1963 | J.Lennon

Chapter Eleven: Games

Evelyn couldn't ever decide whether men were having her on, or just being cruel with her. She wished she had a good sense for a thing like that talking to as many as she did these days, but she'd not adopted it. One minute they were smooth sailing, and the next, once you didn't do or say what they wanted, they were the opposite.

She leaned over the box John had given her with tears threatening to well in her eyes, because he'd said he needed them back. Rightly, she wanted to burn them up, or better, say she lost them all the way Bill had done, but she would't no, because she was professional. She gathered the tattered white box full of comics, and didn't touch one. They weren't hers, they were his and no matter how hateful he was or what sort of game he wanted to play, she wasn't going to let in and scum down to his level.

The box was heavier than she remembered it being the first time she'd picked it up from the office. Evelyn hadn't had the time to sort through all the entries yet, but she'd skimmed through most of them, and she'd bet there was a good 200 in the box. 

She leaned over it, peering inside one last time, wishing he'd just leave. She was tempted to tell him to go, that she'd give it to him later because she'd left it at the office. But no, because then she'd have to see him again, and she wanted that no more than she wanted to give him the box back.

"Did you find it?" 

His voice echoed through her room and she jumped, frightened by the intrusion. 

"Yeah." She nodded towards it. It was hard to mask her ambivalence when he did shite like that. "Do you really need it?"

He perked a brow. "Yeh--I said it, didn't I?" 

"Why?"

"'Cuz Brian said I had to get it back," he spoke plainly.

 "Is it because I didn't want to kiss you?" she asked him bluntly. When she said it, she wished she hadn't.

John furrowed his eyebrows. "No!" he snapped. "I was bevied up when I did that, 'n...so wha' about that. Ye'r more offended than anyone, aren't you?"

"Well, why else would you do this?"

"'Cuz there's letters in there that you shouldn't 'ave 'n Brian wants me t'get them back." 

"Alright then."

She felt bad, saying that to him, but she'd just felt so much indignation she couldn't restrain herself. It was easier said than done, being professional around him. 

Evelyn hadn't expected for him to take away this part of her job, not really--not like this. No, she'd prepared for it, but it'd been days and she felt the worst was over when nothing had come her way. Here he was, proving her wrong. Bad news wore tattered leather jackets and dark jeans, and looked like he hadn't slept a wink in weeks. John looked beat, a bit sick even, but she didn't feel too awful considering he was taking away her work load.

"You can't."

"Why?" he asked incredulously. "It's mine, innit?"

"What about the column? What am I gonna do about that?"

He shrugged. "I'll send you one each week er sommat. You jus' can't kept it 'cuz it's got things you shouldn't read--personal letters." 

Evelyn nodded her head towards the box. It sat on her bed, causing it to dip from the weight, and she didn't know how he figured he was going to get it down the stairs without waking the bat. He'd managed to do it by himself, but in the dark with a load like that was something else. The stairs were creaky because they were old, and that woman could hear all.

"You can't take it, not tonight. The lady downstairs, she'll throw me out if she knows I've got you up here."

"I need it."

"What if I promise not to tell Brian I don't have it?" 

John shifted his weight in the doorway. She knew he was growing tired playing this game, but this was a matter of a lot more than just yes or no now, wasn't it? "Are you always this fuggin' stubborn, 'uh?" he pulled out a pack of ciggies and Evelyn frowned. "You can't do that in here."

"Can she smell from a mile away too, then?" he snapped. John crossed the threshold of her room, and lit the cigarette regardless of what Evelyn said. He pushed in front of her, like the girls at his concert, urgent for something.

"Where you at the Ballroom tonight, then?" he asked as he shuffled around in his belongings.

She nodded her head, despite that he couldn't see it. "For work, yeah. Why?"

She couldn't see what he was doing with the box, because he was guarding it, but she hoped he wasn't ruining anything. What could be so damned important that he needed to find it that bad?

"Neil said he'd thought he'd seen you."

She had seen Neil, right before she'd escaped but she hadn't thought he'd recognized her because it'd only been in passing. "Oh," she said for a lack of anything better to say. 

The conversation became of less importance when John popped around with a piece of paper in his hands. The cigarette that dangled expertly in his mouth was removed, and a chain of smoke filled her room. He grinned looking at the photo, but she was more focused on the ashes he flicked onto the floor. "I've found one."

"Wha'?" 

He offered it over to her. It was a black and white Polaroid of him standing in his knickers, with a paper under his arm, and a jumper on looking upwards. If this was what he was trying to hide so desperately, then he was a fool. It was more funny than it was wrong, and she'd even smiled despite herself because of it. "What's this, then?"

"Me in 'amburg," he spoke, but his voice croaked. John attempted to clear it, but his repetition of the sentence only came out weaker than the first one. He looked around the room. "Got cuppa  you didn't want layin' about?" he raised his cigarette. "I can't finish it. Me throat's killing me."

"Sick, are you?"

"What tipped ya off?"

"You should be at home restin', shouldn't you?"

"Mind ye'r own," he chided her half serious, half playfully. "What about that cuppa?"

"Give me it," she said. He handed it over to her and she walked to the lavatory adjacent to her room. The sound of it burning out under the cool water eased her mind; that was one less for the woman to suspect.

"Anythin' else I can give you before you get me in trouble?" 

John looked remorseful. "I still need the box. S'not 'cuz 'm bein' a cunt er anything, mind you. Brian did say I had to get it back, because he didn't know what else I'd stored away in it."

"I didn't mean to be so rude, I was just--"

He cut her off, "You kissed me back too, yanno."

She had, hadn't she? But not for long, so it didn't matter. "That's not the point."

"But it's the truth, innit? You kissed me too."

"I think you should go John."

Before he had the chance to even think about, another knock, loud and booming, fell upon the door this time. The old bat had clued on.

"Oh fuck," Evelyn cursed. John looked at her for answers, but she knew no better what to do than he did. 

John Lennon: 2 and Evelyn: 0.

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This is not a very long update, and it's probably not all that good either, but I'm working out the kinks. Not only of the plot-line, but also getting back into the flow of writing as often as I should. Thanks for the continuous support of this story.

Also another huge thanks for the 1k reads and nearly 100 likes! It means loads to me that you take the time to read this little story of mine, and even more than you support it with love. It makes writing all the more fun for me <3