She's a Woman

Chapter Eight - Treat Me Nice

The trip over to Hamburg was a nightmare. I assumed we were going to travel in an airplane, but for some reason John asked us all to meet up at Liverpool docks. We were going to sail to Germany in a beat-up old tugboat! Everyone complained bitterly upon receiving the news.

"Listen, lads, I know it's not ideal," John said sheepishly, "but what other choice do we have?"

"Oh, I don't know," Paul said, pretending to think. "We could go in a plane like normal people?"

John rolled his eyes. Paul had been a real drama queen lately; turning the smallest situation into a big fat hairy deal. He seemed to be permanently angry and gave both me and George a hard time. Pete and Stu stayed well clear of him, and even John seemed anxious. Despite Paul's huge hissy fit, we were all bundled onto the boat and shipped out of England within the hour. 

Everyone relaxed a little during the boat ride. Stu and John busied themselves with an intense game of Gin Rummy, laughing and swearing whenever one of them lost. Pete hovered over them, discreetly lighting up a cigarette and inhaling the ghastly vapors. Paul was hunched up in a corner of the deck, muttering to himself. He looked so miserable that I almost felt sorry for him.

"He looks like he could use a friend," I thought, and walked over to him. 

Paul saw me coming and glared. "What do you want?" he grumbled.

"Just some company," I replied airily, seating myself beside him.

"Yeah, well, not mine, hopefully," Paul said rudely.

"Looks like you're stuck with me. I'm not moving."

Paul said a very rude word, but he didn't try and force me to leave. He hugged his knees closer to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. I copied his position and tried hard to think of something to say that wouldn't upset him. I didn't need Paul hating me more than he already did.

"Uh..." I began. (Great start, Michael.)

Paul didn't seem to care if I was there or not. He just stared off into space, humming a tune under his breath. I tried again.

"So, how long have you known John for?"

"Oh, for several years now," Paul replied languidly. 

"He's a pretty great guy," I remarked.

"I suppose so." Paul paused. He seemed to be thinking hard. Then he spoke up, "Michael? May I ask you a personal question?"

"Uh oh," I thought. "Approach with caution."

What sort of personal question could Paul want to ask me? Every single worst case scenario I could think of flooded into my mind. Had he figured out that I was really a teenage girl rather than a Teddy Boy? Was my disguise really that transparent?

"Sure," I said delicately. "What's on your mind?"

"Well," Paul said, looking a little embarrassed, "who do you like?"

I blinked. "Who do I like?"

"Yeah, who do you like? Do you have a crush on anyone?"

I hesitated, wondering what Paul was getting at. Was this a question with a deeper meaning? Or was he genuinely interested in my affections? I couldn't be sure. I nearly let the Michelle version of myself take over and start gushing about Buddy Holly and James Dean, but Michael quickly stepped in and took control.

"Where do I begin?" I said, deepening my voice a little to make sound manlier. "I quite fancy all of those American actress ladies - especially Jayne Mansfield and Diana Dors."