Miracle

Chapter Three

      "So, this is the Jaracanda?" George asked, as the four boys walked into the little place in Liverpool. It was a nice looking place, with orange walls, and nice wooden tables with red-and-white checkered table clothes. It was dimly lit, a cool-looking joint.

     "I like it," Paul said. Stu and George agreed. John was proud of himself for picking out a place that his friends liked.

      "John!" Someone had called John's name. "John Lennon!" John turned around. It was Allan Williams, the man who owned the Jaracanda. 

      Allan Williams was a big man, with black hair, and a fuzzy black beard. He was the man who had hired the Quarry Men to play at the Jaracanda.

      "Hi there, Allan," John greeted Allan, and introduced him to Paul, George and Stu. 

      "It's nice to meet you all," Allan said with a smile. He told the boys to set up on the tiny stage at the front of the place.

      "Fellows," John spoke to his friends, "We're going to be rich! Twenty pounds a week!"

      The boys mumbled with joy, remembering their pay. It was a tremendous amount.

      The boys got out their instruments, and John spoke into the microphone, which was already set up.

      "Our first song," he said, "Is called 'Ain't She Sweet'." John was sweating a bit. He was awfully nervous.

       "Oh, ain't she sweet? You see her walking down that street. Well, I ask you very confidently, ain't she sweet?" The four boys sang.  Allan liked the way the boys sounded. They were talented, young, good looking. He looked at the teenagers that were in the audience, sitting at the tables. They shook their heads with the rhythm, some got up and starting dancing. 

       The boys took a look at their audience. They smiled. They were doing all right. They strummed their guitars, and sang every note perfectly. When they finished the song, every kid screamed and clapped. They hadn't expected such a big reaction.

        Allan came up to them after they had finished, and praised them.  "You lads did great! Phenomenal! Sensational!" He gave them every compliment imaginable. The four boys blushed.

        "It wasn't all that good, Allan," John said modestly. He thanked him, anyway.

        "You must be out of your bloody mind!" Allan exclaimed, "You men were fantastic! Although, I'm not going to argue. I will pay you boys at the end of the week." He patted them on the backs, and went to the door to greet the customers that were strolling in.

       John returned home that night, a bit happier than usual. It really wasn't about how well he played. But, he loved the crowd's reaction to the band's playing. The clapping, and especially the screaming, made him feel on top of the world, he felt ecstatic.

      He stopped, and realized he was in front of Aunt Mimi's house. He saw flashing lights, everywhere he turned. Red lights, blue lights. Whining sirens.

     He walked up to his home, and yanked open the door. He saw Aunt Mimi, sitting at the table. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

      "What the bloody hell is going on?" John demanded. His face was turning red. He gave his aunt a cold stare.

       Mimi was silent. She breathed quite heavily, each time her face getting more pale. She didn't even look at her nephew.

      John was furious. He didn't like having these cop cars around his home. 

     "Well?" he shouted impatiently, putting his hands up in the air. His glare was intense.

     Mimi opened her mouth to speak, when the door flew open. A big cop, with slicked back blonde hair was standing at the door.

     He looked sad. He looked straight at John, hesitating to say something to him. 

     "I'm sorry, son," the cop said, "Your mother is dead."