All the Love in the Universe

Nine. Beating the Love-Marie

I remembered the exact moment I fell out of love with Alec. The unshakable feeling was that he had beat the love right out of me. That phrase ran laps through my mind over and over: he beat the love out of me.

Alec had never laid a harsh hand on me. He was physically sweet, touching me only in love.

But when he was drinking excessively, or hyped up on the stress of the road, he could be emotionally brutal.

The moment I felt my dramatic respect and attraction slip away came so unexpectedly, it was weeks before I  could appreciate the depths of the change.

It came on the heels of a particularly iconic performance we'd shared. Forty thousand fans had crowded into an Italian amphitheater to watch The TV Stars open for Paul McCartney. Alec had dazzled me by telling me hours beforehand that I wouldn't just be accompanying him as part of his entourage.

I was going to join them on stage to perform one of my own songs. With him. For Paul McCartney's audience. And Sir Paul himself.

I didn't know how he'd done it. The fact that Paulson (who was named after Macca) and John would allow such a stunt was shocking. It took me a full hour entertaining Alec's pleadings to accept it was even true at all.

"Cookie face," Alec smiled, resting his forehead against mine with a cockeyed grin. "This is our big break. I want you here. I need you to share this with me."

When I parted my lips to question him for the hundredth time, he kissed me.

"Just trust," he whispered. "Let's give Macca and his super fans something to write home about."

I watched The TV Stars from the wings as they launched into an energetic set that almost impressed the Paul-hungry crowd. Paul himself was nowhere to be seen. As the set came to a near-close, Alec nodded to Paulson and John, who acquiesced with tight-lipped pouts.

The moment had come.

Alec held his hand out to me and I swallowed the last vestiges of my stage fright and trotted out under his spotlight. The audience roared, maybe anticipating a glimpse of their legend, or maybe appreciating the obvious love between us. The stands were packed as far back as the eye could see, so totally that each fan joined the greater whole in form and consciousness. The people became a part of the atmosphere, breathing and moving as one entity. That made it less intimidating, somehow—their combined volume. It seemed like we were performing alone, almost.

Paulson counted us off and then the band hit. We were playing my newest single, For All the Marbles. It had only been released a few weeks prior, to good traction. It was recognized in Europe even as Americans were slow to pounce.

Alec surprised me by singing along in the chorus. We stared into each other's eyes as we belted out the words, smiling effortlessly in the grandness of the moment.

Applause picked up suddenly, sending a shockwave through my spine. And then I saw what they'd all seen: Macca himself, stage-side, bobbing his head along to our beat, engaged in the song.

Alec followed my gaze and then stepped forward to block my view. He wanted my attention on him. On our moment. Our ascent.

I laughed, and continued to sing into his eyes until the song finished, to mounting applause.

As we waved to the cheering crowd, reminding them of our names, Paul greeted us center stage and took the mic from Alec's hand. He thanked us and quipped some praise for all to hear, but Alec and I were too giddy to pay attention. We nearly fell over ourselves as we jogged backstage, collapsing in our dressing room in gasps and giggles.

We pulled off our sweaty clothes and held each other on the long, velvet couch. Through the walls and hallways, we could hear Paul's set begin. The fuzz off the bass and drums pounded the floor, rocking us as we rejoiced in this new world we had entered. A world where days like these were normal.

"You guys were straight-up rude to Macca," John chided us later. We hadn't noticed. All we had been paying attention to was each other, and the mood, the lift, the rising vibration of our destiny.

Macca was secondary.

The crowds were secondary.

The money, the headlines, the interviews: all secondary.

What mattered most was that which could not be taken away from us, that intrinsic validation that we were on the right path.

Together.

Alec's deep brown eyes beamed brilliantly under the dressing room vanity lights. I ran my fingers through his hair, dragged my bottom lip over his eyelids to tickle him.

"How'd you get them to say yes?" I had to ask. I meant John and Paulson.

"I said I wouldn't perform without you."

"You did not!"

"Sure I did. Of course I did. I meant it, too. I needed you with me. This stage was ours."

"What would you have done if they'd said no?"

"Watched them be a duo from the tour bus, I guess."

"Really!"

"You bet."

"You'd have done that to your favorite Beatle?"

"John was my favorite Beatle," he said. "I'd have sold you down the river for John."

I shrieked in jest and pushed his bare chest away.

"In a heartbeat!" he teased, pulling me back against him.

I shook my head in wonder and smoothed his hair back from his eyes.

"I love you, Alec."

"I love you, Marie."

He bowed his head to nibble on my breasts, his hands dancing over my thighs.

A rapid knock came at the door and Alec shifted his weight, sitting up. He cleared his throat and reached over me for his boxers and jeans. I glanced up at him, confused.

"Be right there!" Alec called, and the knocking ceased.

"Who was that?" I needed to know.

His brow darkened and he looked away, as he always did when readying to tell me something I wouldn't like.

"I have to go," he stated flatly. He stood, dressed hastily, and paused to examine himself in the oversized mirror.

"Go? Where? What about me?"

I was still naked, supine, staring up at him with incredulous eyes.

"I'm supposed to watch McCartney with the guys and then attend the after party with them."

I was aghast.

"And me?"

He glanced back at me over his shoulder and adjusted his belt.

"You can't come. The guys."

My senses started to return and I struggled to sit up and pull on my panties and bra.

"So I got to sing the song, but the trade was now I'm ostracized from the rest of the night?"

He moved towards the door, a meanness playing over his face.

"Did John say that?" I was still stupefied. "I mean, you actually worked it out this way?"

"Not exactly. It's just." He took a deep breath and leveled his stare at me from across the room. "Look. Marie. I can't oversaturate them with you. I brought you on stage. I can't push it."

"So I'm on my own tonight? Just like that?"

Alec opened the door and stepped out into the bright hallway.

"Just like that."