⇾ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 | 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐈

Chapter Ninety: You've Made the Band Unhappy with Your Pick, George

September 4, 1962

Sitting around doing nothing but listen to the band play the same songs over and over wasn't ideal, so I distracted myself by doodling on an extra paper on the clipboard I was supposed to be taking notes on. I did take notes when George Martin commented on something to Brian. Brian would make a wild gesture for me and I'd snap out of my head to jot it down.

I was pulled from my thoughts by Brian snapping in front of my face frantically. I quickly flipped the clipboard to the front page and began to follow him down towards the boys, timidly walking behind George.

The time was now 11:15. They'd gone a bit longer than initially intended.

I saw John catch my eye and give a little wink, smirking in amusement when he saw his jacket in my arms still. I shook my head and looked down, feeling my face flush red. When I looked back up a moment later, he was pointing his head towards George Martin, who was in front of them talking, but his eyes were on me, a grin teasing the side of his lips. I gave him an expectant look, gesturing towards the producer discreetly and he rolled his eyes and turned his eyes back towards him, his teasing grin never leaving his face.

"—And if there's anything you're unhappy with for you can, by all means, speak up and tell me."

John cleared just throat tentatively and I saw Brian's head jerk towards him, a warning look in his eye. John picked up on it, but I knew exactly what he was about to say.

"Actually," he began. "We did want to see if, you know, maybe we could discuss having the A-side of this be an original."

George chewed on the idea for a moment. "Well, I mean—." His voice was unsure.

"We just thought, y'know, that it would really prove to everyone that we do really have something brewing for us," added Paul hesitantly.

George paused a moment before nodding, his face still slightly uncertain. "That may work, I suppose. If that's really what you want."

Brian himself still looked unsure of the possibility. They had discussed it with him beforehand, but he had been so on the fence about it that the boys initially thought it wouldn't go through. However, a few minutes later, he'd reluctantly said that if the suggestion could be presented, they could ask for it, but in a calm and respectful way.

John's eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, it is," he stammered assuredly.

"We can try that out next time. I'll need you back here on the eleventh and we can try recording it. You'll have to decide on a few options though."

The boys all nodded in unison, solemnly, but I could tell that the second they were back in the car they were going to go berserk. I couldn't be bothered, though. I was too tired to care.

George Martin said they were good to go and that he was going to talk to Brian for a few minutes. They all bid their goodbyes and went towards the room their instrument cases had been left in.

"Go make sure they actually get ready to go," Brian said, seeming to sense my fatigue and giving me a little pat on the shoulder. I nodded and handed him my clipboard before turning to follow the boys.

Back in the instrument room, they were chatting happily, their faces all broken into huge, contagious grins. When John saw me walk in, he gave me the biggest smile I'd ever seen and put his arms around me.

"Donna's tiiired," he cooed, swaying me from side to side jokingly.

"Yes she isss," I replied with a laugh. He pulled away from me and all the others were staring at us with smirking faces.

"Brian told me to make sure you put your instruments away," I said groggily. "So, you'd best do that."

"Snappy one, she is, isn't she, John?" Paul said, raising his eyebrows.

"You have no idea, Macca," he replied with a mischievous grin at me.

I rolled my eyes and John bent down to snap his guitar case closed, returning upright with it held in his hand.

"Am I gonna get that back?" he asked amusedly, glancing down at his jacket.

I shrugged. "Probably not."

He laughed with a little eye roll and sat the case back down, taking the jacket out of my hands and wrapping it around me. I pulled it close to me, taking in his scent. As Brian came into the room, George and Paul were closing their guitar cases and John had went to pick up his again. Brian had a wild smile on his face.

"Good job, boys. That went well."

"That was brilliant, Brian," said George excitedly, his lips in a wide smile that gave a perfect look at his fanged teeth.

John didn't say anything. He just held a steady and triumphant smile on his lips and a tight grip on my hand. That was all he needed to do to speak his mind.

Brian said a few more things to the band as we walked out to the car. Despite the sweater and jacket I was wearing, I still found myself shivering, perhaps because I was tired. John pulled me closer to him every time I found myself trembling.

John, Paul, and George put their guitars in the trunk of the car, and Ringo his drumsticks along with a small bag of percussion instruments he had with him.

We piled back into Brian's van. I curled up against John and felt his hand stroking my hair as he talked with the other four.

They were already discussing what they might want to pair "Love Me Do" with. I wasn't paying much attention, really. I was trying to zone out and fall asleep, if I was being honest.

"What do you think, Donna?"

I jumped at Paul's voice. John's hand fell to his lap as I sat up to face him. "About?" I leaned back against the seat, silently wishing he hadn't said anything.

"What song should we do, you think?" George asked.

Why had everyone's eyes fallen on me now? I just wanted to sleep, for Christ's sake.

"Uh—?" I broke off to think of any song they'd ever written. I just needed one. "How about that one—er—'PS I Love You,' it's called?" I offered.

"Yes, good pick!" John shouted, laughing loudly as Paul's face fell into his hands.

"I'm sorry, Paul," I said groggily before laying back down on John and closing my eyes, his hand back in my hair, falling to sleep before anyone else could bother me.