"You weren't in the middle of anything?" Paul asked politely.
Charlie leaned against the closed door of her hotel room, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you're here to talk about John --"
"I'm not." Paul gently grabbed her arms. "Don't do that." He pleaded softly. "You resemble a stuffy schoolmaster." He pointed out good-naturedly.
She held her arms firmly in place, refusing to be charmed. "What're you doing here?" Charlie knew that seeing Paul after last night was going to happen, but she didn't expect to see him until later on in the day at the Astoria. She felt vulnerable in his presence, and that was a feeling she disliked intensely.
Paul still held onto her, steadfast in his belief that the moment they shared yesterday on stage was meaningful. He was disappointed by Charlie's response to his presence, but he didn't let on. "The Debutantes will perform with The Beatles tonight." He stated enthusiastically.
Charlie frowned. "Why would we do that? We do just fine on our own." She replied defensively.
He let go of her, taking a step back, feeling slighted by her words and genuinely surprised that she hadn't responded with excitement. It was the appropriate response in his opinion. Plenty of other acts would've been grateful for the offer, and taken it without question, but Charlie appeared to be offended.
He slipped his hands into his overcoat and attempted to make sense of her reaction. A moment of silence settled between the two of them.
"I don't need your help." She stated defiantly, knowing that wasn't entirely true. Paul had been a great help. He'd been the only one to take an interest in her songwriting aside from Annette and Wanda. He'd given her a song that had a chance at becoming a hit for The Debutantes. He'd also get them into a proper recording studio for the tune to be produced by George Martin. She didn't want to need him, but he'd done a great deal for her, and she knew that she was being ungrateful.
"Brian was going to pull you from the last two shows. I stopped him from doing it." Paul stated plainly, not holding back with the truth or trying to make it sound better as was his way. "I told him that a better idea would be for The Beatles and The Debutantes to do a song together, get the crowd warmed up to your group."
"I never asked for you to do that or anything else." She stated faltering, losing a bit of self-confidence at what Paul revealed to her.
"You didn't have to because I think you're good, Charlie. You're really good. You, Wanda, and Annette. You could be big, and I want to help." He shook his head. "Who knew helping someone could be so bloody difficult?" He asked exasperatedly.
Charlie's hands fell to her sides. She was embarrassed, not only because of the ungrateful way she acted with Paul's genuine attempts to help her but also because her group had been so close to being pulled from the show. She'd never been comfortable with apologizing, and Charlie knew she should. She found herself saying instead, "Don't you think that'd make it worse? If we were to perform together? They didn't enjoy seeing us on stage together."
"I don't care about that." He stated honestly, revealing a naive side of himself.
"You should." She smiled, not finding the situation humorous, but his perception of how easy it would be to sway the audience. "They don't want to see us with you. It's fine when it's just the three of us up there, but the idea of us mixing together on stage or off," Charlie shook her head.
He nodded, understanding the meaning of her words.
She continued. "We don't know what's going to happen this evening. It could be better it could be worse."
He knew she was right, but her acceptance of the unknown troubled him. "Are you alright?"
"I've been better." She replied wryly with a disarming smile. She opened the door for him, and he stepped out.
He walked over to the elevator.
"Paul," She called out, and he turned around as she walked over to him. "Thank you." She pressed a soft kiss to the side of his face.
Paul felt that this meant something, and he had the sense not to press for more. "You're welcome."
Charlie quickly crossed the hallway and slipped back into her hotel room.
(----)
Wanda looked at herself in the vanity mirror The Debutantes were set to perform next. She was feeling uncharacteristically nervous. She'd never been frightened to perform, having grown up in the church and performing in the choir since she was a child.
The group had never performed to an audience as large as the one at the Astoria, but she hadn't been anxious when they stepped out on stage for the first time. Tonight her confidence was shaken, not in her ability to sing, but whether or not the audience would let them.
She turned away from the mirror, surveying the scene in front of her. Annette had enough reservations for everyone, but George had a calming and reassuring effect on her friend.
Howard was quiet, not having said a word since they left their hotel for the venue. It was in contrast to his usual boisterous self.
Charlie was carrying on as if last night hadn't occurred.
Wanda wasn't surprised by the other woman's behavior. For all these years she'd known Charlie her friend never showed anyone what she didn't want them to see.
George left, saying good to everyone, and gave Annette his word that after a fast change into his stage suit, and tuning of his guitar he'd be there to watch them perform from backstage.
Wanda knew he meant well. She worried that Annette's relationship with George would only cause her heartbreak in the end, the youngest out of the three of them, and with the least amount of experience.
Wanda had prepared herself to comfort her friend when it came to an end, but Annette had proven to be quite mature more so than Charlie when it came to matters of the heart.
There was a knock at the door, the voice on the other side announcing that they were set to go. They filed out of the dressing room, Howard following behind them. She wasn't sure what to expect as they stood off to the side off stage.
The announcer enthusiastically introduced them. There was a chorus of boos, tonight's audience wasn't as bad as the other night. The news of George and Annette was no longer fresh, and hopefully, these people had a bit more sense than last night's audience.
Wanda looked down when she felt Charlie tightly grip her hand, and warmly squeezed her friend's hand in return. She noticed Charlie had grabbed Annette's hand as well. The announcer stepped off stage, wishing the young women well.
For the first time in The Debutantes musical career, they walked out on stage holding hands, and that's how they'd walk out on stage for every performance from there on out.
(----)
Paul was sitting in a chair, legs crossed at the knees, appearing thoughtful as he chewed on one of his nails. He hadn't been able to relax since The Beatles arrived at the Astoria. He was uncertain of what to expect tonight. His plan to have The Beatles perform with The Debutantes had fallen through, much to the relief of Brian. The manager still worried that the crowd would get out of hand though.
Paul looked up when George walked into Beatles dressing room.
George swiftly changing into his stage suit. He briefly fussed with his hair, but didn't make much of an effort, or even bother with the powder foundation to minimize the look of spots on his face.
He appeared to be one track minded to not only Paul but everyone else in the dressing room. He grabbed his guitar, placing the strap over his back and sat down, trying to tune the instrument quickly but efficiently. The others carried on around him, and when he was satisfied with the sound his guitar produced, he left the room.
"Who was that?" John wisecracked.
"I think it was, George," Paul replied brightly, but it sounded hollow. He just didn't have it in him to play along. What he wanted to do was go out there, but he was hesitant to do so. He didn't want to see The Debutantes booed off stage or the disappointment and disbelief in Charlie's eyes.
He felt that the two of them were alike, and he could only imagine how much that reaction had shaken her. Paul was a self-confident young man, but he didn't enjoy being criticized. He'd never taken it well. "It doesn't sound bad out there." He said to no one in particular.
Paul looked over at Brian. "Good thing you didn't do something daft and pull them from the last two shows." He stated pointedly, wanting Brian to know his call had been wrong, and although he hadn't been right either, Paul felt like his idea had been the better option.
Brian laughed stiffly, appearing shamed by the statement and nervously fussed with the cuff of his shirt underneath his blazer. "I suppose I was worried over nothing." He replied good-naturedly.
John's eyebrows briefly rose above the frame of his brow lined glasses, looking up from the piece of paper in front of him. The news that Brian had considered pulling The Debutantes from the show, and that only Paul had been in on this was of interest to him. He momentarily wondered what his mate had said to change Brian's mind, and why he hadn't been part of this conversation.
He went back to replying to a saccharine drenched fan letter addressed to Ringo.
(----)
George nervously held his guitar, watching from backstage as The Debutantes performed. The audience was a mixed bag of reactions. The genuine enthusiasm far outweighed the few that weren't pleased with who George had chosen. He wouldn't feel entirely relieved until the girls had left the stage.
Howard slapped George on the back, a broad grin on his face. The worst was over in his opinion, and yesterday all but forgotten for the fans.
The Debutantes remained professional, ignoring the few faint catcalls. They were a fantastic live act, and it seemed that the majority of tonight's audience understood that and enjoyed their set. The turnaround was too good to be believed, but none of these three young women were going to complain of being (mostly) warmly received by tonight's audience.
(----)
"Tonight we'll go out and celebrate!" Howard stated excitedly, viewing his girls' performance as a triumph. They'd made it through the set, and that's all that mattered to him.
The last thing Charlie wanted to do was go out and celebrate. She wasn't feeling on top of the world, only relieved that they'd been able to make it through tonight's performance. The rush of performing in front of an unpredictable audience had worn off as she sat in The Debutantes dressing room.
"I've already made plans with George," Annette spoke up. They wanted to spend as much time with each other as possible.
"Have him join us," Howard replied.
"I think they have the kind of plans where'd they'd like to be alone," Charlie stated.
Annette mouthing a silent 'Thank you.' to her friend.
He nodded, understanding and for once not pushing. "What about the two of you?" Howard gestured between Charlie and Wanda.
"Maybe, another time." Charlie diplomatically replied, preferring her own company than that of others at the moment. She was in no mood to go out but didn't want Howard to be made to feel that he was getting the brush off.
"It's just you and me then, Wanda." He stated hopefully, and she nodded in agreement. He slapped his hands together, looking forward to a night out, aside from the times he'd gone out for a meal with Brian early on, Howard hadn't experience enough of the London nightlife. "Off we go then." He announced, motioning with his hands for them to hurry up.
"I'll try to hail us a taxi." Howard grabbed his overcoat and slipped it on. He picked up a couple of the girls travel cases, setting one down briefly as he opened the door and stepped out. Annette closed the door behind him.
(----)
Backstage at the Astoria, there was a lot of activity as the performers were packing up and getting ready to leave. While the Beatles were guaranteed transportation to and from the venue, other acts had to arrange their own rides.
Howard and the girls were in a rush. Although Howard had been able to hail a taxi a few times, the driver always left when the girls took too long to join him. So, they quickly changed their clothes and gathered their belongings. They made their way through a crowded backstage to get to the waiting taxi.
The Beatles were known for their attempts to outsmart their fans. They never left the venue at the same time, but that didn't stop their fans from waiting for any glimpse of them. Sometimes, the group would wait for the crowd to thin out before making their exit, but on this occasion, they were eager to leave the venue early and be one of the first acts to do so.
Perhaps it was fate that brought the Beatles and the Debutantes together, at least for George and Annette. As both groups were heading towards the back exit, the girls were holding their cases tightly, bracing themselves for the hysterical Beatles fans waiting on the other side of the closed door.
Charlie and John ignored each other during the mad dash. The Debutantes passed the Beatles as Charlie led the pace towards the back entrance door.
She leaned against the door and pushed it open, stepping out before anyone else. The fans who were eagerly waiting outside were thrilled, but their excitement soon turned to disappointment when they realized that it was not The Beatles, but one of the other acts.
The Debutantes had their own fans, but they were outnumbered by the more vocal Beatles fans who always pushed to the front.
Howard secured a taxi and convinced the driver to wait while he fetched the girls from the Astoria.
The Debutantes attempted to make their way through the crowd, but were met with resistance from the overzealous fans of The Beatles. Nobody was willing to give up their spot at the front, and despite their efforts, The Debutantes were unable to make any progress through the sea of mostly teenage girls who were in a state of hysteria.
The bobbies were outnumbered by hundreds of teenage fans, making it difficult for them to control the situation.
Mal stepped out and surveyed the scene. His presence signaled to the fans that The Beatles were likely to follow, which only heightened the excitement. He noticed the Debutantes amidst the crowd.
Without hesitation, he pushed his way through the crowd to get involved. Despite his imposing stature, Mal was a gentle person who didn't want to be rough with fans. He made his way to the front of the group of girls and cleared a path through the crowd for The Debutantes to follow.
Howard rushed down the alley to the back of the Astoria, sweating profusely and occasionally looking over his shoulder to ensure that the taxi driver hadn't left. As he turned the corner, The Debutantes emerged from the crowd, looking disheveled after being pushed around.
Howard was worried, but he knew it wasn't the time for a conversation, and the girls were aware of that as well. Mal was already making his way back through the crowd of fans.
The Debutantes and Howard rushed down the alleyway with their manager, tightly holding onto their belongings. Although the cab was still visible, it drove off suddenly. Howard called out, pleading with the man to stop, but it was too late.
Charlie realized that they had gone from performing at the Astoria to being unable to get a cab. She couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, so hard that it wasn't long before tears welled up in her eyes. Laughing was the only way she could escape the urge to cry.
(----)
John didn't want to go home. He wanted to go out and be a carefree bachelor like his mates. Being a husband and father hadn't slowed him down, and tonight wasn't any different. He had pushed for the four of them to go out, but George had plans with Annette that didn't include the others.
Paul had plans with Jane to attend an upper-crust get-together, the kind of thing John had no interest in.
Ringo was free, and the two of them had gone out to "paint the town," as Ringo put it, unsure of the color, he settled on blue. John could only laugh, refusing to correct his mate. He thought Ringo's malapropisms were better than the actual phrases.
John and Ringo had gone out carousing at a favorite club of theirs, dancing with women and chatting them up. Ringo was having a grand time, and his only problem came down to which young lady he wanted to spend the rest of his evening with.
John seemed to be having a good time as well, in the beginning. He needed a laff and a shout, but his mood soured with each drink until his option of women was limited to the one who had put up with his nastiness for the longest. He was fed up with everything and abruptly left the club, not as drunk as he pretended to be and still steady on his feet. He managed to get himself a cab, sliding into the back seat, with a destination in mind.
(----)
Charlie didn't expect London to turn out this way. Now she just wants to go home. She'd been excited about the idea of traveling out of the country. She had never left New York before and was thrilled at the prospect of traveling abroad.
The Debutantes were not very well-known in the United States, but surprisingly, they had made a significant impact on the European music charts. Charlie believed that this was a positive sign that all of the hardships she had faced, both professionally and personally, were leading to something great. She placed her hopes on this being the beginning of an incredible journey for the group.
She felt as though all the air had been knocked out of her. Bringing to mind the fact that she and her friends were still facing difficulties. It seemed likely that they would always face challenges, despite her pride in her pragmatic approach. The small amount of optimism she still held was in stark contrast to this reality.
As her time in London was coming to an end, she started packing up the things she wouldn't need. Charlie found herself overthinking the process of packing one of her suitcases, resulting in repetitive behavior of packing and unpacking.
She had a task that was completely under her control, but for some reason, doing it repeatedly only made her more irritated. She was relieved when someone knocked on her hotel room door because it gave her an excuse to stop doing the task that she couldn't seem to break away from on her own.
Charlie assumed it was either Wanda or Annette, but when she opened the door there was John Lennon, a rapscallion grin on his face. She was unimpressed, shutting the door in his face.
John persisted and kept knocking until she opened the door once again. He attempted to enter her hotel room, but she stopped him by placing her hand firmly on his chest. "Go home, John. There's nothing for you here," she said in a calm and composed manner.
"You are here," he said, pulling Charlie against him and pressing a passionate kiss against her mouth. But Charlie pushed him away, tasting the drinks he had consumed. He smelled heavily of alcohol. "Just go, please," she stated softly. Her words were simple and pleading, and John had never heard her be this soft. He stood there, unwilling to leave, wanting to see more of this side of her.
"You have a wife, John. She seems like a nice woman," Charlie said.
John snorted in response. Charlie didn't know Cynthia or their marriage well enough to judge her character. Although he knew that Cynthia was a good woman, she was no longer what John wanted. As far as he was concerned, Charlie was the one he wanted to be with now.
He dreamed of meeting a woman with an artistic mind and immense talent, who was also strong. As a teenager, he had imagined her as someone resembling Brigitte Bardot, and he had initially thought that Cynthia fit the bill, but he was proven wrong. He was now certain that Charlie was the one he had been looking for, and he wouldn't let go of that belief.
"You don't like me face, is that?" John asked, contorting his face into something grotesque, dragging his foot behind him.
She shook her head, not finding it funny. Charlie didn't understand how John was able to do it, but he was gaining her sympathy. 'John,' she stated softly, trying to handle him with some sense of care even if he was testing her patience threshold.
John continued to pretend, dragging his foot behind him and twisting his fingers. He adopted a slow voice, enunciating each word as if he struggled to think. "It's me face, isn't it?" he asked.
Charlie sighed, uncertain of where that road would lead. "There's nothing wrong with your face," she said truthfully.
Her words halted his shuffling in front of Charlie, yet John continued to pretend he had physical deformities. "Your face is... it's... I like it," she struggled to articulate, not because her words were insincere, but because the truth made her uneasy at that moment.
John stood up straight. "Can I come in?" he asked, clasping his hands together and tilting his head slightly to the side. He arched his eyebrows and wore a big grin, hoping to charm her.