Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

6. Beep beep beep beep yeah

October 1965
London

Paul

Two days later, we were back in the studio huddled around a record player listening to the latest Otis Redding LP. George bopped his head enthusiastically to the beat and, honestly, I hadn't seen him this excited in ages.

"See," he said, speaking over the music. "All that bass makes it so bluesy. So what I'm thinking, Paul, is that you and I play basically the same bit on both the bass and the guitar--"

"Won't the track be bottom-heavy then?" I asked as I tried to envision it in my head. It was true that the song needed some oomph, and maybe this was it.

He shook his head. "Nah, it's gonna be great, you'll see."

"So if you two are playing the same riffs, what do I play, then?" John interrupted.

"The tambourine, man," George replied.

"Yeah, alright, let's give it a go," I said as we all headed for our respective instruments. I was about to count off when Neil stuck his head in the door.

"Paul!" he called. "You have a visitor out front. You want me to bring her back?"

"A visitor?" I asked, looking up. "Who?"

"Dunno," he replied with a shrug. "A bird is asking for you. Usually, we send 'em away, but she doesn't look like the usual sort."

"What sort is she, then?" John asked as he stretched his arms over his head and stifled a yawn. His specs slipped further down his nose and nearly fell off his face.

"Dark hair, long legs, looks a bit like a film star. I s'pose the biggest difference between her and all the others is that she's not beggin' to see ya."

"Ten quid says it's his mystery girl," Ring called over from behind his kit.

"Well, let 'er in, Nell," John piped up, pushing his spec back into place. "Quick, before she runs off."

Neil hesitated, looking over at me. "That okay, Paul?"

I scratched the back of my neck while I mulled it over. On the one hand, I was still cheesed off that she'd nearly had me bloody trampled. On the other hand, she'd proved that she had a wonderfully dark sense of humour, which I couldn't help but appreciate. So, after a moment, I shrugged.

"Yeah, sure," I replied. Neil gave me a mock salute as he turned on his heel. The door closed behind him, and I felt the other two lads' eyes on me.

"What? Why're you looking at me like that?"

"This is our place of work, man," John deadpanned. "Not your bloody brothel."

"Can I invite all me women here too?" George joked. "Is that our new thing? We just invite whomever we want to watch us work?"

"Fuck right off with that," I replied with a chuckle. "She's not even that interesting. You'll see."

I bent over to place my bass on the floor. When I sat up, I noticed John covertly squinting at the glossy surface of his Stratocaster, his fingers rearranging his fringe so that it lay just right.

"Is it possible you're using your guitar as a mirror?" I asked.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Are you... primping?" I asked, trying and failing to hold in a laugh.

"Nell said she looks like a film star, didn't he?" he asked defensively. "The real question is, why aren't you? Or maybe she's the sort of bird who likes blokes whose hair is sticking up every which way."