If John Lennon had Survived

Chapter 12: I Should've Known Better

John's POV

Here I am, standing at a curb waiting for Ringo freaking Starr to pick me up and let me stay at his place for the night. A hotel was out of the question since the fact that I'd be by myself would end up in the tabloids, "Paul Giving John the Boot?" That's what I'd read if I went to a stupid hotel by myself. If only Macca would let me explain.

My head involentarily poked up at the sight of Ringo's red muscle car. I opened the door and sat down without an invitation.

"Before we head off," Richard stated rather sternly, "I wanna know what's going on. If it turns out you're being awful, then you'll have to find another ride." Here we go.

"Alright, Ringsies. Buckle up," and that's the start of our little flashback the author has written.
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"You sit tight Paulie,"I say turning my head at a rather anxious man, " I'm going to go ask some questions," I walked up to the desk rather cautiously and waited for the receptionist to turn her head.

"Yes, sir?" Her voice was average, smooth but I could already hear her bitchyness.

"Well, I just wanted to ask some questions about the process, that's all," she nodded and gave me a small smile.

"Would come with me. We prefer to do these things somewhere else, so not to interfere with other's concerns. As you can imagine, interrupting ones conversation would be a bad thing to do here," still didn't make sense, but I didn't want to argue. I shrugged my shoulders and found myself following her into an empty office. This certainly didn't seem right. I stopped at the door as she entered and turned around to stare at me.

"Come on, don't worry this is just the filing room. It's sort of my office. There are multiple papers in here on adoption and what to expect if you want one," her tone didn't sound sexual or weird at all. Still, I was hesitant and walked into the white room. She snuck behind me and closed the door.

I felt something snake around my ass and that must've been her slipping the paper in my jeans.

"Hey now," I warned her to no avail. Before I knew it, she had me pinned to the wall.

"I know you want this," she moved like a snake dancing to their charmer's song, "ugh, you're such a hot old man," old?

"Get off," I stated firmly. She only ruffled my hair and tried to persuade me more, "or else. You know I'll have this place simply swarming."

"God, of course the fag has to be the bore," that's when the memories of getting beaten to a pulp came back. I could only see Macca's bloodied up face for a couple of seconds. I shook my head as if it would shake the thoughts out.

I watched the receptionist leave and I soon followed. I walked slowly back out to M acca.

"John what ha-"

"That's not important." His face melted into regret, like he did something awful.