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Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize.

Blackbird Singing in the Dead of Night

Chapter Five: The Weird Girl Gets Weirder

George was bored.

John was concentrating.

Perfect.

George sneaked up behind his bandmate, licked his finger and stuck straight into John's ear.

'What the fuck, Harrison!' screamed John. He dropped the magazine he'd been looking at and rubbed his ear angrily. 'Sod off.'

'But I'm bored,' whined George, plopping down on the sofa next to John. 'Whatcha looking at?' He peered over into John's magazine. John was looking at a picture of a pouting Brigitte Bardot. 'Ooh, lemme see too,' said George excitedly. 'She's hot.'

'As hot as that gal upstairs?' said John slyly.

It took George a second to realise that John was talking about Leah. He laughed. 'Nah, not even close. No gal compares to that one,' he pointed at Brigitte. 'Though they sure as hell try.'

'I dunno, Georgie boy, you have been talking to her a lot,' said John, putting his hand on his chin as if in deep thought. 'She has a nice ass.'

'John!' exclaimed George, swatting him.

'What, I'm right, aren't I? Why, you jealous?' John giggled gleefully. 'George loves Leah, George loves Leah! Na na na na na na!' he sang, as George's face turned red.

'Shut up, ya little fucker! I do not! She's way too weird!'

'Ooh, bad language? Pretty intense, Georgie boy. Georgie's a bad boy, Georgie's got a potty mouth!' John whooped happily, diving out of the way of George's angry attempt to hit him. 'What's so weird about her? She got brown skin? Being racist, huh, George?'

'No,' snapped George. 'She's just ... strange. She's got this whole been-to-a-billion-places thing and she's only, like, seventeen! And she dresses so weird. Since when do girls wear leather jackets? Seriously? And she's a total Maggie Mae! She's, like, the queen of one night stands.'

'That's how I like 'em, Georgie boy,' said John, grinning. 'Hate the clingy ones, they seem to think you owe them a ring if you lay them! In fact,' he sat up suddenly, 'I think I'll see if I can get anything outta her!' He jumped up and made his way to the door.

'Hey!' yelled George. 'You can't do that! There's no way she'll sleep with you.' The last part was probably a lie, George thought, the chicks lined up to sleep with John. But still! John didn't even know Leah. And he had Cynthia - who was out of town to visit her parents. Well.

'Why, Georgie doesn't want me to sleep with Leah? Georgie gettin' jealous?' John grinned. 'Well, why don't you go try then?'

'Huh? Try what?' asked George stupidly.

'Meg's gone now, isn't she? You're free! Go on, then.' John pushed George towards the door. 'Go get her!'

Under the pressure of his older bandmate, George hesitated. John did always treat him as inferior, and maybe this way he'd get some respect. So he mustered up his dignity and strode bravely towards the door, while John whooped a cry of encouragement at his back. Unfortunately, John's yells of 'Go get her, Georgie boy! You got 'er in the palm of yer hand!' filtered through the door just as Leah was coming down the stairs. George reddened as she raised one eyebrow at him. Damn that eyebrow! 'Um, that's just. John, ya know, likes ta yell random shit. Uh, just ignore him.'

Leah shrugged and continued down the stairs. Aware that his quarry was disappearing fast, George hurried after her.

'Hey, Leah! Want to hang out, or something? We could have more of that tea, maybe? If you want?'

The eyebrow again. Gawd. 'Sure, there's some left in the pot upstairs,' she tossed him a key, which he caught, startled. 'Just leave the keys on the table when you're done. See ya.' And with that she was gone. 'Fail, Harrison,' George muttered to himself. Guess she didn't hear the hanging out part, then, only the tea part. Oh, well. George felt a wee bit relieved and a bit hurt too. He went on up to her apartment and got some of the tea. Mm, that was good stuff. Then he looked around her apartment. There was a book lying on her mattress. He picked it up; its cover was a collage of faces George didn't recognize; he flipped through it. It was in the strangest language ever. It was English, but used strange words he didn't know: celphone, headphones, computer. And it mentioned a phrase George just couldn't understand: the music of the eighties, it said. Eighties? As in, 1980? The year that was twenty years away? Leah was definitely one strange chick.

He threw the book back down and wandered over to the chest of drawers, which was built into the wall with the cupboard and piled with things. He picked up a t-shirt from the top of the pile: it was black, with the face of a black man on it. His hair was strange: bundled into thick locks that hung around his charming face, which was framed with the smoke that drifted from a large spliff. The bottom of the t-shirt was emblazoned with: Bob Marley. Who was that now? George had heard of plenty black musicians, but this guy wasn't one of them.

He continued to poke around her things: there was a mug with pictures all around it. One side had a rather interesting picture of a prism with a ray of light white going through it and splitting into rainbows on the other side. The other side had a picture of four guys who were obviously a band. Pink Floyd, they were, if the words at the bottom of the mug were the band name. George had never heard of them, either.

George found something even more baffling than the previous three: a long white string that seemed to be made of rubber, or plastic. One end was silver-tipped, some kind of metal. The other forked into two thinner white strings, which ended in strange grey-tipped plug-like protrusions. George could not figure out what they could possibly be, though, being an electrician, he recognized the silver-tipped end as being some kind of a plug which would go into an electrical socket; he had never seen one like it.

Utterly bewildered, George let himself out of the apartment.

When he returned home, John was still gazing at his Brigitte Bardot picture. 'So, ya got her?' John screeched happily. 'Whoa, Georgie boy, that was fast!'

'Erm ... yeah,' George smiled weakly. He shut himself into his room and picked up his guitar; its woody surface under his fingers soothed him and helped him stop thinking about the things he had found in Leah's apartment.

lol George'signorance. I think I'll let George and Leah have a one-night stand before the actual relationship. Thoughts? Might make things interesting by awakening George's feelings for her, which she doesn't return? o_O Thanks for reading! :D -Jen.