Let It Be (A Beatles Story)

Chapter Forty-Four

"What if I don't remember the words?"

"You always do."

"What if I trip and fall on my ass?"

"You'll be fine."

"What if I fall off the stage?"

"Paul," I told him, after straightening his tie.  He looked fantastic, and so did the other lads.  They looked quite adorable in their matching suits and haircuts.  They had just gotten their hair trimmed an hour before.  With his guitar strapped around his back, he was more anxious than ever.  We could hear the hum of people waiting in the audience.  "You've done countless shows by now.  You shouldn't be worried."

His big brown doe-eyes looked at the curtain that would open in about ten minutes time.  Biting his lip, he said, "I just really want this to go well.  Promise me nothing bad will happen?"

Though I knew it was already a broken promise, for I had no control over what was going to happen, I only knew what had already happened, I said, "Yes.  Of course."

When it was only a few minutes until showtime, the lads walked single-file out to their positions on the stage.  Quietly, I whispered, "Bonne chance," to each other them.  Good luck.

The lads, of course, were fabulous, and the audience went wild.  Another country the Beatles had began to conquer.  Though they were nervous, you wouldn't have been able to tell.  Paul was winking at a pair of French girls in the first row, who were hysterical by the end of the show.  John was as happy as he could get.  George smiled at the audience, sometimes doing some sort of little dance while playing his guitar.  Ringo was flipping his mop-top happily like he should have been.  

And then there was me, about as awestruck as the girls in the audience, taking notes for Brian's reports.  

But I couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else.  

The lads, after greeting some fans and doing some interviews, went out for drinks after the show.  Brian was deeply engaged in conversation with a Frenchman who was organizing the lads' shows at the opera house.  I heard Brain say, "The lads enjoyed a great success."

I was writing down the last few sentences for my report when Paul, nodding to John and Ringo, who had a few adoring girls who they were chatting up, said, "We were all thinking we'd go out.  Would you want to come?"

Feeling a bit embarrassed I said, "I've...I've got to see Doctor Baudine tonight."  I looked down at the ground and gently closed the notepad I'd been writing on.  

"Oh," his face fell.  "I'll come with you, then."

"No, go out and have some fun.  I'll be alright." I tried to force a smile.  

Kissing my hand, which made me blush slightly, he said, "I promise you that one of these days I'll take you out and we'll go for a walk in Paris.  Be perfect tourists.  Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I'll be fine."

He turned back to his bandmates.  George got up to talk to me, for he wasn't talking to any of the French girls.  But I gave him a look that said We'll talk later.

And so I rode silently back the George V with Brian and his companion.  I wished the boys were having a good time, because I felt I was being trapped in that magnificent prison of a hotel.  

It was no secret I was making progress with Doctor Baudine, though he did not know about my attempt a few days before.  Though I wanted to tell Paul first, because I knew he would be angry if the doctor was the one to break the news.  I had to be honest with him some time, and to all the lads for that manner.