You Really Got a Hold On Me

Chapter Twenty-One

1967, during the recording of the Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album

  “My face hurts.”

  “Suck it up, Paul.”

  “But my nose is numb!”

  “Too bad. We’re going to start recording for one of your songs next, alright?”

  Paul nodded. John was shit at comforting him, and he always turned compliments into insults without even trying. Ringo and George sat nearby, Ringo clinging playfully onto George as the guitarist was tuning his guitar for their next song. They hadn’t been in the recording studio for too long, so no one was cranky or in a bad mood quite yet, thank God. Ringo couldn’t stand it when Paul’s perfectionist side took over.

  “What song are we doing next?” George asked John, double checking that he tuned his guitar for the right song.

  “Getting Better,” John replied, not looking away from Paul as he spoke. “And Ringo, we’re gonna add some congas on it. You in?”

  “Sounds great,” Ringo said, in turn not looking away from George as he continued tuning his guitar.

  “I’d say about ten minutes ‘till we record, eh, Paul?”

  John nodded towards Paul, but he didn’t say anything. “Come on, Paul, let’s go,” John whispered to Paul quiet enough that George and Ringo couldn’t hear.

  John grabbed Paul’s hand and led him down the hallway, finding a room away from everyone else that was empty.

  “What the hell?” Paul asked as John closed the door behind them.

  “I should be asking you the same,” John replied seriously. “What’s with the attitude?”

  “I told you, my face hurts,” Paul replied, taking a seat in a chair in the empty room.

  “Suck it up!” John cried. “It still hurts after all this time? The surgery was months ago.”

  “John, please don’t bring it up.”

  “What, it’s not like anyone else noticed. You just have a slight bump in your nose, and your lips are slightly thinner. No one except us knows.”

  “Yes, but I feel like everyone’s eyes are always on me.” Paul gave John a worried look. “I feel like they know, the way they stare at me like I’m not one of them anymore.”

  “Who does?”

  “Everyone. Even people I don’t know, like the media. I don’t like going out anymore because they take their cameras and they shoot photos of me endlessly, I feel like they know things about me even I don’t know.”

  “Well we stopped touring, Paulie, isn’t that what ya wanted?”

  “Yes, but that was because I couldn’t sing because my lips were so badly bruised.”

  “But no one knew you had surgery, except us two. Not George, or Ringo, or even Brian knew it was surgery that did that. They just thought you didn’t want to tour.”

  “And I’m glad we’re done touring.”

  “Same here. Now I can spend more time with just you.” John smiled sweetly at the still upset Paul, and the bassist forced back a smile before frowning once more.

  John sat down on Paul’s lap, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s shoulders and kissing down his neck, waiting for some sign of reaction.