Miss Americana // The Beatles

Chapter 17

Chapter 16

July 15, 1960

I was so exhausted. My eyes felt so heavy as I sat at the table with the boys and a new friend we had met. Unfortunately with our move to the Kaiserkellar, our schedule had become more grueling. I hadn't thought that was even possible, but here I was without much sleep the past week, as we had had to play countless hours at the club since the other band had the week off. The other band on the bill here was also from Liverpool, Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. I enjoyed listening to them and we had become good friends with them, especially the drummer, who sometimes sat in with the boys to play with them to give Pete a break. His name is Richard, but he usually goes by his stage name.

"So why Ringo?" Paul asked him as we all sat around the table.

"Cause I wear all these rings, you see. My mates really gave the name to me," he explained, "Besides Richard Starkey doesn't have any star quality.

John chuckled, "You're right it doesn't. You all are a decent band though."

Ringo didn't quite know how to respond to John. It was taking all my self control from laying my head down on the table. I hadn't slept in days, and I was beyond exhausted. Tonight was really important, however, there was a music promoter coming to see the performance, maybe to give us a break. It was taking all my strength to stay awake in this moment. I was at the point of exhaustion where I honestly just felt delirious.

"Well, I like both your names," I said, "And you're a fabulous drummer."

John turned to me, "Alright Sasha, if you wanted to fuck him then go ahead and do it right here in front of us. We'd all enjoy the show."

John's off-handed comment made my cheeks grow red, everyone at the table grew silent. Also unfortunately, our grueling schedule had made John mean again. He hadn't come close to hitting me like he had before, but I honestly wouldn't be surprised if something like that happened again. It was more verbal, his mean comments about me made my blood boil, but I guess I had to blame that on Hamburg too. I was too tired to get into an argument.

"I was just complimenting him," I said quietly.

Everyone at the table was still staring at us.

"Well shut up and go get us some beers," John said, "Can't you see they're empty?"

I couldn't believe John was treating me this way in front of everyone. Usually his mean comments came at the end of the night, when we were alone. I stared at him.

"Well go on," he said, "Don't just sit there."

I got up from the table and walked over to the bar. I just wanted to go home. I don't even think I really cared about becoming a musician anymore. John and I had done so well at mending our relationship when he took me to Paris and when we went to the beach for Stu's birthday. Then our schedule got busier here at this club. It was slowly breaking my heart every time he would say things like that to me. I didn't understand why Hamburg had effected him this much. Everyone else was just as tired as him, and we weren't acting like that. I wanted to cry, not because I was weak, but just so tired, emotionally and physically. I bought some more beers for the boys. I walked over to the table with the bottles and slammed them down one by one. I walked off to the bathroom. I honestly didn't want to speak to John the rest the night, not after he spoke to me the way he did in front of all my friends. No one else was in the bathroom as it was still pretty early in the evening. I sunk down the wall and sat on the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest and put my head down. I closed my eyes.

"Sasha," I internally groaned and looked up at him.

"What the hell do you want?"

John sat down next to me, his shoulder touching mine, "I'm sorry."