𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞, john lennon

chapter four. "couple of drinks, perhaps?"

"calltime, boys! 8pm! get your arses going! george, come on now." paul, one of the band's bassists and vocalists and also one of john's best mates, tugs on george's shirt sleeve to budge him into getting into his stage position.

"just hold on a second, will ye?" my guitar's outta tune, for chrissake!" george blabbers through his thick scouse accent, as he tended to speak in such a manner when his nerves were racked.

"that fran girl. has she ever been 'ere before?" john's head follows the direction of the preppy girl that had just walked through the entrance of the club. "don't think so." george doesn't even look up at his friend.

"do you know what she's doing here? she here for rory?" girls like fran didn't frequent at the pubs or bars often, which made john feel a tinge of curiosity about the said brunette following her blonde friend around like a puppy. "a real brat y'know, that fran." he scoffed nevertheless.

"why don't you just help me with this, now?" george hands his electric guitar to the older boy.

the indistinguishable waves of chatter creating an ocean of conversations slowly started filling up the through the club's entrance and crashing against the brick lined walls of the cavern such as the high tides did against the liverpool dock.

"there's quite a number of people tonight. is it always this full?" fran murmurs, tucking her hands into her cardigan sleeves and crossing her arms together. pattie scratches her neck, scanning the crowd of faces and looking for seats for the both of them. "look, there's two vacant seats in the middle of the second row." pattie grabs her friend by the wrist, abruptly unlatching fran's crossed arms and causing her to stumble in her flats across the club's creaky wooden floorboards as she is dragged through the crowd.

the pair finally takes their seats after squeezing through the horde of young men and women in their late teens and early twenties. fran glances over to the center of the cavern club's stage and catches a glimpse of a pair of small slanted eyes just within the shadow of a tuft of dark brown hair that belonged to none other than john lennon. she recognizes the same leather jacket that rests on his shoulders as he combs through his hair, a guitar pick resting in between his index finger and thumb.

"settle down, gits and gals. i hope everyone is having a great evening." john leans in and speaks into the mic. "if not..." he gestures to the bar at the back of the club as the crowd lets out a laugh. "couple of drinks, perhaps?"

fran looks over at pattie and lets out a sigh, clearly unamused by the teddy boy's antics. "this is going to be a long night." her words slide past pattie's head as her friend merely giggles along with the audience at the witty comments made by the band's lead singer.

"for our first number, we're going to play a song by the only cool person in america, that is of course, mister buddy holly. this song is called..." he randomly switches to a cockney accent. "that'ull be the day! one, tew. fhree!" he shouts as george starts the song off with its snappy guitar riff, followed by john singing the lyrics of the song and paul complementing john's voice with his backing vocals.

"you know that's a lie cause,
that'll be the day-y-y when i die"

a few cheers are heard from the audience as they start bobbing their heads to the music, twisting and swaying their shoulders, and tapping their feet against the floor. fran isn't much of a dancer nor one familiar with rock music. she nods her head up and down to the rhythm as to not seem out of place, but watches the band intently and curiously.

the beatles at the time consisted of five members fran all recognized from her town. during the performance, only three of them seemed to stick out to her the most.

george tended to hold a serious or blank expression as he was performing and focused on his guitar playing, though he still managed to crack a few grins during his guitar solo.

paul was a flirt on the other hand. a cute smile was plastered on his face and he would wink at whomever girl locked eyes with him. she found him almost charming—except for the way he kept his knees glued together as he moved to the music.

and john with his feet firmly planted on the stage floor, continually moved up and down to the beat of the song. his movements were slightly stiffer than the rest of his bandmates. john would raise his shoulders and furrow his eyebrows during parts of the song that strained his vocal chords, and occasionally he'd look over at paul or george and they'd exchange cheeky smiles.

"that some day when i'll be through"

his slightly raspy voice and shifting of some of the song's words in a lower voice in the nature of the original song perfectly scratched the back of fran's head and ravished her senses. some other words would come out of his mouth in manner as if he was hiccuping or stuttering, to which she immediately recognized the undoubtable influence of presley and holly on john's singing style.

if you asked fran, she wouldn't admit it with a gun to her head that maybe she started to think that these loathsome morons from her highschool weren't as lame as she thought.

as the band closed off their setlist for the evening, the crowd erupted into roars and cheers. fran, still cross-legged in her seat, applauded the band a few times in the same manner as the audience.

"incredible aren't they? you think they'd be good for your article?" pattie began to say as the band bowed at the audience and thanked them through waving gestures and blowing kisses in the air.

fran's eyes weren't taken off the group, and for a long moment she locked eyes with john. he was panting heavily, his lungs finally taking in the sweet taste of air after a half-hour of relentlessly straining his chest and screaming out his voice.

a drop of sweat trickled down john's left eyebrow. he didn't have his glasses on that night, but from the second row of the audience seats he saw a sparkle in fran's brown almond eyes cast by the bright stage spotlight. they twinkled as she blinked at him and he could have sworn he saw the right corner of her lips tug upwards into a barely perceptible smirk, her eyes crinkling faintly. that might have been the first time he's ever seen such warmth radiate from her face.

beneath the cold-hearted and ruthless demeanor fran put on every day, she ever so slightly and unwittingly unveiled this façade to him.

fran's eyes dart to her right, breaking the gaze as she turns her head to look at her best friend. she felt a pang in her chest as though she had taken a liking to the band's performance, she'd prefer not to talk to john—john upright, close, and personal. "i don't know, pattie. i might wait and watch the next band after them ... before i decide. they could be good too, y'know?"

"your choice, fran. i say you'd be a fool not to interview the beatles. they've got huge things coming for them. i can sense it. you might regret this." she stretches her limbs in her seat, stifling a yawn. "anywho, george asked me to meet him backstage after their gig." the bird with blue doe eyes stands up from her chair and smoothens out the creases of her minidress. "you coming?" pattie extends a hand to her still seated best friend.

fran hesitates for a second before exhaling out of her lips and taking a hold of pattie's hand.

a/n
imagine updating your book after 3 years