Chapter 14: Baby, You Can Drive My Car

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Hi all! There's a mature warning at the end of the chapter, feel free to skip it if ya want! As always, thank you for voting and commenting!

I've been reading over the first few chapters and I'm going to be editing some of them—I'm doing that thing where I look back and I'm like wow I really need to fix that. So heads up about that! Don't worry, nothing else is going to be changed—same John, same y/n, I might be changing things like Cyn's name bc it's a little confusing. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

"You do know the twelve bar blues, right?"

Paul just stared at me. I stared back, John's guitar in my hand, my left index finger on the C and my left pinky on the G, forming a fifth by bass standards.

"You play?" Paul asked suddenly after a long pause, ignoring my previous question.

I strummed a short riff. "No. In fact, I've never touched a guitar in my life." I eyed him suspiciously; he was still staring at me. "D'ya want to learn this or not, McCartney?" I asked him. "The show is tonight. Look, Dizzy Miss Lizzy is literally the twelve bar blues." I plucked out the bass line on the bottom four strings of John's guitar and hummed along with the tune. "You make me dizzy, miss Lizzy, the way you rock and roll..."

I hated hearing my voice and the silence wasn't making it any better. Paul didn't sing along, but rather watched me until my voice faded away. "Now you," I said uncomfortably, shoving his Hofner into his hands. The bed sank a little with the weight of the Hofner. I grinned. Paul was slight and tall, like Pete. George was even more slight than the two of them, like the neck of his guitar. Both looked young; Paul "cute" and George more serious. John's stature was more sturdy and rough at first glance, more of a rocker, really filling in the role of the leader, but I had gotten to know his gentle side.

Paul imitated my C and G finger positioning. "Rock and roll." I finished the phrase. "Now go up to four."

"What?" he asked.

"F," I said.

"Oh," he said, understanding. "I just didn't know what four means. Didn't learn music like you," he continued, putting emphasis on the word you and making me roll my eyes at him.

"Why are you such a jerk, McCartney?" I asked him outright. "Why do you hate me so much?"

He stared at me for a few seconds. "I don't hate you," he said finally, toying with the bass in his hands.

"That I find hard to believe."

"Believe me," he insisted. "Bloody hell, why are you so inquisitive?"

"Because you drive me crazy, I'd just like to be... friends, if it's all right with you."

There was another silence. Paul stared at his bass and I stared at him until he finally said, "Teach me the fourth." I had no idea if that meant "yes" or "no" but I didn't want to press him further. For some reason he really disliked me and I just had to live with that.

"It's the fourth of the root chord, the C chord. F is the fourth of C," I explained, plucking some notes out on the guitar. Now five..."

I watched Paul for the next couple of minutes as he learned (or relearned) the four, five, and one positioning. Something seemed a little off. He was one of the greatest musicians in the world and he couldn't play a twelve bar blues? I smirked a little and a little shiver ran down my back when I realized that I had taught Paul McCartney bass.


"Ye just about ready, lads?" John addressed the boys, sitting on a small table in front of the stage.

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