My Love, My Drug, My Release

Mid-February, 1969

"Is there anything on the telly you want to watch?" Jack asked from the armchair while I paced from the foyer to the kitchen to the living room then back again.

"No."

"Come on, you're gonna wear a rut in the floor."

I belly-flopped onto the sofa, groaning. "I'm so fucking bored." We'd only been grounded for six days, but I was already going out of my mind. As soon as school let out, we filed into our car, and Bertie drove us straight home. Jack complained about not seeing his girlfriend or hanging out with his friends, but I stayed silent, not wanting to bring up Brandon and give my brother another reason to bully me.

"Well, what do you want to do, we don't just have to watch TV." He stood up, waiting for a reply that I didn't give him. "Why don't we go make some trunk calls and run up a bill?"

"I don't know any numbers outside of England."

He smirked, stalking off to the kitchen. My curiosity got the better of me, and I followed, leaning back on my heels defensively in case I needed to make a quick escape. I watched from the doorway as he reached into one of the knife drawers and pulled out a spiral notebook. 

"What is that?"

"Linda's address book," he said with a devilish grin.

"Put it back," I said nervously, looking around even though no one was home. "If they catch us, we'll be in trouble."

"We're already in trouble. What are they gonna do, ground us for all eternity? Live a little." He flipped open the book, running his finger down the page. "Woah, she's got some famous people in here, come look!"

Against my better judgment, I peeked at the pages. "How does she have Andy Warhol's number?"

"She's a groupie; she has everyone's number."

"You shouldn't say that."

"Why, it's what she is." He got the vodka from its not so secret hiding place as well as the chocolate milk from the fridge, mixing himself an Anna Karenina. "And why should we care if she's a whore or not? It's not like she's really our mum." 

I never knew how to respond when Jack said shit like that. I could say that Linda didn't need to give birth to us for me to not want him to degrade her verbally, but that didn't really matter, he just got really possessive of the past, of his nostalgic view of how things used to be, and when he thought someone was challenging it, he got aggressive, even violent. I didn't have the words or power to make him change. 

"Let's call Sharon Tate- she's smoking." He dialed the number while I looked on, shaking my head. I couldn't hear what was being said on the other end, but I didn't need to. "Yes, hello Francais, I'm calling on behalf of Paul McCartney. Yes, the Paul McCartney, of the popular rock and roll band, the Beatles," he said with a phony posh accent that would only fool a dumb American.

"Are you crazy?" I hissed, tugging at his arm, but she shooed me away.

"I called hoping to speak to Ms. Tate. Oh, she's not home? How disappointing. My number? No, that won't be necessary, I'll be in touch again. You take care of yourself now! Alright, bye." He hung up and immediately doubled over laughing hysterically.

"That wasn't funny."

"Seriously? It was fucking hilarious!"

"I hope you think so when Paul gets wind of this and throws you in the Thames."

"He's not gonna find out," Jack assured me, drinking his Anna Karenina. "And if does, who gives a shit? I'm not scared of him, are you?"

Was I scared of Paul? No, no, fear wasn't the proper word for my emotion. It felt more like he was a creaky, old rope bridge over a raging waterfall. I wasn't afraid of him, but what might happen if he were to snap, drop me to my death, and so I walked across him carefully, not wanting to inadvertently cause my own doom.

Sorry this chapter is so ridiculously short; I wanted to show you how their grounding was going, but I need to space it out for plot reasons. I also wanted to ask you guys a question and I genuinely hope you answer cause I need your help. Since Lo's birthday, I've been pretty much covering every single day in detail (in the present), often using multiple chapters for one day, but I'm feeling like a small jump in time might be needed, not that long, just a few weeks, how do you guys feel about that? I don't want the story to feel rushed, but I also don't want it to drag. Do you feel like now would be an okay time to do a small leap forward? I'm sorry to ask you guys this, but I just want to make a story you all will love! Thanks for your time!!!