Got To Be Good-looking ('cause he's so hard to see)

~2~

John

"Take your fingers off my fly, May" I warned, I really should just stand up but I'm a lazy-arsed lad and bat her fingers away, they came back, again.

"John, you're so stressed, let me relieve you" May P, Yoko's recently employed 'secretary' bat her eyelashes at me in an attempt to entice me I guess. She's near on her twin, dark hair, those eyes, the voice.

"You're the secretary May, turn around and do your job" I stood and took off to the window, she crawled following me hands and knees, what is this? Maybe a quickie, maybe a shag, to make my head straight.

The zipper descended and I felt a twitch as she laid cold fingers on my briefs.

May was deft that's for sure, could suck the paint off a ceiling, but that was it, she was much like a robotic minion, this was her 'job' a secretary slash 'paid' employee.

"So, John" She wiped her lips, lipstick gone, no doubt for me to wash off later. Glasses back on, studious now as she sat back on haunches being a secretary at the coffee table in this Californian enclave of the right rich and terribly wealthy. "The record company want another album by the end of the year, Yoko says-"

"Put a clamp on it" I snapped at her unkindly, the anger climbing rapidly, channeling toward her when it really shouldn't "Shut up will you. The record company can go suck on someone else's pipe"

"But Yoko-"May tried again "You need to start writing, John"

I stared through the girl, trying to see beyond.. to a way to actually care.

Blank that's what I had. Nothing, nada, zero, it's all gone. McCartney could spit the stuff out like breathing, always could the lucky fucker.

Me, I clawed for words, scratching at a mountain blindly. Oh yea we were great and I did get some stuff out fairly easily in the heyday and the other year 'Imagine' etcetera but today here, now- blank.

I didn't give a toss, and that's the problem - why bother, I've got cash, I'm loaded, I want for nothing.

*********************

It's midnight now, May was snoring in the guest room much to her dismay and I was sitting beside the phone deciding. Deciding what to do.

Should I? It's been fucking ages and we didn't have much good to say to each other then, either, mayhap the brick I tossed through his window wasn't the best idea but still it felt un-fucking believable at the time.

"Macca" I hurled the name down the phone before I could hang up again.

"Hi, John"

"Oi Lin, put Mac on"

"He's in the studio, John. What do you want to kick him for this time?" Linda was speaking monotone sarky as always, like I kicked him on a daily basis but it had been ages since I bagged him with 'How Do You Sleep.'

"Come on, Lin. Forgive and forget, I'm done. Had the shite up to here"

"Right and I'm the Queen of Sheba"

"Now, now. Don't be bitchy"

"I'm hanging up now, John. Goodbye"

"Sorry alright. I'm sorry, there I said it"

"Oh, mountains have moved and the seas parted; For the great one has bowed" She laughed a little, more than a little relieved that I was ringing in a positive state I guess. A small positive that I even call and ask to speak to Paul.

"John, we have tried and tried with you. Every attempt to make peace, to attempt one afternoon to play nice and you shut us down" Linda was angry now I could hear the cut of her voice, the drawl of her yanky accent. "We give UP"

"I know that and I'm sorry. I just.... I want to come. I want to come to Scotland" There I said it, and boy, I thought I would be gritting my teeth but instead I'm worried she was going to shut me down and say a flat-out no.

Silence stretched, a child cried, Stella perhaps, must be one year old by now.

"I've got to go. I'll talk to him. He's hurting John, still. You hurt him. What am I saying, you hurt each other" She coo'd to the baby hushing softly to abate the tears and I knew she was thinking, she was his conscious that one. An annoyingly good pendulum of wisdom for our Macca. "Stuff it, I'll call you tomorrow ok, in LALA land I presume?"

"Yea, LALA land" I wished she would just assent but I guess this was kinda big; me coming onto his turf, like two bulls on one small narrow stretch of farmland "sure tomorrow, say you're from the record company, yeah, so I get the call. Tar-ah Lovely Linda"

"Sure whatever" She dropped the phone, the line dead.