Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Sixty-One

 While in the train, John, George and Ringo left to find something to eat.  Paul stayed with me.  I knew what would happen as soon as he turned to talk.  

"So you and George are together now?  I should have known from your raunchy little dance in the theatre."  he muttered bitterly.  

I sat up.  "We weren't dancing like that and we aren't together.  I didn't ask him to come and lay by me; he did that himself."

Paul clenched his fist, his tone of voice raising.  "Elle, you're so frustrating!  You told me you weren't interested in a relationship, only to go fool around with one of my best mates..."  He looked out the window at the landscape speeding by.  

"I'm sorry, Paul, but it's not what you think-"

"Listen to me, Elle.  Just this once, will you listen?" 

"I don't want to be with any of you!" I shouted, stunning the both of us.  Paul looked up at me, but then out at the window again.  I felt sick to my stomach at the hurt expression on my face.  The silence between us was deafening for a few minutes until Paul said, quietly, "When we get back to my house, you will pack your clothes.  You're going to stay with Ringo tonight, so I can...sort things out." 

And he left the car, leaving me alone.  

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There are many things that the Beatles were told not to do in front of the press.  Smoke or drink was one, along with talk about their personal lives too much, however that was the topic the press loved the most.  

But there was one rule that was easily the most important to the lads.  

And Paul broke that rule.  

Even though John and I weren't on the best terms, he still helped me through the crowded train station, making sure I wouldn't get lost in the swarm of reporters.  People must have found out that we had gone, and the press was waiting at the station for us.  

John also broke another rule, but it wasn't as noticable as Paul's.  Some of the reporters were getting too close, which made me start to panic.  The older Beatle pushed one of the offending reporters out of our way, and a few people gasped.  "Come on, Elle," John whispered in my ear, "just keep moving foward."

We caught up with the lads.  People were shouting at the boys, tapping their shoulders for their attention.  One question they asked Paul made me freeze.  

"Are there any special girls out there for you?" 

It was as though the queue held their breath for his answer.  They were all waiting for the juicy details.  

Paul looked back at me, and the crowd turned to look there too.  He shook his head gently, and then turned back to the reporter.  Without warning, he burst into tears.  "I'm sorry...I'm...I'm so sorry..." He pushed his way through the crowd, with George and Ringo in tow.  

"Paul!" I ran after him, avoiding the people who pestered me.  John followed soon after.  

Crying and showing true emotion in front of the press.  

That was how Paul broke the rules.  

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None of the lads were in a joyous mood all day.  After their time in the studio, I went over to Paul's house to get some clothes.  As soon as he shut the door, I said, "Paul, I-"

"Please, Elle, just get your things." he pleaded.  I hurried to get my clothes and left as soon as I could, for I could tell Paul needed to be alone.  

But before I left, I said, "I'm sorry."  My voice broke horribly in just those words.  

"Go!"

I ran down the stairs, tears filling my eyes.  Ringo was waiting for me.  I could barely speak when he reached out to hug me.  "He's...he's so angry, Ritchie.  I grabbed everything because I-I'm not sure if I'm going back.  I-I feel so horrible and I know I should.  I just want to make things b-better."

He led me back to his car, an arm wrapped around my shoulder.  We immediately went home, for it had started to rain hard.  There was a storm brewing, which excited everyone, for the weather in England was quite uneventful.  

We made tea silently as the rain pounded on the roof of Ringo's apartment.  He tapped his fingers on the coffee table as I sipped my drink.  "Thanks, Ritchie.  For having me...at such a late notice."  I said quietly.  He nodded.  

After a few minutes, he got up and took my hands.  Standing face to face with him I then noticed that I was either his exact height or a little bit taller.  It was awfully cute.  

"You," he poked my stomach, "are too sad.  It's not healthy.  So tonight we shall have fun.  First, let's go to the kitchen.  It's what George and I do with shots, but we're doing it with ice cream."  

We filled up little shot glasses with scoops of vanilla ice cream, and we added every sweet thing we could find in each of them.  Ringo and I played 'Never Have I', and if we had done what the other player described, we had to eat one of the incredibly sweet concoctions we made.  

So once we were too sugar-high to sit still, we ran around the apartment playing silly games, dancing to his vinyls, and making so much noise that the neighbors called to complain.  

Eventually Ritchie and I crashed on the couch, and he told me in a quiet tone, "He needs just a bit of time to cool down.  It'll be alright.  It's George that I'm concerned about."  

"Me too." I sighed.  

After another few minutes of silence, he said, a bit of humor in his voice, "So who is the lucky lad?  Who is the chosen one, Elle?"

Though it was meant to be a joke, I turned over on my side, for I felt tears prick my eyes.  

"No one."

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Hi!

So Let It Be still has a few chapters to go before it's finished, and then I will be writing another book called Someplace Else (A Beatles Story) with the help of my friend @LauraScott8.  

But during that story or perhaps this one, I'll be publishing a short story about Paul.  I'm not sure what it is called yet, however I hope it will be different than any other Beatles fanfiction, and possibly most other fanfictions in general.  

Love,

Luna.