Another Day

Chapter 12

Maureen was pleasantly friendly. Very laid back, and an expert with hair. She did her's up in a sophisticated bun nearly on top of her head that made her look a lot taller than she was.

It was a little awkward at first, since I’m shy and not very good at meeting new people, but once she suggested we go out and pop around London I relaxed a little.

Between us we didn’t have a lot of money on us, so we spent most of our time at a little café by the studio, sharing a lunch and talking. I found out she was also from Liverpool with the boys, and she’d been seeing Ringo since they were just teenagers.

As it neared evening we made our way to the studio and waited outside in their car. A few fans were milling about but not the usual mob. It was enough though, to make Maureen nervous.

“A couple months back I was waiting for the boys outside the Cavern in a car and I had the windows down.” She told me “And this girl came up and went mad. She scratched me so badly it left a mark on my cheek.” She gestured to where she had been scratched. “Ever since I’ve been a little on edge.”

I didn’t blame her. Watching the girls gather in larger numbers now I started to bite at my nails, nervous for no particular reason.

Suddenly, Paul burst from the building, the others rushing out behind them. Nothing was restraining the crowd, so as the boys ran for the car, they were swallowed by a hoard of screaming, sobbing, hormonal teenagers. I was anxious to leave, worried about them being hurt, but as I watched I realized that was far from a worry for the boys. They were enjoying it, laughing and smiling and breathless as they wrestled away from the suffocating admiration.

George, the thinnest, was swifter than the others, and shook off the girls easier. He reached the car first and threw himself inside, landing across both of our laps. The others followed suit closely, Paul climbing into the driver’s seat with Ringo and John next to him. John slammed his door shut, cursing darkly at the fans, but with a smile on his face all the while.

Paul slammed on the accelerator and parted the wave of girls, police now arriving to take care of the messy scene. Everyone was laughing and George was panting heavily next to me, a gleam of excitement in his eye.

“Where to now?” I asked him. I couldn’t keep a smile off my face as I spoke.

“To a show of course!” John piped up. I looked at George with raised eyebrows.

“The Rolling Stones are going to be at the Crawdaddy tonight.” He answered.

I nodded slowly, not familiar with the name.

By the time we got to the club, it was crowded and noisy.

People were smoking and dancing, drinking and talking. In less than a minute, all signs of tiredness vanished. It was easy to get caught up in the excitement of the club; I’d forgotten that. The lads started drinking pretty quickly, but Maureen and I elected not to.

While the lads chatted and danced and drank, I sat on a couch, watching the band on stage. The lead singer was interesting to say the least. He was not very attractive, but an intriguing character. He pranced across the stage in an animated, strange way, looking like a mad man.

“Funny performer, isn’t he?”

I hadn’t noticed George approach. I nodded with a small smile on my face.

“His name’s Mick Jagger, one of the wildest rockers ever.”

George sat next to me. He was tipsy, but not so much he wasn’t able to form a coherent sentence.