Blast From The Past

Back in the U.S.A

We dropped John off at his aunt Mimi's house. After, we took Cynthia to her house and Ringo to his parents house and now we were headed towards Paul and Georges flat. It was only a few streets down from Ringo's. We approached a narrow, red brick building with black fire escapes on the outside. It reminded me of the apartments in Chicago, where I'm from.

We entered the building and travelled up three flights of stairs. There was a narrow hallway where the white paint on the walls were chipping that we went through to get to their flat.

George fit the key into the lock of the door, gave it a twist and opened it.

"Here it is." He said putting his arm out, gesturing to come in.

I stepped in and it was a cozy little apartment. It was quite dirty. Dishes with old food were piled in the sink, clothes that needed to be washed were thrown on the floor. Empty beer bottles were stacked on the end table by the couch.

There were three couches, two small ones and one big couch, that faced the tiny television next to the door. In the corner of the petite apartment there was a small kitchen and a little a hallway with three doors. It was a nice teensy apparent. In the back there was a window that led to the fire escape.

"Sorry it's not the cleanest of flats. I would have straightened up if I had known that a girl was going to be here." Paul nudged me.

"I don't mind. How long have you two been living here?"

"Since George graduated high school last year."

"Why don't John or Ringo join you here?"

"Well John's aunt is making him live with her and her cats you see." George responded. "And we don't know Ringo that well... yet."

That's right. Ringo just got put in the band.

"Our old drummer Pete used to live with us before he got put out of the band."

"And why did he get put out of the band?" I've a heard many different reasons why Pete Best was kicked out of the Beatles but I never knew which one we true.

"Our new manager Epie, wanted him out. He felt that Pete was 'too conventinal.' I can't blame him for that." George replied.

"I'll get some blankets and a pillow from the closet." Paul said going down the small hallway.

George stood up from the couch and went to the kitchen. "You want something to eat?"

"No thanks."

"Do you want something to drink?"

"Could I have some water?" All that alcohol made me dehydrated and I needed something to drink. George is a sweetheart. He's always making sure that I'm comfortable.

"Sure thing" he said getting a glass out. "And by the way. The man next door to us screams in his sleep so, sorry if he wakes you up."

"What the hell? That's ought to be annoying."

"Believe me, it's annoying as hell."

"Okay I found some blankets!" Paul rushed in with his hands full of blankets and pillows. He kneeled to the couch to lay out the blankets and pillow as if he were making a bed.

"Oh Paul I can do that." I said trying to pull the blankets out of his hands but he yanked it back.

"No, no, no. I want to do it." He smiled as he stroked my hand.

"Okay, if you insist." I laughed. Paul continued to frantically make the couch. He fluffed the pillows, wiped the lint off of the couch and straitened the sheets.