Title: Midnight Shift: Chapter One, Flowers in Her Hair
Rating: R [language, alcohol and drug use, sexual situations]

Summary: Summer Davis begins the journey of a lifetime. Robert Plant just wants to be left alone.


 
The day had nearly dawned, but she was long out of bed. It would not take long to get from her home outside San Francisco down to San Diego; perhaps eight hours. But she needed to be there early, very early, for her plans to go through. And so Summer rose hours before dawn to complete all of her chores and then some around the commune. She kissed her mother good bye and poked her head into the smoking teepee where her father sat with a number of other men smoking early morning pipes. With his luck wished and his lucky talisman necklace tossed in her direction, she trotted over to the VW van, a vehicle she had helped paint the week before as part of the exchange for the ride to San Diego. Tossing her simple hand-sewn bag into the back. The sun was just barely beginning to filter through the large leafy trees and her nerves were rising with each passing moment. Where was he?

Giving up waiting and the associated feelings, Summer turned and headed in search of her driver. Checking his regular haunts, she frowned, finding him no where. He could not ruin this for her, he simply could not.

“Mom?” she entered the kitchen where a handful of women bustled about making breakfast for everyone.

“What’s up, buttercup?” a woman with dark cinnamon hair looked up from inspecting the basket of eggs.

“Have you seen Quincy? We’re supposed to be leaving right now,” she declared with a pout.

“I haven’t seen him this morning yet. Did you ask your dad?”

“Is Jerry really my dad?” she countered.

The older woman smiled, “We’ve discussed this a number of times. Of course Jerry is your dad. We were monogamous for the first year we were together.”

“Fine,” Summer replied and turned to continue her search. “If you see Quincy, remind him how important this is to me!”

Two steps out of the building a high-pitched honk echoed through the morning dew. With a slight skip in her steps, Summer hurried over to the van. Pulling her bleached blond hair back with a leather strap, her deep blue eyes met the young man’s behind the steering wheel. His dark eyes quickly appraised her sylph-like form, a lupine smile gracing his own features as she trotted around in front of the van.

“You’re late,” he declared as she pulled the door closed as she shifted on the seat.

“I’m late!? You’re the late one! I’ve been up since—”

“Chill, Summer, chill,” he started the car. “There’s something for you in the glove compartment.”

“Really?” she chirped.

“Think of it as an early birthday present,” Quincy declared as the van rumbled down the dirt path towards a major highway.

Shaking the door until it opened, her eyes quickly shifted through the paper items, looking for something that looked out of place. A small leather purse, something she had never seen before, sat to the side of the papers, almost as if it had been tossed inside quickly. Figuring that was what he meant, her fingers reached in and pulled it out.

“Wow, Quince. Did you make this?”

“I did,” he responded, glancing sideways at her before gunning the van onto the pavement. “And I grew what’s inside.”

Untying the strap, she flipped up the envelope-like top and peered in. She could tell from the slight aroma picked up from the open window’s breeze exactly what he had grown for her. A grin danced across her face.

“Quince, you shouldn’t have,” she proclaimed, tying the purse close once more.

“Well I figured if your hare-brained idea actually works, you should at least have some good shit with you. Rock stars don’t smoke just anything,” he proclaimed. “How did you convince your parents to let you do this anyways?”

Summer stared blankly at him before bursting out laughing a moment later when he did as well. Both knew that no convincing had taken place at all. In fact Summer couldn’t even remember a single conversation about the entire trip. They had merely asked her what she wanted for her birthday and her reply had been simple: to attend all of the Led Zeppelin concerts in California. Being how neither worked, money was not a simple thing to get by and most people would not trade services for tickets. However her mother had sold a number of her handmade pots and her father had sold some of his homegrown pot and managed to purchase four tickets to Summer’s beloved concerts. Getting there and back was completely up to Summer as was where she would stay. But they knew and trusted their daughter well, had absolutely no qualms to her striking out on her own, despite the fact she was just about to turn fifteen.

They rumbled down the road for a bit before Summer began to get antsy once more. It was a long enough journey that she was certain she would wear herself out if she kept this up. She needed to calm down, to mediate, or.... maybe to smoke. Quincy glanced over at her as she reached for the glove compartment again and rattled it open. Leaving the leather pouch on her seat, she climbed into the back of van. Crawling over the mattress, Summer dug around in the storage baskets, clearly looking for something. With a squeal in delight for finding what she sought, Summer headed back to her seat.

Pulling her legs up underneath her, making a canopy out of the billowy peasant blouse she wore over her hip-hugging jeans, Summer retrieved the small leather pouch and dug out the smaller pouch of marijuana. Digging a pinch out, she stuffed it into the bowl of the found pipe and tucked away both pouches. Tapping it down, she reached across to Quincy, removing the lighter from the pocket in his fringed leather vest. Their eyes met briefly before she lit the lighter and took a deep toke of the pipe. Rather than inhale properly, she held the smoke in her mouth, waiting for Quincy to come to a stop. As luck would have it, they were nearly to the intersection that would take them to the entrance of the interstate. He paused and she quickly kissed him, exhaling her hit into his mouth. He grinned as she returned to her seat and lit up another hit. It was going to be a great journey. He did not regret taking his little flower from the flower patch at all.



Laying on his side in the back of The Starship, Robert tried to breathe deeply. The band had kept their distance from him, since canceling the previous night’s show due to his having the flu. He had played through a couple of shows before the West Palm Beach show they scratched, but really did not think he could manage one more. Two nights off should be enough to get him back on his feet, especially if everyone was going to just leave him be. That alone was rather remarkable. Even Jimmy had not slunk back to the single bed in the jetliner with one of the stewardesses to push Robert aside. Of course, they had all fucked around each other before; Jimmy would probably just nudge him to one side of the bed and go at it. But he hadn’t. No one had come to check on him at all. Perhaps he had died? If that was the case, death fucking sucked. No girl around, nothing to wet any of his appetites. He would rather not die.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Richard Cole, their tour manager, entered the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. With a groan Robert rolled away, wanting nothing to do with any remedy the guy may have. But true to form he was poked in the back after a few minutes of ignoring Cole with a proposition for a couple of lines and a couple of girls. Neither were at all that seductive in his current state.

“Go away,” Robert declared.

“Come on, Robbie. Come play with us,” he whined.

Turning over far too quickly for his current state, he slapped the tour manager’s hand away, “I told you to never call me that. And I feel like shit. I am not going to come and fucking play with you.”

“But the girls know how to make you fee—”

“Leave him alone, Cole,” a voice came from entrance to the bedroom.

“I’m just trying to help, Jimmy,” the man responded but stood and left.

“Thanks,” Robert muttered, covering his eyes with his arm.

“No problem,” the dark man replied. “You feeling any better?”

“Maybe if everyone would leave me the fuck alone so I could sleep I would,” he growled.

Jimmy chuckled, “I’ll see to it. Get some rest. We’ll be in California before too long.”

Before too long came much too soon, at least according to Robert. He had finally drifted asleep seemingly as soon as the plane touched down. While the landing did not wake him, Jimmy did, after assuring him that the plane had been emptied and most everyone already headed to the hotel. A single limo waited for the two of them, no one else occupying. Rolling off the white fur bedspread he held his head as it spun, waiting for some semblance of normality to return.

“You coming to the Rainbow?”

“No. I just want to sleep.”

“Fair enough. I’m sure Bonzo will drink enough for five of him and one of you.”

Maybe it was because he declined going out with everyone else to the Rainbow, but something felt completely different about this tour. California did not feel like California any more. And each step down an empty hall by himself towards his room confirmed this. Unlike previous tours, groupies didn’t line the hallway, hoping to get a glimpse and much more of the band. In fact the hotel corridor seemed rather desolate. Perhaps the girls had learned where the band would be upon landing and chose to stake out there instead. Maybe it would all change when everyone else arrived.

And maybe he didn’t care. He was too ill to want to fuck around with any groupies, or drink, or do any kind of drug. He would just crawl into the bed and sleep the rest of the lingering virus away and be ready to—

“Fuck,” he muttered upon realization that the crisp, clean, white hotel bed was not empty. “I don’t care who you are nor who let you in here, get out.”

“You’re not Jimmy,” the little girl proclaimed as she scrambled out of the bed.

His eyes paid little attention to the naked girl, “Correct. I presume you know where the door is.”

Collapsing face down onto the bed, not bothering to smooth out the blanket or remove his own clothing, Robert quickly fell asleep, not truly caring if the whore left or not.



The lights of the city probably should have dazzled her, as if LA were that much different from San Francisco. But they did not. The only thing the lights meant was she was that much closer to her goal. She would get Quincy to drop her off at the band’s hotel and.... well she did not really have a plan after getting to LA, but she presumed she could find some place to sleep nearby.

“So where am I dropping you?”

“The Continental Hyatt House on Sunset Boulevard,” she responded confidently.

Quincy looked at her sideways, “No shit?”

She nodded.

“You’re seriously gonna do it?”

“Yes.”

“More power to you, baby,” he grinned. “Sunset Boulevard, here we come.”

The flower-covered van made its way into the busy LA streets. Eyes glued to the street signs, Summer directed Quincy towards the hotel. Her heart rate increased, her palms became clammy. Without thought she dug out the pipe and lit the last of the pot in it. Stopped at a stoplight, Quincy took the pipe from her, took the final hit, and dumped the remnants of the drug out the window before stashing the pipe and lighter in his pocket.

Finding the high-rise hotel, Summer leaned out the window while Quincy looked around for a discreet place to park. As he drove away from the building, she frowned but assumed it was probably better. She would walk back to the hotel after paying the last of her debt for his driving her. Predictably he pulled in behind a strip mall, winding the van back to where they would be left unbothered, and parked.

With a smile, Summer pivoted out of her seat and made her way into the back of the van. As she got situated on the bed, he checked the curtains and pulled the large one across the width of the van, separating the front of the van from the back. Turning to her, Quincy smiled, the tell-tale bulge quickly forming in his pants. Sitting up she released her long hair from the leather tie and reached for the button of his jeans.

Quincy groaned as her soft fingers slipped into his pants and pulled his growing penis out. Leaning forward she kissed the glistening tip, leaning back to lick the spattering of precum from her lips, her eyes going to his through the curtain of her long hair. Pulling her hair out of the way, she leaned back forward, letting her tongue trace around his bulbous tip as her fingers danced up and down his shaft. Moaning Quincy’s hands when to her head, but he did not force or rush her movements. Having been through this before with her, he knew full well that Summer’s fellatio skills were the best he had ever encountered.

A few minutes later, the back door to the flower power van swung open and the teen girl climbed out, handmade bag upon her shoulder. Taking a final glance at the boy she left recuperating with his pants down, Summer wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand and closed the door. She had a mission to complete.

Making her way down the block in no time at all, she stepped into a random cafe to use their restroom, more to check her appearance than anything. Washing her face and smoothing down her hair, Summer tied a band about her head and stuck a plucked flower behind her ear. Her hands rand over the flowing peasant blouse, pausing to untie and retie the purple ribbon that held her shirt closed. Without shame she reached in before tying it and pinched her small nipples, sending a shot through her body and making the tiny eraser-sized nipples to become even more prominent under the light white fabric. She pulled a thick purple scarf out of her bag and threaded it through the loops on her jeans, letting the fringe trace along the outside of her hip, accentuating the slight curve of her pubescent body. Her eyes stopped at her bare feet and for a brief second she wished she had shoes to wear, some pretty platforms like the other girls would likely be wearing, something that would make her look taller, older. But she could not purchase such; her small stash of cash may be necessary for other things such as food and perhaps lodging. Shoes were unnecessary.

Glancing in her bag at the few items shoved in there to live off for the next few days, she sighed. Perhaps she should have packed more, brought more clothes. Too late now. She was in LA and less than a block away from the Riot House.

Slipping out of the bathroom and the cafe without a glance at any of the LA girls, Summer headed towards the hotel. The sun had already begun to kiss the ocean not far away, coloring the sky brilliant shades of pink and orange. But she paid little attention to the sky; her blue eyes were focused on the looming hotel, her goal the top floor. She only hoped she could get in there.

Upon reaching the hotel and slipping into the lobby cafe there, Summer discovered she was not alone in her goal, but it did not surprise her any more than how quickly Quincy had cum earlier. Of course there would be LA girls clutching their teen magazines, hoping to get to meet and whatever the boys. But she was different, she was sure of it, though she had nothing substantial to base that upon. Quietly she leaned against the wall, trying to size up her competition without being noticed.

“Everyone else headed to the Rainbow,” a girl with dark hair hanging down past her waist claimed. “I guess that’s where everyone is, but if we’re gonna get upstairs, now would be the time.”

“Why?” a cute redhead asked next to her.


The dark-haired girl, who seemed to be experienced at this kind of thing, replied with an exasperated sigh, “Because they changed the rules since last time. Security isn’t letting anyone upstairs.”

“But there has to be a way! I didn’t come all the way from Santa Monica for...”

Slipping out of the cafe before hearing any more, Summer looked around the lobby. The girls in the cafe were pretty, stylish, savvy to the ways of the groupie. But that did not mean they were going to best her. She came a lot further than Santa Monica. And she had been planning this for more than a year.

Taking a deep breath, she headed up to the front desk. Digging in her shoulder bag, she pulled out her money purse, smiling confidently at the desk clerk.

“Hello,” she greeted him. “I need a room for the night.”

The man looked at her without emotion, “One hundred dollars upfront for a single.”

She laid her entire savings on the counter, counted it out quickly, and returned ten dollars to her bag. One night in the Riot House was worth it. She was certain of it. He recounted her money before shoving a ledge book in front of her, pointing out which line to sign. Nodding she scribed her name in black ink and accepted the room key. Her eyes glanced down at the imprinted number on the plastic fob and she nodded, heading towards the elevator. Her room was on floor six. She presumed the band had the six floors above. Her foot was in the door.

And out the door. While she probably should have gotten off on her floor, checked out her own room, Summer found herself pressing the top floor button instead. Her finger trembled slightly as the elevator continued up and she stepped back, leaning her head against the mirrored wall. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath before stepping out the doors as they opened.

Surprise filled Summer’s mind to find the hallway completely empty. None of the rumored security guards the girls talked about downstairs. None of the band’s normal hangers on. No one at all. Was she in the wrong hotel? No, she could not be. She had not just spent almost all her money for this chance. Things were just going amazingly smoothly; that was all.

Silently she headed down the hallway, not really sure where she was going. Without anyone around she was as lost as a polar bear in a desert. It would seem really lame to go knocking on all of the doors, hoping someone, anyone related to the band would be there. And yet she found herself shuffling down the hallway, hoping for some sort of serendipitous moment.

And then it happened. A door towards the end of the hall, though protected from the emergency stairwell by two buffer rooms, opened.



He had woken with a start, his fever broken. While his body still ached from the fight it had done against the invader, Robert was suddenly restless. And hungry. Glancing at the electric display of clock beside his bed, he groaned and turned it face down. It was not even eight PM. The entire band and retinue would still be at Rainbow, the party not returning to the hotel till around midnight. Which meant there was no one around for him to bug and likely no food either.

Fingers reaching for the phone, Robert considered ordering up room service, but halted moments before lifting the receiver. He didn’t really want the kitchen’s food. He wanted something else, but he wasn’t sure what. Even though he doubted he would be able to, Robert really wanted to get out in public, slip into a diner, fill his empty stomach. But it would be worth the try.

Finding he had collapsed onto the bed fully clothed, shoes included, he merely found his brush in the bathroom, thankful his assistant had unpacked for him, and brushed out his hair to make it less unruly. Satisfied with his reflection, Robert headed towards the door, glancing around briefly for his room key so he could get in later.

After opening the door, Robert turned to head towards the elevator and stopped. Standing in the middle of the hallway was a petite blond girl, flowing white blouse barely obscuring the view of her body, hip hugging jeans leaving little to the imagination. His eyes traced down her from the pretty daisy in her hair to her bare toes. A confused aura of innocence and depravity surrounded her, intriguing him far more than the fact he was certain she wasn’t supposed to be up there.

The moment his eyes met hers, he was completely lost.

“Hello,” he muttered.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Um...” he found himself at a complete loss of words.

“I... uh...” she shook her head slightly, causing her blond hair to flutter about her shoulders in a golden halo. “I think I went too far on the elevator.”

“You’re staying here?” Robert asked.

The young girl held up a key, “Yeah. Room 669.”

He smiled, “Honey, you’re about six floors too high.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” she flushed slightly and began to turn away from him. “Sorry to bother you. Have a good evening.”

“Wait, wait,” he rushed down the corridor to her, his fingers coiling around her wrist. “Are you here alone or do I need to chase someone off? I could use the company right now.”

Her eyes turned back to his, “Now why would you want my company when I’m sure there’s girls all over this town who would sell their souls for a minute of your time?”

“I... I don’t know,” Robert responded, completely thrown off guard by her forwardness and the deep shade of her eyes.

She wiggled herself free of his grip, “Well what did you have in mind?”

“I haven’t eaten for days. Dinner?”

“I would like that, but I only have ten dollars and that has to last me until—”

“No worries, baby,” he interrupted. “Let me treat you.”

“You don’t even know my name.”