Tomorrow Never Knows - Chapter Twenty Six
Authors: lovely_rita_mm, jenny_wren28, & pennylane_fic
Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue
Rating: M for language, implied sex (though none of it is explicit) & implied drug use. Characters used in this story are either our creation, or are historically-based (ie, The Beatles).
Disclaimer: We don't own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and is a complete work of fiction.
"I'm so bloody tired, mate," Paul complained to John. They were hidden in Paul and Jane's room secretly composing music instead of meditating. What they were doing in the bedroom was an open secret, and everyone just looked the other way when John and Paul disappeared together.
"Jane wearing you out?" John asked suggestively, winking at Paul. He lit up a cigarette, and offered Paul one.
"Just the opposite actually." Paul, being used to John, chose to be honest instead of offended by John's innuendo. "It's Linda wearing me out." Paul stuck the cigarette in his mouth and John leaned over and lit it for him.
"How's that?"
"She's in my head, John, and I can't get her out, no matter what I do. It was one thing back in England – there were always lots of birds to keep me entertained whenever I got alone with my thoughts, but here there's nothing to distract me. It's either trying to keep Jane pleased, or thinking about Linda." Paul took a puff off of his cigarette.
"Hmm…" John strummed his guitar thoughtfully and adlibbed, "I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink…"
"I'm so tired, my mind is on the blink…" Paul neatly completed the rhyme.
John grinned at him and came up with another line. "I wonder should I get up and fix myself a drink!"
"No, no, noooo," Paul sang back at John, drawing the last note into a pained growl.
"I think we've got something here. Mind if I try to finish it?" John asked.
"By all means, mate. I'm living it; I don't want to write it."
"What are you working on, then?"
"A love song," Paul admitted.
"Which bird is it for?" John laughed.
Paul scowled. "Listen, do you want to hear the song or not?"
"Only if you sing it to me like you mean it!"
"Shut up, you wanker!" Strumming a bit first, Paul began, "Who knows how long I've loved you…"
"I've loved you since 1957, Macca," John interrupted in a high-pitched voice.
When Paul looked up and glared, John just batted his eyelashes until Paul cracked a helpless smile. "You're hopeless, Lennon. It's sad really, how you've been pining for me ever since the first moment you laid eyes on me at that Woolton church fete."
John snorted.
"It's all right John, I've written a love song for you too."
"Oh yeah?"
Paul jumped up, thumped a beat on his guitar, and screeched, "WHY DON'T WE DO IT IN THE ROAD…"
John fell over laughing, as Paul continued repeating the lyric.
"NO ONE WILL BE WATCHING US…" Paul tried to wrap up the song, only to have John join in on the last line and then call for another round. "Figures you'd like the joke song, John."
"It's your best one yet, and it's all mine, isn't it?" John cackled. "Again!"
Paul grinned his appreciation and began the blues chord progression again, John joining in on his own guitar this time.
Maggie whistled as she walked. She'd had "Why Don't We Do It In the Road" in her head ever since she'd walked in on Paul and John jumping around Paul's room, loudly singing and banging on their guitars. They'd looked a little sheepish once they'd realized she was there, but she'd quickly closed the door behind her and demanded she be allowed to join them immediately. They'd sung another few choruses of it before they were laughing too hard to sing. After they'd calmed down and had caught their breaths, she'd kissed John, patted Paul on the head and left them to it.
Maggie thought she might go find George. Maybe if he wasn't busy meditating she could get him to show her a few new things on the sitar. Though she doubted she'd ever be very good at it, she found she was actually enjoying learning from George. She'd never been terribly interested in the sitar at home, but here it was different. Lost in her thoughts Maggie almost missed its distinctive sound wafting on the breeze. The music sounded like it was coming from near the swimming pool. Maggie smiled and headed in that direction.
As she got nearer, she heard a woman giggling and the sitar stop playing. Maggie frowned unconsciously. That didn't sound like Pattie…who was it then?
Maggie turned the corner and spied Maureen sitting with the sitar between her knees. George was behind her, his arms reaching around her body, trying to put her hands in the right places. Was on Earth was Maureen doing with George's instrument in her lap?
They hadn't seen Maggie yet, and she paused, observing them. She didn't like it one bit. She knew from what she'd read in her own time that they had had an affair which had ultimately contributed to the breakup of both their marriages. Maggie wasn't sure Mo had ever recovered from losing Ringo. At the same time, Maggie thought it was a terrible double standard that Ringo and the boys could screw whomever they wanted, but the first time the woman strayed, it was over. Still, if she could prevent the heartache caused by this fruitless attraction, she would. She watched Maureen giggle again and look up at George with big brown eyes. It was definitely time to break things up.
"Hey, George, Maureen," she called as she strolled casually up to them.
Mo looked annoyed and made it obvious that Maggie was intruding.
"Hey, Mags," George grinned up at her. He seemed perfectly happy to have Maureen practically on his lap, but he didn't seem to be particularly interested in being monopolized by her. "I was just teaching Maureen a few basics on the sitar."
Maggie raised an eyebrow.
"George is a great teacher," Maureen dimpled. "But I think I'm a pretty hopeless student. What was it you were showing me again?" She was trying to pull George's attention back onto herself. Her hands ran up and down the length of the long instrument.
"Did you come looking for another lesson yourself?" George asked Maggie.
"Yes, but perhaps later?" She turned to Maureen, and said the only thing she could think of to get Maureen away from George. "Mo, Ringo is looking for you."
"Oh, I'll find him later," Maureen waved her hands dismissively. "We're kind of in the middle of something here."
"He wanted you now," Maggie insisted. She crossed her arms and stood over Maureen until Maureen rolled her eyes and extricated herself from George.
"Come on," Maggie said, and grabbed the other woman by the arm when Maureen hesitated over her good-bye to George.
"Ow!" Maureen protested as Maggie pulled her away. Maggie let go, but kept walking, making sure Maureen was following.
"Slow down. And where did you say Ritchie was?" Maureen stopped walking, forcing Maggie to stop as well.
They were out of sight and earshot of George, so Maggie was able to say what she'd dragged Mo away from George to say. "Oh, Ringo's back at the ashram," she evaded. "But you should really be careful, you know." That was more to the point.
"Of what?"
"George is married. You're married. Just…watch it."
"I don't think it's any of your business."
Maureen was right of course, it wasn't. Nor could Maggie tell Mo what she knew of the future, which was the whole reason she objected to Maureen flirting with George.
"Besides," Maureen added, "You're with George an awful lot, aren't you? So I hardly think you're one to talk."
"It's different."
"How is it? You spend more time with him than I do. Maybe you're the one that should watch it. You're engaged to John, aren't you? And George, as you say, is married."
"We're just friends."
"Just like John and Yoko, right?"
"What do you know about that?" Maggie demanded.
"I don't know anything," she said, a sly smile painting her face. "It's none of my business, is it?" With that Maureen turned on her heel and walked away.
Damn, Maggie though to herself. What did Maureen mean by what she'd said about John and Yoko? What could she possibly know that wasn't just an overheard rumor? Maggie supposed she deserved everything Maureen threw at her – but she couldn't help not wanting George and Mo to develop some strange infatuation with each other. What was she supposed to do? She'd been passive over the Magical Mystery Tour after Brian's death, but that hadn't done anyone any favors.
Maggie sighed. She needed to be more patient with Maureen. She kept having to remind herself of how young Maureen was. She was only 21, a full six years younger than Maggie, John, and Ringo. Mo was immature because she was young. And she'd been possessive of Ringo with Maggie early on because to be a Beatle wife was to watch your husband be fawned over by attractive women nearly all the time. By now, Mo had to know that Maggie had no designs on Ringo. Or George or Paul, for that matter.
Well, Maggie thought, whether or not she should have interfered between Mo and George, it was over and done, and if Maggie saw Mo all over George again, she'd probably do the same thing. There just wasn't any help for it.
"Four hours? I could do that standing on me head," John laughed. It was after dinner, and Maggie and the boys were sitting out by the pool, which was proving to be everyone's favorite meeting spot. Paul was picking out a tune on his ever-present guitar, the night was mild, and Maggie was enjoying dipping her feet in the cool water and listening to the boys banter.
"You could not – what's the longest you've actually meditated?" asked George.
"About five minutes, I'd say," Paul interjected. "Every time he sits down and closes his eyes, Maggie here takes her clothes off, and it's all over for John!"
"Paul!" Maggie blushed. Clearly she had no secrets here. "Who told?"
"Jane did, as she's trying to employ the same techniques as you, only it's my guitar she's trying to keep me from, not meditating. Says it's like I'm glued to it."
"What did you choose then, mate? Girls or guitars?" Ringo asked good-naturedly.
"Well, it was a tough choice, but of course girls won out."
"Poor Paulie, having to be away from your guitar for two whole minutes!" Maggie winked at Paul. John, Ringo and George roared with laughter, and it was Paul's turn to look shocked.
"Look at you, dirty Maggie May," he threw back at her with a laugh. "Besides, it was at least five minutes." Maggie grinned at him.
"Once I didn't even bother to set my guitar down," George said thoughtfully.
Maggie's jaw dropped and she let out a helpless whoop of laughter herself. "Actually, I'd heard it was a ukelele, not a guitar," she felt obliged to add. This made the others positively howl, and John actually had to take his glasses off to wipe the tears out of his eyes.
"What are you all laughing about?" It was Donovan, holding his own guitar and looking curious. He'd obviously wandered over, attracted by the noise.
"Music," John said as blandly as he could, which sent them all into another round of convulsions. After wiping some more tears away, John put his glasses back on and looked up at a confused Donovan. "What are you up to, son?"
"I was looking for Jenny, so I could play her a song I wrote for her."
"Good for you, mate. Just don't let her distract you from it. Stay the course, stiff upper lip and all that," John quipped.
"Stiff what?" Paul joked.
George added, "Hope he's got more than two minutes of it in him!"
The rest of the group giggled as more double entendres and puns flew.
Donovan still had no idea what was going on. He decided to back away slowly, and leave them to whatever they were high on. As he retreated, behind him came more laughter. Beatles. He rolled his eyes, and focused on finding Jenny.
The next day, Paul found George alone, idly strumming his sitar and gazing off into the distance. Paul sat down next to him. "Do you have time to come by my room after dinner, George? John and I want to play you some of the songs we're working on."
"I don't know," George said dismissively. "Maybe."
"We've got a lot of good stuff, mate. Maybe between all of us, we'll even have enough for two albums. Maggie told me you had a few new ones too."
"She did, did she?"
"Yeah. Told me I'd better give them a fair listen, or she'd wallop me. She's violent, that one," Paul added as an attempt at humor.
"That was nice of her. But I'm not sure I'm ready to show you my songs yet." George loved that Maggie was promoting his work to Paul, but he had to be sure it was his best before Paul heard any of it, or it'd be no good. George's head wasn't really into Beatles music right now anyway. That could wait 'til England. Or maybe until never for all he cared. India and meditation brought him more peace of mind than anything else he'd ever experienced. What did he need of the Beatles when he had this? What had the Beatles brought him besides tax problems and mobs of people that sought to violate his privacy?
"Oh come on, mate, I'd love to hear them." Paul found that he actually meant what he said. "I've been thinking. Maybe we should call the new album "Umbrella", like the album would be an umbrella over the whole thing…"
Suddenly George couldn't take it anymore. Paul was disturbing his peace. Bringing the Beatles crowding back into his head, when he'd finally managed to get them out. "We're not fucking here to do the next album," George snarled at Paul. "We're here to meditate."
Paul looked at him, momentarily shocked into silence. "My mistake, George. My mistake." Clearly the Beatles didn't mean to George what they meant to Paul, and the Beatles were everything to Paul. Well, he'd tried to give George a chance, and if he didn't want to take it, that was his prerogative. Paul left George to own devices and headed back to his room where he could bang on this guitar and write an angry song in peace.
A/N: Thanks for reading! The next update will hopefully be next Sunday! We love comments, so please tell us what you think!