⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Twenty: A Little Group Called Rory Storm and the Hurricanes

August 20, 1961

"Hey, Donna!" called Stuart optimistically as I stepped into the room backstage at the Cavern.

I liked Stu. He was a pleasant guy. He really balanced out everyone else. Pete was kinda grumpy and stayed out of the way while Paul was the one that all the girls flocked to, George was the quiet one to sit in the corner, and John was the flirt that could make you roll your eyes without saying anything. Stu balanced that out by being quite logical and always a lovely person to just talk to, no feelings attached.

"Hey, Stu." I gave a delighted smile.

"Fancy seeing John has brought ye along today."

"Gotta sit in the crowded club and watch ye play some rock 'n' roll." I rolled my eyes sarcastically and he laughed. Paul and George came stumbling into the room, both fighting to get through the door before the other. George was victorious and his victorious laughter left Paul frowning in the doorway. It was quite a comical sight.

They turned to see us all staring at them skeptically.

George laughed nervously and awkward. "Hey, guys."

We all waved. They came and sat down. "Well, how are you?"

"I'm good, Georgie, and how about you?" John mocked.

"I'm good." He blushed.

"Now we're only down one Beatle," said John. "Where's Pete?"

Stu shrugged. "He was here earlier."

John looked around and everyone else gave a shrug too and he frowned. There was a pause as John just stared around.

"I'll go find 'im." Paul sighed, standing.

"The rest of you lot should get ready. We've got ten minutes 'til we go on." In an instant, everyone was up and bustling about.

John took his guitar out of his case, slung it around his neck, and slumped next to me all in one motion. Quite frankly, I was impressed.

"I don't know what to do. He's getting worse," John said dramatically.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Pete. I don't think he wants to do this anymore. What am I gonna do? We need a drummer."

"I-."

He grinned over at me, turning on the couch to face me. "I know you can't do anything, I just wanted to tell someone."

I nodded, unable to resist a smile. He put his arm around the back of the couch and it subtly rested around me in the process.

George came back in the room, having left sometime without us noticing and Paul came back in with Pete at his side. Pete had a glass in his hand.

John moved his arm to slap himself. "Pete, I told you no drinking before a gig."

"I can't drum sober," was all he said.

John rolled his eyes. "We're on, c'mon," he said to everyone in the room.

"I'll wait outside right next to the stage. Good luck," I said encouragingly with a little smile.

"Our biggest fan," said John with a stupid, dopey smile.

~~~

When the boys were on their last song, I made my way backstage agains where I met with the band that was going on next, a little group called Rory Storm and the Hurricanes, another Liverpool favorite.

"Can I help you?" asked one, leaning back against the couch. He was carrying around drumsticks, his hair was curly, and he had a little stubble around his face.

"Oh, no, I'm just—." I hesitated. They were all looking at me and it sent a wave of nervousness through me. "I'm waiting for the Beatles. I'm with them." I managed to say half-calmly.

He nodded. "I'm Richard. They call me Ringo."

"Oh, uh, nice to meet you, Ringo."

"I didn't say you could call me that," he said, looking intimidating as anything. Then, he smiled. "Ah, I'm only joking."

I nodded, terrified out of my mind and the door behind me opened. I turned, unaware that my fear was actually showing. "You okay there, Donna? Ye look like you've just seen a ghost."

I stared a moment before jumping back to attention. "No, no, no, I'm good."

"Hey, Ringo, we'll be out of here quickly," John said to the scary teddy boy I'd just encountered.

Ringo nodded and I made my way to a back corner, hoping to calm down a little bit. I really need to be more courageous for once.

Rory Storm and the Hurricanes filed out of the room to the stage and before the door slammed, we heard a circulation of cheering throughout the room next door.

"Sorry I didn't tell ye there'd be more people back here ahead of time," said John, packing his guitar and eyeing me amusedly as I stood in my corner alone.

"Hey, John, we're going down the street to eat if ye'd like ta come by," Paul said and John turned.

"I'm okay, Macca. I've got something else in mind for our Donna here."

The room suddenly felt cold as Paul awkwardly stammered to gather his words. "Well, have fun then." With that, the rest of the Beatles left the room.

I walked shakily over to sit on the couch as John moved his guitar case aside and sat next to me. "Ye okay?" he asked again. "Ye still look kinda scared."

I clasped my hands together to hide the shaking and looked him straight in the eye as I told a lie. "I'm fine."

"Yer a terrible liar," he noted as his eyes flicked down to my hands momentarily. "But I won't make ye 'fess up."

I nodded. "I'd rather not anyways."

"Well," he said then, clapping his hands together suddenly, making me jump. "I'd like to take ye down somewhere. I used ta go there when I was younger. Thought it would make for a little adventure before I have to leave."

I swallowed. "Leave?"

He nodded. "We leave for Hamburg on Monday."

"Monday?!" I hadn't realized it would be so soon.

"Yeah, I...I'll tell ye later," he mumbled. "Okay," he then said, louder than before. He stood, picked up his guitar case, and then held out his hand. "May I?"

I smiled, deciding instantly that I was alright finally, and took his hand as I stood. Instead of just helping me up and letting go, he looked down at it and presumably decided he liked it and held onto it a little more tightly, smiling like an idiot. Now, I could see what Paul meant about "seeing a falling face," and perhaps that scared me.

"Ye ready?"

I nodded.