We Can Work It Out - (LENNISON)

Run for Your Life

JOHN POV~

I watched my two bandmates run about the studio space, preparing for another overdub. Paul was fiddling with the lyrics in front of him while George leaned against the wall. I watched him with sympathy. The man honestly should be taking a break, and to be honest I should be taking a break too. 

I leaned into the back of my chair and stretched my arm above my head. I let out a yawn and glanced at the clock. It registered in my brain finally that it was 23 hours and I crumpled into the table in front of me. It was so late.

I heard a click of wood on wood to see that George Martin had moved his chess piece. Ringo had left a game from a previous session unfinished, so I was playing on his behalf. I had been doing all of his things on his behalf since he quit three days ago. Paul had asked about getting a new drummer, but Geo and I quickly shut that idea down. I was confident he would return. 

I observed the chessboard with its measly pieces and moved my rook, my only remaining piece other than the king. Martin turned from the soundboard and smirked. He swiftly moved his pawn and took it.

"Wait, pawns can't move diagonally!" I exclaimed.

"John, that's how the pawn takes opposing pieces. You've played chess before right?" Martin laughed.

"Of course I have," I grumbled and settled back down. Glancing back at Geo, I settled back down to think about my turn.

The band started up again, Paul sang and George perked up to play behind him. I smiled a bit watching him. Whenever he plays fro recordings, he closes his eyes and gets a blissful expression, as if the rest of the world falls around him. I took out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke formed a ring around my head before I took another drag. 

My body let go of the tensity I didn't know I was holding in my muscles. It felt like I malted right into my seat. My brain was clear of nothing but the lovely music my band was creating. 

Soon they finished singing and we decided to call it a night. Things were going slower than usual without our drummer. Not just in the music sense, but hit out moral severely. 

The cool air hit my face like a knife as the three of us exited the back exit. 

I heard Paul swear under his breath and pull his coat tighter around him before setting off across the walled parking lot. I followed him, assuming George was following us. I leaned against Paul's car once we had both reached it and he fumbled with his keys. 

"You look like a bounder," Paul commented when he finally unlocked his car. 

"Hey lads," Geo called from the other side of the lot before I could respond, "I'm going out to drink, yer welcome to join."

"Oh ye of course," I called back while Paul nodded at my side. I turned to my companion after I heard a car door slam from George's end, "Geo really shouldn't be drinking this much ya know."

"Then you shouldn't be smoking so much Lennon," Paul countered while climbing into the driver's seat, "do ya need a ride? I don't see your car," he gestured to the lot.

"No I'm fine, I'll see you at the pub. I parked up the road a bit."

"Suit yerself," he muttered and closed the door. I waved as he pulled back and out of the studio lot. 

Once both my bandmates were clear down the road, I started my trek up the road to find a taxi. I technically can't drive yet. I'm studying for my license, but haven't got it yet so I'm stuck riding taxis to work. Yes, I drove out to find George, but that was an emergency. And yes, I should hire a driver but I never remember to. 

The cars that zoomed by on the street to my left pounded in my head. The wind stung my face and I tried burying my face into my coat. I reached the curb to wait for a taxi to arrive when I heard two shrill voices behind me. 

I groaned as two girls approached me. They were roughly the same height, but still shorter than me. Their hair swung with the breeze and they pushed it away with their hands before talking to me.

"Oh my god, you're John Lennon of the Beatles, right?" One asked me with wide eyes. I could tell from her accent that she wasn't from England. 

"No, I'm Winston Churchill," I responded dryly and swiveled back to watch the road. I leaned forward and checked both ways. No taxi was coming to save me from the girls.

"Can you sign something for me?" the girls piped to my back.

"Fine," I grumbled and turned back to them, defeated. 

The girl on my right was holding out a journal and pen. The bracelets on her wrists were smashing against each other when the wind blew and it caused my head to throb. They stayed unnervingly quiet with big smiles plaster on their faces while I signed. 

"There," I said and set the pen into the seam of the book.

"Uh can I get a picture with you too?" the other inquired sheepishly. She blushed and pressed her fingers in front of her.

"Sure," I carped, "why the fuck not," I said under my breath as she ran up to me and wrapped her arm around my side. In protest, I didn't move. The other girl flashed the polaroid she held and I was released. 

I caught sight of a taxi and I waved it over to me. The girls stayed, staring at the image to develop. They never leave, I couldn't help thinking. If George was here, he'd probably be over the top and nice to them. He had a habit of being too sweet when he shouldn't be. 

My body warmed with thoughts of Geo and I was puzzled, and sort of angry because of that.  I shouldn't let some man, a friend at that, be entering my thoughts like this. 

The taxi I'd signaled finally pulled up to me. I was about to get in when I heard the final words from the fans.

"I'm glad you're eligible again, John! Thank you!"

I entered the taxi fuming and wanting to be near George, which only made my anger worse. I threw my notes at the driver.

"Elveson Road," I demanded before falling back into the plush seat with my arms crossed across my chest.