Lonely People

Three Beatles and A Rebel

"Nervous?" John asked.

He caught my eye in the mirror, smirking ever so slightly. I glanced up from my magazine and shrugged. John grinned, "Oh?"

"I've played with you before, John," I replied.

"That was before we had crazy fans."

I stared at him. As much as I tried to deny it, I was dreadfully nervous. My stomach was all tied up in knots. All I could think about was how the fans revolted whenever Ringo first joined. They would have killed them if they got their hands on him, what would they think when the curtains opened and they saw me there? If they thought I was replacing Ringo, there would be hell to pay and I'm the one to write the check. I shuddered at the mere thought of it.  This time, I might get hit with things worse than eggs. 

"Don't go scaring her now, John," Paul stated.

He was combing his hair in the mirror next to John. John grinned at him, "Wouldn't dream of it, Macca."

"Don't worry, Mel," George told me.

I swallowed hard, "I'm not."

They all knew me well enough to know when I was lying. I quickly glanced back down at the magazine, doing my best to hide my trembles. Each time I flipped a page, the crinkling could be heard across the room. 

I tried to tell myself that this wouldn't be any different than any other show. I would get up there, bang the drums, and get off, that was it. The only difference was that I'd be up there a bit longer than usual. It was like two shows in one, it was nothing I couldn't handle. The only thing that scared me were the fans.

"See, John, look what you've done," Paul gestured to me, "She's bloody terrified."

I scoffed, "I'm not scared, Paul. A few fans never hurt me."

"Well-" John began, but stopped whenever Paul elbowed him.

I clamped my mouth shut. There had been two times before when I had been injured by the fans, and I still had a bit of black under my eye as evidence. All of us had come close to being injured by those that claimed to love us. My eye throbbed as I thought about it.

"Come off it, Mel, you're not really scared, are ya?" John asked.

I cleared my throat, "Course not. Nothing scares me."

"I could argue with that," George muttered, earning a glare from me.

"There's no reason to be nervous," Paul shot me a comforting smile, "It'll be just like any other show."

Expect the fact that I'm playing with the most famous band in the world. Their fans were nutters, all of them, I wouldn't put it past them to storm the stage as soon as the mere thought of me being Ringo's replacement crossed their minds. I felt my throat begin to close as I stared at the magazine, unblinking.

"Shut up, the both of you," Molly spat.

She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and smiled. I met her eyes. Her smile quickly turned into a frown as she saw exactly what I was feeling. I quickly closed the magazine and stood, "I'm gonna use the loo before the show. Don't you lads go doing anything stupid while I'm gone."

"Can't do that without you," John winked.

I ignored him, going into the hall quicker than I would have liked. If they didn't know how scared I was before, they knew once I rushed out of the room. I hurried down the hall, looking for a dark corner. My muscles were trembling, my stomach felt like a Cirque Du Soleil show, and my breathing had sped up so much it had practically stopped. I felt like I was going to throw up, but my throat had all but closed. Every muscle in my body clamped tightly until I was a tight knot of terror.