⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Seventy-Four: I Tried Loosening up, I Really Did...

May 9, 1962

It took a few days before the boys had fully returned to their usual selves. For a while, it felt like they'd never be the same again, but finally, they seemed to cheer back up fully.

Onstage they'd always found it in them to act normal, cracking jokes and teasing one another to the audience, but offstage, they were gloomy and off. John went a record-breaking week where he cried at least once a day, something I was unexposed to. Of course, he hid it, making sure it was just me and him around. I felt bad for him but didn't know what to do to make it any better. Nothing I said could fix the pain he was in.

The band played every evening straight into the night. They were all exhausted every day, sleeping in well past noon...on a good day. In secret, they often took drugs to help them stay awake. They kept this from Brian, as we all knew they'd likely get in trouble with him for it.

On a few occasions, they'd roped me into taking one of the little pills, telling me it'd help with a headache, or whatever sickness I may've had that night. I was reluctant, always feeling dizzy, and sometimes nauseous when the pills were in my system. Those were often the nights that John would have to carry me back to the hotel, convincingly telling Brian that I was simply too tired to walk myself. Beside everything bad about them, they did keep me awake, and when they wore off, they knocked me out like a sedative into a very deep sleep. I would wake up feeling slightly refreshed, but with a slight pressure in my head.

All in all, my Preludin-fueled nights were limited, as were my alcohol-induced ones. Nonetheless, they were still there, though the two had never overlapped.

"Fancying that tonight, aren't ye, love?" John came up behind me pointing to a glass of beer one such night while the boys were on a short break. I rolled my eyes. "Had just one?"

I nodded. "Well, only one full," I said thoughtfully, already feeling tipsy, even though the second glass was only half-emptied. It didn't take much to throw me over the line. He sat down on the stool next to me.

Brian had left for London this morning armed with the Decca audition tapes to meet with George Martin. Everyone was giddy with anticipation over what was going to be said.

John took the glass from in front of me and took a quick swig from it. I could tell from the very subtle dilation in his pupils that he'd already had some Preludin in his system. "Good stuff, that is," he said with a laugh. "You really know how to choose them, don't you?"

I giggled and laid my head down on the counter. "I guess I do."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Am I going to have to carry you home tonight?" he asked expectantly.

I nodded warily. "Probably."

He laughed and flung an arm around my waist. "And y'know what?" he asked cheekily.

"What?"

"Brian is o-u-t, love. Fancy having a sleepover?"

"I hate you," I grumbled. "You know that I can't say no."

"Yay," he said mockingly. I reached for the glass and took a drink of it myself, feeling the pleasurable burn of it sliding down my throat.

John looked at me incredulously. "You're loosening up, then, aren't you?" He winked and I blushed.

I shook my head. "One thing at a time."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is someone scared of the pleasure John Lennon could give you?"

I felt a pit open up in my stomach. What was he really implying? "John, stop," I said, laughing nervously.

He gave a cheeky smile. "Whatever you should wish, pet."