Miss Americana // The Beatles

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

June 13, 1964

I walked into the bathroom, steam swirling around the room as George showered, "George, Paul wanted me to come to his room. He said we haven't talked in awhile," I laughed, "so I guess I'll go speak with him."

"Okay, darling," George called from the shower, "I'll probably go ahead and get some sleep. Tomorrow we have the night off, so let's go out. I love you."

"That would be nice," I told him, "Love you too."

I walked out of the room. I couldn't believe that I so easily lied to George. I took a deep breath. I went to Paul's room and told him that he was my cover story. I told him that Mimi wanted me to talk to John and I was going there now. Paul sighed and told me to be careful. I rolled my eyes and walked away.

I walked up to John's room. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I took a breath then brought my hand up to knock. I heard shuffling of feet from inside the door. I heard the locks unlocking. My palms grew sweaty and my breathing hitched. John opened the door slightly, looking into my eyes. Past his long eyelashes, I saw those specs of green buried within the hazel.

"Can I help you?" He said quietly.

I let out a breath, "Can we have a chat?"

John sighed and opened his door wider for me to come in. The room was dark except for one lamp on in the corner. I went and sat down on the sofa. John picked up a whisky glass and took a small sip. I guessed it was scotch, which had become all of the boys drink of choice.

"I'm being rude, let me pour you a drink," John went over to a table of the other side of the room and poured me a small glass of scotch. He handed it to me before sitting down on the couch with me.

We faced each other. He took a pack of ciggies from the coffee table and took one out, offering me the pack. I took one as well. My nerves were shot and I would do anything to calm down.

He lit the cigarette for me before lighting his own. We stared at each other.

He exhaled some smoke, "To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. McCartney?"

I took a long drag of my ciggie, my hands shaking.

"Since when have you taken up smoking?" John asked me.

"I just do it on occasion. I've started in the last couple years. Just when I feel out of place," I explained.

"You feel out of place now," John asked me, focusing on my shaking hands.

I sighed, "I just, we just need to talk John."

"Hmm," he took a drag of cigarette, "Is this about February? You made it perfectly clear you never wanted to think about it again. Not what you told Paul though."

I scoffed at Paul possibly revealing the information to John that I had thought that maybe sleeping with John in February wasn't a mistake, "He never could keep his mouth shut."

John put his ciggie out, and then took my ciggie from my hand and put it out in the ashtray on the coffee table. He steadied my shaking hands with his, "Calm down."

"I," I suddenly felt very suffocated as John's hands held mine and he looked into my eyes, "I came to talk to you because I'm worried about you."

He raised a brow at me, his voice low, "Don't worry about me, love."

"But I am," I said quietly, "You haven't been yourself in quite awhile. Especially in the last few months. I noticed on the holiday."

John finally let go of my hands, "Did Mimi put you up to this?"