If I Fell│John Lennon/Beatles FanFiction

Chapter 16 - 6.Dec.1960

Chapter 16

December 6, 1960

Everything was falling apart.

Near the end of October, just days after my birthday, the boys had auditioned for Peter Eckhorn, the owner of a rival club, the Top Ten Club. They were promised better pay and better accommodations and took the offer. But in doing so, they broke their contract with Koschmider, the owner of the Kaiserkeller. Koschmider went after them. He reported George for working under the legal age, even though he'd been the one bloody employing him.

Days later, George was gone. Deported.

The band kept on playing without him.

Paul and Pete then went to gather their belongings from the Bambi Kino. Like some kind of joke, they nailed a condom to the concrete wall and set fire to it. Paul argued he'd only done it to have light to find his shit. Despite no real damage being done, Koschmider reported the duo for attempted arson.

Days later, Paul and Pete were arrested and promptly deported.

When the others were gone, John and I made our way to Astrid's place, taking her up on her offer for me to stay with her. She probably didn't intend for John to come as well, but it was only temporary until he could figure out his next step. Stu was there too, staying in Astrid's apartment, recently engaged to the love of his life, but not feeling well enough to play or travel.

John filled his time by playing with another group of musicians. His mood soured with each passing day. He often looked shattered to be without his bandmates, practically alone in a foreign country. He was out of money and effectively stuck.

I sat across from John only five days after Paul and Pete had been not-so-nicely escorted out of the country. I sipped my scotch and coke as the sun set on Hamburg. I pushed another glass of alcohol toward him. He'd come back to Astrid's place early, his guitar gripped in his hand, a look in his eyes that I'd been dreading since arriving in Hamburg. He wanted to talk at the apartment, but I insisted on taking him out for a drink.

I could tell he needed something stronger than beer, and I was paying, despite having recently lost my job at the Kaiserkeller. Koschmider associated me with the Beatles, and he'd had enough of me reminding him of the boys that had caused him such trouble. But I still had money to fall back on, so the drinks were on me.

His eyes flicked to meet mine, but only for an instant. He was avoiding whatever he wanted to talk about, and that was just fine with me. We barely spoke as we sucked down a few rounds of drinks, allowing the bevs to ease our nerves and help us enter the conversation we were both dreading.

"Out with it, Lennon," I said as I finished my third drink, my tone sounding much more confident than I felt.

"I'm out of money." He pressed his lips tight. "And me work permit's been revoked."

"You can't play anymore?"

"If you called that shite playing, then yeah, it's done. I'm done."

I crossed my hands over my chest and leaned back in my chair as a waitress neared. I ordered another round in my broken German. I didn't want to feel the pain that would come with whatever he was about to say next.

He'd been avoiding looking at me, but now he raised his light brown eyes to meet mine. "I'm leavin'."

I sat unmoving. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I repeated, hoping I'd heard him wrong.

I sucked in a breath as the waitress placed the drinks on the table. We both muttered Danke to her, happy to have the distraction for a moment.