You Again, Powell?

John was leaning against the wall of the Cavern Club. He ran his fingers through his brown hair and watched the passersby. No, Cyn wasn't here yet. He took his cigarette out of his mouth after swallowing a puff of smoke that he blew, raising an eyebrow. His other hand slipped into the pocket of his brown trousers. He was looking on his right side when something roughly hit his shoulder. He swore and turned around; his three bestfriends, Ivan, George and Paul were there. Cyn still wasn't. He grumbled.

“Yer crazy! You hurt me shoulder, you idiot!”

“Sorry Lennon, but you were on my way!”

The boys laughed.

“Waitin' for someone, Johnny?” Paul asked.

“Elvis, maybe?”

“Or glory”, George added with a smile, “don't be silly, John, it will never come!”

John hit him in the shoulder. He placed his cigarette between his lips once again.

“Yer all kids!” he grinned. “I'm waiting on a girl.”

“John, if you're waiting for the girl from that magazine we found in the park last time, she won't come, you'd better get home.” Paul laughed.

John wasn't even listening to him. Seeing that he didn't pay attention to them, they stopped joking about it. George lit a cigarette that seemed like it had already been lit. John proudly straightened his back, crossed his arms and raised his chin.

“Guess who gave me a date!”

“Who? Daisy?” George said while smoking his cigarette.

Paul shoved him, making him lose his balance before helping him to stand up correctly. Ivan looked up.

“George, we all know yer jealous of Paul because Daisy loves him, but think about someone else!”

“I think about someone else!”

“You met a lady, aye?”

“Not really, but I don't think about Daisy anymore.”

“Hey, mates, it was good to see y'all, but you'd better talk about it on your way. Cyn's going to come.”

“CYN?”

“You mean... Cynthia Powell?”

“Who else?!”

Ivan, George and Paul were absolutely surprised.

“Wait, John, don't tell me you banged Powell!”

“Aw, mate! Not yet, not yet. Just you wait.”

“Lennon, yer disgusting” George sighed.

“What do you think Paul does with Daisy?”

“I couldn't even touch her! I respect her too much!”

“How lovely!” John laughed, imitating a violin. “Go away, now! I'll tell you about all this when we'll meet for the band.”

He shook his friends' hands who walked their way on his right. He threw his cigarette on the ground and crashed it with his used shoe. Among all the footsteps he could hear in the street, all the heel noises, he couldn't see Cynthia. Anxiously, he fumbled in his pocket and took out his old watch, which hit his glasses. It was almost one in the afternoon. “She was supposed to arrive twenty minutes ago!” His knees began to shake and his thighs were painful. He took a look behind him and noticed a small space where he could sit. He sat on it, sighed and rubbed his thighs. He lit another cigarette but lit the wrong side of it; he threw it and spat the few leaves of tobacco that remained on his tongue on the cold ground. He regretted that he didn't take his guitar with him. He had hesitated for at least ten minutes while endlessly walking around his room before telling himself it wouldn't be useful for once. How was he to know she would be late? He awkwardly rested his back on the wall and closed his eyes when he felt the sunlight on his face.