Chapter 7: Comeuppance (Paul's POV)

My dad always told me to think before I acted, but that wasn't the case that blustery day in America. I took a leaf from John's book, and convinced Addie that we would call her dad later.

She resisted, at first. I felt bad dragging her out the door, but we supposed it was for her own good. It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission, right? Kate was happy to go out, and didn't really mind that she had to wear the clothes from the day before for the time being.

Something about that intrigued me. I had always been conscious about my appearance, but it didn't seem to bother her all that much. She was easy going, and it didn't take anything at all to start up a conversation with her. The boys sometimes called me "bossy," a "control freak" or John's favorite, "Princess Paulie," she was none of that. Of course, she was as pretty as a princess. Her hair was coppery and wavy, and her eyes were like the water in the top of a volcano, reflecting the sky.

Kate McKenna was a dreamer. I suppose I was too, after everyone had gotten the song right, done the overdubs correctly, let Ringo and George do one, tell George his song might make the next album, let John yell at the producers a bit, then I was a dreamer. After everyone had gone home, and the studio was dark and empty, I could sit at the piano and dream. The music would flow out of my fingertips, onto the piano keys.

I had written things besides pop songs, of course, a few bars of classical music, and even a little ballad. But I knew John would laugh, so I kept them to myself. They were stuffed under my mattress at home, scribbled and crossed out and re-written a's and b's and various other piano chords with guitar accompaniment. No notes, because I couldn't read music.

The wind was blowing all of Kate's beautiful red hair around. We were walking down the street, about a block from our hotel.

"Ha! Free at last!" John cried, dropping Addie's hand to leap into the air and wave his hat around.

"You haven't changed much since you were sixteen, John." I said, suppressing laughter.

"Hey, let's go in here!" John yelled, skipping towards the open door of a ladies clothing store.

"John…" I began nervously, but Addie and Molly shushed me, their eyes shimmering blue and brown, both with hints of shadiness. They were opposites, but twins at the same time. Doppelgängers I think is the word.

"We're going to get in trouble…" Kate said cautiously, but Addie and Molly each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her after John.

"Relax Paul, this'll be fun!" George assured me, grinning his crooked grin.

"We can't get into that much trouble, we're pop sensations!" Said Ringo enthusiastically.

"Alright, fine. Let's go." I sighed and followed them.

"OUT OUT OUT! Get out you troublemakers! Musicians, my foot!" The balding manager of the store chased us back out into the street. He snatched the blonde wig off John's head and the huge sunglasses off Ringo's face. "Be thankful I'm not reporting you!" He yelled, his face turning purple. He turned to go back inside, muttering about how the youth thought they ruled the world.

"Well he was grumpy, let's try here." John said, walking into a coffee shop. The door dinged, and the lady behind the counter looked up.

"Can I help you?" She asked.

"I'll handle this one." Ringo said, walking up to the counter. "Hello Miss, what's your favorite coffee to get?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the mocha chai with half and half, ice crushed to three quarters of an inch and two shots of espresso?" Then recognition lit up her face. "You're a Beatle!" She exclaimed.

"Why yes, I am. Which one?"

"The um, the one with the big nose-" she began.

"And the big somethin' else!" John interrupted. Her eyes widened. Ringo held out his hands about a foot apart proudly. I just couldn't help myself, I had to butt in.

"Excuse me Miss…" I put my hands about two feet apart and gave her the bedroom eyes everyone was always talking about. Molly and Addie giggled and Addie nudged Kate, who waggled her eyebrows.

"Why I never!" The girl behind the counter gasped. The door dinged again, but no one turned to look.

"Allow me to show you, these lemmings are being crude with their primitive hand motions." John said in a London accent.

"Just what were you planning to show this young lady?" Asked a cold voice behind us. We all turned around, and John quickly put the napkin he was illustrating on and his pen behind his back.

The police officer was jowly, and had uneven yellow teeth in a big mouth. His eyebrows were black and thick. He put a thick stubby hand out, and in a gravely voice asked for the drawing.

"Lemme see that, son." John meekly handed over the napkin, and as the man looked at it, the lines in his face deepened. "You troublemakers are coming with me." He nodded at the counter girl. "Sorry they bothered you, miss." She bobbed her head quickly, and continued to stare at us like we were aliens. I suppose we shattered her image of four clean, albeit long-haired, boys from England. Now we were dirty mutts from under the docks of Liverpool, the armpit of the United Kingdom.

The police station was only two blocks down the street. I was glad, because I didn't know how we could have all squished into the back of a police car. The wind blew harsh and cold, and Molly was shivering. George put his arm around her.

"Cold?" He asked.

"Yeah, I'm not used to this kind of weather." She replied, leaning into him. I took Kate's hand. It was warm.

"You aren't cold?" I asked her.

"Nope." She smiled at me.

"You don't get bothered by much then, I guess."

"Not really." She said.

When we arrived at the police station, we were directed to a bench. Molly immediately sat on the floor and took out a piece of paper and started reading.

"What're you looking at?" I asked.

"Nothing!" She said quickly, folding the paper.

"That was a little too quick for me, 'and it over." Said John, getting on his knees in the floor next to her.

"No." She replied defiantly. The skirt of the pretty blue dress we had bought her lay pooled around her on the dirty white and green tiles. I imagined they must be very cold.

"Alright kids, this is why you're here." A younger officer announced. He cleared his throat and began to read. "Disturbing the public, attempted robbery, public indecency and walking on the grass in central park."

"WHAT!" Yelled John, always one to respond with anger. "We fuckin' did what? What kinda shit is this? Yer bloody tryin' tell us we're 'ere 'cause we WALKED ON THE FUCKIN' GRASS?"

"Well um…" The 'officer' couldn't have been more than twenty, and he was clearly flustered as to what to do. "T-that and p-public indecency…and attempted robbery…and d-disturbing the public…there's a bit of a fine…"

"At least we aren't being thrown in jail." Ringo said brightly.

"Well, um, if the fine isn't paid in um, twenty minutes, then we will have to hold you in a cell…"

"THAT'S BLOODY RIDICULOUS! YOU CAN'T DO THAT, YOU FUCKIN' SOD!"

"John, you aren't helping." I said quietly.

"Shut up Paul, I can 'andle this meself. Now Officer, you can't hold me, I'M NOT A BLOODY AMERICAN CITIZEN!"

"JOHN! They can still hold us, they can put us in jail for as long as they like." I said scathingly. The famous Lennon temper was just exploding, and there was a lot more to come.

"Because we aren't American citizens, it's even harder for us to get a lawyer. Just cool it, John, your mouth will get us into even more trouble." George said wisely.

"They're right, just sit back down and we'll call your manager or something." Addie said, putting a hand on his arm. He flinched at her touch, but complied.

"We've got money!" said Molly. "Don't we George?" George, who was holding our money for us, pulled out his wallet.

"I'm sorry, I spent the last of it on that necklace for Molly." He said, casting his eyes down. "I mean, we've got more, but it's at the hotel."

"Could we go get it?" Ringo asked the officer.

"Eh, no. You can't. You have to stay here. I'm sorry, it's regulation." He replied.

"We'll call Brian then." I said, getting up, "where's the phone?"

"This way." He walked off into a side hall, and I followed. When we got to the phone, I picked up the shiny black receiver and looked blankly at the numbers. I couldn't remember the hotel phone number. There was a tap on my shoulder.

"I figured you wouldn't remember." Kate said, smiling. She handed me a piece of paper.

"Thanks, girl." I said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. She giggled, blushed and said,

"I'll go back and sit on the bench, I wasn't actually supposed to get up."

"See you in a minute, love." I said, giving her a little wave. I hurriedly dialed the number. While it was ringing, I turned the piece of paper over. There was a bit of an article on the back.

In spite of their hardships, the Fab Four will always be a band to remember. Even though they fought, and Ringo, then George, then John and finally Paul all called it quits, they will go down in history. In spite of the fact that their manager died from an overdose, and they all did too many drugs, they still made it into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame.

John met Yoko, and he wanted something different. His friendship with Paul deteriorated, though they had been friends since they were teenagers. George found religion, and Krishna. Ringo turned to the booze, and John did heroin. Paul was arrested for marijuana in Japan, and spent nine days in jail.

For the majority of the seventies, they hated each other. John and Paul began a war in which they wrote scathing songs about each other, and called each other names via the press. The songs "Too Many People" and "How Do You Sleep" are testaments to this. Just before John was shot and killed, in 1980, he and Paul made up. They almost came together one last time to perform on tv, but then decided they were too tired.

After John died, Paul wrote "Here Today" as a tribute. When George died of cancer in 2001, Ringo responded with "Never Without You" to his fallen bandmate. This proves that they were still best friends, all four of them. Like Ringo said, "I was an only child, and they were my brothers."

John Lennon died too young, only forty, just as he was about to resume his career. As did George, only fifty-eight. They partied hard, those boys, and that takes its toll. Minds near destroyed by drugs, bridges burned, lungs ruined, ex wives in tow, the lesson learned is that greatness comes with a price, and with great talent comes great responsibility.

I dropped the receiver. John was shot and killed. That didn't make any sense. Why would someone want to kill John? Sure, he was annoying, but that was just the way he was. Surely he couldn't have done something so horrible that they would want to kill him.

And George, my little brother, dead of cancer in less than fifty years? Not possible. Krishna? Who the hell was that? George wasn't particularly interested in religion, it couldn't possibly drag him away from his mates. Yoko? What? John loved Cyn, sure he played around, but he wouldn't leave Cynthia and Julian. He might be irresponsible, but he did his best to make sure his family was taken care of.

I listened to the beep beep beep of the busy signal. Figured as much. I walked back to the bench, shuffling along like an old man. A shell-shocked old man. When I'm sixty-four…The song John had helped me write when we were kids popped into my head. George and John wouldn't live to see sixty-four. Unless this was all a joke, we were on the road to failure. Wait a second, not failure, success! Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame! Yes, but at what cost? Two of my best friends in the entire world. Not even fame was worth loosing them.

The six of them were sitting in the cold front room of the police station. Molly was on the floor, leaning against George, who was sitting on the bench in between John and Ringo. Addie was clutching John's hand tightly. Kate looked up when I came in.

"Did you get ahold of him?" She asked.

"No. But what's this?" I held the paper up. Molly looked at me with frightened eyes.

"Ha, nothing." She said softly.

"There you go again with the "nothing" thing. It's something. Give it here, Paul." John said, holding out his hand. I crumpled the article into a ball and tossed it to him. He straightened it out, and quickly scanned through it. I saw his jaw working, and I could nearly see the wheels turning in his brain.

"That's it. I'm fucking done with this shit." He said, his voice cold and hard. He wasn't yelling like before, this anger was smoldering, not flaming. My feet were sinking into the floor. Done with this shit. He passed it to Ringo and George. The dream was crashing. Ian was right. Boom. Over.

"What're we gonna do?" Asked Ringo in a shaky voice.

"Nothing. We're fucking going to do nothing. I'm gone. Thanks Molly, you saved us from a lot of crazy shit." John said defiantly, but also sadly.

"He's right, you know. Krishna? What the hell? I'm leaving too." George stood up and walked to the door. "I'm leaving before I lose my mind."

"Guys! It can't be so horrible! You know, when Dylan turned us on to weed, that was cool, wasn't it? Good times are sure to come, and that isn't necessarily what's going to happen…" Ringo faded out, knowing he was fighting a loosing battle.

"You aren't going to die, Ritchie. Addie babe, c'mon." Said John sourly.

"John…Ringo's right, what if it isn't true?" She replied.

"But it is true!" Kate exclaimed. Molly's eyes got even bigger. Kate turned white. "I mean, it really isn't all that bad…" Oh no. I thought, it's true…it's all true…

"We were brothers! We were heroes!" Ringo stood up. "Don't be cowards! We'll fight fate, we can do it!" He stomped his foot and it echoed through the building.

"No, Ring, we can't." George shook his head sadly. I hadn't noticed that he was still there, holding the door open, letting in the rain. "We're like a plane whose engine has stopped running, the only way is down."

"You're just mad because you die of cancer!" I said, anger creeping into my voice.

"This isn't a movie, Paul! This is real!"

"It's real alright, we got into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame." I responded. "Eternal fame! What else could you want?"

"Well my head without a bullet in it for starters, please thank you good riddance and goodnight." John retorted, dry Lennon to the end.

"You're just living up to it. If we didn't know, it could have turned out differently."

"Aw come off it Ringo, you're just so damn positive all the time!" George half-yelled. We turned in shock. There he stood, "the Quiet Beatle," dapper in his hated stage suit, lashing out at his best friend. The world turned black around the edges, and then slowly spiraled to the middle, and I heard a distant thud that must've been my head hitting the floor.