HAPPY NEW YEAR—happy 2019!!!!!!!!!
Hello friends! I hope you enjoy this chapter—I'm home on break and thus have a lot of time to update chapters :-) This story has hit a pretty exciting part that I'm really looking forwards to telling.
It's so cool that these events really did happen and I get to speculate and build on the facts that the Beatles and other eyewitnesses have provided us with. Of course, characters like Anna, Mila, and Juliet have never existed, but I feel like I've made a good attempt at sticking to as much of the story as I can. Apologies to Cynthia and Dot who really never ever make an appearance (Marie is real, though, Pete Best really was dating a stripper at one point, though her name isn't specified.)
Again, thank you thank you thank you for the reads and votes and comments! Feel free to comment ideas or opinions on what's happening; I'd like to get to know your inputs on how the story is going.
"Where are we headed, lads?"
"To the toppermost of the poppermost!" came the usual chorus
Cheers, beer, clinking of glasses. Another party gathering, and this one was in celebration of, yes, going up in the world. The boys had found another club to play in—somewhere called The Top Ten—and would be leaving the Kaiserkeller in a few days.
Paul's hand found mine under the table and he squeezed my hand. "Better pay, a better PA—"
"With reverb and echo—!" John chimed in.
"Better sleeping quarters—" Paul continued.
"You are breaking your contract with Koschmider," I reminded them.
Everyone groaned. "Y/n, spoilsport," Paul said playfully, wagging his finger in my face. "It's fine. It's what we have to do. Success calls—! Koschmider deserves it, anyhow." Heads automatically turned to the empty spot at the table—George—who had been deported from Germany just a few days ago. When the boys made the choice to move to the Top Ten, Koschmider frantically turned to the one thing he knew he had leverage over them—George's age. At seventeen, he wasn't old enough to travel to Germany to work.
Murmur of assent. I missed George, and I could see it in Anna's stormy eyes in the seat across from me that she did as well. George would be eighteen in a few months and would then return to Hamburg, but the two of the had to stick it out till then.
"Is the loss of Geo worth a better bathroom?" Pete mused.
It was late November and we had spent the morning moving the boys' things to the Top Ten club. It was nearby, and we had all stepped up to help with the move. They had thrown what little clothing they had into suitcases; the real luggage was the amps, the guitars, the drums, their ammunition for the explosion of fame they were all going to achieve. John had already moved out, and Paul and Pete were the only ones left to move their things.
"Hey, y/n, you and me tonight, let's do something fun in celebration, huh?" Paul suddenly whispered to me, his sweet voice tickling my ear. "You come on over to the Kaiserkeller and we'll go to the movies."
I kissed him on the cheek in response, missing George more than ever—he and Anna had become our movie partners, although the pairs would generally split off once we were inside the theater. It would be a few months before we saw George again. The deportation process had been quick, like the snap of fingers. George had thrown his belongings into a suitcase and had been thrown onto a train. He and Anna had kissed quickly at the platform and we all watched him leave, promising to write. I watched his dark head disappear inside the train and listened to John muttering obscenities against Koschmider next to me.
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