I Will [Paul McCartney/Beatles Fanfiction]

three

Paul sat awkwardly at a table in a corner of the café the next day, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the table to a Buddy Holly tune and watching for the redheaded girl named Carmen, who was supposed to have arrived nearly ten minutes earlier. How embarrassing would it be if she stood him up? After all, he probably deserved it after breaking her camera and everything... Oh, stop it, he told himself mentally. You're starting to sound like Freda. He still was unable to believe that Freda actually set him up with a girl he'd yelled at in a parking lot. Really, how many good things could come from that? Couldn't it have just been someone other than her?

Paul ran a hand through his hair with increasing dread as he stared out the window, trying to get a glimpse of orange hair somewhere, which was still nowhere to be found. I'm going to get stood up, he sighed inwardly with defeat. Despite how rainy it was outside and how much rain had collected on the foggy window, he could barely see out and would think he'd know if he saw someone with hair as bright as hers. He gave up and sat back into the cushion on the booth, this time sighing out loud.

"Well, I guess it's time to leave," he muttered to himself.

However, just as he was standing up, he heard someone say, "Oh, there you are."

Paul directed his gaze to where the voice was coming from to find a blonde girl pushing through the crowd that had just gathered at the entrance to the café, smiling slightly upon sight of him. He assumed she was just a fan; he didn't recognize her.

"I'm afraid," he said impatiently, "that I'm not signing autographs right now."

"Uh, well, I guess you couldn't anyway," she responded. "I mean, I don't have any paper, so I suppose if you were to sign something it'd have to be the shards of my camera from the other day, and I don't think that'll be the case."

Paul blinked, confused, and got a better glimpse of her face; she was closer to him now. This was the girl from that day in the parking lot of the studios, but... Her hair... The realization hit him as though just waking up from a nightmare and realizing it was only a dream. She dyed her hair. She dyed her hair because of what I said about Jane.

"I'm, uh, I'm Carmen--"

"Dalton," finished Paul for her. "Right, yeah. I'm Paul."

"Nice to officially meet you, then, Paul. I'm so sorry for being late; I lost track of time watching the Monkees show. Decided to watch one episode, ended up watching seven... You know how that goes?"

"Believe me, I've missed enough practices to know how that goes." They sat down at the table Paul had just gotten up from as he asked, "Did you, uh... Did you lose your job?"

"Yeah, but it's alright, don't worry. I've already got an interview for another one."

"Oh, that's good."

After a moment of silence, she tried, "How's your band?"

Paul sighed, deciding to be honest. "Not so good. Just as the whole 'Paul is dead' scheme seemed to die down, I went through that whole thing with Jane Asher and we lost our manager and now, according to Freda, I'm not acting like myself anymore, so it's all starting up again, and now George is pushing for me and John to let him write more songs and John's going through a rough patch with his wife and we're just...getting more distant and arguing more often."

Carmen hadn't been prepared for that, so naturally, had nothing else to do but to lamely say, "Oh. I'm sorry. That's...not so good, like you said."

And suddenly, Paul chuckled. He was shocked at himself for a moment; it had been such a while since he'd done something like that and it felt unfamiliar and strange, yet relieving. Carmen seemed a bit taken aback, too, but she just smiled and chuckled along, happy to have gotten some sign of improvement from him.