He's So Fine [Beatles / George Harrison FanFiction]

Chapter Thirteen: 12th June 1963

'C'mon, girl. It's only a cup of coffee.'

'No,' Della said. She turned sharply on her heel and walked away from him. As she rested the gig sheet she was filling in on top of the dressing table, Freddie Marsden, sitting to the side of the table, gave her a small, sympathetic smile.

Gerry followed her, guitar slung high around his chest like how he played it, the huge body of his Gretsch Tennessean almost tucked under his armpit. He bent over, dipping his head to try and get into her view. 'Why not? Come on, come out with me.'

Della flicked her eyes up at him. 'No.'

'We're both in a strange city, miles from home. Who else are you going to go out with?'

'No one.'

'Ah, well, if that isn't the saddest thing I've ever heard! Come out with me tonight. We'll keep each other company.'

She tapped her pen on the table, avoiding looking at him. 'Don't you have somewhere to be tonight? In around fifteen minutes?'

'We can get a lot done in fifteen minutes.'

Della laughed, despite herself. 'You never give up do you?'

Gerry grinned.

'The girl said no, Gerry. How many times does she have to repeat herself before it gets through your thick skull?'

Gerry whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at his bass player. 'Shut the hell up, Les.'

Les stuck his middle finger up at him. He sat slumped on the sofa with the stuffing coming out of the armrest, his legs wide open, bass guitar over his lap. Freddie, the drummer and Gerry's brother sat in the tub armchair to Della's left, and the other Les, Les Maguire, waited by the door obediently. Fifteen minutes before they were on and for once she had them all in one place.

'What's the name of your hotel again?' Della asked Freddie.

He opened his mouth to answer, but Les Chadwick, the bass player, pipped him to it.

'The Talbot.'

'Thank you.'

'I'm in room twenty-eight,' Gerry added.