Dhani, freshly graduated from high school, is unsure of what to do with himself now that he's no longer bound by a rigid school schedule and his unfortunately very famous dad. Instead of obeying his parents' wishes for him to go to college, he steal...
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(George's POV)
"You fucking moron, I don't want you going there!" I growled. It was Friday night, and instead of having a proper time with my bandmates at the pub, I was busy at home confronting Tom with the news Jeff had told me earlier that day.
"I'm sorry Geo, but I have to. It's for appearances. You know how the shit is. We musicians can't get a break," Tom pleaded with me.
It was too late. My trust had been broken. How could Tom Petty, who was supposed to be my mate, make plans behind my back to go to a party at Ringo Starr's house, the exact same house that used to be mine!? "I never fucking wanted you in the Wilburys to begin with," I spat.
He shifted his body in anticipation of what was to come. "George, don't you fucking-"
I raised my hand to slap Tom across the face, just as I had done to my own son a week ago when he dared disobey me. But before my palm could strike Tom's cheek, he stopped my wrist in its tracks with an authoritative grab.
Slowly, he released me. "I guess... this is why Olivia left you. Cunt."
My eyes grew wide with offense. "Don't bring Liv into this. I-"
"You know it's true, damn it. And why can't you just have a good relationship with the other Beatles?" Tom cried. "This is so immature!"
"Tom, you seem to have forgotten how HORRIBLY they treated me back in the 'Beatle days.' I don't want any part of their shit! If they refuse to recognize me as a real musician, then why should I bother trying to maintain any sort of relationship with them? It's fucking ridiculous!"
"Ringo's nice, though. He told me he doesn't hate you and never has. He even asked how you were doing, for crying out loud!"
He did? "I don't care."
Tom scoffed. "I know you do, George, don't even begin to lie to me! Look, can I make things better?-- just, come to the party with me, will you?"
I was completely blown away by the sheer stupidity of it all. "No! Hell no!"
"George." He took a step forward closer to me and placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "I know you're in pain. I know you're hurting."
"No-"
Tom spoke in a low voice as he consoled me. "Listen to me. I've seen you before... in my father. I know what you're expressing is a projection. I'm not trying to make things worse for you. Now, Ringo is a good man and you and I both know that. It's been 25 years, more than that, 27 years since your time with the Beatles. It was stupid what they did to you, but I can tell you that Paul nor Ringo are the same men they were back then. How could they be?"
"It-it doesn't matter. He... they... the Beatles took so much away from me!" I broke down. It was too much -- hot frustrated tears started rolling down my weathered cheekbones. "It's my fault! I could've been so much more-- a better guitarist, a better man... a better husband, a better father! If I had just spoken up for myself! Why, why am I such a bloody idiot!"
