George's audition may not just be for playing guitar...
“John, I’d like you to meet me mate here, George Harrison.”
John looked at the shaky fifteen-year-old that Paul was presenting before him and nodded. “Alright,” John said, “what about him?”
“He should be in the band!” Paul said confidently.
“Look Paul, this isn’t just some band you can pull yer best buddy into so you can be with ‘im all day…”
“But he’s really good, John! I swear!”
George awkwardly watched the two go on and on, back and forth over George’s guitar-playing ability. He squirmed in his seat, not just because he was nervous, but because it was an uncomfortable seat to begin with. He looked outside of the old double-decker bus and into the dark night sky. He noticed the moon, shining brightly, looking like a mother to the stars.
George’s thoughts come back to what was going on in the bus. John and Paul were staring at him,
John looking impatient and Paul seaming somewhat anxious.
“Well, what?” George asked, clearly confused.
“Is it true?”
“Our buddy, Paulie, over here claims you know every chord of ‘Raunchy’—even the legendary solo—by heart. Is it true?”
“Yeah,” George said, relieved they weren’t accusing him for doing something wrong.
“Then show me.” John handed George his guitar. He sat it in his lap, ready to begin, and started playing. He felt nervous, but relaxed as he plucked each string to the familiar tune he had played so many times before.
When he strummed the last note, he looked up at the others. At first, John just stared at him, and then smiled softly. “I’m impressed,” he replied, “How old are ye?”
“Fifteen,” George said proudly, and John’s smile dissolved.
“What’s wrong, John?” Paul asked the older boy.
“His age,” John said, “he’s too young.”
George bit his lip and looked to the ground.
“What do you mean, ‘he’s too young’?!” Paul exclaimed. “How many blokes do you know who could pull that at fifteen?!”
John sat there quietly and shook his head. “No.”
“C’mon! You let me join the band when I was fifteen!”
John continued to be quiet. George even thought he had somehow disappeared. He looked up and realized he was wrong. Instead of the space next to Paul he had somewhat expected, he met John’s eyes and soon became lost. Something about them suddenly… intrigued him…
He couldn’t help himself. The boys had a silent ride home until John spoke up. “I’ll think about it,” he said, a small grin forming on the edges of his mouth.
“Thanks, John,” Paul said, “I knew you’d like him!”
“I never said it was official,” John corrected him, still staring at George, “but until I decide, he’s welcome to stick around, y’know?”
“Th-thanks!” George stuttered.
“No problem,” John said, showing off his dashing grin. George blushed, knowing he was going to like this band.
November 24, 1960
“Nobody’s home, George…”
“Are ya sure? What about your Aunt Mimi?”
“She went out of town since we left- she has no idea we came home, and neither do yer parents.”
John and George had just arrived at John’s house from Hamburg. George had been deported after authorities discovered he was underage to be working in the bars. John happily agreed to take him home.
By this point, John and George had grown closer throughout the little time since they had met. Although Paul was unhappy to see how well they bonded at first, but eventuality his tensions eased and he became happy for the two.
“George, don’t worry! No one’s going to catch us! I swear!”
“I don’t know… I’ve never even… y’know…” George blushed and looked to the ground.
“Hey,” John lifted his chin up and smiled warmly. “You’ll be fine… I’ll guide you through it, alright?”
George slowly nodded, and John took his hand with a reassuring squeeze. He then led him up to his bedroom for a night neither of them would soon forget.