⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Sixteen: I'm Telling You, Donna! Two Words. Rhythm. Guitar.

August 17, 1961

I spent the next few hours putting records away in bins under the order of Brian. By the time he told me I could leave, I had wanted to do just that for about two hours. Shelving records wasn't exactly enjoyable, but I needed the extra money, I suppose.

As I was getting ready to leave, hanging up the lanyard with the badge I had been given as I worked, I heard the bell jingle. I had already muttered my lifeless, "welcome," when I turned to see John. He had a little grin in his features. I blinked a few times before jerking out of my trance.

"Hey, John," I greeted.

"Hey, Donna." He balancer his head on his hand. I balanced my elbows on the surface of the desk. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

"Just about to leave," I replied.

He stood straight up. "Lovely—." He grinned. "Would ye like to grab a bite to eat? Maybe fish and chips?"

I nodded. "That'd be great."

Brian came out of the back room as I went to leave the counter.

"Hello, Mr. Epstein," said John, standing up straight and smiling.

"You're John, aren't ye?" asked Brian.

"Yessir," slurred John.

"Well hello, John."

John nodded.

I opened my mouth to speak. "John and I are gonna go eat somewhere. I'll see you at home?"

Brian nodded. "See ye then, kiddo."

With a smile, I gathered my purse and went to leave. I swear I felt Brian's eyes glued to our backs as we walked outside and out of view.

"How was your day?" John asked me.

"Well, I got stuck in a project with Paul. But other than that, it was pretty good."

He smirked down at me. "Paul told me about yer project. Apparently you took something? From a teacher?" He gasped sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes. "Paul wouldn't stop talking, so I missed the project. I needed to know, so I just, y'know-."

"-Took it?" he finished for me.

I nodded, my cheeks growing red. He ruffled my hair and I frowned up at him.

"That's my girl, Donna! You didn't seem like the thieving type," he said, laughing.

"I'm not usually, but I also don't fail projects." I shrugged with a laugh.

"Fair enough." He shook his head as we strolled up to the small restaurant he had been taking me to. He let me in and we found our way to a table for two against the back wall.

"How was your day?" I asked him when we'd sat down.

He shrugged. "Same as always. I went down to the Cavern to watch some groups. Kind of a drag, but I got some good food out of it, so I guess it wasn't a complete waste of time."

"Sounds fun. I mean, at least it's better than being couper up in a glorified jail for hours."

He bit his lip to resist a smile, then shrugged and nodded. "Ye got me there."

"You excited about Hamburg?" I then asked.

His face brightened. "I am," he replied excitedly. "We could finally be getting somewhere. It's excited, y'see?"

I smiled at the excitement he, resembling that of a kid on Christmas morning, displayed. It made me happy to hear him talk about something he genuinely enjoyed. "I still wish you could come along, though," he said, his smile faltering, then regaining its posture, but strangely lacking its realness, like he seemed genuinely upset about it.

"Well, I've got school, y'know."

"Well so've Geo and Paul."

"But they don't actually want to finish school, do they?"

John shrugged. "You've got a point there, I suppose."

A waitress came up to us and asked what we'd like to drink and if we were ready to order food as well.

"I'll have a coke and my friend here will have...?" He trailed off and I jerked up.

"Oh—uh—coke is fine too."

"And we'd just like your finest fish and chips, please, love." He grinned charmingly.

She nodded curtly and turned around, not even looking at him. She obviously didn't want to be here.

John gave me a look that said, "she's pleasant, eh?" and I snickered.

"So, you're telling me you want to go to school?"

"Well, I want a job, so yeah, I guess."

He clapped his hands. "I'm telling you, Donna! Two words. Rhythm. Guitar. You'd be great at it, I'm sure of it!"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I haven't played guitar in years, John. Besides, you've already got two rhythm guitarists."

"Oh, but you can learn. It will be fun! Just one time! And Stu isn't really long term on music, y'know? He's all about the arts. Funny one, he is. I don't think he wants to make it huge. Music is just a side job for him. Either way, I think you should at least try."

"Oh my god, if I try will you shut up about it?"

He perked up excitedly. "I swear on it. Just try it and if ye don't like it, I'll never bring it up again."

I extended a hand. "Shake on it?" I smirked.

He rolled his eyes and shook my hand.

I shook my head slowly. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm just stubborn."

"Oh, believe me, you're only part stubborn. You're much more than just that," I joked, smiling at him.

He leaned in. "What's that supposed ta mean, pet?"

I gave him an incredulous look. "That's...no, not what I meant."

"Oh, c'mon, don'tcha remember? We go together like honey and tea, you and me. You're even buying into it."

I pretended to gag. "Yeah, right."

He leaned back again and laughed.

The waitress came back up with a plate of food and two drinks all balanced on a tray. She sat it in front of us with a check and left again. John took a sip of his drink and looked me up and down a moment, skeptically.

"Hey, Donna?" he asked.

"Yes?" I replied, nibbling on some of the food we now had.

"I was just wondering, and ye don't have to answer if he don't wanna, but...." he looked away a moment, then turned back. "Why won't ye tell the others about your—uh—anxiety? I'm sure they'd stop teasin' ye if ye did, y'know. I can tell it bothers you sometimes."

I sipped my drink and looked him dead in the eye. "I just—."  My eyes fell away from his and his fell away from mine. He looked at his hands, which he had folded neatly on the table. "I dunno," I began. "It's just, y'know, not exactly a common thing, as far as I'm concerned. I just haven't told anyone my whole life, why change that now? It's just something I've always kept to myself, and I likely will for a while now. Perhaps I'm just scared."

He chewed on the words a moment, mulling them over thoroughly. "Why'd ye decide to tell me?" he asked and I was genuinely baffled.

Why had I chosen to tell him? Was I just really desperate for someone to know? Or was there some other reason...?

"I-." My words trailed off. "I'm not...exactly sure. I guess there was something telling me I could trust you. I've always wanted to tell someone so they'd know how I felt, but—I just—y'know, wanted them to genuinely care, I guess? Something told me you did."

He nodded. "I get it. It's not easy to open up to people." He paused. "Hey, Donna?"

My voice had choked up. "Yes, John?"

"I'll always be here to make sure you're okay, alrighty?"

I smiled. "Thanks, John."