April 10, 1964
The scene seemed to go on forever. The second I wanted it to stop, it didn't. It was beginning to weigh heavy on me that I needed to ask Brian to come to dinner with me tomorrow night soon. We were almost done on set, and afterwards, I would have a chance.
Finally, it was done. A few more people, including Brian, gathered around when the director began to talk to us. I didn't hear a word of what he said. My mind was too preoccupied. My eyes instinctively landed on Donna sitting off in the corner. She had my leather jacket pulled around her. She'd insisted on wearing it today instead of one of her own. I wasn't complaining. After all, if I couldn't wear it, then someone should. She hadn't come over to where all the people had gathered up, perhaps not wanting to be caught in such a crowd. Instead, she had stayed where she'd just been standing next to Brian.
I looked back towards the group when someone shoved me in the arm, hard—Paul. I gave him my signature "What the Hell?" look and he nodded towards Richard Lester. I reluctantly kept my eyes trained on him after that. I still didn't catch a word he said, though.
As soon as he looked away, Paul turned to me. "What's wrong with you today?" he asked. "You seem so distant."
"Oh, McCartney, you're the last person in the world I'd share my problems with," I replied, smiling sarcastically.
"Fine then," he said stubbornly. "I'll ask Donna."
"No, no, no! Don't do that!" I said, perhaps too quickly.
"Don't do what?" Bloody hell. Paul looked at me expectantly.
I turned to face a very confused Donna. "Nothing, love," I said. I knew she wasn't convinced, though.
"Sure sounded like something," she mumbled.
"It's nothing, really. I'm ready to leave whenever you are," I said to her with a smile.
"Oh, well, alright. I'm just going—you know what? Never mind. If you're going to keep things from me, then I'll keep things from you. I'll be ready in a minute." She turned and left without waiting for a reply.
Fuck, I thought to myself.
"John?" I turned back to Paul irritatedly.
"Yes, Paul?" I asked.
He opened his mouth for a moment, then decided not to speak. "Sorry," he said simply.
"Nothing I can't fix." I turned away from him to search desperately for Brian.
"Why don't you want to tell her, though?" he asked.
"Because," I said. "It's supposed to be a surprise for her."
"John, are you—?" Paul began, grinning.
"Don't say anything, Paul," I said, not confirming, nor denying what I knew he was about to say. Instead, I left the scene, going off towards Brian, who had just finished talking to someone. Donna still wasn't in the room, I noticed, and felt a little twinge of guilt. I wish I could just tell her what I was doing so she wouldn't be so worried about it. That's not how it worked though.
"Psst, Brian!" I hissed, going up behind him.
"Psst, John!" Brian mocked, turning to me with a joking smile. "What could you possibly need?"
"Funny little request actually," I replied.
He raised his eyebrows, encouraging me to go on.
"I want you to—um—have dinner with me tomorrow. I've got something I need to ask you." I couldn't have possibly been more suspicious.
"Why can't you just ask me now?" he asked skeptically.
"Because it's kind of a big thing, you know. It's about Donna, actually."
He nodded. "I suppose I can do that."
I sighed in relief. "Say perhaps at seven? At—I dunno—Simpson's Tavern, maybe?"
He nodded again. "That will work. See you then, John." He gave a reassuring smile and turned to leave. There was no going back now.
Donna's POV
I went back to find John. I was annoyed, to say the very least. It was childish, the way I was acting. I just couldn't believe the man I just bought a house with thought it was okay to keep secrets. Maybe I was misjudging the entire thing and it really was nothing. I was too stubborn to accept that. Maybe this all went along with whatever surprise he'd mentioned to Mimi when we'd gone down to Liverpool. I still didn't know what that could possibly be. It was looking increasingly suspicious on his part.
I found him quickly, of course. He was in the corner of the room, talking to Brian. It seemed someone else was just let in the know on whatever I couldn't know. I swallowed my stupid jealousy.
I slipped beside the door, leaning against the wall bashfully, watching as Brian and John talked. I saw Brian's face glaze over in confusion and John seemed like he was going into overkill to convince him of whatever he was saying.
"You okay, Donna?"
"What did he say to you?" I asked Paul, turning to him with a desperate look on my face. Paul hesitated. I shook my head. "It doesn't matter," I said. "I'm probably overreacting."
Paul came up and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Trust him," he said. "He's not doing anything bad. He's just really bad at being secretive."
"But why does he have to be secretive?" I asked frustratedly. "And why can't anyone tell me what's going on?" I bit my tongue to stop from crying, looking down at my feet.
"Well, that would ruin the surprise," he said. "Wouldn't it?"
I frowned at him. "I hate surprises," I said flatly.
"He wouldn't be keeping it as a surprise if he didn't have to," Paul said with a sly smile. I looked at him imploringly. "Here he comes," he said. "See you later, Epstein." He turned and left.
"What's he want?" mumbled John as he came up to me.
"Nothing," I replied. "He just asked me if I was alright."
"Why?"
I fumbled with the carpet of the room. "Because you're hiding things from me," I said in a rush. "And it's maybe not supposed to be, but it's coming off as very suspicious."
He sighed. "Do we have to talk about this here?" he asked blankly, looking at all the people around us.
"Of course we don't," I said curtly, turning and leaving him to follow behind me.
"Donna, please, let me explain."
I knew I was being too dramatic. "Not here, John."
He ran to catch up with me. "I'm sorry," he said desperately. "I'd tell you if I could, but I can't."
"And why can't you?" I turned and stopped him just as we'd made it to the car.
"Because," he said frustratedly. "It doesn't fucking work like that. I so very badly wish I could tell you so you'd stop acting like this. Why can't you just trust me?" I cringed as his voice kept rising with each word.
"Whatever," I said, opening the car door and clambering in. "I'm just overreacting. Sorry, John. You win!" I knew there were eyes on us and I wanted that to stop.
He opened the door and climbed in after me. "No, Donna, wait."
My hands dropped from the wheel and into my lap. I glared at him, waiting for him to say something.
"I know I look suspicious. You have every right to be worried about that. But, I'm asking you to trust me. Can you do that? I promise I'm not doing anything wrong and you'll know very soon. Can you believe me?"
I nodded. "But don't make me regret it," I warned him, putting the car into gear and pulling away.
"One more thing," he said.
I looked at him expectantly.
"Tomorrow night Brian and I are going to dinner."
"Why?" I asked rather forcefully.
"We've got to talk about the rest of the album," he said evenly.
I nodded. "Alright."
~~~
WOW WOW THAT WAS A CLOSE CALL JOHN BAHA