I set his food down in front of him and I watch him grin big before picking up a fry that he pops in his mouth with a smile. He then looks up at me and his brow tenses, "Hey, when's your break?" he questions and I glance to the clock that just struck quarter after two.
"It's right now." I tell him and he smiles and I walk around to sit by him and he pushes the basket of fries over to me.
"No thanks, I'm good."
"I doubt that you've had anything since breakfast this morning, so go ahead. I don't mind. I don't need to be getting any more fat anyways." he comments and I giggle and pick up a hot fry that I eat in one bite. They're perfectly greasy and they have the right amount of crunch and salt to them.
I look to Paul who chews a bite of the juicy burger and he picks up a napkin to wipe the ketchup from around his lips and I reach to the napkin dispenser to get one and I wipe the corner of his mouth that he didn't get. He turns his head to look at me and we exchange small smiles before we continue staying silent to eat.
I was munching away on the delicious fries that are probably full of tons of calories as Pearl took over my spot behind the counter refilling the men's cups of coffee as well as tea over there and being a pair of ears they could speak with and vent to about the long hours they drive on the roads for their work or how they just got in a fight with their girlfriend. There's one man over there who doesn't have a frown covering his face, but instead he's beaming even though his eyes are showing how tired he is and depleted of sleep. He told me that his wife gave birth to a daughter this morning after they've been a family of three boys for years. I congratulated him and gave the new father a hot doughnut on the house and he smiled at me with the wrinkles around his eyes from age and running around trying to catch his three sons showed as his smile makes up for the sleep beckoning in his eyes. I glance over to see that the man must of left to get back to his wife and new baby daughter he left for a while to have a cup of coffee full of the caffeine he probably needs and a plate of eggs and hash browns that he said really hit the spot before I walked away to talk with Paul who munches away on his burger that has only a couple of bites left to it.
"I don't think you look like some groupie who hangs out with the band just to get in bed with them." he comments quietly so the old couple passing him from behind to leave won't hear and I swallow my fry and I glance to the basket that doesn't have many left because of my hungry stomach.
"It's kind of how it looks though. I'm seen with you out on the streets, having breakfast in the mornings and leaving your guys' place in the morning." I respond and I think of how one time I almost wanted to be a groupie back in the sixties, if I was born in this time, after watching the movie 'Almost Famous'. I decided against wanting to ever be that because of the STD's, the chance of being left pregnant and never talking to the father again who didn't really care about in the first place and who just wanted to get in your pants for an hour of two for the mind blowing pleasure that used to be the thing that was only meant for a husband and wife.
"That's just what people think then. People always see things in the wrong way 'cause they either want to think that or they don't know the truth. Sometimes they don't deserve to know the truth 'cause they have no entitlement to it. That's one thing I hate about the band being as famous as we are is that they print these things about us that aren't true, for the sole reason to get a kick out of people's reactions and so they can make profit." he comments almost sadly and I get a twang of feeling bad for him.
I want to tell him that he shouldn't expect it to get better and that it's only to worsen, because he sacrificed so much to stay in the limelight the rest of his life. He did choose it, but once he walked onto that stage for the first time there wasn't any turning back. If Paul hadn't chose to do a solo career or form Wings he still wouldn't of been left alone, I know it. I sigh and let my head fall to his shoulder and he picks up his milkshake to sip from the chocolateness.
"How is it? Is it chocolatey enough for you, sir?" I tease him to change the mood that just changed for the worse and he sets the wet glass in front of me.
"I think it's really great. Have a few sips, I don't mind." he insists and I give him a thankful smile before pulling it over to me to drink from and I smile. It's perfectly silky and it has just the right amount of sweetness to it, I think.
I push it back over to him and he picks up a wet pickle from the parchment of the basket that he sticks in his mouth. I yawn and rest my head on my arms that lay on the clean counter, "So, in this future where you're from did you ever meet my future self?" Paul asks quietly so somebody won't hear and think he's on something or possibly delusional.
I tilt my head to see him wiping his mouth with a napkin after he set the last bite of his burger in the basket littered with pieces of tomato, lettuce, pools of burger grease and slices of pickle. Little does he know that he'll be abandoning this greasy meat as well as all other kinds in the next decade. I don't think I could ever do that; give up meat to become vegetarian. I really do love animals, but it'd be hard as well as expensive to cut out meat from my diet. I remember being surprised when I found out that Paul is a vegetarian in one of those first weeks after I had discovered the harmonies of the Beatles and their impressive guitar playing, and Ringo's drumming too.
"I don't think I should tell you if I have or haven't." I tell him and he frowns.
"Ah come on, how much hurt will it do if you tell me?" he complains and I sigh. Those doe eyes are awfully hard to resist at times.
"Wait, are the Beatles still playing in 2012?" he inquires with a wary look and I almost laugh.
"Now that is off limits for us to speak to about." I respond and he shakes his head with a look of 'aw shucks, I was almost there'.
"How about you just answer my question before with a plain yes or no?" he suggests and I nod my head.
"Does that nod of your head mean you have met me in the future?" his confusion comes through. I knew that the minute we got on to any topic about the future he'd have a hard time understanding it.
"No, I haven't met you in the future," I reveal. "And I probably never will." I mumble the last part under my breath as he turns back to his milkshake. I've always wanted to see his future-seventy-year-old-self in concert but where I live he only comes there on tour every twenty years, it seems.
In the simplest of words it's frustrating as well as disappointing, but now I've forgotten about all of that because now I'm in a way living in the dream. I get to see him every day now as I'm somehow here and things are happening that I never would of thought were possible to actually happen. Paul looks to me and flashes me a toothy smile before crossing his eyes and sticking his pink tongue out at me. I laugh and he does too with his smirking lips before sighing and his eyes dart back over to me and he winks at me.
"Here, have it. I'm so full and I should be heading back to the studio too. Sadly." he comments as he nudges the basket over to me with the smile fading from his lips; a pair that I've kissed before which I'm starting to not have such a hard time believing anymore.
"You haven't even been here long. Can't you stay a little longer?" I whine because if he leaves then I have to go back to filling cups and listening to old men rant about some horrible prostate exam they had and how their wife won't pull herself away from her sewing to do her wifely duty in the bedroom.
I was going to tell them that I don't need to know that but I consider myself to be nice and somebody's got to listen to him and the others.
I'd just rather not be that person for the obvious reasons.
"I'd stay, darling, but I have to be getting back. Don't be sad, I'll see you in two hours, promise." he responds and my head leaves his shoulder and I nod my head as I look at the basket of fries that are beginning to turn cold and unappetizing.
"Hey," Paul addresses me and his manly fingers move to my chin to cock my head to meet his eyes that are no longer smiling as much anymore. "Maybe we can do something tonight, alright? Or instead we could just hang out at the flat and beat the other lad's arses at a board game or two. Would you like that?"
"Yeah, I would." I respond and he smiles and says 'good' before pecking me on the lips and dropping his hand from my round chin to dig out his wallet.
"May I have the check, miss?" he turns to me to ask and I nod my head and go behind the counter to get it for him and he glances to the slip of paper I set in front of him.
"Courtney love, can I see you for a minute?" Pearl calls from the kitchen and I look to Paul who hasn't laid out the money for his meal yet.
"Go. I'll see you in just a little bit, after we're both done with work. Try to take some enjoyment from talking to those old geezers who are about to go senile and walking around delivering food, yeah?" he comments with his deep voice that I by now have quite memorized and his lips turn up in a smile.
I smile back before turning around to find Pearl laughing with Marty who holds a spatula in one hand as his booming laughs echoes off of the walls of the warm kitchen.
"Yeah, what do you need, Pearl?" I ask her and Marty returns to the eggs that sizzle and pop in the banged up pan set on the hot stove. She turns to me and I see a figure walk in the back door behind her who has greased back dark hair and a chiseled facial structure; Robbie?
AN: Oooo. Well, thoughts? Please don't be so shy!