langueurmonoton (langueurmonoton) wrote,
langueurmonoton
langueurmonoton

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The Interview: Gap Filler # 5

Title: The Interview: Gap Filler # 5


Yes, here's yet another one, but in my defense, this one was begging to be written, and after still feeling a bit of guilt for the tear-fest that was # 3, I decided to post another one ASAP.

It'll be a few days before another one is posted, but in the meantime, hopefully you'll find this one fitting. And just to be safe, it's rated R.




Returnin’ to Hamburg towards the beginnin’ of what we’d decided would be our last tour had been rather bittersweet. The city that had given the lads their first big break, from the first days when they’d arrived and would play the Indra for hour long sets well into the followin’ morning, had been one of the first few we’d played during that last go as a tourin’ band. What’d been our last performance at some music hall whose name I hadn’t bothered learnin’, had gone fairly alright considerin’ the lot of us were so tired of movin’ around on stage like we were trained monkeys who only played at playin’ instruments since we’d learned long ago that our fans’ screams would and had on more than one occasion drowned out the sound.

Like so many times before, soon as we’d finished our set and had taken our bows, we’d bailed it out of the venue and within minutes had been our way back to our hotel. Like had been our fashion durin’ every tour we’d taken, there’d been a party afterwards in our suite, and like so many of those other nights, it’d been a good time. For the most part, anyhow.

Like all the other parties that’d come before it, the music had been good, the suite had been filled to the brim with the drinks’d been flowin’, and the sweet odour of marijuana had lingered in the air. Old friends like Klaus and Astrid, the latter whom none of us had seen in what’d seemed like ages, had come and it’d been great to see ‘em both again. Like I’d said, it’d had the makings of a right proper great time to be had by all.

I’d danced with a few fellas, and like always, had been a bit amused at their sorta wary way ‘bout me. I’d been Beatle Liz, after all. After havin’ left a rather pretty faced fella on the dance floor so I could get meself a drink from the bar, movin’ quickly so he hadn’t been able to wrap an arm ‘round my waist, I’d caught sight of Johnny boy sittin’ on a sofa, at least have a dozen girls alternately sittin’ and standin’ ‘round him. He’d been layin’ back on that sofa, dark glasses on his nose, and had frankly looked a bit bored, lookin’ like it hadn’t been nothin’ more than a chore to be surrounded by a number of pretty girls kitted out in short skirts, who’d seemed to look for any excuse to reach over and touch him. After havin’ spent the past three years of his life fuckin’ hisself blue in the face from city to city, John Lennon had finally looked bored by it.

I’d earlier come across both me brother and Richie in similar situations, chattin’ up more than one bird at once, though Paulie as had been his custom, had dangled one dolly off his knee while doin’ the chattin’. Already havin’ had three rum and cokes in me system by then, I’d felt a bit of pity for John, the randy bastard, and had walked over to him with one. Soon as he’d caught sight of me, he’d pushed his specs still ‘til they’d hung off the edge of his nose. “Gute Evenin’, Liz!” he’d said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Here ya go, mate. Merry Crimbo to ye!” I’d laughed as I’d leaned over a blonde haired dolly who’d been crouched in front of him, and had pushed the drink into his hand. Raisin’ the glass in me direction, he’d swiftly knocked it back, and then sat back on the sofa to once again bask in the undivided attention of the birds who’d flocked around me. I’d caught one of ‘em givin’ me a bit of a dirty look when I’d approached, but when she’d recognised who it was, she’d instead looked at me all cow eyed. Havin’ grown long accustomed to the noisiness of our gatherin’s, I’d gone off to join Mal on a sofa and after a while, had let another young German bloke take me off for a dance.

A while later, after havin’ caught Paulie givin’ me a mischievous look as he’d taken off with a blonde German bird under his arm, I’d turned to Mal and told him I was headin’ off for some shut eye. Standin’ a bit unsteadily on me feet – by this point, I’d guzzled down at least seven drinks, I’d set off, unable to to contain my small fit of giggle as I’d bumped into person after person. The suite had been packed with people and I’d lost sight of most familiar face by that point.

I’d headed down a dark corridor from which each of our bedrooms jutted. ‘Right,’ I’d muttered to meself as I’d done me best to keep me movements as coordinated as possible – left, right, left – at least until I got to me room, ‘it’s the second room down…no wait, third door…fourth???, fuck…no, it’s the second door.’ When I’d reached the second door, I’d wrapped my fingers ‘round the knob, and had turned it so. Silly, bint, ye left the light switched on! Naughty, naughty Liz! And I’d giggled a little as I’d pushed the door open and made my way in.

When I’d turned, the sight that’d greeted me had winded me. I’d walked in on John fuckin’ a bird before, when you travelled on the road with four guys, as well as two minders, a press agent, and a roadie or two, it was unavoidable to see shite go down that most birds weren’t privy to. Most hang-ups that’d usually existed when it came to girls hadn’t existed anymore ‘round me since I’d taken up John on his offer to join up almost five years before that. But the eyeful I’d caught of George fuckin’ a girl on the bed, her legs tight ‘round his waist as he’d thrust into her roughly as he’d dug his fingers into her hip, had literally knocked the air out of me lungs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I hadn’t realized I’d said this out loud or that I’d probably stood there like a fool for seconds on end, ‘cos next thing I’d known, George had lifted his head from where it’d been buried in her shoulder and he’d looked at me. Even if my blitzed stupor I’d seen the sweat drippin’ down his shoulders, dark-hair damp with sweat, and eyes that’d looked black as night. At the sight of me, the dark-haired girl under him had turned, pullin’ the sheet over her. It’d felt like hours, but I’d known it’d only been a split second.

Before he’d opened his gob to say anythin’, I’d said the first thing that’d popped into me head, “What’re you doin’ in me room?”

He hadn’t moved a centimetre as he’d answered, “Yours is two doors down.”

Uncomfortable with the ache that’d settled in my chest, I’d felt a flush travellin’ up my neck as I’d moved quickly, or as quickly as I could move without havin’ to lean on the wall for support. “Right well...er, sorry ‘bout that, I thought this was – I’ll see ya in the mornin’. Night.”

I hadn’t known how the bloody hell I got to my room, but soon as I’d entered it, I’d shut the door loudly behind me and had quickly changed into my nightgown. “Ya needs to start cuttin’ back on how much you drink at these things,” I’d said to myself, rubbin’ my chest to somehow soothe the ache that’d settled there, thick as curdled milk. In my drunkenness, I’d passed it off to a bad reaction to bad alcohol – fuckin’ German bastards – and decided I’d ask Brian to send for a physician tomorrow if it didn’t lessen. Just as I’d been ‘bout to kip off though, in that fuzzy place that exists between bein’ awake and bein’ off in sleepy land, I’d seen George’s face settle clearly in me thoughts – hair dark with sweat and hangin’ over his forehead, starin’ up at me unflinchingly with eyes darker than I’d ever seen – and in that moment, the ache had almost made me cry out in pain.

“Fuckin’ German drink, see if I ever touch the stuff again.” And I’d fallen asleep, hand tight against my chest.

****

The followin’ mornin’ I’d headed to the common area and seein’ the breakfast cart, I’d helped meself to a strong cup of tea and asked Neil for headache powder. John and Richie had been sittin’ on opposite sides of the same sofa, John havin’ looked a bit pale as he’d held one of the letters Astrid had given him last night, and after exchangin’ brief ‘good mornings’ with ‘em, I’d settled into a chair when Neil handed me what I’d asked.

George had been sittin’ off to the side a bit, a rather moody air ‘bout him which I’d immediately put down to walkin’ in on him naked arsed last night. A half-eaten plate of eggs and empty cuppa had rested on a table at his side. Takin’ a somewhat fortifyin’ drink of tea, and glad that whatever physical effects last night’s terrible German alcohol had wrought on me body was no longer there, I’d settled what I’d imagined to be an amusin’ smile on me face before speakin’ to him, but no loudly enough so that everyone could hear what I had to say. “Oi George?”

He’d looked at me, a flash of somethin’ unfamiliar in his eyes, before they’d returned to as normal as ever. “Yeah?”

“Sorry ‘bout last night, mate. I was sloshed as you could probably tell by the amount of headache powder I’ve poured into my tea, so I didn’t know it was yer room I was goin’ to. I really am sorry.” And in that second or so after I’d said that, I’d realised that despite havin’ always known of all the girls that he and the other lads had gotten off with over the years, that I’d never actually seen the act with me own eyes.

That odd, unreadable kinda look had returned to his eyes before returnin’ to the normal, unbothered expression he usually wore. “Don’t fret ‘bout it, Liz. I’m not.” His smile hadn’t reached his eyes, and he’d set ‘bout askin’ Mal when we’d be headin’ to the airport for our flight to Tokyo, actin’ as unbothered as you’d have usually expected of him, I’d finished me tea, and I’d remembered.

Despite meself I’d remembered the way his body had moved over the dark-haired girl, the way his fingers had tightened on her hips as she’d tightened her legs under his arse. Feelin’ last nights’ familiar ache settle in my chest as the image replayed through me head until I willed it to stop, glad no one could imagine what was goin’ on in my skull, I’d understood finally that I could only blame the alcohol for so much.

In the hours that’d followed, I’d played it cool, somehow managin’ to act like meself so no one could’ve known or suspected. The walls…the walls had been comin’ down, and after so long, I’d had no choice but to let them.

***

“Ordinary passengers! You’re bein’ treated like ordinary passengers!” One of the Filipino guards had said to us as we were jostled from one corner of the transit lounge to another.

“What the fuck’s the matter with all of you?!” I’d exclaimed as I’d been felt Richie be pushed into me as the manoeuvrin’ continued. After readin’ the papers and seein’ the telly this mornin’ and hearin’ nothin’ but how we’d snubbed the first lady of the Philippeans by not goin’ to her dinner and the uproar that’d created in the country, we’d been in a constant state of panic and now this was takin’ the cake. I saw John clingin’ onto Paul’s shoulder, both wearin’ the same look of fear on their faces for the room full of people who were jostlin’ us ‘round. They were angry and weren’t afraid to show it.

“You’ll be treated like ordinary passengers!”

Clutchin’ Richie’s hand tightly I’d looked ‘round, movin’ out of the way if any of ‘em got too close to me. I’d wanted nothin’ more than to get out of the fuckin’ place and onto the plane that would take us home. I’d suddenly felt a guard touch my arm I’d turned to look at him, eyes blazin’, “Get your hands off of me!” I’d bumped further into Neil who’d behind me and the guard’s hand had moved away.

Out of the corner of me eye, I’d seen Paul’s eyes jump to me as soon as the words had left me mouth, and before he’d started strugglin’ to get through to me, I’d looked at him with eye’s wide and had given a vigorous shake of me head. “I’m ok. I’m okay,” I’d mouthed to him and he’d stopped but he hadn’t taken his eyes off of me.

“Lizzy, are you okay, luv,” I’d heard Ringo whisper to me and I’d nodded earnestly, givin’ his hand a reassurin’ squeeze which he returned to my unspoken question. But the jostlin’ had continued, until we were near to fallin’ all over each other. At some point, I’d almost tripped over me feet and just as I’d felt meself ‘bout to fall backwards, I’d felt George’s arm come instantly ‘round me – comin’ out of nowhere it’d seemed like – keepin’ me upright. I’d felt meself relax into it somewhat.

“I’ve got ya, Liz.” I’d turned me head to look up at him, saw the concerned way ‘bout his face, and had nodded. I’d felt his fingers slide through mine and held onto his hand tightly while I reached ‘round for Ringo’s which I’d lost for a few seconds there.

When we’d finally managed to get on the plane, legs movin’ us quickly as they’d ever had, we’d fallen about, kissin’ the seats, British Airways – Britain at last. I hadn’t given a shit at what it must’ve looked like, I’d grabbed ahold of Paulie’s hand and had pulled him into the seat next to me, immediately curlin’ into him. I’d never been so fuckin’ frightened in me entire life.

“I was goin’ to cripple the bastard,” he’d said to me, face flushed, his hand clingin’ tightly to mine.

“And ruin your reputation as the Cute Beatle, never.” I’d looked up at him, feelin’ an overwhelmin’ amount of affection for my older brother. However, it’d seemed that the nastiness indeed hadn’t passed, and next thing we’d known, Mal, Tony, and Brian were bein’ asked to leave the plane.

Exchangin’ looks amongst ourselves, we’d watched the three stand and do as instructed, and I’d felt a momentary sense of panic ‘cos I hadn’t, none of us had known what to expect. As Mal had made his way down, I’d seen the tears streamin’ down his face as he’d called over his shoulder, “Tell Lil I love her.” I hadn’t been a religious person by any means, but I’d sent a wee broken prayer up.

It’d felt like hours had passed with us waitin’ on that plane, not knowin’ what the hell was goin’ to happen. At some point, I’d stood up, brushin’ the hair back from Paulie’s forehead as I’d leaned down to kiss his temple, and I’d moved ‘round, hopin’ to calm my erratic heart beat. I’d tried to joke with John, tryin’ to make light of somethin’ that I knew we were pretty shaken by. “He didn’t try to grab your girly bits, did he?” John had leaned forward to ask me, and I’d called him a ‘daft git’ but knowin’ that just like I’d worried for him, he’d felt the same for me.

Eventually the three had returned, and we’d learned that they’d taken all of our earnings off of Brian, but wantin’ more than to get the fuck out of the place, the money had been the last thing on our minds. I’d quickly settled into the open seat by Richie and thanked him for bein’ the gallant, even if there’d been the possibility of their takin’ his rings off of him. He’d given me a playfully indignant look at the thought of it, but I’d known he was very shaken up by the entire experience and swore that he’d never return to the place.

When the plane had finally gotten up into the air, I’d looked down the aisle and found George lookin’ at me, concern written plainly on his face. His dark eyebrows had been furrowed with a mixture of both resentment for what’d happened, and worry, for all us too.

‘Are you ok?’ His look had said and I’d nodded.

‘I’m okay. Thanks for...’ I’d looked back steadily him. He’d shaken his head and it’d felt in that moment as if really was readin’ my mind. It’d been what had felt like minutes before he’d looked away.

When we’d changed planes in New Delhi, he’d joined me for a cup of tea. Richie and Paul had gone to the loo and John had asked to be taken somewhere he could make a call to Cyn. I’d made sure to poke the small carton of milk in his direction, as well as the small pack of chocolate biscuits. I’d soon thereafter felt the warm slide of his guitar-roughened hand over mine, and I’d made no move to stop him. I’d concentrated on drinkin’ my tea, actin’ like there was nothin’ strange about his hand layin’ on mine. We’d sat like that until we’d caught sight of Neil who’d come to let us know that we needed to hurry.

I’d wondered what I would’ve seen if I’d looked back at George as I’d stood quickly and had then followed Neil. It had been a few more weeks before I’d acknowledge what I’d known all along. I’d felt the imprint of those guitar-roughened fingers on the back of me hand straight from New Delhi to at least Amsterdam.

***

‘Liz, I think it’s time that we give us a go. No reason not to anymore.’ It’d sounded like the most natural thing in the world, and no, not a change in a song riff.

It’d been the soft and tender way he’d looked at me, a way I’d never really thought I’d want him to look at me, truthfully, that’d surprised me. My skin had gone hot and then cold and then I’d somehow felt the blood movin’ all slovenly like through me veins.

I hadn’t known what I’d been expectin’ really, after weeks of normalcy after the fuckin’ Manila incident...that really hadn’t been. There’d been an edge of somethin’ a little deeper, a little darker to all of it, but even then, I hadn’t been expectin’ that. We’d gone back to our usual chummy way of dealin’ with each other, but even as I’d thought that I’d known I was shitin’ meself lyin’. I’d realised as I’d felt a warm and heady feelin’ slither and slide ‘round my insides and settle ‘round my heart, that I’d needed stop denyin’ what had been starin’ me in me bloody face.

His dark eyes had gone a bit wide, prob’ly uncertain whether he’d be gettin’ a fist in his eye in the next few seconds, when I’d lifted me hand to touch his face. The skin on his face had been hot and scratchy with a day’s worth of beard, as I’d leaned forward and kissed him, his mouth havin’ met mine somewhere in the middle.

Yes, fuck yes. A hundred thousand times...yes.

***

“I’m not fuckin’ ya on tour,” I’d said to him days later as he’d kissed the side of my neck. My breath had come out loudly as I’d felt him curve his hand over my breast. His head had come into view, dark hair standin’ in all directions.

He’d looked at me steadily for a few seconds as he’d leaned over me, and then set his forehead against mine so that the tip of our noses touched. “You tease,” he’d said to chuckle in his voice. I’d shoved him off, ignorin’ the hand on me waist. Or doin’ me best to.

“I know you think I’m bein’ daft, but they’ll know,” I’d said, motionin’ me head in the direction of the door. Fortunately for us, me band mates were all either asleep or currently occupied and hadn’t made their way into his room. George had pushed up to look at me a wee bit incredulously before laughin’, givin’ me one of those smiles that were all teeth.

“Are you havin’ me on, Liz?”

I’d shook my head. “George look...I don’t mean to go all prudish on ya, you know I’m not like that, but...it’d just doesn’t feel right to have it off with you with me brother fifty yards away. You’re not some random bloke I’m never goin’ to see again.” I’d sighed, unable to believe what’d been comin’ out of me mouth. “I...err...know about your needs though, for fuck’s sake, I’ve been tourin’ in the same band with the lot of you for the past five years, so..uh, if you need a fuck and a girl’s around, well, I want ye to know that I understand and –“

Instead of lookin’ pleased like I’d imagined he would, George had looked any but. He’d looked as offended as any of ‘em would’ve been if they’d been called a shameful excuse of a northern lad, and angrier about it too. “So yer tellin’ me that I have your permission to fuck any bird I want while we’re tourin’ is that it?”

“George, I just –“

“Let me tell you somethin’, Liz. You’ve seen how it is, John, Richie, and even yer sainted brother Paul all fuck birds even though they have girls at home – we’ve fucked our way ‘round the world. You’ve been there, you’ve seen it with yer own eyes, so you damn know damn well that I don’t need permission to fuck a bird, alright?” His eyebrows had come together sharply and he’d looked almost as if he had a black rain cloud hoverin’ over his head. Instead of feelin’ proud of meself like I’d expected after makin’ what I’d thought would be so mod and with-the-times times a suggestion, I’d felt like a fool.

“I’ve had all of that. Ye think I don’t know that all it takes nowadays for me to pull a bird is to tell ‘em I’m a Beatle? Give ‘em a shake of me moptop, eh?” He’d taken my chin between his fingers and he’d tilted me face up ‘til he could look me dead in the eye. “But I don’t want that, I don’t want the dollies that come to our suite after a show – I want you, Liz.”

His eyes had bored into mine as he’d continued, “I love ya, you daft girl, and if all I’ll have to keep me company is me hand for the next few weeks, I’ll do it.”

I hadn’t known what to say to him to him, so instead I’d taken the hand he’d waved about and that he’d become the best of mates with over the next few weeks, and turnin’ it over, had kissed the inside of his wrist. “You’re mad, ya know that?!” He’d said to me after pullin’ me so I’d had me head on his shoulder.

I’d’ nodded and felt the vibration of his laughter against my cheek.

Two and a half weeks later we’d flown back in London, and barely makin’ time to tell everyone goodbye at the airport, we’d been barrelin’ down the motor way towards his house in Surrey in his Jaguar. His hand had been hot on my leg and more than once I’d stopped him from inchin’ it up the inside of my skirt.

The instant his house had come in sight, George had gunned the ignition and the the tyres had squealed loudly in protest. By the time the car had come to a stop on the drive, my heart had been poundin’ fast and hard against my ribs, and before I’d known it, he’d flung the door to the passenger side open and less than a second later, I’d been pulled out, door slammed behind me, and we’d run towards the front door, hands tight together.

He’d fumbled to find the key, but when he’d slid it in and turned it, I’d barely had a moment to catch me breath from the sprint we’d taken from his car, when he’d pulled us through and I’d been pressed against the wall of his entry way, his mouth both hot and wet on mine. His hands had instantly started pushin’ up my skirt, and it’d been the last thing I’d thought for a while.

***

The moonlight had settled over us as we'd laid in bed afterwards, me fingers movin' over his chest, tracin' the dark whorls of hair that led below the sheet. His eyelashes formin' thick half moons as they'd laid closed, his face had been completely relaxed. He hadn't been asleep though, his fingers had been strokin' me arm tenderly as this his even breath had tickled my cheeks with each exhale.

"Yer not a berk, y'know," I'd said quietly as I'd settle into his side, my breasts had pressed tightly against his ribs. I'd fitted my head into the crook of his shoulder, settin' me lips against the place on his neck where I could feel the hum of his heart beat vibratin' against 'em.

"Is that right?" I'd heard him answer teasingly.

"Yeah. You're really not."

His only answer had been to pull me closer to him and pull the sheet tighter 'round us.

"Georgie," I'd started as I'd settled my chin on his shoulder.

"Yeah?" He'd asked, and I'd heard a wee bit of sleepiness in his voice.

"I love ya too, y'know." The words had come out much softer than I'd expected them to, almost like the way that I'd seen people on the telly go 'bout mutterin' a prayer of sorts.

"I know ya do, luv. I know ya do."
Tags: fanfiction, the interview
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