All In Good Time - A Time Travel Beatles Fanfiction

Track 26 - Satisfaction

"Is that James some kind of a wise guy?"

Lainey looked up from her laptop to see her father staring in the direction of the sound booth. She was manning the coffee counter, but as they rarely had customers, her father was technically paying her to do homework. Currently she was researching an essay on the relationship between fashion and dance.

She followed her father's gaze. Paul was sitting in the sound booth wearing headphones and a guitar he'd managed to snag from the shop next door.

"Why do you say that, dad?"

Her father removed the toothpick he'd been chewing. "He asked me for a list of the top ten LPs of 1964. I said "Ever hear of Google?" and he said "No sir, is that the name of the band or the LP?"

Lainey let out the breath she'd been holding. "He probably didn't understand you clearly. You have an accent."

"I have an accent?" An eyebrow raised. "Right...So I hook him up with early Beatles, Dylan, Stones, Muddy Waters, the Kinks, the Animals, Beach Boys..." Her father leaned across the counter, tossing the toothpick into a waste basket. "He looks everything over and hands me back "A Hard Days Night" and "Beatles for Sale." I say what, not a Beatles fan? and he winks and says, "I think I'll wait and let the Beatles surprise me."

Lainey gave a nervous laugh. "He has that English sense of humor."

Her father huffed. "There's something different about that kid. Can't quite put my finger on it."

"I know what you mean." She smiled.

A buzz from the front of the store indicated a new customer, and her father rapped his knuckles on the counter. "You kids can head out if you want."

"Thanks Dad."

The "customer" turned out to be Brandon, the wanna-be musician who worked evenings in the guitar shop next door and who seemed to think it was only a matter of time before Lainey surrendered to his advances. He propped his elbows on the counter just as she was saving her word docs and shutting down her laptop.

"Hola sexy barista," Brandon drawled in what he must have thought was a turn on.

"How can I help you, Brandon." Lainey didn't bother looking up from the screen.

"I came to get the Fender from your...ah...boyfriend."

"He's in the sound booth."

"Dude says he's your boyfriend so I loaned him a guitar."

Lainey finally looked up. Brandon was wearing black jeans and a Radiohead T-shirt. He was a little taller than Paul, skinny with tattooed arms that were surprisingly muscled, probably from hefting amps in and out of his van. He had pale blue eyes and longish dark blond hair and could pass for one of the art students she went to school with. "That was nice of you, Brandon. Thank you."

He had a crooked, cocky grin on his face. "I've got a gig at the Vintage tonight. You should come. Ditch the boyfriend first."

"We're going out to dinner, but thanks."

They both looked up as the door to the sound booth opened. Paul came out carrying a stack of vinyl albums and the Fender.

"Thanks, mate. Love the sound."

Brandon nodded, taking the guitar. "Cool. You ever play any gigs?"

"Whenever I get a chance."

"What do you play?"

"Rock 'n' roll, blues, ballads, you name it."

"Where you from?" Brandon asked.

"Liverpool, originally."