She Loves You?
Title: She Loves You? PART 11
Author: macca44552
Pairing: J/P, G/OC, P/OC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A naive fan, thinking that she is going to win the heart of Paul McCartney, walks into something quite odd...
A/N: There’s some stuff about religion in this one. It is just fiction. It doesn’t reflect my personal views. For the most part, everything is historically accurate. I plan to keep it that way, unless I find the need to make changes.
Disclaimer: Everything you heard is a lie: I don’t own The Beatles.
PART 1 PART 6
PART 2 PART 7
PART 3 PART 8
PART 4 PART 9
PART 5 PART 10
“Give me, give me, a chance to be near you. Because, because I love you,” I sang solemnly as I walked down the stairs. I was in a strange mood entirely reminiscent of what I felt like when I graduated from high school. What now?
Emptiness was the only thing that my heart felt. After all, I came on tour with The Beatles to accomplish one seemingly simple goal: end John and Paul’s relationship. Not only did that task prove to be impossible, but after the strange sequence of events that occurred over the last couple of days, I didn’t even want to split up the pair. But where did that leave me? What was I to accomplish?
When I rounded the corner, my eyes spotted the very last person that I wanted to see: Paul McCartney. He was sitting on the couch strumming bits and pieces of a beautiful melody.
He looked up at me for a spilt-second before hurriedly putting his head down again. I took a deep breath. If I want to make amends with him, it has to be now or never.
I took a seat next to him and watched as his playing became stiff. He was certainly not as good at ignoring people as George. I looked down at my hands and listened to his song.
“That’s pretty,” I whispered, trying not to disturb the music.
“Just came to me, actually,” he answered shortly, but I could almost see his ego pulsating.
“I like gentle music, like what you’re playing. It calms me down.”
Paul shrugged.
“Have to be in the mood fer it, I guess,” he said off-handedly. I sighed. Talking normally is clearly not working. I suppose I’ll just have to be more direct.
“It’s okay with me now. You and John, that is. So, no hard feelings?” I blurted. He stopped playing and looked over at me with crossed eyebrows.
“Glad to have your approval,” he said, sarcasm evident in his voice. I swallowed.
“That’s not what I meant! I don’t want you guys to split up! I don’t think it’s wrong anymore, well, it’s still a bit gross, but now that I see how much you two are in love, I’m all for it,” I rambled. Paul’s jaw fell open.
“What are you talking about “in love”? Did John tell you that?” he stammered.
“No. I can just tell.”
“How?”
“By the way you act around each other!”
“You’re a nutter! John and I are just mates.”
“That’s not how you feel,” I said confidently.
“Yes it is!”
“Prove it,” I said, feeling as though that response was more than accurate for this elementary conversation. He swiftly stood up.
“Don’t have to. Not to you, anyway.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Stop putting up your McCartney wall. I see the way you act around John, you become a totally different person. You don’t have to hide from me, I know that you love him,” I said sincerely. He snorted.
“Oh yeah, I forgot! I’m just a phony bastard aren’t I?”
“No! That’s not what I meant! I’m sorry that I said that to you last night! I just meant that you change how you act depending on who you’re talking to,” I tried to explain.
“Thanks for the analysis,” he bit as he walked away. Shit!
“Paul, stop! I didn’t…eh…everyone does it!” I shouted after him. Why doesn’t he understand?
“Do I just suck at apologizing?” I asked myself.
“Yep,” George answered as he came walking through the room wearing a blue tee shirt and his small swimming trunks. I tried not to stare at him. I was still pissed about the pool incident.
“Thanks for your input,” I said sarcastically as I leaned back into the couch.
“No problem.”
I watched as he walked across the expansive living room, paused at the doorway, and bent over to pick up some newspapers. Of course, it doesn’t take five minutes to bend over and pick up some papers, and that’s how long it seemed like I was staring at his ass. For fuck’s sake George, stop toying with me!
He turned around and started shuffling through the papers with a curious expression. After a few seconds, he found one that sparked his interest and he started laughing childishly. I tilted my head.
“What’s so funny?” I asked. He laughed louder.
“Can’t tell you!” he responded. I rolled my eyes.
“You can’t tell me?”
“Nope. Yer not part of the club.” I bit the side of my mouth as anger swept through my body. It was becoming harder and harder to stay on good terms with George. He’s such an annoying fucking sexy asshole!
“What club?” I asked through clenched teeth. George’s response was to laugh even more. Frustrated, I grabbed the glass of scotch and coke that was lying on the table and drank the last of it.
“What are you laughing about?” John questioned as he and Ringo walked into the room. George handed the newspaper to John with a large smile on his face. John broke out in laughter immediately.
“What? Let me see!” Ringo said, peeking to try and read the paper.
“Sorry, Rings, you have to be this tall,” John responded by holding his hand an inch above Ringo’s height. The drummer sighed and grabbed the paper from John’s weak grasp. His blue eyes scanned the paper quickly before he too laughed.
What the fuck is so funny?
“Oh man, Paul has got to see this!” he said through a chuckle.
“I’ll get him. PAUL, GET OUT HERE QUICK! ALL OF YOUR HAIR SUPPLIES ARE ON FIRE!” John screamed. I barely suppressed a giggle.
Just as expected, Paul emerged from his room in a spilt second, looking all around the house for signs of fire.
“What are you on about?” Paul asked. John shrugged.
“You just missed it. Anyroad, look at this,” John said as he handed the paper to Paul. He held it up to the light.
“Beatles plane fire leaves Paul McCartney depressed?” he read the headline incredulously. The other three laughed.
“Give me that, you didn’t read the best part!” John demanded as he took the first page of the paper and started skimming thorough it.
“Listen to this: Paul McCartney looked particularly troubled during The Beatles’ press conference in Portland, Oregon. His hair was frizzy, his eyes were bloodshot, and he stared at his dirty shoes instead of participating in the interview. Reporters believe that the fire triggered some kind of traumatic experience that the Beatle may have gone through when he was a child. Researchers are currently looking into that possibility. On the bright side, George Harrison gained great inspiration from the fire and is currently working on a new song about the experience,” John read while cackling like an old lady. Laughter danced on my lips as George and Ringo doubled over in hysterics. Paul looked annoyed.
“Fucking reporters,” he said while absently petting his hair.
“Hey guys look!” Ringo said as he held up a page of the paper for them to look at. George grabbed the paper and looked where Ringo was pointing.
“It says that The Byrds are gonna be in Beverly Hills today!” George read excitedly. John’s smile stretched the length of his face and met at his ears.
“We should invite them over, have a real party instead of the shitty business gatherings that Brian puts us through!” John exclaimed.
“Sounds good to me,” Ringo said before dropping the paper and walking over to the couch where I was sitting. He grabbed the glass from the table and looked in it with a confused expression.
“Where’d my scotch go?” he asked. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing.
“That one downed the lot!” George said while pointing at me. Thanks George.
I gave him a dirty look before apologizing to Ringo. If George would have just told me what was in the paper instead of being such a secretive asshole, then I wouldn’t have resorted to alcohol. It was his fault!
“Well, I’m going to see if I can get the Byrds over here! You wankers have at it!” John said as he went into the room that he and Paul shared.
I sighed as I rose from the couch and walked to my room. I had to get ready for the party. Maybe I would have the opportunity make amends with John and Paul. All I knew was that I definitely had to stay away from the scotch and coke if I had any hope of not getting myself into more trouble.
* * *
“Hey, John! How are ya?” Jim McGuinn asked excitedly.
I watched as The Beatles and The Byrds carried on with their greetings. They looked like they were great friends. I said hello to the band in a very composed manner; I didn’t scream or do a silly dance! Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that The Byrds weren’t exactly my favorite band. I mean, their cover of Mr. Tambourine Man was good, but nobody does Dylan like Dylan. There was nothing original about The Byrds. They were just there.
Speaking of being “just there”, Eleanor Bron, the freaky lady from the Help! movie, was also at the party. Thank God she’s not as ugly in person as she is on camera! I thought as I mingled through the guests.
“Hey, so now that you guys are here, lets get right to it!” John announced loudly. As if by magic, bags of pot and an endless amount of beer littered the room. Immediately, everyone started lighting and passing around some joints. Feeling experienced, I grabbed a joint and sucked on it as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Jim was staring at me with a smile on his face.
“Jesus! George where did you find this one?” he asked. George looked up from the two joints that he had in his hands.
“Uh…what are talking about?” he asked, clearly distracted by the TWO FUCKING JOINTS.
“Her. Isn’t she your girlfriend?” he asked while pointing to me. My face assumed a bright red color. I sucked on the joint some more. Girlfriend?
“No!” George exclaimed with an odd mixture of panic, confusion, shock, and…sadness? Jim’s face dropped.
“Sorry. I just assumed,” he said while stealing one of the joints from a speechless George.
George and I looked at each other incredulously. For a long time our eyes were glued. We were having some sort of silent conversation, one full of questions, one that I didn’t understand.
“Hey, George, I think you’ve had that for long enough,” Paul said as he stole the joint from George and thereby ended our conversation.
I sighed and stood up from our “pot circle”. I walked all around the house in a daze, trying to figure out why Jim thought George and I were dating. Did we just look good together?
Eventually, I found myself back in the party room and I sat down on the couch.
“Hello,” Eleanor said as she sat next to me. I gave her a feeble smile.
“Hi! I saw you in Help! You’re a great actress,” I said, trying to make conversation. She smiled brightly.
“Thanks…um…pardon me, but I don’t think I know what you’re from,” she said. I immediately looked at my shoes. So, because I’m hanging out with The Beatles, she expects me to be some sort of famous person or something?
A smile formed on my lips. Might as well have a little fun with this.
“Yeah. Actually I’m a pretty top-notch actress. I was in a movie called…er…Wilmington Heights,” I lied. She raised her eyebrows.
“Wilmington Heights? Don’t you mean Wuthering Heights?” she asked. I swallowed.
“Uh, no. Wilmington Heights. It’s been out for a while,” I tried. She looked at me skeptically.
“Okay? So who else was in the movie? Maybe that’ll help with my memory.”
At that time, the pot was definitely kicking in and my mind power was waning. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to carry out with this lie for much longer. Not to mention the fact that I needed to apologize to John and Paul, and this bitch was just fucking annoying.
“Oh, you know, actors that a low ranking actress like yourself will never be able to work with. Now if you excuse me, I have to get going,” I said as I sat up and walked away to find either John or Paul. A quick glance back and I saw that she was giving me the dirtiest look imaginable. I laughed. I fucking love getting a reaction out of people.
Eventually, my giggling form carried me over to John, Paul, George, Ringo, and Jim. The latter was holding a bag full of a couple strange looking pills.
“What’s that?” I asked. John looked at me with an odd glint in his eyes.
“LSD.”
My eyes grew wide. LSD? I heard Lenny talking about that stuff all the time. He always said that he wanted to try it, but he was worried that he would end up having a bad trip that would fuck his mind up for the rest of his life. Paul was in agreement.
“Come on, Paulie! Just take it! George and I had some before and we’re perfectly fine,” John whined. George started giggling.
“Yeah! Remember the time when we thought that building was on fire?” he asked. John laughed.
“Oh yeah! And then we started screaming through the streets!”
“I remember! And then Pattie and Cynthia started pestering us about playing football in the middle of the street!” George gasped between laughs. He and John started giggling about their fond LSD memories. My stomach twirled. George’s mention of Pattie stung me with jealousy. Pattie was his girlfriend. She was what he was going home to. No one else.
“John I don’t care! I’m not taking it! I heard stories about that stuff messing with people’s minds. They’re never the same after they take it!” Paul declared. John waved off his words.
“It doesn’t mess with yer mind too bad. It’s a fucking good time! Just take some!” John pressured.
“I’ll try some,” Ringo said as he grabbed the bag and swallowed one of the tablets.
“That a boy, Ringo!” John said as he and George both took a pill. Paul watched them with a stern expression. He was not giving in.
“Sorry, Jim. I didn’t know that Paul was gonna be a complete poof. You can just take that last pill yerself,” John said while giving the bassist a dirty look. Jim shook his head.
“Already had one,” he said. John took the bag from his grasp.
“Well then she can ‘ave one!” he said as he handed me the pill. I looked up at John with a questioning glance. He wants me to take LSD? Trying pot is one thing, but now LSD?
I took the bag cautiously and stared at the pill as if it were a foreign object. Was I really ready to be taking mind-altering drugs?
“Don’t take it, Kara,” Paul said. I looked up into his expectant eyes. I understood. I was making a choice, take the LSD and be on John’s side, or don’t take the LSD and be on Paul’s side. I was just a point in the Lennon/McCartney argument.
“Ah! Just take it! Unless you wanna have a boring time like this one,” John said as he pointed to Paul. I looked over and saw that both George and Ringo were looking at me expectantly. Peer pressure was fucking nothing compared to Beatles pressure.
I closed my eyes and gave the bag back to Jim. He looked at me with a disappointed expression before he saw me throw the pill in my mouth and swallow it dry. John applauded.
“You may be a bitch, but you’re no wimp!” John said. I smiled feebly as my heart started to race. I was extremely nervous about taking LSD, but I figured that partaking in a LSD trip would help to build a connection between John and me. John Lennon was a man of actions, and I was more than positive that sitting down with him for a heart-felt apology would not work. I had to take it. Plus, Lenny will be so proud when he finds out that I took pot and LSD!
Paul snorted and walked away. I did feel bad that he was left out, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to reconcile with him at this party. He was in a terrible mood and the anger that he felt for John would only get in the way.
“Well, I’m ready to have a fucking good time!” Ringo said as he lifted his glass of scotch in the air and spilled it all over himself. Everyone started giggling.
This was going to be a strange night.
To be continued…