𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 (𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴)

❛❛chapter twenty-five: james dean❜❜

We were all at the place called the Crawdaddy Club on Richmond. The lads had an off day, so we decided to go see a band play. When we walked in, the music was roaring loudly. It sounded quite a bit like what the fellas did in their leather phase. There were five guys on stage, all of them wearing white collared shirts with black ties. Their hair was messy and unkempt. The one in the front, who I assumed was the leader, had a bigger mouth. Not in a bad way, but it was a strong feature of his. The band was playing 'Fortune Teller,' and doing it quite impressively. I looked around the room to see if was a sign with the name of their group. Right beside the bar was a chalkboard that read, 'The Rolling Stones!' 

"What a great name," I elbowed John.

He turned his head to look at me, "What's a great name?"

"The Rollin' Stones," I put my hands out in front of me and spread them apart as if I was revealing the title.

"I like it," Cynthia said. 

I forgot to mention that she was here. John had wanted to bring her because he hadn't been paying her enough attention. It's whatever; I didn't really mind. Cyn didn't get on my nerves as much anymore, and she wasn't bad company. She looked gorgeous tonight too. Also, Pattie was supposed to get here later. I know Powell liked Pat, which was great. I had a plan tonight, and that was to mingle with people. I had purposely spruced myself up too. I was wearing brown leather ankle boots, a pair of red jeans, and a cream-colored satin pullover tucked in. And just to add to it, I wore a red headband and quite a few rings. The lads joked that Ringo had broken into my stash of jewelry. The poor sod's face was all red from embarrassment. Anyways, I looked fab enough for someone to come up and talk to me. I made damn sure of it. 

"Do any of you want a drink?" Paul asked, jotting his thumb in the direction of the bar.

"Scotch and coke," John put his finger up.

I joked, "One Roke and Scoke."

Paul snorted at my jest. He got everyone else's orders, and I decided I'd go with him to the bar to help. Also, I thought I could maybe catch a few eyes while I was at it. We walked over to the counter and waved over one of the barkeeps. Paul recited everyone's orders as I sat on one of the stools. I rested my elbows on the bar and my chin in my hands. I watched as the mixologist combined liquids, shook them together, and then poured them into the glasses. It was impressive, to say the least. I looked over at Macca, who was already chatting it up with some bird. Her hair was blonde and cut into a bob. Sometimes I wish I had a bob. It seems much easier to deal with. My hair was dirty blonde and shoulder length. I also wanted light blonde hair, but sadly I don't think it would suit me well. Cynthia and Pattie could pull it off, though. I looked back over, and the tapster was almost done. Maybe I hadn't caught anyone's eye. I sighed and lifted my head up off of my hands. Why is it so hard being lonely? Why can't I be content with myself? I took my Roke and started tasting it. I was too awkward to confront anyone myself. So much for trying to mingle. I stood up from my seat and spun to leave but bumped into a figure.

"Oh- I'm sorry!" I said apologetically.

My drink had slightly sloshed outside of the cup, getting on the poor man's sweater vest. 

He laughed lightly, "Oh, it's okay! No big deal, yeah?"

I nodded, and I made eye contact with him. He looked exactly like James Dean in Finding Jack. I wish I were kidding. He was very handsome, the type that you kind of lose your breath looking at. His eyes were yellowy-green and gentle. His nose was slightly perky like a mouse. His upper lip was a bit thinner than the plump bottom one. His hair was a sandy blonde, combed back messy-like. He was very tall, possibly six foot two. I just made a fool out of myself in front of this beautiful man! I felt like I was going to implode.