I really wanted to find out why she hadn't been calling me much lately. We'd still been seeing eachother regularly and I figured it was all well and good. And it was really, everything was on the verge of perfection. If the crowds would die down a bit it'd be bloody fab, but they hadn't and they weren't showing any signs of it either.
I ran up the steps to Pattie's flat and knocked before tugging it open.
"Pattie? I'm here, where are you girl?" Probably doing up her eyes in the loo.
- Current Mood: curious
But of course, the bloody show hadn't even started, and the promoters were still raising all sorts of hell. And in the back of my mind was the idea that this was it. The last show. After this, I was as good as finished. Only a matter of time before they threw me over. The thought made me want to break something. I turned away from the promoter abruptly.
"Deal with it, Alistair." I ordered, stalking down the hall. I couldn't handle another moment of this.
I rather hated weddings. It was most likely due to the fact that I would never have one. Or never have a real one. I envied George his happiness. He and Pattie both looked deliriously in love, I thought sourly, and drained the remnants of brandy from the glass before making another pilgrimage over to the bar.
However, upon reaching it, I nearly tripped over someone. I looked around, blinking, before my eyes settled on Ringo. Oh. I'd spilt his drink, poor lad.
"I'm sorry, Ringo." I said quickly. "Let me get you another one."
He was just...different. I liked it. When I was with Ringo...I felt comfortable. Comfortable in a way I didn't with John or Paul sometimes. That arrogance wasn't there.
I smiled and pushed him lightly before climbing out of his car.
"Come on in. My mom 'll give us something to drink."
- Current Mood: cheerful
I'd come to that particular show in hopes of seeing John, but when their encore ended, John was engaged by a pretty little female with striking eyes and slim hips. After watching them for a moment, I promptly gave up all hope of capturing his attentions, and turned to the stage with sigh.
George was perched on an amp, looking a bit lost, puffing on his cigarette. I moved closer to him, looking up at him. It was rare that I had to look up at people, and it unsettled me a bit. Nevertheless, he looked lonesome, and I wondered why he was so upset. It had been a good show, and he probably could have had his pick of the females here.
But then, what did I know of women? Perhaps he'd already been turned down. Perhaps even by the woman John was talking to. One never know, and I certainly wasn't going to ask.
"How are you, George?" I asked, tapping my hands on the edge of the stage.
I hadn't shown up for a single performance of The Beatles since John and I had broken things off. I'd buried myself in work, and rent boys, and collected an impressive amount of bruises, scrapes, and other assorted injuries while trying to pretend I was fine. I'm sure I wasn't fooling anyone, least of all myself.
This particular night, I'd forced myself to leave the office and head down towards the Cavern Club, fully intending on going on. I'd made it as far as the bouncer, who inquired after my absence, and said the boys were just taking the stage.
I'd fled. Right across the street into Grapes, where I sat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, fully intending on getting drunk and forgetting that I should have been across the street, listening to my artists. Because that's all John was now. One of my artists.
I sucked in a pained breath and downed the whiskey, calling for another before I'd even set down the glass.
- Current Mood: pissed off
- Current Mood: curious
- Current Mood: annoyed
I had just walked into the back of the Kaiserkeller and moved back into the dressingrooms. I'd just gotten finished with having drinks with Ringo before they went on stage to start off the night. I smiled widely as I came into the room and stretched into a chair, slamming my legs down onto the table.
"How's it all going, then?"
- Current Mood: happy