Real Love: Chapter Twelve
Real Love
Title: Chapter Twelve
Authors: lovely_rita_mm & jenny_wren28
Starring: The Beatles (specifically John Lennon) and Maggie Sue
Rating: R for language, sex, & implied drug use.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and much to the real Maggie’s disappointment, is a complete work of fiction.
Is there anything that will slow the breakup of the Beatles? Or will it speed up?
Previous updates are located HERE.
Chapter 12
“Maggie, you’ve got to do something about John.” Paul was walking in agitated circles around his kitchen. The Cuban heels of his boots clicked a staccato rhythm against the tile, causing Maggie to smile fondly. The boys rarely wore their old boots anymore, but Paul still did from time to time. “He’s out of control.”
“It’s John. He’s always out of control.” Maggie took a sip of her tea and rested a hand on her swollen belly. She was almost five months along and felt like she was really starting to balloon up. She tried not to think about how many months she still had left until the baby came. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get him to stop trying to bloody break up my band, that’s what.” With that, Paul collapsed into an overstuffed, mustard yellow chair in the adjoining living room and scowled, looking all the more handsome for it. Cute one indeed!
Following him into the living room, Maggie forced herself not to laugh at Paul’s childish behavior. He could sulk like no other when he wanted to. Usually Paul was the eternal diplomat who rarely broke his cool. It figured that it would be John to bring him to his breaking point. “Look, Paul, I’m on your side.” She set aside her blue flower-patterned teacup and focused her gaze on the irate Beatle before her. “I told you from the very beginning that the last thing I wanted was for the Beatles to break up.”
“Then why did you tell him to talk to Pete? Things were fine as they were.” Paul lit up a cigarette and then immediately stubbed it out after a raised eyebrow from Maggie, but not before grumbling, “Bloody hell,” under his breath.
“Were they? For Pete?” Maggie sat on the matching yellow sofa and tucked her bare feet under her in an attempt to get comfortable. “I respect your right to replace your drummer and God knows I love Ringo, but you guys were really unfair to Pete. Frankly, you all owe him an apology, not just John. Pete isn’t the problem here. He’s just a symptom that something else is wrong.”
“Yeah, well that symptom is breaking up my band!”
“Well, maybe if you’d stop being so damned controlling, John wouldn’t be looking for somewhere else to play. And George isn’t far behind him.” Maggie snapped her mouth shut, realizing she was nearly shouting. She loved Paul and he was a brilliant musician, but she knew how frustrating he could be to collaborate with.
“Me?” Paul sat up and poked a finger at his chest. “You’re pinning this on me?”
“Two words, Paulie.” She held up two fingers. “Ob-la-di.” She put one finger down. “Ob-la-da.” She lowered her second finger, ignoring his aghast expression. “Only you could take one of the happiest songs I’ve ever heard and make your bandmates want to murder you over it.”
“I just wanted the song to be right,” Paul said, somewhat subdued.
“But at what cost? Look, the song is awesome. You’re awesome. You’re an amazing musician and songwriter. But you’re not a solo act, you’re part of a band, and you’ve got to let George and John, and Ringo for that matter, be a part of the creative process.” Maggie reached back for her tea, needing to wet her throat.
“Well, maybe I should do a solo album.” Paul got up and started walking in agitated circles again.
Maggie’s hand froze mid air, and she mentally smacked herself in the head. How was she managing to single-handedly plant the seeds for the Beatles break-up? Could they survive making records without each other? Or maybe that would be the only thing that could keep them together.
“You know, Paul,” Maggie said slowly, “Maybe you should. In my time bands work a lot differently than they do here in the 60s. Lots of bands get together every few years to make an album and they have side projects and other things between albums.” She took a sip and then made a face. The tea was now luke-warm. “You guys have been in a pressure cooker since what, ’62? Maybe you do need a break from each other. And yet you have so much good music left in you. I’ve heard it.” Maggie chose her words carefully. She was never sure how much she should let on to the band as far as their future together went. She didn’t want to say too much and cause them to break up or ruin every surprise. On the other hand, she’d already meddled plenty, and she’d yet to see the outcome. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Maybe you should consider working on some solo stuff. You can control it as much as you want. And maybe it would make you more willing to let the others in on the Beatles stuff. You’ve got to trust them as musicians. George knows very well that you don’t trust him and that’s going to drive him away, ultimately.”
“I do trust George, it’s just… I don’t know.” Chewing on his lower lip, Paul had a faraway look in his hazel eyes as he took a few minutes to gather his thoughts. “I have this vision in my head of how I want a song to be and it’s so strong that it’s hard to want to veer off from that. It’s like this need to translate it into what I know it can be. Sometimes that comes easy and sometimes…”
“Sometimes it’s Ob-la-di Ob-la-da,” Maggie finished for him.
“Yeah.” Paul ruffled his hair with his hand, nearly standing it on end. It was a look Maggie had never really seen despite the thousands of pictures she’d seen of him and she found her heart fluttered as her brain quietly reminded her that holy cow she was in the presence of an actual Beatle. She swallowed a smile over the fact that even after all this time these guys could still occasionally get to her like this - she was married to John for goodness sakes - and focused on Paul and his problem.
“If you knew that you could channel your perfectionism into some solo stuff, would that take some of the pressure off The Beatles?”
“Not sure.” He shrugged.
“Can you try cutting George a break?”
“Not sure.” This time Paul laughed. Maggie gave him a pointed look. “I know, I know. I’ll try to be better about George, I will.”
“Do you think you guys can kiss and make up?”
“You just want us to kiss, period.” Paul shook his head at Maggie.
“Well, you four are awfully cute together.” Maggie smiled, feeling some of the tension leave the room. “I’ve already talked to John about seeing if Apple can schedule Pete’s band’s album release for a few week’s after Mary’s. That way you’re not competing.” She cocked her head to the side and met Paul’s gaze. “I can definitely assure you that though John enjoyed filling in here or there on the album, he doesn’t have any plans to leave The Beatles, or even any really serious plans for a solo project. You know John anyway - one minute he’s got a wild hare to do something, and five minutes later, he’s on to something else.”
“Like when he wanted us to suspend him from the ceiling and swing him around the mic for ‘Tomorrow Never Knows.’ Even sent Mal out for a rope.” Paul chuckled at the memory.
“And Mal was smart enough to go to the pub instead, knowing that John would have forgotten all about it by the time he got back.”
“You heard that one, eh?” He raised a dark eyebrow.
“I think it was in Geoff Emerick’s book,” she admitted. “It really made me laugh, even before I actually knew John.”
“Emerick writes a book? Does he ‘tell all’?” The look on Paul’s face made it clear that he was wondering whether he should be annoyed or not.
“It’s not salacious or anything,” Maggie said. “Actually it’s one of my favorites about The Beatles because it talks so much about what it was like recording you. So let him write it, Paulie.”
“Fine, fine.” He dismissed the thread of conversation with a wave of his hand, still clearly upset over the state of his band.
“Paul, I promise. John’s not going anywhere. And Ringo will be back from Greece next week… I suggest flowers.”
“Noted.” Paul gave Maggie a wry smile.
“I don’t think George is going anywhere either. John’s talking to him right now, I think.”
“And he sent you over to talk with me?” A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth and his forehead wrinkled.
“Nah, I came of my own accord. I figured you might need someone to talk to. I thought you might be a bit upset about your band melting down.”
“Thanks.” Paul picked at an invisible piece of lint on the back of the sofa. “I am. Was. I don’t know. Sometimes I just get the feeling that the Beatles mean more to me than the others. I love the Beatles. I love being a Beatle. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished.” He gazed at some point to the right and behind Maggie, as if he was afraid to meet her eyes. “And I want us to stay together and keep putting out albums. I’d love to gig again.” He sounded almost wistful.
“Well, you’ll probably have a much tougher time talking George into playing live. But I’m pretty sure he will stick around to record. Especially if you let him have a few tracks on the next album.”
“A few?” Paul’s gaze focused back on Maggie’s face. “He normally gets one!”
“And you wonder why he wants out,” Maggie said, shaking her head.
“Fine, fine. We can work it out.”
Maggie shot Paul a grin. “Life is very short.”
“And there’s not time for fussing and fighting, eh?”
“Exactly.” Maggie shot a glance at her watch - she needed to get going soon.
“You know, luv, for someone who’s not actually our manager, you do a lot of managing.” Noticing Maggie checking the time, Paul stood up and extended a hand to help her to her feet.
“Is that good or bad?” She took his hand, grateful for the assist.
“Usually good - clearly you seem to know what’s best for us.”
“Yeah, but that’s just because I’ve seen the future. It’s not anything more than that.”
“But it is. You know us.” Paul guided them both toward the front door. “And you also want what’s best. You’re not looking for a piece yourself.“
“Some might say I already got myself a piece. A full one-fourth of the band, to be precise.” Maggie scooped up her car keys and flashed Paul a wink.
“Oh, don’t listen to the papers. They’re full of shite anyway.” Then his eyes brightened in a way that often worried Maggie. “Hey, luv, maybe you should be our manager…”
Maggie shook her head before he was even finished talking. If only I was more than one person, if I could somehow steer them around arguing over who their new manager should be. But reality set in. “In what spare time? And soon we’ll have Little Ringo taking up all our energy…”
Paul snorted. “Little Ringo?”
Smiling, she rubbed her protruding stomach. “Well, of course, I’m naming the baby after my favorite Beatle…”
“And here I thought I was your favorite!”
“You’re all my favorite!” she said reassuringly.
“That’s a lot of names to saddle the poor kid with.” Paul opened the front door, and gave Maggie a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, luv. I’m glad we’ve become friends, you and I. I’ve no idea what you had against me at the start.”
Giving him a well-deserved smack on the shoulder, Maggie hugged him back before turning toward her car. She needed to get back to Apple. She was dying to hear what had happened between Chris and Mick Jagger at the party they were at recently, but Chris had somehow managed to evade Maggie since then. Probably because she knew she’d be grilled for all the details.
* * *
“Maggie sent you, didn’t she?” George said bluntly to the man standing on his front doorstep. “She hates when we fight.”
“No. Well, yes, she does hate it.” John stared at him over the rim of his granny glasses. “But I came of my own accord.”
“Well, you might as well come in. There’s fans.” George left the door to Kinfauns, his brightly painted Escher bungalow, open. John followed him inside, being careful to close the door behind him. He’d posed for a few photos on the way up the drive, but had no desire for the fans to witness their conversation.
“Would you like something to drink?” George offered, more out of politeness than a desire to have a sit down with John.
”Tea is fine.”
George moved silently around the kitchen, filling the kettle and grabbing teacups and saucers out of the cabinet. John watched him for a while and then pulled up a kitchen stool and sat while he tried to figure out what to say. He was about to open his mouth when George looked over at him and said, “It’s always been you three, you know. I’m the outsider, the kid who always tagged along after you. Believe me, I get that.”
John suddenly doubled over laughing.
“Christ, John, I open up to you and you laugh?” George glared at his bandmate.
“It’s just that I had this exact conversation with Ringo,” John gasped. The absurdity of it tickled something in him. John tried to pull himself together, since George was still looking at him like he had three heads. He said more seriously, “He thought it was us three. That he was the outsider, since he was the last to join the band.”
“That’s ridiculous.” George said flatly. He filled the cups up with water from the steaming kettle.
“Yes, it is. And it’s ridiculous for you to think it. And it’s ridiculous for me to think it as well, which, by the way I do.” John accepted the cup George passed to him. “I haven’t talked to Paul yet, but Maggie went over there for tea and I assume he’s telling her the same thing.” It was still funny, but it suddenly struck him as sad. “Christ, when did we lose who we were? We used to be able to read each other’s minds. But these days…” John took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“As I see it, it’s our past that’s the problem right now.” George sipped his tea then hissed. It was still quite hot and he’d burned his tongue.
“Pete?”
“Yeah. You put me and Paul in a bad spot, you know.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” John went to sip his tea, and then thought better of it, and set it down to cool.
“You really…wait, what?” George cocked his head to the side, a confused expression crossing his face.
“I said, I’m sorry. I should have talked to you both first. But, I dunno, once I had it in me head that I needed to make things right with Pete, it felt like it needed to be done immediately.” John blew on his tea, then took a timid sip. It had cooled enough.
George was silent. He knew very well what John was like. The apology, on the other hand - that surprised him. Picking up his teacup, he moved around the counter and sat down on the stool next to John. “This whole apologizing thing - it’s not a side of you I’m used to.”
“That’s what Ringo said.” John sipped his tea, amused again. The Beatles may have grown apart as they grew up, but it still seemed they could be of one mind.
“Turning over a new leaf, then?” George studied John.
“I guess so.”
“Well, good for you.”
The two men were silent for a few minutes.
“I’d like it if you and Paul came to Pete’s album release party. I understand if you don’t want to. But it might be a nice gesture.” John smiled to let George know he wasn’t trying to pressure him into doing something he didn’t want to do.
“I’ll think about it, John. Thanks for asking.” George gave him a lopsided smile in return. The first genuine smile John had seen on younger man’s face in a while.
“I’ve been told it’s what grown-ups do.” John informed George politely. He then picked up his teacup and stuck out his finger primly. “Tut tut and whatnot, Georgie boy.”
George watched the former Teddy Boy sedately drink his tea and couldn’t help but be intrigued by this new side of John. He wasn’t sure if it was a passing phase or not, but he couldn’t deny that a mild, easy-going John would be easier for them all to deal with in the long run, even if it by rights it should send them looking for an alien pod in John’s basement. Because there was always the possibility that the real John had been replaced. However, at the moment George had no complaints.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Sorry it took us a bit to get this one up - hope you enjoyed it!
Continue to Chapter Thirteen
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