The Tribute Drummer

Studio

Yea still Johns POV

Four hours later and I am summoned to the studio.

How did I become confined to Paul's digs of all place's you may ask. Security. Privacy... On the same continent as Sean.

Paul has been good... really great. And Linda too I guess... And I give him heaps of shit, it's pretty gear.

As I walk in Brian and Rusty nod hello and go back to restringing yet more guitars.

Paul is nowhere to be found.

Marching round towards the recording studio proper. I can hear the faint sound of drums and bass.

I case the place through the window. Just a peep to see if all's swell. Paul's on bass and Abe sits next to Rat on the drum kit sharing up the beat- she's the right, he's the left hand. Grinning from ear to ear she looks perfect. Now in clean dry clothes, this was her home, safe behind the wall of sound.

Paul caught my eye and smiled. He stopped playing and held the door open.

"Come on"

"You sure... its safe?"

"Yeah she's good now, I think. Just grab a guitar and play, talk to her through the music"

Hours of sound, hours of jamming to anything and everything. I remembered her comment 'Beatle buns' so just stayed in that position, shoving Paul around to his old 'spot' too. I could see her features in the reflection of the control room window. Abe walked out after an hour and a half feigning hunger.

"Well lovely to Jam, but Linda, ah, hmmmm, wants me to watch the kids"

"Don't you have help for that"

Paul just pranced out.

The room was silent till she pushed the stool back scrunching the rug that sat under it back as well. I stayed in my position as she grabbed a water bottle and walked slowly round the room. She touched this and that, picking up Paul's piles of song writing matter; And, to be truthful, a couple of mine. The window was great, I knew where she was at all times.

"Stop it" She glared at the window...

Oopsy daisy- Caught.

Circling around me she knew I was going to keep still as she roamed her eye over, all that was: John Lennon, big head. "Sorry bout the stomach"

I held a hand to my belly, I'd forgotten, but it was a bit sore still. "It's ok, just don't do it again, yea"

Sitting on the stool in front of me she watched. I felt like a naughty school boy in front of the head mistress. No it wasn't that. I felt like a piece of meat being judged for tenderness.

"Sooooo, you're not a tribute guy, you're really him" She thought about what she was going to say. "I'm embarrassed to say I totally forgot about yesterday"

"So I'm not a tribute John or a tosser, anymore?"

"Well you're not a tribute guy..."

"Awwww still a tosser"

She smiled and leaned off the stool pretending to look around at my arse.

"Nice Beatle Buns though"

Jumping up she walked straight over and offered me the bottle of water. "Right, are we playing or what!?"

Music to my ears.