Drummer Boy

Whole Lotta Love

"Welcome to my place" Roger said as he unlocked the door to his flat. He opened it, turned on the lights and gestured for me to come inside. I entered the small hallway and took of my black heels.

"Just make yourself at home" He had already kicked of his shoes and now he went inside with the grocery bag. We'd stopped at a gas station to pick up some cigarettes and drinks. 

I looked around. His flat was very similar to mine. I took my notebook and pen out of my purse, before I hung it in the hallway closet. I had to remember the real reason I was here, in Roger's flat, after dark at 12 o'clock; the interview.

"Feel free to take a look around" he said as he grabbed two beers. I walked to the left of the hallway and found his bathroom. It looked alot like my own. Badly lit and with a sink underneath the huge mirror. He had a medicine cabinet on the right side of his mirror, and the shower was next to the toilet. The room smelled just like Roger did. Not that I'd smelled him with purpose tho. His scent had just kinda filled the car on the way to his place...

"Whatcha lookin' for?" he asked as he poked his blonde head through the bathroom door. He startled me. "Umm, nothin' really" I said. "Your flat looks alot like mine. Same hallway, same bathroom.." He nodded and just stood there for a second, looking at me. I hadn't noticed that he'd unbottened his shirt again like he'd did under the concert. I could see his silver necklace resting against his bare chest. He was sorta beautiful...

"So, ya wanna come and have a beer with me? I'll answer all your questions" he said as he put his hands in his pockets. He cracked that half smile again and I couldn't help but smile back at him. "Sure, I almost forgot 'bout it" I said and followed him to his couch. His couch looked old and worn out. In fact all of Roger's furniture looked like somethin' he'd picked up at a yardsale. Who said that all rockstars were rich huh?

"I'd offer ya somethin' to eat but I don't cook that much" he said as he sat down and took a sip of his beer. From the way he lifted the bottle to his lips, It looked like his arms were quite sore from hittin' those drums all night. "S'alright" I said and opened my own bottle. "I'm not that hungry" 

He had a recordplayer sittin' on a beautiful stand made of wood. Underneath it I saw his records neatly stacked together. Looked like he took good care of 'em. I put my beer down on the livingroom table and looked over at Roger.

His eyes were already on me. "What?" I asked, laughing at how he were staring me down. If it had been anybody else than Roger, I would have been creeped out. "Nothin'" he said. He kept staring at me.

"It just looks like you're tearing down my flat with those hazel eyes of yours" Roger said as he smiled. Somethin' inside me couldn't help but dwell on the fact that he'd noticed my eye-color...

I laughed at him. "I like your flat, it's just like my own. Small but just big enough" He smiled and leaned back against the couch.

"Ya know, it's not everyday I get to see the inside of a rockstars flat" I said and nudged his left arm.

"No?" he asked and pulled a Parlament out of his pocket.

"Of course not" I said and offered him my lighter. "I'm proffesional, ya know. I'm not just some groupie who hangs out backstage, waitin' to get laid"

Roger's eyes widen. He seemed suprised I'd put it soo bluntly. 

"Well." He said and lit his cigarette with my lighter. "I never took you for one" He put the lighter on his table, next to our beers. He said it so serously, like he tryed to make a point. "You're too damn classy to be a groupie. The way ya talk, the way ya dress. You could never be a groupie, Jenn" he said.