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Chapter 7
Beyond the Reaches of Fame

She was with... ring, ring, ring. Great woken up out of a perfectly good dream and for what a lousy call from room service saying the food would be delayed. I didn't order anything so I guess the lads must be up and about ordering breakie. I groggily ribbed my eyes and scratched myself in a ruff manner. My body was glued to the mattress from the sweat in my sleep. Normally I didn't work myself into a sweat over something as insignificant as a dream but lately they had seemed more real than I was accustomed to. I peeled myself away and walked carelessly to the deserted bathroom. This new day is going to bring a new perspective on everything I can think of I mused as I unbuttoned my shirt top. To what I owed my optimism I wasn't profoundly sure but a quick look at the mourning paper saying how the Beatles were now number one in America reminded me of the events that transpired the previous night. Well I seem to recall Mal promising he would get my gift to Ms. Stevens this mourning but then again I was tipsy most of the evening so I had a difficult time remembering what I said last night.

As the water trickled down my chest, I slowly rubbed my weary temples. Ugh what an awful headache and to think I only had a couple of drinks. Well maybe I drank more than a couple but not enough for a hangover in the mourning. I hummed lightly fragments of the song I heard on the beach in my dream last night but it was mostly half hazard because I could only remember parts of the harmony. The melody itself just seemed too mysterious to put into notes so I quickly abandoned this ritual for my much-needed hygiene. I softly rubbed the soap in a circular motion over my tired body hoping to awaken the senses in hibernation after a late night of partying. A new freshness splashed over me as I rinsed my hair the final touch to a successful shower. I turned off the water and stepped out grabbing a towel to throw around my waist until I could substitute it for a robe.

"There it is," I muttered draping the heavy robe over my semi-lanky body. I had lost a considerable amount of weight since we had gone on tour. I never did get enough to eat as it was and traveling all the time with that horrible hotel food didn't help matters. I suppose that on a subconscious level I am glad that I am somewhat underweight at the moment. I was always so hard on myself as a teenager because I had baby fat, which the lads liked to poke fun at. Girls always found it "cute" a word I never cared much for when most women want a man who is sexy or handsome. Cute says that you look like a teenager: precious and fuckable but not dateable if you know what I mean. Well right now that's not necessarily a bad thing but in the future I definitely expect it will cause me a great deal of strife. I tied the robe loosely and began my shaving routine. I carefully put a layer of cloud white fluff over my bristly facial hair and looked up in a perplexing manner at the shiny silver edge eager to tear the flesh of my beautiful face. I generally used a safety razor but today I wanted a particularly close shave.

"Hey Macca hurry up in there other people have to use the bathroom to you know," George yelled pounding on the door.

"It's open," I rang out, "but I'm shaving at the moment so you'll have to live with it or wait a while."

"I guess I'll wait I wouldn't want to disturb his majesty who needs the loo all to himself," George quipped.

"I don't know about you but I'm headin in there I have to piss like a racehorse," John squirmed.

"There you go with the obscenities, honestly I don't know how we can take you anywhere," Ringo laughed.

"Well it just so happens that it's my obscenities is what puts food on the table so I would be more grateful if I was you," John said while throwing his nose up in the air.

"You got to admit we do collect a lot of money from his lawyer for giving us psychiatric damage," George snickered. John smirked in distaste as her made his way to the loo in his typical self-righteous manner sticking his tongue out at George when he wasn't looking.

"Now let's try to act like adults today we're a number one band in America and we need to start acting like it," I interjected.

"There you go again Macca tryin to make us into someone we're not," Ringo said bitingly.

"Yeah it's bad enough we had to start wearin these bloody suits," George quivered.

"That was a cheap shot George we have been wearing those suits for nearly a year and our pay has nearly doubled making more than worth while in my book," I fought back.

"I really don't think that is important at the moment but I am with George on this one. We don't want those damn record producers changing our music," John replied in a caustic tone.

"Here, here I'll burn in hell before I let anyone touch me songs," I chorused.

"But if I didn't help you they'd all be shit and then where would we be," John snickered.

"You knew what I meant and I write bloody good songs twice as good as yours being unbiased of coarse," I replied in a proper tone.

"Enough you two let's try to keep the conversation civil please," Mal hushed.

"Come on guys we better do what he says or he'll...." George paused.

"He'll sing," Ringo smiled.

"Oh anything but that," John hollered, "lock me up and throw away the key, take away me beer, don't let me fuck for a week, anything but hearing that mind-piercing cacophony of noise he calls music."

"I wouldn't let that mouth of yours run to much longer or it might be a while before you see any alcohol or women," Neil threatened.

"You wouldn't..." John gaped dramatically.

"Oh but I would," Neil glared.

"You shouldn't tease about something that important," George replied sarcastically.

"Yeah Mal can't help he has a voice that would make a frog sound like a prince," Ringo said trying to keep a straight face.

"Like you should talk froggy apprentice," John said nonchalantly.

"That really hurt's," Ringo replied in earnest.

"Ahh... we're only pullin your leg Ring we don't mean any harm," I said comfortingly.

"Gotcha," Ringo quacked in hysterics. I smile lightly letting Ringo bask in his glory for the next couple of minutes while we idly waited to hear the days events.

"As you all know the only event scheduled for today is that afternoon concert at half past five," Neil exclaimed.

"Has Mal gone to see Ms. Stevens yet?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes he went earlier this mournin," Neil said while filing some of the hotel bills from earlier in the tour, "he'll be back pretty soon I should imagine." My pulse shot up merely at the thought of his glorious return with messages of love from the woman who stole my heart or at least mended my broken soul. The chaos of that day was so intense I was glad to have a happy shining face look at me when I was once again conscious and compatible. Thoughts of love once again raced through the tunnels of my heart. Unfortunately, they were cut off by my self-importance a new candidate I used to deal with my emotions. Between him and repression, my body was a fortress and one that would NEVER fall as long as I was Paul McCartney.

"Hey Macca who's this Ms. Stevens you keep talking about," George pressed.

"Yeah I wanna know about this bird Paul's nailin," Ringo smirked.

"Does she got big knockers?" John said with his mouth ajar from eating his breakie.

"Well that was straight to the point," Ringo said while cutting his eggs.

"Yeah your supposed to be a little less blunt at first and then work your way up to the questions you really want to ask," George suggested.

"One at a time already. First of all, I haven't slept with her; second of all, she does have a good set. I met her at Mrs. Muir's house after me accident. She was the maid who helped me move around and I just felt this instant connection to her. I hope that answered all your questions," I huffed exhaustedly.

"Yeah all but one; where do babies come from?" George asked with an innocent tone. We all had a good laugh at that one. George can be such a heel when he's bored but very amusing all the same.

"I'm back. I hope you didn't miss me too much," Mal yelled bursting into the finally quiet room.

"You know us better than that. Of coarse we didn't miss you," Ringo snapped sarcastically.

"That hurt's you know," Mal said looking dejected.

"Don't bother he used that one already earlier today," John informed.

"Oh yeah," Mal said in disgust, "wouldn't want to be so low as to start usin the routines of Ritchie here."

"Low blow," Ringo whined.

"Yeah well I might have hurt your pride but I didn't hurt your pride if you know what I mean," Mal smiled.

"You sound just like John with that contradicting gibberish," George replied dumbfoundedly.

"That was a pun you git," Mal retaliated.

"Well not a good one so you shouldn't of even bothered sayin it," he quipped.

"Alright no more you two I can't read through these receipts with you bickering over an adult joke George missed," Neil said frustratedly.

The hostile air vibrated with intense passion as we fell back into our normal routines. Still I awaited a sudden outburst from George to compensate for the ego he lost temporarily to Mal. I nervously began tapping my pen against the edge of the table staring blankly into the dead void filled with oppressed anger and uncomforted fear. My nervous twitching slowly began to drop single strands of irritation in the hourglass room, ready to burst into flames.

"Stop that Paul or I'll rip your stomach out of your ass," John huffed irritatedly.

"Touchy touchy," I muttered as I flipped through a magazine restlessly. George glared from the couch only four steps away from me. Four steps between me and an explosive powder keg waiting for the slightest heat to burst the room into a total state of disorder I thought. To my relief compassion filled my band-mates face and he abandoned the hurt and anger for today... I fear the day when that compressed emotion reared its ugly head but I knew there was nothing in the immediate future that would cause that kind of reaction. I smile lightly at the cooled lava of abhorrence and snuggled deeper into the love seat by the tellie. Ringo flipped through the channels indifferently as I thought of a way to tactfully bring up Ms. Stevens without everyone wanting to contribute.

"So what did she think of the perfume?" I asked casually. A look of pleasure disguised his face as I looked desperately to read its expression.

"Well since you mentioned it I guess I better go ahead and tell you. She's allergic to that brand and simply said to return it with her apologies. Off the record she says that you were cheap and that if you really wanted to get to know her better you would have delivered it in person and spent more than a couple than a few measly franks on a woman when you have at least a five figure income," Mal coughed.

"The nerve of that bitch," I said in a loud whisper, "to think I thought there was something magical about her but she's just as money hungry as the rest of them."

"Paul I was just kiddin about the money part I just made that up to see how you would react," Mal apologized.

"Well you shouldn't tease about something that important. What if I was to write a death threat and have you all worked up about security and then just tell you I had written it and it wasn't real," I quipped in my snappiest voice.

"What did I tell you two about the damn racket," Neil burst out.

"Sorry Neil but you need to get the bug that crawled up in your ass and died out of there because it's turned you into an annoying asshole," John commented. Steam puffed out of Neil's ears as he rolled up his sleeves for the barnie of the century.

"Now, now there's no reason we need to solve this using violence," I quivered, "I am sure that there are a lot of better alternatives like talking that way no one gets killed trying to maintain some sort of dignity."

"There goes Paulie the peacemaker again tellin me about the dangers of violence," John yapped sarcastically.

"Give it a rest for once and watch two REAL men have a barnie okay," Neil replied dominantly.

"All I see are a couple of dumb idiots who are going to get bloody killed if they don't stop talking so much shit," I bellowed, "and I don't need any crap from either of you two or might end up loosin me temper and beat the lot of you."

"Them are fightin words Macca," John said bobbing up and down throwing teasing punches, "especially since your more talk than I am and I would beat the daylights out of you in two seconds."

I blinked back the rage gnawing at my throat; I tried to hold my composure knowing if I let John get to me now than he would win this battle of wits. I would have to beat him at his own game but how? That was one of the biggest differences between John and me, I used my mouth, and he used his fist. Of coarse it hadn't always been that way. No quite the contraire could have been said only a year ago. It was my steady relationship with Jane that made me a pacifist even though she found little merit in politics. It was her sweet nature that brought about a softness or rather a weakness in my dominating male character. Still the main integrity of my ego was stronger than ever, especially concerning aspects in my dating relationship; a complete contradiction considering that was the precise thing that lessened the severity of it. Perhaps it was a fear of loosing total control of the relationship or perhaps it was having to share power with others, a skill I detest learning.

I concentrated with a blank expression plotting my next move in this game challenging John's role as the leader. This wasn't the first time I let my pride push our partnership to the edge and back just so one of us could end the victorious leader and king of the group. With that title came the luxuries of coarse, you would be the first people noticed, the one women wanted to sleep with, and the one most likely to have a majority of compositions on the next record too. A lot was at stake over this small battle of wits and if I couldn't think faster I would loose again at this miserable chess game John appeared to always fix.

"Are we going to have a barnie or not?" Neil vexed.

I shook myself out of my trance like state and replied, "Neil aren't you supposed to be keepin us out of trouble?"

"Yeah maybe I am but I'm gonna make an exception today cause someone needs to put Lennon in his place," Neil barked.

"I'm not scared of you," John replied defensively, "and you're the only person who is going to be set in their place."

"Come ed," Neil sneered.

John's fist crumbled into Neil's stomach as he stumbled to the floor. Neil quickly leapt back into his boxing stance, grabbed John's next punch, and twisted his arm around tightly so John would have to beg for mercy. John's lips, petrified and in pain, quivered to utter noises of apology but his thick skull stood with tight guard so that not even a whimper would pass through those rose covered gates. Every time they open, they leave a prick of blood as the thorns tear open the flesh of another human's pride. Unfortunately, this time someone grabbed hold of the solid bar instead of being mesmerized by the illuminating flowers. John no longer hesitated and used Neil's momentum to but him into a similar hold. If he applied any more pressure that bone would surely have cracked and vanished like dust particles in the blowing wind.

Neil finally got free of John's claw wrenching grip and pushed him into the wall with tender ease. The pounding thud made me grasp my ears in pain; I was the wall being hit in the mist of the storming fury of men. Each bruise on their battered bodies was a fault, sin, or habit I squirreled away in the deep recesses of an empty void. Each devilish glance caused my airy scream to dissipate further into the great unknown, me. I instantly broke them apart like the two halves of an eggshell. The crack I saw into my mind was too much to bear and I had unleashed a fury no one knew existed in such a pleasant person. Everyone looked aghast even the Great Lennon himself, my role model, my mentor, and my competition. A glimmer of light twinkled in my eye as their jaws dropped lower and I resumed to pluck away at my bass.

I supposed they quit fighting because if someone as passive as myself was intervening than there was obviously a good reason to end it. On the other hand, perhaps they got bored and didn't want to see whom the true victor of the power struggle was. I didn't really know but it didn't matter now that I had proved myself for the first time since I entered a relationship with Jane. A smirk of satisfaction passed my lips as John limped into the kitchen like area for some ice.

"Bah," he muttered and called room service to bring some. I stared in amazement as John and Neil chatted friendly to one another as if nothing had happened. I ignored their befuddling behavior and went back to tuning my flat bass.

"Hey George, does this sound about right to you," I asked.

"Yeah, sounds good to me," he said quietly.

"I don't know it might be just a hair flat still," Ringo objected.

"I tend to agree," Mal said cheerily. I turned my head away from him dramatically still upset about his earlier lies concerning the woman I fancy. He had some nerve lying to me like that about something so essential in any man's relationship; where the attraction lies. Most men hope that it is mostly a physical attraction therefore the woman they are seeing is just as shallow as they are and her feeling are less likely to be offended. Than there are those, who unlike me, are not blessed with physical beauty; they pry on the women who are insecure with themselves by feeding them their sweet venomous personalities. Although they appear to be loving and sincere, their main objective is still the same, her knickers. I grant you that a few of these "men" are sincere but like the saying goes, there's always a rotten apple in the bunch. But the one thing all men fear (attractive or not) is that she only loves him for his money. This can cause even more problems when you are attractive because now you are unsure of which shallow quality she is after or if you truly do have the ideal personality under the visaud of disguises you wear.

As a Beatle, I encounter women of all three genres and have different methods to entrap them all. Women who want you for your looks don't require much coxing but you should always have a room available and occasionally fake ideals of love she can share with her love-crazed friends who hound her. Women who are looking for love and good personalities require great tact. If you are looking for a quick fuck, than this is definitely not the way to go. However, to the dismay of all the men out there approximately half the women out there are looking for this "dream man." These women want stability and love, not money and sex. They are generally faithful and nave making them wonderful for steady girlfriends once you have bullshitteded them long enough that there is true love between you. It may take a while to get to that point but once you do you're in the clear for the most part, unless you're stupid and can't cover your tracks worth shit. The most deadly of the three are definitely the gold-diggers. The newer ones are easy to spot out but the more experienced ones aren't as obvious as "buy me that necklace" every time you pass a jewelry store. Usually they pretend that they like your personality or looks, and sometimes they pretend to be the other two genres of women and than blackmail you the first chance they get. To keep these women in bed requires a lot of gift giving if you can really call it that.

That's another thing that dives me bloody insane, men give women "gifts" so they can fuck them but they can't give a hooker a "gift" to fuck them. You know all those government officials bought off their wives with expensive jewelry and promises of power so why can't we buy a little fun with what little money isn't sent into the never-ending pit of taxes. Screw the ethics involved it helps the economy and the only reason it isn't legal is because those bloody religious fanatics who are mostly hypocrites anyway.

"How about now?" I persisted.

"Hmmm... oh I'm just messin with you of coarse it's in tune," John laughed.

"Well it's about time," I said sarcastically, "I had all but given up hope on being a professional bassist."

"There's hope for you yet," George replied, "and who knows maybe one day you will accomplish that dream."

"Why I ought' punch you in the face," I steamed teasingly.

" No cause then I would have to hit you back," George yawned, "and what would we do without your pretty face." I threw a pillow at his head as hard as could but alas he ducked just as the swoosh of air passed his frail head. He stuck his tongue out with great pride at knowing the projectile missile I shot across the room missed it's intended target.

"Enough horseplay if we don't leave pretty soon we're gonna be late for the show," Mal reminded.

"Single file at the door. Come on let's go one two, one two," Neil marched.

"Ay, ay, cap'in," John saluted.

"God save the queen," Ringo joined in.

"Hut, two three four. Left two three four," George drilled.

"Enough militarism for one day," I chimed annoyedly.

"Oh, well we wouldn't want to disrupt the Great Macca now would we?" John replied cheekily as the elevator made its long decent into the lobby.

"In the car, now, now, now," Neil yelled. The sky was the perfect pale blue as I looked up dreamily out the window tempted to rest my eyes for just a moment. I slowly gave way to the temptation and found myself in the blissful land of slumbers. Sweat dripped off my burning body as I pulled myself out of the all to familiar sand.