Lonely People

The First Distance

To the top, laddies, that's what he'd say. Whenever we were feeling unlucky, like our careers were going nowhere, John would pop out and tell us exactly where we were going; to the toppermost of the poppermost. Even now, years after I quit the band and formed my own, I found myself repeating those very lines over and over in my head.

Distance, the first LP by Liverpool's very own Revolution, had finally hit the shelves. It wasn't an instant success, but it wasn't an instant flop either. In the first week, we sold many copies across the country. I suspected that most people bought our records because of our connection to The Beatles, but I didn't care. What matters is that they bought them, and they listened to them. That made our music reach more ears, and it made us more likable. Sometimes, being connected to the biggest band in history wasn't all bad.

With an album came an album party. The Saturday after it was released, Ellen arranged a celebration at one of Liverpool's fanciest ballrooms. It was usually used for weddings and the like, but, today, it would house a bunch of teenaged rockers and their friends.

Ellen handled everything, including the guest list. She invited producers, managers, press officers, and the like. She even invited Markus Beckham just for us to rub our success in his face, but he declined. When she told us about it, she said we could invite a few friends. Of course, my mind instantly jumped to the lads. I rang Paul, John, George, and Ringo that night and invited them. All accepted.

I was excited about the party, but the attire made me wonder if it was worth it. I stood in front of the mirror, frowning at the white dress Ellen had given me to wear. She insisted that this was a formal event and I had to dress like a respectable young lady. When I argued, she blatantly said I had no choice. That left me to wear my most despised article of clothing to a party I was rather looking forward to. It wasn't the first time I wore a dress, and it was far from the last.

"I bloody hate dresses," I grumbled as I stepped out of my bedroom.

Janice and Molly were both wearing their own dresses. Janice wore a short purple dress that brought out her eyes as well as the clips in her hair. Molly wasn't too far behind with her baby blue dress. Both wore heels while I opted for flats, fully knowing Ellen would criticize me, but I thought it was better than breaking my ankle.

"But you look beautiful," Molly replied.

I smiled, "Thank you, but that doesn't stop me from hating it."

"It's not that bad," Janice stated, "It spins nicely."

As if to accentuate her point, she spun around, causing her skirt to billow out and expose her delicates. When she stopped, she noticed me glaring at her.

"I'm not going to bloody spin," I sighed, "Anyways, you two look positively gorgeous."

Janice, as usual, blushed. Molly beamed, soaking in my compliment like a sponge soaks in water. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen island and flung it over her shoulder, "Alright, girls, let's go to the party!"

We all looped elbows and began our parade down to the curb. As we always did, we took the lift, having seen enough of the smelly stairs that reminded me too much of my old school. The lift played annoying music and was ever so slow, but it was better than the smell of bleach and spray paint.

Peter was standing by a dark red car at the curb. He looked different in a suit than his usual messy button-up and khakis. His usually curly hair was brushed back for once, and his black suit was ironed to perfection. Had it not been for his constant trembling, I would have thought Ellen replaced Peter with his better-looking twin.

"G-Good evening, girls," Peter stuttered, "Uh, you look beautiful, Janice."

Both blushed heavily. Molly and I exchanged glances. Peter quickly cleared his throat, "Um, you all look beautiful, I mean, as usual."