Yesterday.
I Saw Her Standing There...
“C’mon John, Hurry up with those plugs! We’re on in five minutes!”
Sometimes, George annoyed me. I mean, I loved the bugga’ to death, but he took more of a controlling roll in this group effort. I knew I was famous for being slightly controlling as well, but at least I was good natured about it. George’s voice gnawed into my skull and made my left eye twitch.
“Right, George.” I muttered, over-obviously defensive. I was tired. We just got back from Germany, and finding out that one of my closest friends had died. My life was either going up, or sliding down a great big brick wall. It was hard to tell when you were in a ‘music mode’.
“Where’s Paul? He needs to get here soon, or we’ll go on without him, the right bastard.”
I turned to George and glared. “Calm down, son. We’ve played for many more people then are out there tonight. Breath.”
He sighed and turned on his heel, walking back over to his guitar and began to tune it. I sighed and looked back down at the mess of black and gray cords coiled below me. I bent down and began pulling them through one another. Brian (or manager) would murder us if he knew how unorganized we truly were. Oh well, he’d find out soon enough.
After a good 10 minutes, I finally stood and admired the now strait and disentangled wires on the ground. I picked the right one up, and plugged into my Gibson. It hummed warmly and then settled down after the sudden shock of electricity. I smiled, and looked around. Ringo, our brand new drummer, was setting up his drums out on the stage. Several girls screamed “RINGO FOREVER, PETE NEVER.” Loudly, and Ringo smirked. That remark made me kind of angry. Pete Best, or former drummer, was fired by Brian because he was bad drummer. I would still like to be his friend, but it was actually my fault he was fired in the first placed. I asked Epstein to fire him. But people should still show some respect. I guess I wasn’t that sure about Ringo. He was… new. Only 3 weeks into the band. He seemed amazing, though. But he was a jokester, and always very distant. Closer than Pete ever was, though.
I decided not to worry about it, and dragged my amp out on stage as well, plugging it into the back and setting my guitar down. When I walked back off, Paul burst through the back doors, spraying us with water. We all stared at him, and he smiled.
“Sorry lads, car trouble.”
I glanced behind him outside to see that the rain had started up again, even worse than before. Oh, Liverpool.
His grease was dripping down his head, and he was soaking wet.
“Hiya, Paulie.” I handed him my grease, and he smiled and ran over to a small mirror in the back of the small room.
I rolled my eyes and checked the mirror as I passed, my hair still greased up into a tip. I smirked and patted Paul on the back.
The announcer from outside suddenly started talking.
“Okay, kiddos. Quiet down! They’re here! I now present to you, their first show at home in a long time, THE BEATLES!”
There was a general roar from the crowd, and I glanced at the boys. Paul hastily brushed through his hair one last time, and we all ran out.
“Hello, um we’re the Beatles!” Paul announced into the microphone while quickly plugging in his bass.
The crowd screamed.
“Um, this song’s off our new LP, Please Please Me. It’s called “Love Me Do.””
Screams again, while I picked up my harmonica and started blowing the tune out in it.
”Love, love me do.
You know I love you.
I’ll always be true,
So please… love me do.”
The room was bouncing like crashing waves over on the beach. They looked like they were going to start a riot, but not quite. Everyone was dancing, and smiling, and singing, and that’s exactly the reaction we loved.
I glanced around the dark place, looking for my familiar friends faces who I hadn’t seen in a very long time. Then, my heart stopped. I gasped.
“Someone to love, someone like-“
I didn’t finish the sentence, and Paul glared at me. But I didn’t look at him. My eyes were on something else. It felt like an angel fell out of the sky and landed right in front of her. She was standing in the back of the room, talking to someone as she handed them a pint of ale. I was on auto-pilot mode. I knew I was singing, but the entire room stopped. Everything was frozen in place, except for her. Her pale, clear skin was glowing in the soft glare from the pub lights. Her big eyes were smiling by themselves, and her thin lips were pulled back over a set of perfect teeth. I tried to move my gaze, but it didn’t work. My eyes were frozen on her, and she didn’t even know. I needed her. I needed to be with her. But who was she?
Then, suddenly, I distantly felt my hands stop moving up and down, and I blinked, and looked down, all of my hair falling into my face with drips of sweat.
“Thanks! And this next one’s called…”
Paul’s voice was slowly growing back from being just a distant echo. I smiled and looked around, realizing I was still on stage, in front of people. Lots of people. But to me, only one.
Sometimes, George annoyed me. I mean, I loved the bugga’ to death, but he took more of a controlling roll in this group effort. I knew I was famous for being slightly controlling as well, but at least I was good natured about it. George’s voice gnawed into my skull and made my left eye twitch.
“Right, George.” I muttered, over-obviously defensive. I was tired. We just got back from Germany, and finding out that one of my closest friends had died. My life was either going up, or sliding down a great big brick wall. It was hard to tell when you were in a ‘music mode’.
“Where’s Paul? He needs to get here soon, or we’ll go on without him, the right bastard.”
I turned to George and glared. “Calm down, son. We’ve played for many more people then are out there tonight. Breath.”
He sighed and turned on his heel, walking back over to his guitar and began to tune it. I sighed and looked back down at the mess of black and gray cords coiled below me. I bent down and began pulling them through one another. Brian (or manager) would murder us if he knew how unorganized we truly were. Oh well, he’d find out soon enough.
After a good 10 minutes, I finally stood and admired the now strait and disentangled wires on the ground. I picked the right one up, and plugged into my Gibson. It hummed warmly and then settled down after the sudden shock of electricity. I smiled, and looked around. Ringo, our brand new drummer, was setting up his drums out on the stage. Several girls screamed “RINGO FOREVER, PETE NEVER.” Loudly, and Ringo smirked. That remark made me kind of angry. Pete Best, or former drummer, was fired by Brian because he was bad drummer. I would still like to be his friend, but it was actually my fault he was fired in the first placed. I asked Epstein to fire him. But people should still show some respect. I guess I wasn’t that sure about Ringo. He was… new. Only 3 weeks into the band. He seemed amazing, though. But he was a jokester, and always very distant. Closer than Pete ever was, though.
I decided not to worry about it, and dragged my amp out on stage as well, plugging it into the back and setting my guitar down. When I walked back off, Paul burst through the back doors, spraying us with water. We all stared at him, and he smiled.
“Sorry lads, car trouble.”
I glanced behind him outside to see that the rain had started up again, even worse than before. Oh, Liverpool.
His grease was dripping down his head, and he was soaking wet.
“Hiya, Paulie.” I handed him my grease, and he smiled and ran over to a small mirror in the back of the small room.
I rolled my eyes and checked the mirror as I passed, my hair still greased up into a tip. I smirked and patted Paul on the back.
The announcer from outside suddenly started talking.
“Okay, kiddos. Quiet down! They’re here! I now present to you, their first show at home in a long time, THE BEATLES!”
There was a general roar from the crowd, and I glanced at the boys. Paul hastily brushed through his hair one last time, and we all ran out.
“Hello, um we’re the Beatles!” Paul announced into the microphone while quickly plugging in his bass.
The crowd screamed.
“Um, this song’s off our new LP, Please Please Me. It’s called “Love Me Do.””
Screams again, while I picked up my harmonica and started blowing the tune out in it.
”Love, love me do.
You know I love you.
I’ll always be true,
So please… love me do.”
The room was bouncing like crashing waves over on the beach. They looked like they were going to start a riot, but not quite. Everyone was dancing, and smiling, and singing, and that’s exactly the reaction we loved.
I glanced around the dark place, looking for my familiar friends faces who I hadn’t seen in a very long time. Then, my heart stopped. I gasped.
“Someone to love, someone like-“
I didn’t finish the sentence, and Paul glared at me. But I didn’t look at him. My eyes were on something else. It felt like an angel fell out of the sky and landed right in front of her. She was standing in the back of the room, talking to someone as she handed them a pint of ale. I was on auto-pilot mode. I knew I was singing, but the entire room stopped. Everything was frozen in place, except for her. Her pale, clear skin was glowing in the soft glare from the pub lights. Her big eyes were smiling by themselves, and her thin lips were pulled back over a set of perfect teeth. I tried to move my gaze, but it didn’t work. My eyes were frozen on her, and she didn’t even know. I needed her. I needed to be with her. But who was she?
Then, suddenly, I distantly felt my hands stop moving up and down, and I blinked, and looked down, all of my hair falling into my face with drips of sweat.
“Thanks! And this next one’s called…”
Paul’s voice was slowly growing back from being just a distant echo. I smiled and looked around, realizing I was still on stage, in front of people. Lots of people. But to me, only one.
♠ ♠ ♠
