How to Change the World

Chapter 13

"So this bloke comes up to me," Ringo began his story to the interest of the outside listeners, "he says, 'Aren't you Ringo?'"

Ringo's arm whipped to the other side of the group, causing the wine from his glass to spill a little.

"So I say, 'yeah'. And this bloke says 'You're the best drummer in the world, I love you'!"

"What did ye say to tha?" George said intoxicated among the crowd of people watching.

"Well" Ringo continued, moving his glass to his lips, "I said what John's always sayin'. I said, 'I'm not even the best drummer in the Beatles!'"

The group of friends surrounding them laughed, but it was unnoticed by the rest of the nightclub. In comparison to the sea of faces, their group was only a small one.

"Speaking of John," George said to Ringo on the seat next to him, "Where is he?"

"Don't know, don't care. All I know that it's only eight and I'm piss drunk."

Ringo's interjection caused another wave of laughter in the group. As the conversation settled, the group in question dispersed throughout the night club.

Paul sat away from his friends, but close enough to hear the conversations among them. Most of the people he saw on a daily basis came here to Annabel's Nightclub to see the beginning of the New Year. Everyone was here, from Beatle George to Producer George to their wives. However there was an obvious member missing among the crowd. John, the usual life of the party, was nowhere to be seen in the crowd or otherwise. Granted, most of the people at the club looked like one communal blob of unclear personalities, but John was one to stand out.

Paul, though, wasn't in any particular mood to party, even if the New Year was about to begin. He was out of it, and not to mention exhausted from all the recording and writing they've been doing. Although, there was mountains excitement for their new record. They've been playing around with names, but the album really didn't have a title or theme yet. Yet despite that, there was something distinct about the sound of what was being produced. There was a unique sound in every song, but it flowed into one.

But those weren't party thoughts. Those were the sort of thoughts that separated him from everyone else in the room, leaving him once again in a corner alone. God, if he were a normal man he could be rubbing against all of the desperate women out there. If his relationship with his best friend was normal, he could be having a blast with him, if he ever showed up. And if he weren't such a fucking gloomy bastard, he could be talking to the friends that were sitting feet away from him.

It didn't have to be the way it was going, but Paul did nothing. All he did was sit there, drinking the rest of his wine until the glass was empty. His eyes wandered the crystal of the vacant glass.

One name was uttered that bumped him back into reality.

"John!" Brian, their manager, yelled from the crowd.

Friends and loved ones went over to the young man, greeting him with laughter and smiles.

But Paul didn't.

Another thing Paul noticed, John wasn't alone. There was someone with him. She was on his arm, holding him as if he was her prized possession.

Paul couldn't help the sick feeling that reached his gut, as if John had twisted his stomach, and broken it into pieces. And his stomach wasn't the only thing that felt broken.

John joined friends at a table, a table that Paul was sitting next to. As he and the woman sat down, John acknowledged Paul with a smile and nod. Returning the gesture timidly, Paul returned his look to the empty glass in his hand.