In Your Atmosphere (Paul McCartney/Beatles Fanfiction)

Chapter 25 - Tomorrow I'll Miss You

The next morning the Beatles were smuggled out of the Deauville Hotel in a bread van and taken to nearby Star Island, an exclusive community of lavish houses and private docks with a guardhouse to keep away uninvited guests. They were given a sumptuous mansion for the week with a full staff, an Olympic size swimming pool, and a private dock.

Buddy brought fishing poles and bait and taught the Beatles and Neil to fish from the end of the dock. He baited everyone's hook since the Beatles refused to do it. "Boody! Boody!" they would cry, in their Liverpool accents, and Buddy would hook their bait and unhook their fish.

Marisol was sitting next to Paul, swinging her legs off the dock, when he caught his first redfish. He reeled it in, laughing with glee, and had no idea what to do from there.

"I thought you grew up on a river, City Slicker," Marisol teased, unhooking the fish for him.

"The only fish we've ever caught was from a chippy and already fried," Paul admitted.

They were still fishing when two young men who looked about the same age as the Beatles cruised past in a speedboat, waving to the group on the dock.

"Where ya going, mates?" John shouted. "Give us a go!"

The two young men waved again and turned the boat around, angling toward the dock. They introduced themselves as neighbors from two houses down. Jack was tall, tan, and blonde, dressed in shorts and a University of Florida T-shirt. The driver of the boat, Sam, was stockier with dark hair and wore a Hawaiian shirt over bathing shorts.

John spotted a pair of water skis inside the boat and confessed he'd always wanted to learn to ski. Sam said, "Come aboard, we'll show you how," and for the rest of the afternoon everyone went out in pairs and learned how to water ski. Paul was the best, Marisol decided. He took to it immediately, but John and Cynthia were also both very good. Ringo seemed to have the most fun, although he was constantly falling down. John got furious when he saw someone photographing him from another boat. He skied close and carved a wall of water in their direction, drenching everyone in the photographer's boat.

"Most impressive for a beginner," Marisol told him when he got back to shore, still fuming and grumbling about bloody photographers.

Marisol took a turn skiing with Paul, then rode in the boat with the neighbor boys while Paul and George skied together. She took a few pictures of them with Paul's camera before tucking it away in her beach bag to keep it dry. Jack sat on the back bench seat with Marisol and tried to make conversation with her over the noise of the boat. He asked her where she went to school and quickly turned the conversation to University of Florida football, while Marisol tried to keep her eyes from glazing over.

Suddenly George shouted and crashed into the water and Paul let go of the tow rope seconds later. Sam circled around to pick them up.

"Ey up! We nearly hit a fookin' shark!" George was yelling.

"A manatee," Jack said. "They're harmless."

"The fook they are! I was almost bloody eaten!"

Sam cut the motor and pulled the skis into the boat and lowered the ladder for George and Paul. Marisol stood by the stairs with a big smile and a towel for Paul. He wasn't smiling back. "It was a manatee, really," she said.

Paul took the towel, rubbed it across his hair, and looked pointedly at her chest. "Do you have a coverup?"

She looked down at herself. "What? No...I just finished skiing, I didn't bring one."

"Well, you should have done." He wrapped the towel around her shoulders, covering her chest. Then he pointed to the bench and told her to sit down.

She almost laughed, thinking he was joking, but he didn't look at all amused. So she sat on the bench, and Paul joined her as Sam started the engine and made for the dock.