𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter twenty-two: pinch me❜❜

❧October 12, 1962☙

Pattie and I just arrived at the Tower Ballroom in New Brighton. It took around fifteen minutes to actually get there, but it worked out okay. The two of us walked inside, turning heads. I hate to be cocky, but we did look absolutely fabulous.

I wore a long-sleeve red velvet dress. The bodice hugged my curves, complimenting them greatly. The length of it rested right above my knee, showing off my legs a bit. Once again, I dressed in my black flare-heeled Mary Janes and John's leather jacket. This time I knew Cyn wasn't coming. Pattie decided to match me with a longer blue velvet dress. Hers had wider sleeves that widened outward. The first time I'd seen something like it, must be new. She also had on white flats.

I looked up to the stage and saw Lee Curtis and the All-Stars playing. Then out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Pete on stage with them. No bloody way...

"Pat! Pattie! Look!" I shook her out of my own amusement.

How awkward it must be for the lads and him.

She got short with me, "Oi! Stop yer pushin'. I'm lookin', I'm lookin'."

"Pete is up there! Bless Lee's soul," I grabbed my heart.

Pattie put a hand over her mouth to cover up her giggles. The two of us fell into a fit. Passerbys stared at us like we were crazy, and maybe we were a little.

She stifled a laugh, "Oh my! Tha' poor sod."

"Kind words, kind words," I shook my finger at her.

"Bollocks."

I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder once, scaring the shite out of me. I pity the sorry fool that decided to touch me. I whipped my head around, ready to smack but then saw John's cheeky grin.

I scowled, "You better be glad tha' I didn't break yer face, Lennon."

"She would've!" Pattie scowled with me.

John snarked, "Fix yer grid before it gets stuck in tha' ugly position."

I rolled my eyes at him and then looked back up at the stage. I couldn't help but stare at Pete, the lost cause. If you gave a crippled sloth two drumsticks and said, 'have at it,' it would probably be better than Best. Now I know that's harsh, but I held a grudge against him after all the nasty things he said about Ringo. Of course, I didn't know Ringo much at all, but I knew he was a good lad, and as far as talent goes, he was better and Pete.

"How uncomfortable was it seein' shite stain up there?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

I was about to poked at his side, "Touchy, touchy."

He dodged my finger that was going in to jab his ribs.

Pattie grinned, "When are you lads up?"

"After them... Say, you wanna come to the back? I got me guitar returned from Chris."

John had wanted his Rickenbacker 325 painted black instead of its natural wooden color. When he talked about it, a bloke named Chris Whorton offered to get it done. This was one of Lennon's favorite guitars; he got it while in Hamburg in 1960.

"Yeah, alright. As long as it isn't a bother," I followed after him, Pattie on my side, "Hey! Wait, shouldn't you be practicin'?"

He ignored my question and brought us behind stage. I waved at Paul while he was tuning his bass.

"How are you, love?" He lifted his head up and smiled.

"Oh y'know, full of beans."

He complimented, "You look lovely! The red is very... Red."