witchy woman | george harrison

3. | Bewitched

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The dark, stone halls of the basement weaved like a maze, leading to a tiny room. Wall-to-wall people. Cigarette smoke swirled thick in the air. Kids flirting, dancing. Shouting.

The energy was electric. A band of teenage boys, who nobody recognized, played noisily. Everyone seemed distracted, giddy. Waiting, maybe, for the main attraction.

Mary and Frankie managed to push through to the front, dragging Sloane in tow. As the boys packed their things, the crowd whooped and hollered, throwing cigarette butts.

Sloane could hardly see a thing in the darkness, save for a single lightbulb. The earsplitting, electric screech of guitars connecting to the sound system was her only cue that a new band was claiming the basement corner.

"Look! It's them!" Mary shouted in her ear. Sloane stood tip-toe to try and see over the bodies in front of her.

Along the wall closest to the boys sat a row of chairs. Just then, a girl got up to leave; Mary seized the opportunity to push Sloane into her empty seat.

"Jesus!" Sloane winced in pain. "My ass!"

"Girl! Move," Frankie nudged past Mary to stand closer.

Then, the boys began to play.

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George liked looking out at the audience when they went on. They'd all be lying if they said they'd joined the band just to play music. That was part of it, sure. But endless attention from girls? Also a part.

When they'd first started playing basements to get themselves out there, there weren't half as many people. Now they were known. They'd been featured in music magazines across Liverpool. Even had a little fan club.

Tonight, the place was packed. As they rammed through their first song, George let his eyes wander over to the line of people sitting closest.

It was hard to see; a group of three girls huddled in the front row. One, a blonde, was basically foaming at the mouth staring at Paul.

They always wanted Paul! And Pete Best, their drummer. They screamed his name.

The other two were quiet; the one sitting down smiled from ear to ear.

They were all pretty, the lot of them. But he kept finding his eyes back to her, the one in the chair. She seemed to be enjoying the music, tapping her foot.

There was another girl, way in the back, making eyes at him. Whenever he looked in her general direction she winked, making it obvious.

But he found himself distracted. Something about the girl in the front row, her smile. Her eyes. He kept looking back at her during the easy parts of their set.

Then, her eyes flicked up towards him. Him! He looked away, hoping he hadn't been caught. Her calm manner made him feel self-conscious; what if he looked stupid? Was he dancing weird to the beat?

They played on.

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It only took about five minutes until Sloane realized. Every girl in the place either wanted Paul, or Pete, the drummer. Even a few boys were in a trance just looking at the two of them.