𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter twenty-one: pulling hair ❜❜

❧October 10, 1962☙

Pattie and I were the front covers of British Vogue, Teen Magazine, Seventeen, Glamour, Vanity Fair, Elle, and a few TV adverts. I'd gotten Jack to hire her, and we modeled together, becoming an unstoppable duo. People loved our dynamic and how we fit together. She made this job not so lonely, and I gave her a career. To me, that was a perfect trade.

As for the lads, well, they were just as busy as us. They got a new drummer, which just so happened to be the Ringo Starr that they had talked so much about. Pete left, but not after a heated argument. He told them that they were just jealous of his good looks. I nearly spat my water out when Paul said that to me.

Also, they released their debut single, Love Me Do, with a B-side of PS I Love You. In a matter of days, it was number 17 in the UK charts, which was mind-boggling. A few times when I got in my car and turned the radio on, they were playing!

I knew they were going somewhere.

They didn't stop performing live shows, playing more even. Girls gawked over them, making it hard to get a good seat to look at the lads. Brian had started to reform them after they signed his contract. They couldn't smoke, eat, or curse on stage anymore. None of them were happy about it, but especially George. Epstein also made them wear suits. John had to give up his beloved leather, which he'd miss dearly.

I sat in the humid cavern with Pattie and little miss Cynthia. Once again annoyed by her presence. She wasn't even a wrongun and did nothing to me but date John. Cyn actually was really sweet; A proper people pleaser. She apologized a lot, even if she didn't do anything wrong. Also, she happened to be a timid bird, always looking around and fixing her hair.

Powell was quite the girl, gorgeous. Her hair was dyed blonde, her facial feature fit her face perfectly, and her smile was so bright, blinding almost. I couldn't help but admire her beauty for a bit. Something always compelled me towards women, just soaking in their natural radiance. You didn't have to try so hard with them, unlike men who tend to make it as difficult as possible.

"Y'know, I got one of the magazines with you lot on it! You are so fab."

Pattie and I turned our heads to look at her and smile.

She rested her head in her hands, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Pattie flicked ash from her ciggie into the tray.

I cringed at the sight of the tobacco stick but kept to myself. I'd gotten tired of nagging people about it. Bound time I give it up.

Cyn nodded slightly as she talked, "The modelin', of course. Sorry for not bein' clear. You both just seem so effortlessly great at it. I mean, it's like magic. Yer adverts too! After seein' it, I wanted to go out and buy me... Er, what was it called? The Revlon thingy. Ah! Right, it was the Cleopatra, Sphinx Pink."

She rambled on a lot, like a tin can down the road. I had been told that when I was little.

"I wouldn't. I know technically we are supposed to say anythin' against the product, but it fades away quickly," Pattie rolled her eyes, "Waste of money."

Cynthia lifted off of her hands, "Well, you really sold me on it, didn't ya. America seems to love you both so much. Won't ya go there at some point?"

I gave Pattie an awkward look and then shrugged. I hadn't said a word this entire time, and now I really didn't. America reminded me of a bad time in my life, and I wouldn't like to revisit that. The only way in hell I'd go back is if Pattie or one of the lads joined me; Never going alone again, bad for the heart.