band mate, “I don’t know. But it changes everything she thought she knew.”
Jimmy considered it for moment, “Suppose that would fuck with someone’s head. We’ll just have to make certain she knows we’ll never lie to her.”
A soft knock at Jimmy’s door interrupted their conversation of the girl. As the door was open, Benji did not wait to be invited in. Instead he grinned triumphantly, waving a sheet of paper in his hand.
“I got it!” he declared, sitting on the couch.
“Got what?” Jimmy asked, taking a deep drink of his beer.
“Summer birth certificate. And you’re not going to believe who is listed as her father,” he grinned.
Both men replied in unison, “Bob Dylan.”
The new manager blinked, “How... how did you know?”
“Summer found out from Bob herself last night,” Robert answered.
“Oh fuck. Is she okay?”
“That is the question of the hour,” he responded. “And she’s not pregnant.”
“Damn. Do I still need to get her into England then?”
Again both men answered simultaneously, “Yes.”
Seeing Bonzo standing defiantly in front of his door, arms folded across his chest, John Paul presumed the drummer was once more protecting the golden girl. He had never seen Bonzo so protective of anyone before, but it likely was not unneeded at all. And the drummer certainly had a special connection with the girl. They all did inexplicably. He had discussed her with some of his friends. While it might have been the excellent pot they were smoking, everyone seemed to agree that Summer was a good thing for the band, that she brought back the innocent hope and passion for the music and the band. And that needed to be protected. Perhaps that was his role – to protect Summer. But not in the way that Bonzo did. John Paul was there to protect her spirit. Yes, that was it. Therefore if anyone should be with her now, it was him.
“Don’t even think about it,” Bonzo declared as John Paul stopped just outside the door.
“Bonzo, it’s fine. I’m just going to—”
“Nope. No one goes in.”
John Paul sighed, “Do you really think she would be dealing with something as life changing as this alone? How would you feel if your mum wasn’t your mum?”
“I’m not letting anyone in,” he stated stubbornly.
“You’re being ridiculous, John. She needs someone. For God’s sake, just—”
“No.”
He sighed again, “If you won’t let me in, then at least go in yourself.”
His eyes widened at the thoughts. John Paul was right. Someone did need to be with her. But he wasn’t any good at that emotional stuff. He would just give her vodka to deal with the pain, that’s what he did himself.
Bonzo stepped aside.
Nodding John Paul opened the door and stepped in. Closing the door quietly he made his way over to the young woman. She sat on the edge of Bonzo’s bed, knees pulled to chest, toes curled over the edge. Chin resting on her knees, she stared intently at the phone. Wordlessly John Paul sat beside her, his weight making the bed sink, the action drawing her attention. Only then did he reach out to her.
Leaning towards him, Summer slipped into his embrace. For a few long moments they remained just like that. But then the phone rang and the girl instantly tensed. However she did not reach for it. John Paul did.
“Hello?... One moment please,” he placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “Summer?”
Taking a deep breath, she sat fully up and accepted the phone from him, meekly saying hello.
“Hello, darling. How are you liking LA? Muchly I expect since you didn’t come home with Quincy.”
Part of her wanted to seize the opportunity and ask why her not returning had not alarmed her mother. Part of her wanted to demand why she did not care that the fifteen year old was now shacking up with rock stars – even though it was unlikely she knew that. But something held back those demands; something about the tone in her mother’s voice. It was far too cheery, too fake, like she was trying to convince Summer of something.
And Summer would never trust her again.
“IsBobDylanmyfather?” she blurted out quickly.
Her question was met with long silence before Adele responded, “What makes you think that?”
“He makes me think that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I met Bob Dylan last night. And he says he’s my father,” she explained simply.
“Did you now? Were you smoking some of Quin—”
“Dammit, Mother. I wasn’t fucking high. I went to a fucking part with the fucking band I came here to see in concert two weeks ago. Joni Mitchell introduced me to Bob and he said—”
“Now, Summer, I know you have never believed Jerry was your father but this is a ridiculous dream. I will not—”
“You couldn’t have met my father at one of Bob’s concerts in Greenwich because he didn’t move there until I was nearly a year old!”
There was a brief pause, “Summer, I want you to come home right away. I’m going to send Quincy down to ge—”
“I am never fucking going back there. Never. My life has been a complete lie. You won’t even admit Bob is my father. You won’t admit you’re really from Minneapolis. Everything you have ever told me is a fucking lie. God I wish I was actually pregnant right now so I could tell you that you’ll never meet your grandchild,” she seethed. “But you know what? You will never know your grandchildren because I’m never speaking to you again!”
Before Adele could respond, Summer slammed the phone back down. For a long moment John Paul stared at the phone just like Summer was. Both expected Adele to call back. The phone remained silent.
The tears instantly welled up in her eyes as she turned to the bassist. He quickly enfolded her in his arms. The young girl’s tears quickly darkened his shirt. The only sound in Bonzo’s room was her sobs, the phone did not ring again.
“Why doesn’t she...?”
“I don’t know,” he responded softly.
“If your girls...”
“I would never even allowed them to come to the city alone. And should they not return when they were scheduled, nothing could stop me from finding them,” he responded. “I would kill Robert for stealing my babies.”
“Why doesn’t she...?”
“I don’t know. I have never met your mother. I cannot begin to interpret her actions.”
“She doesn’t love me.”
“Oh sweetheart,” he embraced her again. “I’m certain that’s not true.
“But, Jonesy, she lied to me all these years. She didn’t even worry when I didn’t come home from LA. She doesn’t care,” Summer claimed.
Pulling back, he looked into her tear-filled eyes, “Then it is her loss. You are an amazing young woman. Not only are you worthy of love, but you’re so easy to love. It is her loss.”
“But if my own mother doesn’t want me—”
“Robert does.”
Hanging up the phone that surprisingly hadn’t been torn out of the wall in Jimmy’s room, Benji turned to the two men, “Well okay. Looks like I need to go down to the office myself and fill out some paperwork. The issue though is her age. Her parents have to sign the paperwork.”
“In person?” Robert asked.
“I think so,” he responded.
“Robert can go and be her father. Then pay some random woman to—”
“That would be a felony, Jimmy. And mark my tenure and this band’s numbered,” Benji claimed. “I’ll just track down her mother. Bob’s in town so it shouldn’t be—”
“You can’t do that,” Jimmy declared. “That would never—”
“Robert?” Bonzo interrupted.
Jimmy instantly silenced, knowing full well that the girl’s guard clearly would have news in order to leave his post.
“You better come.”
Instantly getting to his feet, Robert hurried out of the room. So many thoughts coursed through his mind. He hadn’t any reason to think of anything in detail, but Bonzo coming for him meant Summer needed him. And that could not be good at all.
Practically kicking the door in as he pushed before turning the handle, Robert entered Bonzo’s hotel suite. His eyes instantly focused on the girl crying in John Paul’s arms. Barely muttering her name drew her eyes up to him. She slipped out of the bassist’s arms and barreled towards Robert. He instantly scooped her up in his arms, seeking to sit in a chair or on the bed while holding her.
Summer cried and incoherently babbled. Piecing together words, Robert attempted to figure out what happened. All he knew for certain was the girl kept repeating that she was unloved, unwanted. His eyes went to John Paul, hoping the bassist had some answers.
“We’re her family now, Percy,” John Paul answered. “Her mother is no longer one to be considered at all. We’re her family now.”
Slipping out of Bonzo’s room once Summer calmed down and then passed out in emotional exhaustion, Robert headed down the hallway silently. Concern for his girlfriend filled his thoughts. How could anyone, much less a mother, treat such a precious flower so poorly? Within a mere few weeks she had become the sun his world orbited. How could anyone not worship her? This would clearly take some time to recover from and he was going to do everything in his power to see the light in her eyes again.
As he passed Jimmy’s room, not really certain where he was heading, the guitarist called him in. Mechanically obeying Robert entered the room, accepting a high ball glass of something. Gulping it before he sat, he barely noticed Jimmy refill it. Certain the guitarist wanted to know Summer’s status, Robert searched for words to explain it.
“The light of her sunshine has been eclipsed by darkness.”
“Fuck,” Jimmy muttered. “What happened?”
“From what Jonesy heard, her mother would not own up to it and does not even care about Summer’s residence now,” he responded, downing the second drink as quickly. “Summer told her she never wants to talk to her again. Her mother... her mother seems to not want her at all.”
“Fuck,” he repeated. “What are we going to do?”
“Now she has... only us,” Robert stated. “We can’t ever let her down.”
“What about Bob?” a voice came from the door.
Glancing at John Paul, the singer replied, “She has his number. It’s her choice as to whether or not she reaches out to him.”
Nodding the bassist replied, “Of course it is. But now that he knows where she is, do you think he’ll just let go? Would you?”
“No. But we’ll respect her wishes no matter what Bob says.”
“He needs to sign off on her paperwork though,” Jimmy pointed out.
“Do you really think I’m going to as him or her mother now?”
“Is there any other option?”
“Have her legally declared as an adult,” John Paul suggested.
Both Jimmy’s and Robert’s attention snapped to him.
“Find Benji. That might be a viable solution,” Jimmy responded.
Robert got to his feet, “I’ll handle it. Watch over Summer.”
Waking in a dark room, it took Summer a few moments to realize where she was. Only a few more seconds passed before she remembered why. Squeezing Bonzo’s pillows tightly to her, she let a few tears trickle out. Her own mother didn’t care about her. Her own mother.
Deciding wallowing in the darkened room would do her no good, Summer rolled out of bed. Finding her purse on the dresser, she snatched it and stopped at the bathroom. Creaking the door to the hallway open enough to stick her head out a few minutes later, Summer was a bit surprised to find it mostly empty – kinda like the first night when she met Robert. Stepping into the hall, she tiptoed down the corridor, wondering where everyone was. As she neared Jimmy’s room, the sweet sound of him playing called to her.
Reaching his door, she noted it was mostly closed, but not latched. Her palm flattened on the door, carefully pushing it open. Jimmy looked up from where he sat playing, his dark eyes meeting hers. He smiled at the blond, inviting her in without words. Nodding she slipped fully in, closing the door behind her without thought.
Jimmy continued to play as she made her way to him. His eyes remained focused on her, watching the flickering candlelight of his room cast playful shadows across her face. He had always thought candlelight was the most flattering light – and magical, too. Seeing it dance across Summer as she sat on the bed next to him definitely proved that theory.
“Beautiful,” she muttered when his fingers finally stopped dancing across the strings.
Setting the guitar aside, Jimmy shifted closer to her, tucking hair behind her ear, “Yes. You are.”
Her cheeks flamed rouge, “No, I’m not. I’m a mess. My eyes are all puffy and red. And—”
“You’re beautiful, Summer,” he interrupted, his fingers tracing down the sides of her face. “You glow from within.”
“I do not,” she argued.
“Summer,” his thumb traced over her bottom lip, “why do you not believe you’re beautiful?”
“If I were beautiful, my mother—”
“Fuck your mother,” he quickly interjected. “Anything she says or thinks is unimportant. She is not even worthy of kissing your feet, princess.”
“But Jimmy, she’s all I have—”
“Had,” he claimed. “You have a hell of a lot more. A hell of a lot. You have Robert and Bonzo and Jonesy... and me. That alone is far more. And we’re never going to turn our backs on you.”
“But Jimmy—”
“We won’t,” he stressed. “Plus you have Bob. And I heard Joni likes you too.”
“I don’t have Bob. Just because he fathered me, doesn’t mean I have him,” she retorted.
“Do you have some way to contact him?”
“A phone number he gave me last night.”
“Call him,” Jimmy stated simply.
“But—”
“Call him, Summer.”
Eyes dropping to her fingers, she nodded slightly, “But Jimmy, what if he doesn’t want me either?”
“I don’t know Bob, but what I know of him, he’s damn smart. He would never do something as stupid as turn away from you,” he declared. “And if by some chance he is, you’ll still have us. You’ll always have us.”
“But—”
“Look at me, Summer,” he commanded.
Her eyes rose to his.
“You will always have me. I vow that to you right now. Always.”
“I... thank you, Jimmy.”
He touched her cheek again, “You are so beautiful, Summer. It takes my breath aw—”
His door abruptly opened, Robert bursting in, “Jimmy, have you – there you are, baby.”
Summer quickly got up and fled into Robert’s arms. As she buried her face on his shoulder he looked to Jimmy. Not really understanding it any more than Robert, the guitarist shrugged and reached for his guitar once more, intending to put it away.
“Will you play for me again?” she requested softly, turning her head so only her cheek pressed against Robert.
“As you wish, princess. As you wish.”
Though not ideal by any means, Robert left Summer sleeping once more. This time she had dozed off in Jimmy’s room. While he wanted to carry her down to a car and take her home, Jimmy argued there was no need to risk such, convincing Robert to lay the girl in his bed instead. The two men now sat on the roof, smoking and drinking silently.
“How did the quest with Benji fare?” Jimmy finally broke the silence.
“Not well. I had to call the lawyers in New York myself and they laughed at me. I finally just rang Ahmet and asked his thoughts. He thinks our only chance is for her mother to release her. Somehow I do not think going up to the farm and demanding Summer’s freedom would go well. I may feel compelled to slap the woman around.”
Jimmy smirked, flicking his cigarette off the roof, “Or at least wait until we’re done with shows here.”
Shrugging he replied, “I still don’t think it would go as we would like.”
“What about Bob?”
“I get the feeling he doesn’t like us much.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently the same night he met Summer, he told Peter too bugger off.”
Jimmy chuckled, “Bob is a smart man then.”
“I suppose. But I cannot imagine him being all right with us helping us free Summer,” he stated.
“We should talk to him. Convince him to seek sole custody of Summer and the give permission for her to stay with us,” Jimmy suggested.
“But—”
“First she needs to reach out to him though.”
“Fine but I still don’t think he’s going to just do that. Bob doesn’t like us,” Robert argued.
“Are you telling me you have never charmed a girl’s parents before?”
“Not fucking Bob Dylan!”
“Okay,” Jimmy smirked. “I understand that. We’ll take this one step at a time. First Summer needs to call him.”
Robert sighed, his eyes dropping to the untouched but burning cigarette, “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. I can’t imagine that she’ll be that receptive.”
“Then find the number yourself, ring him, and explain what happened. If Bob is half the man we think he is, he’ll step up and reach out to her again,” Jimmy suggested.
“All right,” he discarded his cigarette, turning his attention to his beer. “Whatever it takes for her to be happy.”
“I know. I feel the same way.”
Robert’s eyes darted to the guitarist, “Are you saying—”
“The girl is yours, I understand that. But you cannot deny she is oh so good for this band. That alone is reason to make her happy.”
He nodded, “She deserves to be.”
Half an hour later, Robert slipped into Jimmy’s room to check on Summer. Dozing peacefully on his bed, her golden hair spread upon the pillow like a fanciful halo, Summer’s lips twitched slightly as she dreamt. Watching her for a long moment, he hoped her dreams were happy. It would be a bonus if they were about him.
Remembering his task did not center around watching his angel sleep, Robert quickly looked around for her purse. Plucking the small leather pouch from the floor, he returned to the light of the hallway. Feeling a bit awkward rifling through her purse, Robert hesitated to open it. But if he were to call Bob, this was the simplest way to get the number. Opening the purse, his fingers reached in. Digging through tampons, a hair brush, a lighter, jumbled up jewelry she had not worn in days, he found a stack of papery objects. Figuring the phone number would be in there, Robert pulled that out fully. He flipped through small sheets of paper with scribbles on them, something he would have liked to read, discovering the four tickets that brought her to him. Behind those were worn photographs, their edges no longer crisp. Unable to resist, Robert looked at these carefully. Picture after picture depicted smiling faces, a few containing Summer with someone else, a few containing an older woman who bore strong resemblance to Summer.
Coming to what was likely a photo of the entire family, a small paper similar to a cigarette wrapper fell to the floor. However Robert’s attention focused on the image. Two older people, one he had already identified as her mother, and a man with long brown hair wearing the pendant Robert knew from Summer wearing, were surrounded by a number of boys and girls. Looking at the children, his eyes avoiding Summer for the time being, he truly saw no resemblance between his girlfriend and the others. They all had long, dark hair, and a spray of dark freckles on pudgy noses. Though the image was faded, Robert did not see a single pair of blue eyes among them, only hers. No wonder she never felt as if she belonged.
“Did you find it?” Jimmy’s voice interrupted.
“Huh?”
“The number.”
“Oh maybe,” he bent down and picked up the scrap he dropped. “Look at this, Pagey.”
Accepting the offered picture, his dark eyes glanced it over, “I see Summer but who are all these others?”
“Her family,” he answered, verifying the scrap in his fingers had a number. “At least I think so.”
“Shit. No wonder she always felt like an outsider,” he handed it back. “Better call Bob.”
“Yeah, he shoved the photos back into the purse. “Let me put this back first.”
With the purse returned from where he stole it, Robert glanced once more over the sleeping beauty. Satisfied she still slept as soundly, he slipped back out of the room and across the hall into another one where Jimmy and Bonzo sat drinking. Plopping down on the bed next to the phone, he took a couple of drinks of liquid courage. Somehow he didn’t think it enough to drum up the balls to call Bob Dylan. He needed something more, maybe a little snort of powder and—
“Just do it already,” Bonzo declared, tossing his empty bottle aside. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Nodding Robert picked up the phone, unfolded the slip of paper, and quickly dialed the number. His heart raced as the phone rang. What was he going to say to the folksinger? What could he say?”
“Hello?” a very recognizable voice greeted.
“Hi, Bob. It’s Robert Plant. We need to talk about your daughter.”
Rating: R [language, alcohol, drugs and non-sexual nudity]
Summary: The aftermath of learning who her real father is hits Summer very hard.
Turning over in bed, Robert reached for Summer, his fingers finding nothing but air, cold air. He bolted up, panic filling his entire soul. While he hadn’t any reason to suspect otherwise, he had a feeling that wherever Summer might be, it could be dangerous, if not to her than to their relationship. He understood the night before led her to question everything about herself, but that didn’t mean she had to question their relationship, she didn’t have to run away, she didn’t have to... where was she? Throwing the light blanket aside, he stumbled out of the bed. First Robert checked the bathroom, but did not find so much as a trace of her. He threw open the bedroom door and stumbled down towards the kitchen, passing through the small living room.
As his bare feet slapped on the tiled floor, Summer looked up from the table where she sat before a sheet of paper, confusion in her eyes, “Robert?”
He squatted in front of her, taking her hands and kissing them quickly, “I woke and you were gone. I... I...”
Pulling her hands free, she surrounded his face and dipped down to kiss his mouth, “You’re silly, Robert. Where would I go? You are the only thing I know is true, for certain. Why would I leave you?”
“I... I don’t know. I guess I just ... panicked waking up alone,” he admitted.
“Silly,” she kissed him again. “But I’m glad you’re up. I’m getting hungry and there’s like nothing to eat here.”
Robert slowly stood, “So should we go get some breakfast then?”
“Can we... can we just go to the Riot?”
“Of course, sweetie,” he kissed her forehead. “We’ll get dressed and head to the Riot. I’m sure Bonzo will be happy to see you.”
Calling for the car, Robert watched the young woman make her way back to their bedroom. She didn’t bother closing the door as she stripped off the tee shirt she borrowed from him the previous night. Though his eyes watched as she dressed in one of her own shirts and hip hugging jeans, his attention was far more focused on the restrained emotion held in her actions. He knew his little girl was so torn up on the inside. He only hoped going to the Riot would help her in some fashion. Or else he would have to find some other way to move the world for her.
Sitting around a table on the roof of the Hyatt, Summer remained absolutely silent while she ate. Though Bonzo picked up on it, he left her be, figuring she would tell him when she was ready. However that certainly did not mean that he was going to leave Robert alone. Not ten minutes into their meal and the drummer once more dredged up the past. Within minutes they renewed the argument from their Band of Joy days: who owed who for petrol. Fifteen minutes into the argument, Summer pushed away from the table quietly and left the ballroom.
While it concerned Bonzo, Robert shook his head, “Leave her be, Bonzo.”
His bloodshot, brown eyes went to Robert, “What? You’re not even going to chase after her?”
“Cole’s gone. There’s no one to protect her from. And she has a lot on her mind,” he claimed. “Plus I can still see her out the window.”
“What happened to her last night? I’ve never seen our California girl so pale before.” he responded, turning in his seat to glance at her. “She’s not sick again, is she?”
“No. She just learned something last night,” Robert finished his tea. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”
“Just like you’ll pay me back when you're ready?”
Leaning on the rail, Summer’s blue eyes looked out over the city. A soft breeze blew up from the bustling metro, lifting her wavy hair. Sighing she turned over the night’s new in her mind once more. It was true. She knew it the moment he uttered it. But that didn’t mean it sat well in her soul. She held nothing against Bob, never could. He probably would have been an amazing father had he the chance. It was all her mother’s fault – and Jerry’s. They were the ones in the wrong here. And oh how betrayed she felt. Everything she had been told was a lie. Everything.
“You know,” a gentle voice interrupted her thoughts, “if you look the other direction, you can see the ocean.”
Her unfocused eyes turned to her new companion, “Jimmy.”
His eyes quickly and astutely sized her up, “Princess, what haunts you?”
She quickly looked away, saying nothing.
Not about to give up, his fingers went to her chin, tilting her face to his, “Nothing should shade your sunshine. Let me take on your dark thoughts as my own and let go.”
Her eyes wavered before closing so that he could not look into her soul any more, “Jimmy, I... there’s nothing you can do.”
His fingers left her chin to caress her cheek, “Let me try, beautiful.”
Biting her bottom lip she pulled abruptly away, needing space between her and the guitarist. He would never understand. And there was nothing he could do either. There was nothing anyone could do to fix fifteen years of lies. Nothing at all.
His hand enfolded hers before she escaped out of his reach, “Is it the baby?”
“There is no baby.”
Pausing to contain his grin at that news, his face remained as passive as possible, “Is it Robert? I will personally talk to hi—”
“Robert and I are perfectly fine.”
“Princess,” he muttered, his hand squeezing hers, “unburden your soul to me. I cannot bear your melancholy.”
Her eyes opened and met his, “Bob Dylan is my father.”
He smirked, “No really.”
Summer snapped her hand free, the sad confusion in her eyes instantly turning to anger, “You want me to share how I feel and you scoff at news that has turned everything that I have been told all my life upside down? Fuck you, James Page. Fuck you.”
Before he could respond verbally, she turned and fled, heading towards the ballroom. With little hesitation, he hurried after her. His fingers circled her wrist, halting her flight and spinning her back to face him. Jimmy’s right hand went to her chin, tilting her face to his. Though unwise, he quickly kissed her.
“Forgive me,” he muttered softly. “Your declaration caught me off guard.”
Anger still flashed in her eyes, “Let me go, Jimmy.”
His fingers released her. Though she still wished to be away from him, Summer did not continue to leave. Instead she held his eyes, letting him see the myriad of emotions in her thoughts. Jimmy held her gaze as long as she did, noticing the door of the ballroom open in his peripheral vision; Robert and Bonzo stepping out. Briefly he wondered if the two had seen the kiss, part of him wishing it. But what truly mattered was how open and completely vulnerable the girl was in that moment.
“Sweetheart,” he spoke softly, “let us go sit and talk about this. Unburden your soul.”
“Summer?” Robert’s voice interjected.
Her eyes quickly went to singer. A moment later she darted into his arms. He smoothed her messy hair, holding her tightly, feeling her body tense in preparation for sobs.
“What did you do to her, Pagey?” Bonzo asked.
Hearing no indication in the drummer’s voice that he saw the kiss, Jimmy responded, “I was flippant in response to something Summer shared with me. For which I am ultimately sorry for.”
Kissing Summer’s forehead, Robert questioned, “Did you tell him about Bob?”
“Bob who?” Bonzo asked.
“Dylan,” Jimmy answered, knowing it would also answer Robert’s question. “Our dear Summer has a bigger musical connection than us.”
“Huh?”
Laying her cheek on Robert’s shoulder, Summer looked to the drummer, “Bob’s my father.”
“Oh shit,” Bonzo instantly responded. “Have you talked to your mum yet?”
For a moment Summer had no way to respond, not because she had no answer but because Bonzo seemed to instantly understand how she felt. How was it that the drummer knew but Jimmy who was supposedly more sensitive did not? Regardless she shook her head in response.
“Then we’ll go ring her right now,” he declared, taking her hand, leading her out of Robert’s embrace.
As they reached te elevator, Robert and Jimmy closely behind, John Paul stepped out. His eyes immediately brightened upon seeing Summer, his lips parting to speak. However he instantly picked up on the off vibe; his facial features shifting from pleased discovery to concern.
“Summer?” he muttered, stepping back into the elevator with the others.
“We’re going to call her mum,” Bonzo claimed.
“Because of the baby?”
“There is no baby,” the other three men said in unison.
“Then... are you okay, Summer?”
She shook her head, “Everything Adele has ever told me is a lie.”
Without asking, John Paul figured Adele was her mother. While he wanted to know what she meant by that and why it involved seemingly the entire band, he excused himself upon reaching their floor. He had a call he needed to make first: to cancel her appointment with the baby doctor. He would reschedule to get her back on birth control and then join the others to find out what Adele had done.
“I think,” Summer spoke as they reached Bonzo’s room, “I should do this alone.”
All three of the men stopped in the hallway. Bonzo threw open his door, motioning the blond inside. Eyes glancing at Jimmy, Summer squeeze Robert’s hand once more before releasing it and entering the room. Before Robert could trail after her – because alone couldn’t possibly mean without him – Bonzo pulled the door closed, folded his arms across his chest, and stared at the other two, daring them to tempt him.
“Bonzo, let me—”
“She said alone, mate,” he declared.
“But—”
“When she wants you, you’ll know.”
Accepting it, Jimmy headed down the hall to his own room. He had no reason at all to expect the girl to want him, even if his lips still tingled from their stolen, forbidden kiss. Robert was far more lucky than he likely knew.
“Bonzo, mate, just let me—”
“Nope,” he shook his head. “Go write songs with Pagey or something. Let her do this.”
“But—”
“No. Go on, Percy. Leave her be.”
Sighing and glaring at the drummer, Robert finally turned away. Though he really had no reason to spend time with Jimmy and certainly was in no mood to write songs, he found himself drawn to the guitarist’s room. Slipping in through the open door, he plucked a beer out of Jimmy’s fridge and plopped down in a chair. The two men drank silently, not even glancing at each other.
Still suspect of the guitarist’s intentions towards his girlfriend, Robert wasn’t entirely sure how to talk about... well anything. Feeling the tension from Robert, Jimmy remained silent himself, fretting perhaps Robert had seen the kiss. What would that mean to the band then? Did he fuck his band over because of no longer secret feeling for a girl who belonged to his singer? Was Robert about to—
“Bob fucking Dylan,” Robert muttered. “My girlfriend’s father is Bob Dylan.”
“Suppose this means you’ll call him Pops someday?” Jimmy remarked.
His blue eyes went to his band mate, “I don’t know. But it changes everything she thought she knew.”
Jimmy considered it for moment, “Suppose that would fuck with someone’s head. We’ll just have to make certain she knows we’ll never lie to her.”
A soft knock at Jimmy’s door interrupted their conversation of the girl. As the door was open, Benji did not wait to be invited in. Instead he grinned triumphantly, waving a sheet of paper in his hand.
“I got it!” he declared, sitting on the couch.
“Got what?” Jimmy asked, taking a deep drink of his beer.
“Summer birth certificate. And you’re not going to believe who is listed as her father,” he grinned.
Both men replied in unison, “Bob Dylan.”
The new manager blinked, “How... how did you know?”
“Summer found out from Bob herself last night,” Robert answered.
“Oh fuck. Is she okay?”
“That is the question of the hour,” he responded. “And she’s not pregnant.”
“Damn. Do I still need to get her into England then?”
Again both men answered simultaneously, “Yes.”
Seeing Bonzo standing defiantly in front of his door, arms folded across his chest, John Paul presumed the drummer was once more protecting the golden girl. He had never seen Bonzo so protective of anyone before, but it likely was not unneeded at all. And the drummer certainly had a special connection with the girl. They all did inexplicably. He had discussed her with some of his friends. While it might have been the excellent pot they were smoking, everyone seemed to agree that Summer was a good thing for the band, that she brought back the innocent hope and passion for the music and the band. And that needed to be protected. Perhaps that was his role – to protect Summer. But not in the way that Bonzo did. John Paul was there to protect her spirit. Yes, that was it. Therefore if anyone should be with her now, it was him.
“Don’t even think about it,” Bonzo declared as John Paul stopped just outside the door.
“Bonzo, it’s fine. I’m just going to—”
“Nope. No one goes in.”
John Paul sighed, “Do you really think she would be dealing with something as life changing as this alone? How would you feel if your mum wasn’t your mum?”
“I’m not letting anyone in,” he stated stubbornly.
“You’re being ridiculous, John. She needs someone. For God’s sake, just—”
“No.”
He sighed again, “If you won’t let me in, then at least go in yourself.”
His eyes widened at the thoughts. John Paul was right. Someone did need to be with her. But he wasn’t any good at that emotional stuff. He would just give her vodka to deal with the pain, that’s what he did himself.
Bonzo stepped aside.
Nodding John Paul opened the door and stepped in. Closing the door quietly he made his way over to the young woman. She sat on the edge of Bonzo’s bed, knees pulled to chest, toes curled over the edge. Chin resting on her knees, she stared intently at the phone. Wordlessly John Paul sat beside her, his weight making the bed sink, the action drawing her attention. Only then did he reach out to her.
Leaning towards him, Summer slipped into his embrace. For a few long moments they remained just like that. But then the phone rang and the girl instantly tensed. However she did not reach for it. John Paul did.
“Hello?... One moment please,” he placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “Summer?”
Taking a deep breath, she sat fully up and accepted the phone from him, meekly saying hello.
“Hello, darling. How are you liking LA? Muchly I expect since you didn’t come home with Quincy.”
Part of her wanted to seize the opportunity and ask why her not returning had not alarmed her mother. Part of her wanted to demand why she did not care that the fifteen year old was now shacking up with rock stars – even though it was unlikely she knew that. But something held back those demands; something about the tone in her mother’s voice. It was far too cheery, too fake, like she was trying to convince Summer of something.
And Summer would never trust her again.
“IsBobDylanmyfather?” she blurted out quickly.
Her question was met with long silence before Adele responded, “What makes you think that?”
“He makes me think that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I met Bob Dylan last night. And he says he’s my father,” she explained simply.
“Did you now? Were you smoking some of Quin—”
“Dammit, Mother. I wasn’t fucking high. I went to a fucking part with the fucking band I came here to see in concert two weeks ago. Joni Mitchell introduced me to Bob and he said—”
“Now, Summer, I know you have never believed Jerry was your father but this is a ridiculous dream. I will not—”
“You couldn’t have met my father at one of Bob’s concerts in Greenwich because he didn’t move there until I was nearly a year old!”
There was a brief pause, “Summer, I want you to come home right away. I’m going to send Quincy down to ge—”
“I am never fucking going back there. Never. My life has been a complete lie. You won’t even admit Bob is my father. You won’t admit you’re really from Minneapolis. Everything you have ever told me is a fucking lie. God I wish I was actually pregnant right now so I could tell you that you’ll never meet your grandchild,” she seethed. “But you know what? You will never know your grandchildren because I’m never speaking to you again!”
Before Adele could respond, Summer slammed the phone back down. For a long moment John Paul stared at the phone just like Summer was. Both expected Adele to call back. The phone remained silent.
The tears instantly welled up in her eyes as she turned to the bassist. He quickly enfolded her in his arms. The young girl’s tears quickly darkened his shirt. The only sound in Bonzo’s room was her sobs, the phone did not ring again.
“Why doesn’t she...?”
“I don’t know,” he responded softly.
“If your girls...”
“I would never even allowed them to come to the city alone. And should they not return when they were scheduled, nothing could stop me from finding them,” he responded. “I would kill Robert for stealing my babies.”
“Why doesn’t she...?”
“I don’t know. I have never met your mother. I cannot begin to interpret her actions.”
“She doesn’t love me.”
“Oh sweetheart,” he embraced her again. “I’m certain that’s not true.
“But, Jonesy, she lied to me all these years. She didn’t even worry when I didn’t come home from LA. She doesn’t care,” Summer claimed.
Pulling back, he looked into her tear-filled eyes, “Then it is her loss. You are an amazing young woman. Not only are you worthy of love, but you’re so easy to love. It is her loss.”
“But if my own mother doesn’t want me—”
“Robert does.”
Hanging up the phone that surprisingly hadn’t been torn out of the wall in Jimmy’s room, Benji turned to the two men, “Well okay. Looks like I need to go down to the office myself and fill out some paperwork. The issue though is her age. Her parents have to sign the paperwork.”
“In person?” Robert asked.
“I think so,” he responded.
“Robert can go and be her father. Then pay some random woman to—”
“That would be a felony, Jimmy. And mark my tenure and this band’s numbered,” Benji claimed. “I’ll just track down her mother. Bob’s in town so it shouldn’t be—”
“You can’t do that,” Jimmy declared. “That would never—”
“Robert?” Bonzo interrupted.
Jimmy instantly silenced, knowing full well that the girl’s guard clearly would have news in order to leave his post.
“You better come.”
Instantly getting to his feet, Robert hurried out of the room. So many thoughts coursed through his mind. He hadn’t any reason to think of anything in detail, but Bonzo coming for him meant Summer needed him. And that could not be good at all.
Practically kicking the door in as he pushed before turning the handle, Robert entered Bonzo’s hotel suite. His eyes instantly focused on the girl crying in John Paul’s arms. Barely muttering her name drew her eyes up to him. She slipped out of the bassist’s arms and barreled towards Robert. He instantly scooped her up in his arms, seeking to sit in a chair or on the bed while holding her.
Summer cried and incoherently babbled. Piecing together words, Robert attempted to figure out what happened. All he knew for certain was the girl kept repeating that she was unloved, unwanted. His eyes went to John Paul, hoping the bassist had some answers.
“We’re her family now, Percy,” John Paul answered. “Her mother is no longer one to be considered at all. We’re her family now.”
Slipping out of Bonzo’s room once Summer calmed down and then passed out in emotional exhaustion, Robert headed down the hallway silently. Concern for his girlfriend filled his thoughts. How could anyone, much less a mother, treat such a precious flower so poorly? Within a mere few weeks she had become the sun his world orbited. How could anyone not worship her? This would clearly take some time to recover from and he was going to do everything in his power to see the light in her eyes again.
As he passed Jimmy’s room, not really certain where he was heading, the guitarist called him in. Mechanically obeying Robert entered the room, accepting a high ball glass of something. Gulping it before he sat, he barely noticed Jimmy refill it. Certain the guitarist wanted to know Summer’s status, Robert searched for words to explain it.
“The light of her sunshine has been eclipsed by darkness.”
“Fuck,” Jimmy muttered. “What happened?”
“From what Jonesy heard, her mother would not own up to it and does not even care about Summer’s residence now,” he responded, downing the second drink as quickly. “Summer told her she never wants to talk to her again. Her mother... her mother seems to not want her at all.”
“Fuck,” he repeated. “What are we going to do?”
“Now she has... only us,” Robert stated. “We can’t ever let her down.”
“What about Bob?” a voice came from the door.
Glancing at John Paul, the singer replied, “She has his number. It’s her choice as to whether or not she reaches out to him.”
Nodding the bassist replied, “Of course it is. But now that he knows where she is, do you think he’ll just let go? Would you?”
“No. But we’ll respect her wishes no matter what Bob says.”
“He needs to sign off on her paperwork though,” Jimmy pointed out.
“Do you really think I’m going to as him or her mother now?”
“Is there any other option?”
“Have her legally declared as an adult,” John Paul suggested.
Both Jimmy’s and Robert’s attention snapped to him.
“Find Benji. That might be a viable solution,” Jimmy responded.
Robert got to his feet, “I’ll handle it. Watch over Summer.”
Waking in a dark room, it took Summer a few moments to realize where she was. Only a few more seconds passed before she remembered why. Squeezing Bonzo’s pillows tightly to her, she let a few tears trickle out. Her own mother didn’t care about her. Her own mother.
Deciding wallowing in the darkened room would do her no good, Summer rolled out of bed. Finding her purse on the dresser, she snatched it and stopped at the bathroom. Creaking the door to the hallway open enough to stick her head out a few minutes later, Summer was a bit surprised to find it mostly empty – kinda like the first night when she met Robert. Stepping into the hall, she tiptoed down the corridor, wondering where everyone was. As she neared Jimmy’s room, the sweet sound of him playing called to her.
Reaching his door, she noted it was mostly closed, but not latched. Her palm flattened on the door, carefully pushing it open. Jimmy looked up from where he sat playing, his dark eyes meeting hers. He smiled at the blond, inviting her in without words. Nodding she slipped fully in, closing the door behind her without thought.
Jimmy continued to play as she made her way to him. His eyes remained focused on her, watching the flickering candlelight of his room cast playful shadows across her face. He had always thought candlelight was the most flattering light – and magical, too. Seeing it dance across Summer as she sat on the bed next to him definitely proved that theory.
“Beautiful,” she muttered when his fingers finally stopped dancing across the strings.
Setting the guitar aside, Jimmy shifted closer to her, tucking hair behind her ear, “Yes. You are.”
Her cheeks flamed rouge, “No, I’m not. I’m a mess. My eyes are all puffy and red. And—”
“You’re beautiful, Summer,” he interrupted, his fingers tracing down the sides of her face. “You glow from within.”
“I do not,” she argued.
“Summer,” his thumb traced over her bottom lip, “why do you not believe you’re beautiful?”
“If I were beautiful, my mother—”
“Fuck your mother,” he quickly interjected. “Anything she says or thinks is unimportant. She is not even worthy of kissing your feet, princess.”
“But Jimmy, she’s all I have—”
“Had,” he claimed. “You have a hell of a lot more. A hell of a lot. You have Robert and Bonzo and Jonesy... and me. That alone is far more. And we’re never going to turn our backs on you.”
“But Jimmy—”
“We won’t,” he stressed. “Plus you have Bob. And I heard Joni likes you too.”
“I don’t have Bob. Just because he fathered me, doesn’t mean I have him,” she retorted.
“Do you have some way to contact him?”
“A phone number he gave me last night.”
“Call him,” Jimmy stated simply.
“But—”
“Call him, Summer.”
Eyes dropping to her fingers, she nodded slightly, “But Jimmy, what if he doesn’t want me either?”
“I don’t know Bob, but what I know of him, he’s damn smart. He would never do something as stupid as turn away from you,” he declared. “And if by some chance he is, you’ll still have us. You’ll always have us.”
“But—”
“Look at me, Summer,” he commanded.
Her eyes rose to his.
“You will always have me. I vow that to you right now. Always.”
“I... thank you, Jimmy.”
He touched her cheek again, “You are so beautiful, Summer. It takes my breath aw—”
His door abruptly opened, Robert bursting in, “Jimmy, have you – there you are, baby.”
Summer quickly got up and fled into Robert’s arms. As she buried her face on his shoulder he looked to Jimmy. Not really understanding it any more than Robert, the guitarist shrugged and reached for his guitar once more, intending to put it away.
“Will you play for me again?” she requested softly, turning her head so only her cheek pressed against Robert.
“As you wish, princess. As you wish.”
Though not ideal by any means, Robert left Summer sleeping once more. This time she had dozed off in Jimmy’s room. While he wanted to carry her down to a car and take her home, Jimmy argued there was no need to risk such, convincing Robert to lay the girl in his bed instead. The two men now sat on the roof, smoking and drinking silently.
“How did the quest with Benji fare?” Jimmy finally broke the silence.
“Not well. I had to call the lawyers in New York myself and they laughed at me. I finally just rang Ahmet and asked his thoughts. He thinks our only chance is for her mother to release her. Somehow I do not think going up to the farm and demanding Summer’s freedom would go well. I may feel compelled to slap the woman around.”
Jimmy smirked, flicking his cigarette off the roof, “Or at least wait until we’re done with shows here.”
Shrugging he replied, “I still don’t think it would go as we would like.”
“What about Bob?”
“I get the feeling he doesn’t like us much.”
“Oh?”
“Apparently the same night he met Summer, he told Peter too bugger off.”
Jimmy chuckled, “Bob is a smart man then.”
“I suppose. But I cannot imagine him being all right with us helping us free Summer,” he stated.
“We should talk to him. Convince him to seek sole custody of Summer and the give permission for her to stay with us,” Jimmy suggested.
“But—”
“First she needs to reach out to him though.”
“Fine but I still don’t think he’s going to just do that. Bob doesn’t like us,” Robert argued.
“Are you telling me you have never charmed a girl’s parents before?”
“Not fucking Bob Dylan!”
“Okay,” Jimmy smirked. “I understand that. We’ll take this one step at a time. First Summer needs to call him.”
Robert sighed, his eyes dropping to the untouched but burning cigarette, “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. I can’t imagine that she’ll be that receptive.”
“Then find the number yourself, ring him, and explain what happened. If Bob is half the man we think he is, he’ll step up and reach out to her again,” Jimmy suggested.
“All right,” he discarded his cigarette, turning his attention to his beer. “Whatever it takes for her to be happy.”
“I know. I feel the same way.”
Robert’s eyes darted to the guitarist, “Are you saying—”
“The girl is yours, I understand that. But you cannot deny she is oh so good for this band. That alone is reason to make her happy.”
He nodded, “She deserves to be.”
Half an hour later, Robert slipped into Jimmy’s room to check on Summer. Dozing peacefully on his bed, her golden hair spread upon the pillow like a fanciful halo, Summer’s lips twitched slightly as she dreamt. Watching her for a long moment, he hoped her dreams were happy. It would be a bonus if they were about him.
Remembering his task did not center around watching his angel sleep, Robert quickly looked around for her purse. Plucking the small leather pouch from the floor, he returned to the light of the hallway. Feeling a bit awkward rifling through her purse, Robert hesitated to open it. But if he were to call Bob, this was the simplest way to get the number. Opening the purse, his fingers reached in. Digging through tampons, a hair brush, a lighter, jumbled up jewelry she had not worn in days, he found a stack of papery objects. Figuring the phone number would be in there, Robert pulled that out fully. He flipped through small sheets of paper with scribbles on them, something he would have liked to read, discovering the four tickets that brought her to him. Behind those were worn photographs, their edges no longer crisp. Unable to resist, Robert looked at these carefully. Picture after picture depicted smiling faces, a few containing Summer with someone else, a few containing an older woman who bore strong resemblance to Summer.
Coming to what was likely a photo of the entire family, a small paper similar to a cigarette wrapper fell to the floor. However Robert’s attention focused on the image. Two older people, one he had already identified as her mother, and a man with long brown hair wearing the pendant Robert knew from Summer wearing, were surrounded by a number of boys and girls. Looking at the children, his eyes avoiding Summer for the time being, he truly saw no resemblance between his girlfriend and the others. They all had long, dark hair, and a spray of dark freckles on pudgy noses. Though the image was faded, Robert did not see a single pair of blue eyes among them, only hers. No wonder she never felt as if she belonged.
“Did you find it?” Jimmy’s voice interrupted.
“Huh?”
“The number.”
“Oh maybe,” he bent down and picked up the scrap he dropped. “Look at this, Pagey.”
Accepting the offered picture, his dark eyes glanced it over, “I see Summer but who are all these others?”
“Her family,” he answered, verifying the scrap in his fingers had a number. “At least I think so.”
“Shit. No wonder she always felt like an outsider,” he handed it back. “Better call Bob.”
“Yeah, he shoved the photos back into the purse. “Let me put this back first.”
With the purse returned from where he stole it, Robert glanced once more over the sleeping beauty. Satisfied she still slept as soundly, he slipped back out of the room and across the hall into another one where Jimmy and Bonzo sat drinking. Plopping down on the bed next to the phone, he took a couple of drinks of liquid courage. Somehow he didn’t think it enough to drum up the balls to call Bob Dylan. He needed something more, maybe a little snort of powder and—
“Just do it already,” Bonzo declared, tossing his empty bottle aside. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Nodding Robert picked up the phone, unfolded the slip of paper, and quickly dialed the number. His heart raced as the phone rang. What was he going to say to the folksinger? What could he say?”
“Hello?” a very recognizable voice greeted.
“Hi, Bob. It’s Robert Plant. We need to talk about your daughter.”
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