Too Much Rain, Chapter 146
Here I am again. In this Chapter, John and Paul are touring in Asia. Paul has some serious things to worry about, and Stella calls to address an important issue. Meanwhile, in England, George and Olivia Harrison receive some hard news. And, in June, the Lennon/McCartney clan convenes in Hawaii for a holiday, and welcome a new family member to the throng.
Hope you enjoy!
WARNINGS: THIS IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL
Chapter 146
Hong Kong
The Peninsula Hotel
Late March 2001
John and Paul were staying in the Peninsula Suite in the Grande Dame of all Chinese hotels. The suite was over 4500 square feet large, and spared no luxury. The views from this penthouse suite were magnificent, and Paul was excited about staying in the city for a few days now that their concerts were finished. It had been a long time since he had been to Hong Kong - not since the Beatles had played there in June 1964, sans Ringo (who had been recovering from having his tonsils out). Neither he nor John had visited Hong Kong since the changeover in government, either, and it was almost as if Paul was visiting a whole new city, since so much had changed. He was lingering on the expansive patio, his forearms leaning on the railings, a glass of red wine in one hand. It was twilight, and lights were coming on all over the city, but there were still the remnants of a sunset in the sky.
Paul wasn’t just enjoying the sight of this beautiful city; he was also ruminating glumly on the tabloid story that had come out in the New York Post the week before, when they’d been in Tokyo. It was the old ‘Brad’ story come back to haunt them. First, the reporter who had interviewed John for the poetry volume had brought up that story, and now the Post was trotting out the story again, only this time pointing out John’s non-responsive answers to the questions as evidence that the story was true. It was very tacky, the way the story was spun. It made the clubs and the hotel and the people who frequented them sound debauched, and John was made to look as a knowing member of that demi-monde and a clueless sucker, both at the same time. It was as if the tabloid couldn’t decide which of the two caricatures they should settle on, so decided to choose both. Paul sighed and took an absent-minded sip of wine. John had been beside himself when he read it; not because of the revelations so much, but more because he couldn’t get out in front of these stories and either quash them or reveal them in his own way. In other words, he hated not having control of the situation. It had taken all of Paul’s persuasive talents to calm John down, and he had to do this repeatedly, several times a day and every day since the story first hit the press.
Almost as if he thought by doing so he could change what he was thinking, too, Paul turned away from the view, and leaned back against the railing instead. He stared through the glass sliding doors into the living room of the suite. He saw John stretched out on one of the sofas, apparently asleep. Poor bloke. At least Brad, himself, had stayed underground. That unspeakable reporter, Williams, had chased Brad around his neighborhood for days until Brad called the newspaper and threatened to get a protective order injunction against the man. Brad had then decided to visit his parents back home, and had disappeared from press view after that. Henry had conveyed this information to Paul, thinking it would cheer him up a bit. Still, Paul had to admit that the candid photos taken of Brad looked at least reminiscently of him when he was young. For that reason, these photos told their own story on the front pages of the tabloids (because of course all the other tabloids jumped on the story after the Post had published it’s story). Paul had stared at the blurry photos intensely numerous times since they had been published, but never when John was around to see. Paul remembered how learning of John’s seeking out a lover who was a younger version of him had sent him reeling into an anxiety-ridden depression for months. So this was the young man who had caused it all...
Paul chased that idea away, knowing intellectually it was not the man’s fault so much as it had been John’s fault. But this trend of being outed by the tabloid press had gotten out of hand now, and Paul had started to admit to himself that he and John would have to figure out how to put some kind of a handle on it. Paul didn’t think they would be able to control the story, but at least they might be able to frame it in a less tawdry way. Still, Paul hadn’t yet said anything to John about this idea, because he wanted to think it through and make sure that this story, too, didn’t just fade away like others had. If that happened, they could avoid confronting this issue publicly for a while longer. This was a possibility, although Paul recognized it was not a very distinct one. After all, when they finished in Asia they would be heading for the U.S., and Paul had no illusions about what awaited them there.
The phone rang inside the suite, and John didn’t stir. Paul smiled. The man could sleep through a bomb blast. He went inside and picked up the receiver.
“Daddy!” Stella declared.
Paul smiled. “Hey, baby, how great to hear your voice.”
“I’m calling about this tabloid business,” Stella said, her voice firm and purposeful.
“Not you, too,” Paul groaned.
“It’s not fair to John,” she said stoutly. “They’re only singling him out because he’s easier prey. It’s only a matter of time before they come after you.”
“Stella, really, you make them sound like big game hunters.” Paul chuckled. “They’re just making stuff up.”
“Is any of it true?” Stella asked in a hushed voice. She couldn’t believe for one moment that John had gone out trolling for gay hookers, and had found himself in such a compromising position. And she, for one, thought that young man looked nothing like her beautiful father!
Paul looked nervously at John’s recumbent form. He said, “Give me your number. I’ll call you back in a few moments and we can talk.” He then hung up the phone and went into the private study area, and used his own cell phone to call Stella back.
“So what’s going on?” Stella asked him abruptly when she picked up her line.
“Nothing. John was sleeping in that room, and I didn’t want to awaken him,” Paul prevaricated.
“So - is any of that crap true? I can’t believe it.”
“If it were true, would it make any difference to you?” Paul asked quietly.
Stella was stilled by this question. She listened to her father’s following silence and then said, “It isn’t true, is it?” Her voice this time was plaintive.
Paul said, “Like some of these tabloid stories, there are elements of truth in it, but the truthful elements are placed in false contexts, and then elaborated on with made up stuff.”
Stella was quiet for a long pause, and then said, “Daddy, I’m so sorry. How could he do that to you? How could he put you in that situation?”
Paul didn’t really know how to answer except to say firmly, “It’s between John and me, and we’re cool. No one else should bother about it.”
“It makes me want to smack him,” Stella said loyally.
Paul chuckled. “Stand in line,” he joked.
“Doesn’t it hurt? Isn’t it embarrassing to you?” Stella couldn’t understand her father’s calm and reasoned reactions.
“I did nothing to embarrass myself, Stella. At least, not in this particular scenario.” He laughed again. “And people you love have the power to hurt you. It is one of the downsides to loving someone. But it has never stopped me from loving someone.”
Stella digested this comment. She supposed she would never understand what passed emotionally between her father and John. It was bewilderingly chaotic. She decided not to judge it. “So what are you going to do about all this?” She asked, finally. It was - after all - the reason she had made the call.
“What do you mean?” Paul asked, biding his time.
“You have to get John out of his misery, Daddy. You’ve got to take control of this thing. It will be far less hurtful if you do.”
Paul listened to his daughter and knew that she was right. He was already thinking along those lines, too. But he didn’t want to do this in the midst of the tour when they were subject to numerous press interviews and had to court photographers and reporters in order to promote their shows. The news would completely take over the whole tour, and it would be immensely unpleasant to boot. When the tour was over, then he could consider directly addressing these stories...
To his daughter, Paul said, “We’ve just got to get ourselves through the rest of this tour, and then we can regroup.”
Stella figured this was as far as she was going to push her father on her first attempt to persuade him on this issue. The next time she would push him a little further. She had learned this technique from her mother, and it had always eventually worked.
*****
The remainder of the Asia concert dates had been extremely successful, and the 15-minute snippet interviews they had done with local reporters had been smooth. Henry put it down to the Asian press culture being less intrusive and aggressive, although he didn’t know if this were true. All he knew was that while Lennon was still licking his wounds over the New York Post story, which had been written in such an unnecessarily nasty tone, there had been no more gossip story lines picked up and distributed in the last few weeks.
The next stop was Honolulu, Hawaii, but there was a full month off between the end of the Asia dates and that date. John and Paul returned to Cavendish to spend the month of May there.
*****
Early May 2001
Meanwhile, George Harrison had just endured surgery at the Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minnesota. Over the previous few months he had been through numerous tests, and it was determined that the cancer he had beaten in his throat in 1997 had come back - but this time in one of his lungs. The fear was - as it had been with Linda - that the metastasized cancer cells were roaming free in the lymphatic system, and that from now on it would be stop gap measures to slow down the disease’s progress. It was an old story - one that George had endured now twice, and that Paul had endured three times vicariously: with his mother, with John and with his wife, and that John had survived once. It appeared as though the scourge disease was not going to leave any of them unscathed.
The surgery itself had been successful, in that the entire growth had been removed from the lung. But chemotherapy was going to be necessary in the hopes of killing any remaining cancerous cells. He and Olivia had planned a trip to Tuscany, Italy, to recover from the surgery and soak up some relaxing peace and quiet. They would return for the chemotherapy in a few weeks. Before they left, though, George called Ringo to tell him the news (because there was going to be a press release on the subject due to a leak to the press and he wanted his friends to hear it from him first), and Olivia called Paul and John, who were at Cavendish, to tell them the news.
When Paul hung up (he had been the one to answer the phone) he explained the situation to John. They exchanged serious herewegoagain looks with each other. They both knew what this meant. “If it happens quickly, like it did with Derek Taylor, will we cancel our tour?” John asked.
Paul weighed the idea. “I don’t know. He is a very private person. He might not want us to make a public meal of it.”
John nodded in recognition of this truth. George, of all four of them, had been the one to most effectively incorporate the alleged British trait of “stiff upper lip” into his conduct. No doubt he wouldn’t want any emotional displays of grief (which he would no doubt consider to be ‘hysteria’) on his behalf. “I hope this time he beats the odds,” was all John could think to say.
It was while mulling over the fragility of life, John began to think that one of those whole family vacations - where they all trundle off to some exotic place together - was just the thing they all needed. It had been three years since Linda died, and in those three years they had not done one of these pilgrimages: Linda had been the one to inspire and plan them. Since the next concert was going to be in Hawaii, John thought that maybe the whole family could fly over to Hawaii a week early and celebrate Paul’s 59th birthday there while they were at it. The Honolulu concerts were on June 12th and 13th, and they had to be in San Francisco by June 21, but there was about a week in the middle for them to squeeze in a little trip before that. Paul had green-lighted this suggestion, and John had gone about planning it. He’d called all six kids to invite them to come.
It was after the invitations were extended, and the night before John and Paul were flying out to Hawaii to begin the U.S.A. leg of their tour, that Mary received a telephone call from her sister Stella.
Stella had been dating Alasdhair Willis for a few months, but the two of them had been joined at the hip from the time they first met across a table in a business meeting. Stella had - just that April - left Chloe to open her own eponymous fashion brand under the Gucci franchise, and Willis was an independent but quite successful product placement and advertising expert who was hired by Gucci to advise her on the subject of setting up her own brand. Stella had known right away that he was ‘the one’, and sure enough Alasdhair had called her that afternoon, just a few hours after the business meeting ended. Stella had been giddy, and thus far she had confided about her new love affair only to her sister Mary and a few of her closest girlfriends. After John had called her to invite her to Hawaii for several days, she had called to ask Mary whether it might be okay to invite Alasdhair along too. She thought it was about time that she introduced her new love to her family.
Mary had asked her, “Are you sure you’re ready to expose him to all our collective craziness?”
“If he’s the one, then it will have to happen sooner or later. So I might as well go for it.” Stella responded. She then paused strategically.
Mary heard the pause, and understood the strategy. “Do you want me to break it to Dad and ask him if he is okay with it?”
“Would you?” Stella rushed gratefully. “It’ll be easier for him to tell you if he isn’t comfortable with it. Maybe he’d rather first meet him separately, at a lunch table somewhere.”
Mary smiled into the phone. She knew her father would of course welcome any and all of Stella’s friends. He had never been controlling of who amongst their friends was welcomed into their little world; it had always been his children who had carefully handpicked the people they invited in - especially since John had become a part of their family. Mary had met Alasdhair, and apart from thinking it was an amazing coincidence that Stella had fallen in love with a man with the same name (phonetically, at least) as her husband, she had liked him very much. He was calm and patient, and had some of Linda’s nurturing energy, which was a perfect contrast to Stella’s fiery and sometimes-impulsive nature. He was also very good-looking. Mary couldn’t deny that! So she had called her father who was at Cavendish at the time.
“About this holiday in Hawaii,” she started. “I’m an emissary for Stella.”
“For Stella?” Paul asked, disbelievingly. “When is Stella ever lost for words?”
Mary chuckled but said, “On this subject she is.”
Paul had gone silent. He was worried that this would be about the disquieting Hong Kong telephone conversation he’d had with Stella about the tabloid rumors weeks before. “What subject is this?” He asked, his heart full of foreboding.
“Well, she’s in love.”
Paul had to repeat that line in his head again. “In love?” He finally said, out loud.
“Yes. She’s been in love for a few months now, and she says she knows that this is ‘the one.’”
“Who is he?” Paul asked. Of course he was happy his daughter had found someone, but there was always that fear that his beloved daughter might get hurt by a main chancer.
“He is someone she met in business, and I’ve met him a number of times. He is lovely - smart, funny, warm, gentle.”
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Paul responded.
“I have, yes. Sorry.”
“You don’t sound the least bit sorry, Mary,” her father chuckled. “So is that the whole thing? That she’s in love?”
“She was thinking she might invite him to Hawaii with her, if it is alright with you and John.”
Oh. Paul thought about that. This really was serious. In the past, Paul had only met guys Stella had dated at quick dinners, with Linda at his side, or at a luncheon table in a restaurant. Stella had never invited any of them into the bosom of her family. Paul said, “Of course she should bring him, if she thinks he’s up to it.”
Mary’s laugh was musical and gay. “She says he has to take the plunge sometime, so it might as well happen in a tropical paradise.”
*****
June 14 - 18, 2001
Kauai, Hawaii
After John and Paul’s triumphant concert performance in Honolulu, Henry the press agent had said goodbye to them, and, along with Timothy, the tour manager, left to fly on to San Francisco, where Lennon & McCartney were continuing their 2001 U.S.A. tour in ten days. Henry and Timothy both knew that they had a whole lot of work to do to make sure the interviews were under control, and that their clients were protected from the reach of tabloids and paparazzi.
Meanwhile, Paul and John had taken a private plane to the island of Kauai, where they had rented a large private home right on the ocean. Several of the kids were coming, at least for part of the holiday. Mary was coming with her husband and little Arthur, now a robust 2 years old, and James was coming too. Sean and Charlotte were dropping by for at least a few days over the weekend, and Stella was using this trip as a way to introduce her boyfriend to the bulk of her family. Only Heather had chosen to stay home, and Julian had been regretfully otherwise engaged, although he made plans to see his dad and Paul to belatedly celebrate Paul’s birthday when they were back in London.
Paul had rented a private jet to take the London contingent to Hawaii, with a few fueling stops. It had been a luxurious flight for Alasdhair, who was not used to such accommodations. Mary’s husband Alistair had been in the family long enough to be used to it, but the soft leather-bound and roomy club seats, the swanky furnishings, and the champagne and high quality food being served had a way of increasing, not decreasing, Alasdhair’s growing dread of meeting Stella’s father, Paul McCartney. Stella, too, was nervous, because she had not managed to tell Alasdhair about the true nature of her father’s relationship with his writing partner, John Lennon. She had meant to so many times, but it was as if the words had been chained to the wall of her throat, and she couldn’t set them free. She’d spent so many years guarding the information with her life. Alasdhair hadn’t even asked about it, and the one time he commented on the issue (in connection with reading one of the recent tabloid stories about John) was to say, “What rubbish. How awful that your family has to deal with all this nonsense.” Stella worried that Alasdhair might find their family arrangement to be nonsensical, or even worse, like rubbish. She truly did not believe so, but she could not help worrying about it. If that happened - if she sensed even a whiff of disapproval from Alasdhair - she knew she would have to break off the relationship immediately. To Stella, her family was that important.
On the last leg of the trip, from San Francisco to Kauai airports, Stella found a quiet moment to whisper alone with her sister. She confessed that she hadn’t managed to tell Alasdhair the truth about their father and John. Mary was sympathetic but practical.
“He seems like a very observant guy. He’s going to notice on his own, very quickly. Why do you need to ‘warn’ him?”
“What if he finds it offensive?” Stella asked.
“It’s too late now. If you’d told him before you left, he could have begged off. But he’s stuck now. But honestly, Stell, do you really think he is that shallow? I mean, you couldn’t love him so much if he were.”
Stella nodded in agreement. “All that’s true. It’s so hard to know what to do. I want to behave as though our family is normal - like any other family. We just had three parents in it for a while, and now we have two. When I met Alasdhair’s family, he didn’t have to explain that his father and mother were lovers. It went without saying, right?”
“So don’t make a big deal over it,” Stella advised. “Be matter of fact. When he looks at you with the question in his eyes, which he probably will do at some point, you can say, ‘this is my family. This is our normal.’”
Stella went back to her seat, and noted that Alasdhair was awake again, studying his laptop screen. She slid in next to him and said, “Alasdhair, I have to let you know something.”
He looked up inquisitively.
Stella said, “I have a very close family. We are all extremely tight. It’s rare for families to all get along, but we do, and we’re fiercely loyal to each other.”
Alasdhair smiled. “I figured that out myself. I’ve heard you talk about them. I’ve watched you with your sister. I’ve heard the two of you talking about your family. I see how protective James is of you, and how you and Mary are protective of him. I think it is really special. Your parents must have been really great to have fostered such a tight knit family.”
Stella heard this and was reminded of why she was so much in love. “My family means more to me than anything.”
“I feel the same way about my family,” Alasdhair said. “It is something very important that we have in common.”
Stella sighed, and wondered how to start again. Alasdhair was watching her closely. “Is there something else you want to tell me?” He asked her gently.
“It’s about my dad... er, ... my parents,” she said haltingly. “I’ve been debating whether to mention it to you or to let you find out for yourself, and I’ve finally decided it wouldn’t be fair not to warn you.”
“Warn me?” Alasdhair looked amused. “I’m scared enough already, tell the truth. I not only have to meet my girlfriend’s father, but he is a bloody superstar! What else?”
Stella chuckled, but it was a half-hearted affair. “See, it isn’t just my dad and my siblings you’ll be meeting. John Lennon is part of our family too. As are his two sons, although only one of them will be holidaying with us this trip.”
Alasdhair said, “I read that interesting interview he gave about his poetry recently. He mentioned how he felt a part of your family. I thought that was really sweet.”
Stella wanted to scream. He was clearly not getting her point! She tried again. “Yeesss, that’s true, but... he isn’t like an ‘uncle’ to us, like he said in that interview. He’s like a second dad. I think of him as a father, too.”
Alasdhair was a little lost. He thought he had agreed with her, but she seemed to think he didn’t.
Stella could see the confusion and she said flatly, “He’s living with my father. Ever since my mother died it’s been full time. They live together.”
Ohhhhhh, Alasdhair thought, as the other shoe finally dropped. He laughed. “You had me worried there. I was thinking maybe your dad was a werewolf or something, the way you were going on.”
Stella giggled. “It doesn’t bother you?”
Alasdhair said, “Why would it bother me? What’s it got to do with me anyway?” He stopped for a moment and then gave Stella a deeper look. “Did you think this would upset me in some way? You do know that most people realize that they are probably together in that way. It’s just that most of us don’t think it is really any of our business.”
Stella let loose a huge sigh. “I had no idea how you would react. If you didn’t like it, I would have dumped you immediately.”
“Just like that?” Alasdhair asked, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You’d leave me stranded at the airport?”
“Yup. I’d leave you in a cloud of dust as the limo pulled away,” she joked. She was feeling very much better now that she had that off her chest!
*****
The limo pulled up to the frontage of an obviously very expensive modern home, complete with a large front portico.
“Ooooh,” Mary joked, “Fancy.” Everyone laughed.
If they were expecting some manservant to greet them, they were to be disappointed. John came bounding out of the house and met them halfway down the portico. He immediately engulfed Mary, and then Stella, and then James in hugs. Alistair held out his hand and met John’s for a warm handshake, and then John immediately leant down and swept Arthur up in to his arms saying, “Hello Little Macca!” John then fastened his eyes on Alasdhair.
“So you’re the upstart who thinks he’s good enough for our Stella, eh?” He asked in a smartass tone.
Alasdhair blushed a little. Lennon’s eyes were a little too ironic and distrusting for his taste. “How do you do, I’m Alasdhair Willis.”
John stared for a moment longer and then grudgingly held out his hand to be grasped. Alasdhair found the hand grasp to be harsh and the staring to be even harsher.
Stella cried, “John! Stop! He’s nervous enough already!”
John gave Alasdhair another long look and said, “He’d better be...” He then smiled a bit to take the sting out of it. John then turned on his heel and headed back towards the house, talking cheerfully with Arthur the whole way.
Stella waited a moment for Alasdhair to catch up with her, and then she held out her hand. He took it. “Courage!” She whispered, and then giggled. “John’s the worst of it. Daddy’s much easier.”
“Oh thank god,” Alasdhair managed to exhale.
As everyone was gathering in the elegant sunroom, which had magnificent views of the pool patio and the ocean, and as they all were imbibing the tropical drinks John had prepared for them, Paul suddenly appeared from another part of the house.
“I didn’t hear you come in! ‘No one’ thought to tell me.” Paul had aimed the second part of his comment at John, with a faux angry look.
“Oops,” John said, but without an ounce of true apology in his voice.
Unlike John, Paul looked around for the newcomer first, and soon sorted him out, shy and hovering in the background.
“You must be Alasdhair,” Paul said warmly, approaching. “I’m Paul.” He held out his hand, and Alasdhair put out his hand, too, which Paul grasped with both of his. He looked Alasdhair straight in the eyes, but kindly, and said, “You must be very special for Stella to bring you to us. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Alasdhair felt a rush of relief flooding through his body, and he hoped it wasn’t obvious to everyone. He relaxed and said, “Stella speaks so lovingly of you and of her whole family. I’m glad to finally meet all of you, too.”
Paul thought, graceful. Well said. He turned to Stella and winked at her. Well done, girl, was the message Stella got. She broke out in a wreath of a smile, which took over almost her whole face. Paul turned to John. “So what’s the program, maestro? What do we all do next?”
Everyone laughed. John had, by default, taken over the family’s Holiday Tour Directorship job from Linda upon her death.
John suggested everyone find their rooms, unpack, refresh themselves, settle in, and they were all going to have a meal out on the pool patio in a few hours. This being agreeable to everyone, they all disappeared. After they’d all left the room, John asked Paul, “Do you think she told him about us, or are we supposed to pretend to be ‘friends’? Will I be sleeping on the sofa all week?”
“There are more than enough bedrooms for you to have your own,” Paul said thoughtfully, as if he were taking John’s comment seriously. But then he laughed and said, “Either way, we’re going to be ourselves. And he can like it or lump it.”
That being exactly what John wanted to hear, he smiled brightly and headed for the kitchen. Paul went back to the room he had designated the ‘music room’ on the other side of the house, to be kept company by his latest classical composing project.
*****
A few days after the holiday began, Sean arrived with his girlfriend Charlotte. They slipped into the family milieu easily and without fuss. On their first night there, after a great dinner, Sean was seated near Alasdhair on the pool patio. Both were drinking cocktails. Sean said, “You got the best one of the bunch.”
Alasdhair said, “Hmmm?”
“Stella. She’s the best of my siblings. They’re all great, but she’s amazing.”
Alasdhair smiled. “No argument here.” He was curious, though. He couldn’t help it. “So you grew up with Stella, did you?”
“For half of the year, since I was about 7 or 8, until I grew up, yes,” Sean responded.
“So she is like a sister to you?” Alasdhair asked.
“Yes - she is my sister. That’s how it is,” Sean responded. He turned to Alasdhair. “The way it is - between our fathers - we see ourselves as related. And since I knew and loved Linda so much - she was a second mother to me - it is the same as if we were stepsiblings, you know? But I loved their mother, and they love my father - no drama there.”
Alasdhair smiled. “Your dad scared the crap out of me at first. I could hardly talk straight. But I watch him with Stella - he really loves her, I can tell, and she adores him. And he and Mary seem to have a very special relationship, too.”
Sean laughed. “Dad and Mary are incredibly close. They talk several times a day when Dad’s not on tour.”
“Really?” Alasdhair said.
“Yeah - about recipes, the baby, what’s going on in their lives. It’s kind of cute, I think. He’s kind of a substitute mother for her, I think.” Sean looked at his glass, which was now empty. “You want another drink?”
*****
“I really like Stella’s fella," John said.
Paul chortled.
“What?” John asked.
“Stella’s fella? The rhyme?”
John belly laughed. “I didn’t even notice that.”
Paul said, “I like him very much, too. He’s a steadying influence, and she really respects him. It is so important in a relationship.”
The two of them were lying in bed, side lamps on, and each had abandoned their reading material to engage in this discussion. John eyed Paul with deep affection. “You’re the steadying influence for me, and I really respect you, Paul,” John said sweetly.
Paul grinned at John. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, I was just agreeing with you about Alasdhair.”
There was quiet for a few moments until John commented, “But what were the odds that both of your daughters would end up with guys named Alistair? It isn’t exactly a common name.”
Paul put his book to the side, and turned off his side lamp. He turned over on to his side, and held his arm out, inviting John to shelter within it. John literally threw his magazine on to the floor, and swung around to shut off his light, and then dove into a cuddle with Paul. Paul kissed John quickly on the tip of his nose. John then used that nose to nuzzle Paul’s nose. And then inevitably, slowly, their lips met.
Hope you enjoy!
WARNINGS: THIS IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL
Chapter 146
Hong Kong
The Peninsula Hotel
Late March 2001
John and Paul were staying in the Peninsula Suite in the Grande Dame of all Chinese hotels. The suite was over 4500 square feet large, and spared no luxury. The views from this penthouse suite were magnificent, and Paul was excited about staying in the city for a few days now that their concerts were finished. It had been a long time since he had been to Hong Kong - not since the Beatles had played there in June 1964, sans Ringo (who had been recovering from having his tonsils out). Neither he nor John had visited Hong Kong since the changeover in government, either, and it was almost as if Paul was visiting a whole new city, since so much had changed. He was lingering on the expansive patio, his forearms leaning on the railings, a glass of red wine in one hand. It was twilight, and lights were coming on all over the city, but there were still the remnants of a sunset in the sky.
Paul wasn’t just enjoying the sight of this beautiful city; he was also ruminating glumly on the tabloid story that had come out in the New York Post the week before, when they’d been in Tokyo. It was the old ‘Brad’ story come back to haunt them. First, the reporter who had interviewed John for the poetry volume had brought up that story, and now the Post was trotting out the story again, only this time pointing out John’s non-responsive answers to the questions as evidence that the story was true. It was very tacky, the way the story was spun. It made the clubs and the hotel and the people who frequented them sound debauched, and John was made to look as a knowing member of that demi-monde and a clueless sucker, both at the same time. It was as if the tabloid couldn’t decide which of the two caricatures they should settle on, so decided to choose both. Paul sighed and took an absent-minded sip of wine. John had been beside himself when he read it; not because of the revelations so much, but more because he couldn’t get out in front of these stories and either quash them or reveal them in his own way. In other words, he hated not having control of the situation. It had taken all of Paul’s persuasive talents to calm John down, and he had to do this repeatedly, several times a day and every day since the story first hit the press.
Almost as if he thought by doing so he could change what he was thinking, too, Paul turned away from the view, and leaned back against the railing instead. He stared through the glass sliding doors into the living room of the suite. He saw John stretched out on one of the sofas, apparently asleep. Poor bloke. At least Brad, himself, had stayed underground. That unspeakable reporter, Williams, had chased Brad around his neighborhood for days until Brad called the newspaper and threatened to get a protective order injunction against the man. Brad had then decided to visit his parents back home, and had disappeared from press view after that. Henry had conveyed this information to Paul, thinking it would cheer him up a bit. Still, Paul had to admit that the candid photos taken of Brad looked at least reminiscently of him when he was young. For that reason, these photos told their own story on the front pages of the tabloids (because of course all the other tabloids jumped on the story after the Post had published it’s story). Paul had stared at the blurry photos intensely numerous times since they had been published, but never when John was around to see. Paul remembered how learning of John’s seeking out a lover who was a younger version of him had sent him reeling into an anxiety-ridden depression for months. So this was the young man who had caused it all...
Paul chased that idea away, knowing intellectually it was not the man’s fault so much as it had been John’s fault. But this trend of being outed by the tabloid press had gotten out of hand now, and Paul had started to admit to himself that he and John would have to figure out how to put some kind of a handle on it. Paul didn’t think they would be able to control the story, but at least they might be able to frame it in a less tawdry way. Still, Paul hadn’t yet said anything to John about this idea, because he wanted to think it through and make sure that this story, too, didn’t just fade away like others had. If that happened, they could avoid confronting this issue publicly for a while longer. This was a possibility, although Paul recognized it was not a very distinct one. After all, when they finished in Asia they would be heading for the U.S., and Paul had no illusions about what awaited them there.
The phone rang inside the suite, and John didn’t stir. Paul smiled. The man could sleep through a bomb blast. He went inside and picked up the receiver.
“Daddy!” Stella declared.
Paul smiled. “Hey, baby, how great to hear your voice.”
“I’m calling about this tabloid business,” Stella said, her voice firm and purposeful.
“Not you, too,” Paul groaned.
“It’s not fair to John,” she said stoutly. “They’re only singling him out because he’s easier prey. It’s only a matter of time before they come after you.”
“Stella, really, you make them sound like big game hunters.” Paul chuckled. “They’re just making stuff up.”
“Is any of it true?” Stella asked in a hushed voice. She couldn’t believe for one moment that John had gone out trolling for gay hookers, and had found himself in such a compromising position. And she, for one, thought that young man looked nothing like her beautiful father!
Paul looked nervously at John’s recumbent form. He said, “Give me your number. I’ll call you back in a few moments and we can talk.” He then hung up the phone and went into the private study area, and used his own cell phone to call Stella back.
“So what’s going on?” Stella asked him abruptly when she picked up her line.
“Nothing. John was sleeping in that room, and I didn’t want to awaken him,” Paul prevaricated.
“So - is any of that crap true? I can’t believe it.”
“If it were true, would it make any difference to you?” Paul asked quietly.
Stella was stilled by this question. She listened to her father’s following silence and then said, “It isn’t true, is it?” Her voice this time was plaintive.
Paul said, “Like some of these tabloid stories, there are elements of truth in it, but the truthful elements are placed in false contexts, and then elaborated on with made up stuff.”
Stella was quiet for a long pause, and then said, “Daddy, I’m so sorry. How could he do that to you? How could he put you in that situation?”
Paul didn’t really know how to answer except to say firmly, “It’s between John and me, and we’re cool. No one else should bother about it.”
“It makes me want to smack him,” Stella said loyally.
Paul chuckled. “Stand in line,” he joked.
“Doesn’t it hurt? Isn’t it embarrassing to you?” Stella couldn’t understand her father’s calm and reasoned reactions.
“I did nothing to embarrass myself, Stella. At least, not in this particular scenario.” He laughed again. “And people you love have the power to hurt you. It is one of the downsides to loving someone. But it has never stopped me from loving someone.”
Stella digested this comment. She supposed she would never understand what passed emotionally between her father and John. It was bewilderingly chaotic. She decided not to judge it. “So what are you going to do about all this?” She asked, finally. It was - after all - the reason she had made the call.
“What do you mean?” Paul asked, biding his time.
“You have to get John out of his misery, Daddy. You’ve got to take control of this thing. It will be far less hurtful if you do.”
Paul listened to his daughter and knew that she was right. He was already thinking along those lines, too. But he didn’t want to do this in the midst of the tour when they were subject to numerous press interviews and had to court photographers and reporters in order to promote their shows. The news would completely take over the whole tour, and it would be immensely unpleasant to boot. When the tour was over, then he could consider directly addressing these stories...
To his daughter, Paul said, “We’ve just got to get ourselves through the rest of this tour, and then we can regroup.”
Stella figured this was as far as she was going to push her father on her first attempt to persuade him on this issue. The next time she would push him a little further. She had learned this technique from her mother, and it had always eventually worked.
*****
The remainder of the Asia concert dates had been extremely successful, and the 15-minute snippet interviews they had done with local reporters had been smooth. Henry put it down to the Asian press culture being less intrusive and aggressive, although he didn’t know if this were true. All he knew was that while Lennon was still licking his wounds over the New York Post story, which had been written in such an unnecessarily nasty tone, there had been no more gossip story lines picked up and distributed in the last few weeks.
The next stop was Honolulu, Hawaii, but there was a full month off between the end of the Asia dates and that date. John and Paul returned to Cavendish to spend the month of May there.
*****
Early May 2001
Meanwhile, George Harrison had just endured surgery at the Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, Minnesota. Over the previous few months he had been through numerous tests, and it was determined that the cancer he had beaten in his throat in 1997 had come back - but this time in one of his lungs. The fear was - as it had been with Linda - that the metastasized cancer cells were roaming free in the lymphatic system, and that from now on it would be stop gap measures to slow down the disease’s progress. It was an old story - one that George had endured now twice, and that Paul had endured three times vicariously: with his mother, with John and with his wife, and that John had survived once. It appeared as though the scourge disease was not going to leave any of them unscathed.
The surgery itself had been successful, in that the entire growth had been removed from the lung. But chemotherapy was going to be necessary in the hopes of killing any remaining cancerous cells. He and Olivia had planned a trip to Tuscany, Italy, to recover from the surgery and soak up some relaxing peace and quiet. They would return for the chemotherapy in a few weeks. Before they left, though, George called Ringo to tell him the news (because there was going to be a press release on the subject due to a leak to the press and he wanted his friends to hear it from him first), and Olivia called Paul and John, who were at Cavendish, to tell them the news.
When Paul hung up (he had been the one to answer the phone) he explained the situation to John. They exchanged serious herewegoagain looks with each other. They both knew what this meant. “If it happens quickly, like it did with Derek Taylor, will we cancel our tour?” John asked.
Paul weighed the idea. “I don’t know. He is a very private person. He might not want us to make a public meal of it.”
John nodded in recognition of this truth. George, of all four of them, had been the one to most effectively incorporate the alleged British trait of “stiff upper lip” into his conduct. No doubt he wouldn’t want any emotional displays of grief (which he would no doubt consider to be ‘hysteria’) on his behalf. “I hope this time he beats the odds,” was all John could think to say.
It was while mulling over the fragility of life, John began to think that one of those whole family vacations - where they all trundle off to some exotic place together - was just the thing they all needed. It had been three years since Linda died, and in those three years they had not done one of these pilgrimages: Linda had been the one to inspire and plan them. Since the next concert was going to be in Hawaii, John thought that maybe the whole family could fly over to Hawaii a week early and celebrate Paul’s 59th birthday there while they were at it. The Honolulu concerts were on June 12th and 13th, and they had to be in San Francisco by June 21, but there was about a week in the middle for them to squeeze in a little trip before that. Paul had green-lighted this suggestion, and John had gone about planning it. He’d called all six kids to invite them to come.
It was after the invitations were extended, and the night before John and Paul were flying out to Hawaii to begin the U.S.A. leg of their tour, that Mary received a telephone call from her sister Stella.
Stella had been dating Alasdhair Willis for a few months, but the two of them had been joined at the hip from the time they first met across a table in a business meeting. Stella had - just that April - left Chloe to open her own eponymous fashion brand under the Gucci franchise, and Willis was an independent but quite successful product placement and advertising expert who was hired by Gucci to advise her on the subject of setting up her own brand. Stella had known right away that he was ‘the one’, and sure enough Alasdhair had called her that afternoon, just a few hours after the business meeting ended. Stella had been giddy, and thus far she had confided about her new love affair only to her sister Mary and a few of her closest girlfriends. After John had called her to invite her to Hawaii for several days, she had called to ask Mary whether it might be okay to invite Alasdhair along too. She thought it was about time that she introduced her new love to her family.
Mary had asked her, “Are you sure you’re ready to expose him to all our collective craziness?”
“If he’s the one, then it will have to happen sooner or later. So I might as well go for it.” Stella responded. She then paused strategically.
Mary heard the pause, and understood the strategy. “Do you want me to break it to Dad and ask him if he is okay with it?”
“Would you?” Stella rushed gratefully. “It’ll be easier for him to tell you if he isn’t comfortable with it. Maybe he’d rather first meet him separately, at a lunch table somewhere.”
Mary smiled into the phone. She knew her father would of course welcome any and all of Stella’s friends. He had never been controlling of who amongst their friends was welcomed into their little world; it had always been his children who had carefully handpicked the people they invited in - especially since John had become a part of their family. Mary had met Alasdhair, and apart from thinking it was an amazing coincidence that Stella had fallen in love with a man with the same name (phonetically, at least) as her husband, she had liked him very much. He was calm and patient, and had some of Linda’s nurturing energy, which was a perfect contrast to Stella’s fiery and sometimes-impulsive nature. He was also very good-looking. Mary couldn’t deny that! So she had called her father who was at Cavendish at the time.
“About this holiday in Hawaii,” she started. “I’m an emissary for Stella.”
“For Stella?” Paul asked, disbelievingly. “When is Stella ever lost for words?”
Mary chuckled but said, “On this subject she is.”
Paul had gone silent. He was worried that this would be about the disquieting Hong Kong telephone conversation he’d had with Stella about the tabloid rumors weeks before. “What subject is this?” He asked, his heart full of foreboding.
“Well, she’s in love.”
Paul had to repeat that line in his head again. “In love?” He finally said, out loud.
“Yes. She’s been in love for a few months now, and she says she knows that this is ‘the one.’”
“Who is he?” Paul asked. Of course he was happy his daughter had found someone, but there was always that fear that his beloved daughter might get hurt by a main chancer.
“He is someone she met in business, and I’ve met him a number of times. He is lovely - smart, funny, warm, gentle.”
“You’ve been holding out on me,” Paul responded.
“I have, yes. Sorry.”
“You don’t sound the least bit sorry, Mary,” her father chuckled. “So is that the whole thing? That she’s in love?”
“She was thinking she might invite him to Hawaii with her, if it is alright with you and John.”
Oh. Paul thought about that. This really was serious. In the past, Paul had only met guys Stella had dated at quick dinners, with Linda at his side, or at a luncheon table in a restaurant. Stella had never invited any of them into the bosom of her family. Paul said, “Of course she should bring him, if she thinks he’s up to it.”
Mary’s laugh was musical and gay. “She says he has to take the plunge sometime, so it might as well happen in a tropical paradise.”
*****
June 14 - 18, 2001
Kauai, Hawaii
After John and Paul’s triumphant concert performance in Honolulu, Henry the press agent had said goodbye to them, and, along with Timothy, the tour manager, left to fly on to San Francisco, where Lennon & McCartney were continuing their 2001 U.S.A. tour in ten days. Henry and Timothy both knew that they had a whole lot of work to do to make sure the interviews were under control, and that their clients were protected from the reach of tabloids and paparazzi.
Meanwhile, Paul and John had taken a private plane to the island of Kauai, where they had rented a large private home right on the ocean. Several of the kids were coming, at least for part of the holiday. Mary was coming with her husband and little Arthur, now a robust 2 years old, and James was coming too. Sean and Charlotte were dropping by for at least a few days over the weekend, and Stella was using this trip as a way to introduce her boyfriend to the bulk of her family. Only Heather had chosen to stay home, and Julian had been regretfully otherwise engaged, although he made plans to see his dad and Paul to belatedly celebrate Paul’s birthday when they were back in London.
Paul had rented a private jet to take the London contingent to Hawaii, with a few fueling stops. It had been a luxurious flight for Alasdhair, who was not used to such accommodations. Mary’s husband Alistair had been in the family long enough to be used to it, but the soft leather-bound and roomy club seats, the swanky furnishings, and the champagne and high quality food being served had a way of increasing, not decreasing, Alasdhair’s growing dread of meeting Stella’s father, Paul McCartney. Stella, too, was nervous, because she had not managed to tell Alasdhair about the true nature of her father’s relationship with his writing partner, John Lennon. She had meant to so many times, but it was as if the words had been chained to the wall of her throat, and she couldn’t set them free. She’d spent so many years guarding the information with her life. Alasdhair hadn’t even asked about it, and the one time he commented on the issue (in connection with reading one of the recent tabloid stories about John) was to say, “What rubbish. How awful that your family has to deal with all this nonsense.” Stella worried that Alasdhair might find their family arrangement to be nonsensical, or even worse, like rubbish. She truly did not believe so, but she could not help worrying about it. If that happened - if she sensed even a whiff of disapproval from Alasdhair - she knew she would have to break off the relationship immediately. To Stella, her family was that important.
On the last leg of the trip, from San Francisco to Kauai airports, Stella found a quiet moment to whisper alone with her sister. She confessed that she hadn’t managed to tell Alasdhair the truth about their father and John. Mary was sympathetic but practical.
“He seems like a very observant guy. He’s going to notice on his own, very quickly. Why do you need to ‘warn’ him?”
“What if he finds it offensive?” Stella asked.
“It’s too late now. If you’d told him before you left, he could have begged off. But he’s stuck now. But honestly, Stell, do you really think he is that shallow? I mean, you couldn’t love him so much if he were.”
Stella nodded in agreement. “All that’s true. It’s so hard to know what to do. I want to behave as though our family is normal - like any other family. We just had three parents in it for a while, and now we have two. When I met Alasdhair’s family, he didn’t have to explain that his father and mother were lovers. It went without saying, right?”
“So don’t make a big deal over it,” Stella advised. “Be matter of fact. When he looks at you with the question in his eyes, which he probably will do at some point, you can say, ‘this is my family. This is our normal.’”
Stella went back to her seat, and noted that Alasdhair was awake again, studying his laptop screen. She slid in next to him and said, “Alasdhair, I have to let you know something.”
He looked up inquisitively.
Stella said, “I have a very close family. We are all extremely tight. It’s rare for families to all get along, but we do, and we’re fiercely loyal to each other.”
Alasdhair smiled. “I figured that out myself. I’ve heard you talk about them. I’ve watched you with your sister. I’ve heard the two of you talking about your family. I see how protective James is of you, and how you and Mary are protective of him. I think it is really special. Your parents must have been really great to have fostered such a tight knit family.”
Stella heard this and was reminded of why she was so much in love. “My family means more to me than anything.”
“I feel the same way about my family,” Alasdhair said. “It is something very important that we have in common.”
Stella sighed, and wondered how to start again. Alasdhair was watching her closely. “Is there something else you want to tell me?” He asked her gently.
“It’s about my dad... er, ... my parents,” she said haltingly. “I’ve been debating whether to mention it to you or to let you find out for yourself, and I’ve finally decided it wouldn’t be fair not to warn you.”
“Warn me?” Alasdhair looked amused. “I’m scared enough already, tell the truth. I not only have to meet my girlfriend’s father, but he is a bloody superstar! What else?”
Stella chuckled, but it was a half-hearted affair. “See, it isn’t just my dad and my siblings you’ll be meeting. John Lennon is part of our family too. As are his two sons, although only one of them will be holidaying with us this trip.”
Alasdhair said, “I read that interesting interview he gave about his poetry recently. He mentioned how he felt a part of your family. I thought that was really sweet.”
Stella wanted to scream. He was clearly not getting her point! She tried again. “Yeesss, that’s true, but... he isn’t like an ‘uncle’ to us, like he said in that interview. He’s like a second dad. I think of him as a father, too.”
Alasdhair was a little lost. He thought he had agreed with her, but she seemed to think he didn’t.
Stella could see the confusion and she said flatly, “He’s living with my father. Ever since my mother died it’s been full time. They live together.”
Ohhhhhh, Alasdhair thought, as the other shoe finally dropped. He laughed. “You had me worried there. I was thinking maybe your dad was a werewolf or something, the way you were going on.”
Stella giggled. “It doesn’t bother you?”
Alasdhair said, “Why would it bother me? What’s it got to do with me anyway?” He stopped for a moment and then gave Stella a deeper look. “Did you think this would upset me in some way? You do know that most people realize that they are probably together in that way. It’s just that most of us don’t think it is really any of our business.”
Stella let loose a huge sigh. “I had no idea how you would react. If you didn’t like it, I would have dumped you immediately.”
“Just like that?” Alasdhair asked, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You’d leave me stranded at the airport?”
“Yup. I’d leave you in a cloud of dust as the limo pulled away,” she joked. She was feeling very much better now that she had that off her chest!
*****
The limo pulled up to the frontage of an obviously very expensive modern home, complete with a large front portico.
“Ooooh,” Mary joked, “Fancy.” Everyone laughed.
If they were expecting some manservant to greet them, they were to be disappointed. John came bounding out of the house and met them halfway down the portico. He immediately engulfed Mary, and then Stella, and then James in hugs. Alistair held out his hand and met John’s for a warm handshake, and then John immediately leant down and swept Arthur up in to his arms saying, “Hello Little Macca!” John then fastened his eyes on Alasdhair.
“So you’re the upstart who thinks he’s good enough for our Stella, eh?” He asked in a smartass tone.
Alasdhair blushed a little. Lennon’s eyes were a little too ironic and distrusting for his taste. “How do you do, I’m Alasdhair Willis.”
John stared for a moment longer and then grudgingly held out his hand to be grasped. Alasdhair found the hand grasp to be harsh and the staring to be even harsher.
Stella cried, “John! Stop! He’s nervous enough already!”
John gave Alasdhair another long look and said, “He’d better be...” He then smiled a bit to take the sting out of it. John then turned on his heel and headed back towards the house, talking cheerfully with Arthur the whole way.
Stella waited a moment for Alasdhair to catch up with her, and then she held out her hand. He took it. “Courage!” She whispered, and then giggled. “John’s the worst of it. Daddy’s much easier.”
“Oh thank god,” Alasdhair managed to exhale.
As everyone was gathering in the elegant sunroom, which had magnificent views of the pool patio and the ocean, and as they all were imbibing the tropical drinks John had prepared for them, Paul suddenly appeared from another part of the house.
“I didn’t hear you come in! ‘No one’ thought to tell me.” Paul had aimed the second part of his comment at John, with a faux angry look.
“Oops,” John said, but without an ounce of true apology in his voice.
Unlike John, Paul looked around for the newcomer first, and soon sorted him out, shy and hovering in the background.
“You must be Alasdhair,” Paul said warmly, approaching. “I’m Paul.” He held out his hand, and Alasdhair put out his hand, too, which Paul grasped with both of his. He looked Alasdhair straight in the eyes, but kindly, and said, “You must be very special for Stella to bring you to us. I’m glad to finally meet you.”
Alasdhair felt a rush of relief flooding through his body, and he hoped it wasn’t obvious to everyone. He relaxed and said, “Stella speaks so lovingly of you and of her whole family. I’m glad to finally meet all of you, too.”
Paul thought, graceful. Well said. He turned to Stella and winked at her. Well done, girl, was the message Stella got. She broke out in a wreath of a smile, which took over almost her whole face. Paul turned to John. “So what’s the program, maestro? What do we all do next?”
Everyone laughed. John had, by default, taken over the family’s Holiday Tour Directorship job from Linda upon her death.
John suggested everyone find their rooms, unpack, refresh themselves, settle in, and they were all going to have a meal out on the pool patio in a few hours. This being agreeable to everyone, they all disappeared. After they’d all left the room, John asked Paul, “Do you think she told him about us, or are we supposed to pretend to be ‘friends’? Will I be sleeping on the sofa all week?”
“There are more than enough bedrooms for you to have your own,” Paul said thoughtfully, as if he were taking John’s comment seriously. But then he laughed and said, “Either way, we’re going to be ourselves. And he can like it or lump it.”
That being exactly what John wanted to hear, he smiled brightly and headed for the kitchen. Paul went back to the room he had designated the ‘music room’ on the other side of the house, to be kept company by his latest classical composing project.
*****
A few days after the holiday began, Sean arrived with his girlfriend Charlotte. They slipped into the family milieu easily and without fuss. On their first night there, after a great dinner, Sean was seated near Alasdhair on the pool patio. Both were drinking cocktails. Sean said, “You got the best one of the bunch.”
Alasdhair said, “Hmmm?”
“Stella. She’s the best of my siblings. They’re all great, but she’s amazing.”
Alasdhair smiled. “No argument here.” He was curious, though. He couldn’t help it. “So you grew up with Stella, did you?”
“For half of the year, since I was about 7 or 8, until I grew up, yes,” Sean responded.
“So she is like a sister to you?” Alasdhair asked.
“Yes - she is my sister. That’s how it is,” Sean responded. He turned to Alasdhair. “The way it is - between our fathers - we see ourselves as related. And since I knew and loved Linda so much - she was a second mother to me - it is the same as if we were stepsiblings, you know? But I loved their mother, and they love my father - no drama there.”
Alasdhair smiled. “Your dad scared the crap out of me at first. I could hardly talk straight. But I watch him with Stella - he really loves her, I can tell, and she adores him. And he and Mary seem to have a very special relationship, too.”
Sean laughed. “Dad and Mary are incredibly close. They talk several times a day when Dad’s not on tour.”
“Really?” Alasdhair said.
“Yeah - about recipes, the baby, what’s going on in their lives. It’s kind of cute, I think. He’s kind of a substitute mother for her, I think.” Sean looked at his glass, which was now empty. “You want another drink?”
*****
“I really like Stella’s fella," John said.
Paul chortled.
“What?” John asked.
“Stella’s fella? The rhyme?”
John belly laughed. “I didn’t even notice that.”
Paul said, “I like him very much, too. He’s a steadying influence, and she really respects him. It is so important in a relationship.”
The two of them were lying in bed, side lamps on, and each had abandoned their reading material to engage in this discussion. John eyed Paul with deep affection. “You’re the steadying influence for me, and I really respect you, Paul,” John said sweetly.
Paul grinned at John. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, I was just agreeing with you about Alasdhair.”
There was quiet for a few moments until John commented, “But what were the odds that both of your daughters would end up with guys named Alistair? It isn’t exactly a common name.”
Paul put his book to the side, and turned off his side lamp. He turned over on to his side, and held his arm out, inviting John to shelter within it. John literally threw his magazine on to the floor, and swung around to shut off his light, and then dove into a cuddle with Paul. Paul kissed John quickly on the tip of his nose. John then used that nose to nuzzle Paul’s nose. And then inevitably, slowly, their lips met.