Roses Are Red

Chapter 12

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Summer

June 4th, 1960

Samantha squinted at the stage. The boys were playing a fast beat, grinning at each other and sweating. They had a temporary drummer who wasn't all that great but did the job. Paul hopped up and down and got low as he played, only slowing his movements when he stepped up to the microphone to sing. George was more stoic and focused but nonetheless grinned toothily at the other boys. John squinted just as Samantha was, still as blind as a goddamn bat. They wore loose button-up black shirts, black pants, and saddle dress shoes, and each of them tapped their toes to keep time with their drummer.

James kept a hand constantly on the small of her back as she moved to the beat. She had begged him to drive her to their gig, but it took a good amount of convincing because, one, he wasn't fond of the boys; and two, the Grosvenor Ballroom wasn't the most safe venue. George had even told her that it probably would be best that she came with James, just in case a fight broke out among the crowd. She turned to him, a big smile on her face. The Silver Beetles were now playing a Chuck Berry hit, and she wasn't going to just stand around and watch. "Come on, James, let's dance!"

James eyed her warily. "Eh, I dunno, Samantha..." he trailed off and Samantha rolled her eyes. Her cousin's voice filled the hall and George's lead guitar blared. She dragged James farther into the crowd and began to dance. He awkwardly joined her, not loose and fun loving at all. He stiffly moved to the song as Samantha held his hands and tried to get him to relax.

With school finished, and her childhood officially over, Samantha decided that going out to dance was one of the best ideas ever. Eden, still rightly pissed at John, refused to come but she was happy James begrudgingly agreed. She'd rather be out on the town on a celebratory night than at home sad because her father wasn't here to congratulate her. The idea that her Dad wasn't with her when she finished school had been bothering her the entirety of the week, and she had done nothing but dwell on it. Tonight was going to be different, she was done being sad, sick of it even. Her father would've wanted her to not worry too much about him, he would have told her to stop overthinking and worrying. So that's what she was going to do.

Samantha practically forced James to dance with her until both of them were red in the face. Every once in a while she would glance over at George, trying to catch his gaze and wave, but he always was looking the other way. James grumpily drug her out of the crowd at the end of The Silver Beetle's set and to the bar. He had just turned Eighteen, and ordered a pint while she stood awkwardly off to the side. Samantha watched as he downed the beer in less than minute and ordered another. Samantha raised an eyebrow at him. James rarely drank, that she knew of at least. He wasn't a partier, and only went to pubs when his friends dragged him too one.

"Slow down," Samantha said and gently touched his back as another pint was placed in front of him. He scowled at her and she frowned, taken aback by his behavior, and took her hand off of his back.

"James, la, how ye been?" John said, approaching them from behind. He wrapped his arm around Samantha and slapped James on the back. James coughed, choking on his beer and glaring at John.

"Just fine, John," he sputtered out.

Samantha turned to John. "Nice set tonight, you guys are sounding great," she said and John grinned at her, he rubbed the top of her head, messing up her hair. She scowled at him and swatted his hand away.

"Ta, Miss America," he said and unwrapped his arm from around her. He moved to the bar, ordering himself a pint. "Ye want anything, Sammi?"

She shook her head. "Last time I drank, I threw up."