Shelter In Your Love (Beatles Fan Fiction)

44. Cosmic Empire

'Let me hear you without the music,' he says, glancing at the band. The five musicians rehearsing with us, who have been diplomatically pretending they're not watching, not witnessing this shambles of a rehearsal, take this as cue to escape.

'We'll take ten, Ricky,' one of them says as they climb out of the pit where they sit. 'Just goin' out for a smoke.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Ricky replies, offhandedly. He gestures for me to sing.

I clear my throat, draw a deep breath and sing, 'There's a time for us, some day, a time for us. Time together with time to spare-'

Ricky huffs and taps his foot.

'Time to look, time to care, some day-'

Ricky comes closer to me to sing his lines and then, with me, he sings, 'There's a place for us, a time and place for us, hold my hand and we're halfway there-'

He's glaring at me, waving his hand, trying to encourage me to sing better, but I don't know what it is he wants me to do, I don't know how to sing it any differently.

'Hold my hand and I'll take you there, somehow-'

My voice wavers and cracks on the 'somehow' and Ricky gives a frustrated half-growl, half-shout, throwing his hands up. 'Fucking hell, Hannah! Are you doing this on purpose? Are you doing it just to sabotage us?'

'No!' I cry, and I am crying now, unable to hold back, the tears stream down my cheeks in rivers. 'I'm sorry, Ricky. I'm not doing it on purpose. I can't do it! I don't know how to... to...'

'Look, if we could drop this song, I would, but they've asked for it specially. Reggie, he wants it. It's his wife's favourite song. He wants us to sing it for her.'

'I... I can't...'

'Hannah...' He softens his voice, trying to reign in his temper. 'Stop crying, baby, it's not helping anybody.'

'I'm sorry,' I sniff, trying to stop my tears.

'Okay, okay.' He rubs his cheek, pacing again. 'Three days. That's all we've got left before opening night. Three fuckin' days.'

'I know.'

'Try something different then. Sing... Sing the Doris Day one again.'

I purse my lips. 'I can't do that one either, Ricky. My voice isn't anything like Doris Day's. Her voice is like... like velvet and I sound like... gravel in a tin can.'

Ricky smiles at my clumsy analogy. 'You sang songs like that before. With the Raindrops.'

'I... It was with the other girls and...'

He crosses and lifts his guitar from where he'd rested it earlier. He returns to me and picks out the opening.

I frown, but sing for him, 'Our lips shouldn't touch...' The word fading out at the end.

'Move over, darling,' Ricky sings, low, replacing the backing singers we'll have on the night.

'I like it too much-'

He nods, better. 'Move over, darling-'

'That gleam in your eyes is no big surprise anymore, cos you fooled me before...'

'Not bad,' Ricky says, and I feel like it's the highest praise I've ever received. I smile at him gratefully. 'But still not quite right. Sing the middle bit,' he says, playing it half heartedly on the guitar.'

'The way you sigh, has me waving my conscience bye-bye. You can call me a fickle thing, but I'm practically yours forever, because--'

Ricky stops abruptly, so I do too. Someone behind me starts clapping. I turn around as Bobby walks across the stage to us. Joe, who drove us here this morning, follows behind but stops at the edge of the stage. Next to me, Ricky sighs shortly, annoyed at the interruption, but Bobby smiles widely.