With The Beatles

Take 31

PAUL's P.O.V.

"All set, mate?" I was pushed out from my reverie the moment I felt John snake his arm around my shoulders. "I'm sorry, what?"

George raised an eyebrow, "He meant the show. Are you ready to perform your new compositions?"

"Ahh right, our compositions." I bit my nails in anxiousness. I had totally forgotten about those songs I had written before our second fall-out with Jude. Don't even ask who was the inspiration for all those cheesy tracks.

Curse Paul McCartney for being a teleiophile.

"Why are you nervous? Your songs are incredible, I didn't have to put my touch on any of them." John says. Ringo agrees, "Yeah, they're great. I can't wait to record them in the studio if we ever get the chance."

"You've got to admit you're proud of the guitar lick I added on your first song. It's gonna sound amazing even when performed live." George proudly recalls.

I try to hide my frustration, I don't know why but it's not the lyrics or the musical arrangement I'm worried about, y'know.

Songs are like children to me, y'know. Something I made that I would proudly call mine legally. If John and I wrote a song, it'll be like we're the parents of that child y'know. But during this time around, considering these songs predominantly came from my own mind and heart, I just thought they lack the soul that keeps them alive.

Whatever it is... whoever it is.

But in the end, I sighed as the club manager already called us up to perform on stage.

Jude was busy mopping floors as usual but when she saw us, she ultimately paused what she was doing for a while to clap her hands for us in support. We smiled, that's our girl.

Meanwhile, we acknowledged our new friend T'Challa who also waving his hand while sweeping the floors on the other side of the club.

"Good evening. Once again, we are the Skittles. And uhh..."

In the middle of the noisy crowd, I find myself suddenly trailing off when I saw a familiar woman sitting at one of the round tables in the club. She's a few feet away from where Jude was standing and as always, she looks majestically young despite her old age in which I had always admired about her ever since we met.

I repeat, curse Paul McCartney for being a teleiophile.

Madame Jane waves her pointy hands at me with an everlasting sweet smile on her face as soon as she finds me familiar. She calls a waiter to come serve to her table. Seeing that she's about to stay a bit longer, I took this as a sign that life goes on and so does our performance.

Before John could even take the microphone from me, I resumed my opening, "Okay so uhh, for the first song we'd like to sing. This is one in which uhh..."

But everyone seems to be so busy with their own business that it's making a lot of noise. "Yeah, okay, hang on. SHHHH! This is a song."

"Shut up while he's talking!" John shouts all of a sudden with a playful grin on his face. I chuckled nervously as Jude giggled at our vocalist's remark while Madame Jane seems amused by this.

Thankfully, everyone quieted down a bit.

"This song is dedicated to all the ladies out there. Whoever you are, whether you're black or white, religious or not, young or old, please smile along with the song because you're all beautiful."

After winking at Jude's direction, my eyes landed on Madame Jane who started sipping from her wine glass intently.

I glanced back at my band mates with my hands clutching on my bass. I took a deep breath, here goes nothing.