Come on, let's do it again

Frampton BeeGees

Cocaine - Eric Clapton (Slowhand, 1977)

“I don’t know…” She answered, looking calm. “Around four o’clock, maybe?” The black haired girl shrugged and kept eyeing him. God, he looked so british it was impossible to mistake him for a californian native. “Got something to do?” 

“Go and tell them, I will go inside with you.”

He lifted his gaze once more as she pursued the idea of them all having a night on the town together even further. My, she really was persistent but Peter wasn’t the sort to argue. Exhaling another sigh, he glanced up at the sky and shook his head. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” he asked as he watched her knock on the door. It didn’t take long for it to open. The tall, robust blonde bassist Greg held it until the duo slipped inside, eyeing the girl suspiciously. “Never took you for the groupie sort,” he muttered much to Peter’s dismay. “No--she’s not--” he paused momentarily. “That’s not who she is. Just a fan is all! She wants to show us the strip.” The minuscule Steve piped up in his cartoon-like cockney accent. “Thought we was doin’ that tomorrow! Kinda knackered, yanno.” All Jerry did was nod along and Peter looked to her with an ‘I told you so’ look mixed in with pity. “We’re just not too adjusted to the time difference. “

“I don’t know…” She answered, looking calm. “Around four o’clock, maybe?” The black haired girl shrugged and kept eyeing him. God, he looked so british it was impossible to mistake him for a californian native. “Got something to do?” 

“I understand. You must miss your home’s timezone and weather” She replied, taking a joint and a lighter out of her purse. “Do you like California?“ She put the joint between her lips and lit it, looking up at the boy. She knew she was at risk like that, smoking in public, but she couldn’t care less. “It might suck sometimes but it’s a nice place if you get to know it better. Too bad you guys just do your show and leave,” She said after taking a drag and coughing a bit. The tall girl stood up and looked at the boy, reaching the joint out to him. “I assume you have tried it before.”

As she spoke, she withdrew a highly recognised form of rolled cigarette which he knew was incredibly illegal mostly everywhere and glanced around the desolate area with uneasy paranoia. “W-well not so much about the weather part. Back home all it ever seems to do is rain,” he stammered through his forced lightheartedness, smiling meekly when she actually lit the damned thing–the all too familiar aroma wafting his way through their surroundings. The moment she extended her hand following the first hit, the mousy young lad stared down at the cigarette hesitantly. Was he being tested? Was this a prank or a genuine offer? The girl was a complete stranger but all the rumours about Californians being loose with laws seemed true so far in their brief stay. “Actually, we’re staying here a bit longer since there are so many venues that accepted us in so we’ve got about a week more of shows to go.” His effeminate eyes continued to flash down briefly at the burning joint until he prudently accepted it with a slightly shaky hand. “I don’t do this stuff often but I am rather familiar. I don’t see why sharing this with an absolute stranger is something you would do but I appreciate it.” With one last look around, he brought it to his lips and took a short drag, holding back a cough when the time came to exhale then returned it to her. “Thank you. Now are you waiting here for someone? I could head back in and get them for you if that’s the case.”

“I wasn’t waiting for no one in particular,” She honestly said. “I was just waiting for someone, anyone, to show up. And here you are,” She looked at him as she pointed at him with the joint between her fingers, then she took a drag. “I wouldn’t mind going in with you, though, so I can meet the rest.”

He awaited her answer patiently, placing his hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall beside the door, averting his gaze and pretending as though the sweat trickling down the back of his neck didn’t irritate him as much as the heat of the stuffy and crowded backstage area. His gaze returned to meet with hers as she gestured toward him, his lips parting slightly to speak though he held his tongue when she then brought up the idea of going back in. Peter chuckled softly and shook his head, “I really can’t see the appeal since it’s so cramped back there. I think we’re just going to bag up our gear and head back to the hotel anyways. We’re not too interesting...”

Frampton. Happy birthday. 

“I don’t know…” She answered, looking calm. “Around four o’clock, maybe?” The black haired girl shrugged and kept eyeing him. God, he looked so british it was impossible to mistake him for a californian native. “Got something to do?” 

“I understand. You must miss your home’s timezone and weather” She replied, taking a joint and a lighter out of her purse. “Do you like California?“ She put the joint between her lips and lit it, looking up at the boy. She knew she was at risk like that, smoking in public, but she couldn’t care less. “It might suck sometimes but it’s a nice place if you get to know it better. Too bad you guys just do your show and leave,” She said after taking a drag and coughing a bit. The tall girl stood up and looked at the boy, reaching the joint out to him. “I assume you have tried it before.”

As she spoke, she withdrew a highly recognised form of rolled cigarette which he knew was incredibly illegal mostly everywhere and glanced around the desolate area with uneasy paranoia. “W-well not so much about the weather part. Back home all it ever seems to do is rain,” he stammered through his forced lightheartedness, smiling meekly when she actually lit the damned thing--the all too familiar aroma wafting his way through their surroundings. The moment she extended her hand following the first hit, the mousy young lad stared down at the cigarette hesitantly. Was he being tested? Was this a prank or a genuine offer? The girl was a complete stranger but all the rumours about Californians being loose with laws seemed true so far in their brief stay. “Actually, we’re staying here a bit longer since there are so many venues that accepted us in so we’ve got about a week more of shows to go.” His effeminate eyes continued to flash down briefly at the burning joint until he prudently accepted it with a slightly shaky hand. “I don’t do this stuff often but I am rather familiar. I don’t see why sharing this with an absolute stranger is something you would do but I appreciate it.” With one last look around, he brought it to his lips and took a short drag, holding back a cough when the time came to exhale then returned it to her. “Thank you. Now are you waiting here for someone? I could head back in and get them for you if that’s the case.”

“I don’t know…” She answered, looking calm. “Around four o’clock, maybe?” The black haired girl shrugged and kept eyeing him. God, he looked so british it was impossible to mistake him for a californian native. “Got something to do?” 

His storm grey eyes, wrought with a lightheaded appearance, softened as they met with the girl's own. She seemed polite enough as it was just from a distance but once she gave her rough estimate of an answer, the guitarist sighed heavily and leaned his back against the wall behind him. Closing his eyes slowly, Peter began to take deep breaths to prevent himself from avoiding a fainting spell, hands limp at his side but paused after receiving her question with a smile featuring his large white teeth spread upon his face. "I haven't the faintest idea, to be perfectly honest. It's rather hard adjusting to the time here, you know?" His eyes opened slowly to catch a glimpse of her.

@shineonframpton

As Englishmen who had never been to such a “marvelous” country, they were keen and naive as ever. Visiting Los Angeles for a few shows was only fueling their curiosity. However, following their shows after having been in the pop industry, the boys were rather reluctant to leave the confines of the backstage area though Peter couldn’t suffer another moment longer in the stuffy room, excusing himself before exiting from the entrance, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand; feeling rather dizzy but still able to keep standing. As he checked his wrist, he noticed he was without a watch and huffed, looking up to see a young woman seated nearby. In his polite Kent accent, he spoke up, “E-Excuse me. Do you happen to know what time it is?”