If I Needed Someone

Chapter One

1960 in Hamburg, Germany

  There was a new act in town this evening. New acts in Hamburg were rather exciting, as practically the whole teenage population would wait in anticipation at hearing the latest act. This group, however, had played a few times around town and were quite popular already. They had recently moved to a place called the Kaiserkeller after their previous performing place, the Indra, was shut down due to noise complaints.

  The only reason Ringo considered them new was because he had never heard them play. He himself was in a group called Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, drumming like mad every evening for the wild, German fans. His drumming was half the reason the band itself was so popular. Of course, their lead singer, a man named Alan Cadwell who liked to be called Rory Storm, was a fine singer. But without Ringo’s intense drumming, there would be no way the band would have made it as far as it did.

  Ringo sat there during his break, ready to go on stage. Of course, he would have to watch the newbies first, but as soon as they were done preforming, it would be his band’s turn to go on stage. He sat back in his chair, laughing and chatting away with the rest of his band mates. He made sure his hair was in a perfect quiff, and then he set his gaze back onto the stage before him. The new band hopped onto the stage, their instruments already tuned, prancing around as if they owned this place.

  “Hello, ladies and gentleman,” a rather feminine looking bloke said into the microphone, a guitar slumped over his shoulder.

  “Ah, stop bein’ polite to them,” another man, slightly taller and older looking shouted, a sarcastic grin spread across his face. “They didn’t come here to listen to a bunch of granny shite.”

  The feminine looking lad cracked an annoyed smile in response, and then leaned back up the microphone to count off. “One, two, three, four!”

  The group bounced into their first number, a cover of a roaring rock n’ roll tune. Ringo’s face instantly lit up into a wide grin as he watched the incredible chemistry this band had on stage. They were making complete fools of themselves, but it was if they didn’t even care. They seemed to be having fun, which was something Ringo could really use. He watched the band with wide and curious eyes, never having seen something this incredible before. Sure, he was in a rock band himself. But nothing compared to how wonderful this new group was to Ringo’s eyes.

  Ringo scanned the band members on stage, taking in every detail. There was that feminine bloke, the one with the dark brown hair and long lashes. He was smiling and bouncing about with that cocky fellow, the one who had interrupted him. It seemed like those two were incredibly close mates, the older and cockier one singing his heart out into the microphone. In the back there was a drummer, a rather plain looking sod who looked like he had never had a day of fun in his life. He wasn’t that much of a good drummer either, his energy lacking quite a bit. Ringo shrugged him off and turned his attention to the mysterious looking bass player, a man in tight leather trousers and way-farer ray bans. He wasn’t doing too well at playing his part in the band, either, but his attractiveness certainly made up for it.

  And then Ringo’s eyes caught attention of the lead guitarist. He looked younger than the others, but that didn’t stop Ringo from staring. He was stunning, jamming onstage with the older boys as if he were the main attraction. He kept quiet, only leaning into the microphone for backup vocals with the feminine lad. His dark hair was quiffed up like the others, his leather trousers just as tight. He played the guitar so flawlessly, as if it were writing his own name. His fingers glided into position with ease, every riff sounding better than the last. Ringo simply couldn’t take his gaze off him.

  By now, the band had finished playing their song, and the small little crowd that had gathered applauded.

  “Thank you, thank you!” the cocky one thanked the crowd, leaning into the microphone. “You know what?” he said, and a light laugh followed behind. “I forgot to introduce us to ya! That there is Mr. Pete Best,” he said, nodding toward the drummer. “And that’s Stu Sutcliffe, our mysterious little bass player. George Harrison, our lead guitarist. Mr. Paul McCartney, a rhythm guitarist as well as myself, Mr. John Lennon. We are the Beatles!”