you really got a hold on me | john lennon

CHAPTER FORTY

August 16th, 1960

John lit both of our cigs at the same time as we were standing outside the Jacaranda Club, waiting for our ride to depart for Hamburg. We had come here at the time that Allan had set for us—but there were still some last-minute duties he apparently had to fill before leaving, so here all of us were just standing around passing time however we could. It was still early in the morning too—at least for John and I's standards, anyways—and we both had to drag each other out of bed still looking like a mess so that we could make it here on the time we all agreed on. The last thing both of us wanted was to get left behind for such a big opportunity for the band of all things.

We both had slipped on our sunglasses that Mimi had bought for us to hide our slightly puffed-up eyes from the lack of sleep before heading out of Mendips. It had helped for the most part because no one really questioned how shitty we looked so far.

As I took out a long drag from my ciggie, I allowed it to warm me up on the inside and slowly wake me up as much as it could. It was the only thing I relied on at the moment since we slipped out of the house without anything to eat and not even drinking so much as tea. Living with John for some time now had basically made me pick up some of his rather unhealthy habits like second nature whether I liked it or not. He was very much amused with the idea of me slowly turning into some sort of clone of his...and I obviously wasn't for various reasons. One John wandering around the earth was more than enough for everyone's sake, including mine and for anybody else that we knew. And honestly, he was driving me insane on his own, and I cannot imagine what it would be like with more versions of him running around.

"You have any idea where Allan is? I'm bloody knackered already. Don't know how much longer I can last without sleep before I just topple over on the damned sidewalk." I push a hand through my unkempt hair and keep my eyes on all the moving cars on the street ahead of us.

"None. But he's the one driving us over there, so I suppose I can't complain that much about it." John yawns loudly, getting the attention of anybody nearby. He and I were leaning on the wall of Jacaranda—the only thing helping us maintain our balance. "We're masters at waiting while running on little sleep. Like when we went to that Doctor back in June. The only thing different is that your wrist doesn't look like disgusting moldy cheese anymore."

I look at my wrist out of instinct and am relieved to see it going back to its normal color. After being wrapped up for a few weeks, everything about it was starting to go back to normal. "Christ, don't remind me of that cursed Doctor's appointment. Most embarrassing thing I've ever had to do in my entire life. And stop it with the fucking moldy cheese, John. It's annoying getting compared to cheese every day of my life by my boyfriend of all people."

"Snappy today aren't you, darling? How about...mozzarella cheese, hm? Or swiss? One of those a better fit for you and your wrist now?" A large grin was forming at his lips as he nudged me in the shoulder.

"I said to stop comparing me to cheese, not call me another type of fucking cheese. Why do you just seem to have a random obsession with cheese all of a sudden? I've never heard of the cheese love language until you came around. " My voice was flat enough to be eerily similar to one of a robot's as I said this. John's many different antics might as well could've been the main reason why I could feel myself slowly waking up—but only so I could gather my wits enough to bite back with something that made sense, and not some type of Liverpudlian gibberish.

George then comes into view from the side of my eye, looking to be in a way more chippy mood than I was. He held a huge brown boxy luggage similar to the rest of us in one hand and one of the band's amplifiers in the other. Walking in front of us, George sets down the amplifier and sits down on it—halfway out of breath from lugging such heavy things around for who knows how long while waiting.