And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 15: Peter Best, Wo Bist Du?

"Not to mention two weeks ago," George broke in with a sly smile. The boys all laughed, and I was lost. I didn't question, but sipped my tea and side eyed him. George kept going. "Three in one night, John, really, that's proper talent. How did you do it?"

Paul kicked him in the shin and nodded his head towards me. The smile froze on George's face, and he went, "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I was exaggerating." His face was a nice color of eggplant. I gave a wry smile and brought my teacup to my lips. "Three in one night, huh, John?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Erm—"

"It's okay," I said carefully. "Just, ah—" I closed my eyes and choked on my tea. "I just—"

"Gear, George," Paul muttered.

"Hey," I said, annoyed. "I'd rather know than not."

John caught my wrist and pulled me closer to him. "Hey, you know you mean a million times more to me than any of those girls, right?"

    I nodded. My heart was hammering in my chest. I was suddenly aware that John could leave me like that and I would be stuck in Hamburg without a way to get back to the future. He was my link that brought me here. If he left me—I swallowed and took a breath. "John," I whispered in his ear. "If you leave me, I can't get back home."

    His reaction surprised me. "So is that all I am to you," he said, and pulled back. "Someone to get you here in the first place?"

    "John!" I raised my voice, irritated. "Do you really think I mean that little to you?" I scooted closer to George and bit my lip. "Do you remember anything about the fu—Chiswick?" I caught myself.

    "Yes," John said in a biting tone. "You were sharing the bed with Ryan."

    I closed my eyes. "I am not discussing this here." John took a swig of beer; the bottle landed harder on the table than it usually did.

    "C'mon," George tugged gently at my sleeve. "Let's go for a walk."

    I got up from the table and followed him outside into the windy morning.

***

    "Sure is windy," George said.

    He stood tall and lanky against the side of the Kaiserkeller, wearing a turtleneck and slim fitting black pants.

    "Sure is," I said. "Sure is windy inside, too."

    "Why is—oh."

    I watched as George caught sight of a blonde bird passing. His eyes took her short dress and high heels in and I caught a slight movement of his head.

    "Don't do that," I said, annoyed.

    "Don't do what?" he asked me, looking genuinely confused.

    "Why do you blokes always catcall birds like that? There's more to us besides a pair of boobs." George snickered a little, and I couldn't help but smile at my sentence.

    "Cora, I don't know if you all wear ballgowns and floor length dresses up there in Chiswick but down here this—" George gestured at the scene. "This is normal."

    Across the street, a red haired girl stumbled out into the morning from a dimly lit corridor. She pulled the door shut behind her with her right hand, the other hand holding a pair of shoes. I watched her stockinged feet make their way across the stone roads of Hamburg towards the docks.

    "I suppose it is," I said, slightly mollified. "It shouldn't be this way, though. We should learn to get together besides, well, whatever you do, anyway."