𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧

4 - John's Told Me You Write

31 December, 1960

"-we'd like to play something we've had a bit of practice with, we eh, polished it up in Germany-" Paul eyed his bandmates and paused for a small chorus of applause that echoed off the walls of the underground Casbah. "It's got George here on guitar, and eh, me an' some other guy singing, so-" With a grin, he nodded to John, who strummed two opening chords before an instantly launching into a fast-paced rock and roll song.

Paul glanced to his fretboard every other second, hoisting it up and down for emphasis as he bounced through the bass part, while John chugged along on his cream-colored Rickenbacker, a guitar she hadn't seen him play before. He played with his feet spread apart, lightly bouncing on his knees, same as he'd always done – though now he was infinitely more intense, more desperate. As they both reached their microphones and began to sing together, their synergy was remarkable, just as much as it ever was – and yet they each seemed to emote different things: Paul gave the song its energy, his eyebrows now bouncing in sync with his tapping toes and bobbing head. But John gave it soul, glowering enigmatically into the crowd, almost in dismay, feeling every bit of pain and envy he belted out.

"Some other guy, is making me very, very mad, oh now, some other guy now-" His eyes poured right into hers, and even though Fiona knew John was blind without his glasses, she had the strange feeling that he knew he was looking at her.

She was wearing a pale pink A-line dress complete with a tulle skirt, and she'd curled and styled her hair with more care than she usually took for shows. It was only the Cavern, yet tonight being a holiday called for a nicer-than-usual dress code. The attire was more that of a school social than a typical rock gig, and against what looked like a crowd of dandies the boys stood out even more distinctly than usual, all four of them still sporting their sweaty, all-leather getup. They brought all the intensity, screaming, and stomping of Hamburg, and the crowd didn't seem to know what had hit them.

She tried to push the thought of John from her mind, instead focusing on the magic sound emanating from the stage. Pete Best, though quite a looker, had been a mediocre drummer before Hamburg and was still mediocre now, easily the weakest link in the chain – but the other three more than made up for him; he was barely even audible beneath the sound of their voices and guitars. It was getting difficult to see the stage as more and more people pushed past her, all of them eager to get a good look at the sensation that the boys were becoming. It had never been this crowded at their gigs before Hamburg... but to be part of an energy like this, cramming into the tiny little club was worth it.

At last Lewis worked his way to her front, taking her hands in his and spinning her back and forth. He nearly stunk of cologne; she wasn't used to the scent on him and frankly preferred him without it – but at least he was here. He was dancing with her, trying his best to put himself out there. She was just glad he'd agreed to go tonight. Fishing through this crowd alone would be scary.

And then the song was over, and Lewis' scent and John's gaze were melting away into a sea of applause...

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Hours later, Lynn's New Year's Eve party was in full swing. The adults – mostly the Twickenhams' professor friends from the university – congregated in the kitchen, trying wine and punch and bakery bread and the tarts Lynn had made.

Meanwhile, Fiona, Meg, and the boys had their own party in the parlor, passing around numerous bottles and flipping records on Lynn's stereo. When they'd gone through everything in the pile on the coffee table, as well as the pile of Little Richard's best hits Paul had selected, John had begun a deeper dive of Lynn's collection. As of now, he'd neatly excavated the entirety of her record drawer, and was currently ravaging through the 45s, smoking a cig and minding his own business.