FicWad

In Central Park, Paul and I became friends just as I had become friends with his band mates. He was playful and funny like John, but he had the sweetness of Ringo mixed in with it, making his humour just...well, humorous, while John’s humour was geared towards mature-borderline-cruelty.

The next day, Paul showed me the lines to one of the songs he had been writing. It was slower than the other ones he had written, and he was pretty proud of it.

“Longing for yesterday, eh?” I smirked playfully.

Paul grinned openly. “It feels like it sometimes. It’s not even half-way done. I haven’t gotten any time to sit down and really work on it.”
~
“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m boring you. If you have anything you want to do, just tell me,” I apologized meekly on the second day.

He looked horrified. “No, love, I love sitting in this park and just talking with you. It takes me back to the pre-Beatle chapter of my life.”

I smiled in relief. “Okay. But, tonight my dad’s friend Molly and her husband have invited me and my dad to dinner. Would you like to come with me?”

He hesitated. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“I asked you, didn’t I?” I laughed. “It’s not until seven, so I’ll meet you at my place in a couple of hours.”

“What about er, Lucy,” he asked uncomfortably.

I waved off the suggestion. “She’ll be with Daniel Silber, her beau.

Paul looked colossally reassured. “Great. See you there, Alice.”

Things were going wrong from the start. I had thought that the dinner was at seven, but it was at six. I rushed to phone Paul and let him know. He was calm; I was flustered.

The blue dress I had wanted to wear was at the drycleaners, so I had to wear an old green one, slightly tattered and worn, colours fading. I couldn’t find my curlers so I wore my hair down in its windswept glory.

“Aren’t you going to get going, Luce?” I called impatiently. If Paul showed up and she was still here, a volcano would explode and I would most likely die.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she shouted back inadvertently.

I grinned to myself. Even self-consciously, she loved the Beatles. She needed to get out. Now.

“Seriously, you’re gonna be late!” I warned.

“Don’t worry,” she laughed carefreely. “Daniel’s always at least fifteen minutes late.”

I swore under my breath. “Yeah, but restaurants can get pretty busy.”

Lucy emerged from the bathroom. “Why are you trying to kick me out?”

“I am not trying to kick you out,” I lied mockingly. “I am merely being the good friend I am and
trying to make this date fantastic.”

Lucy kept a suspicious eye on me. I was currently slouched on the couch, painting my toenails. I smiled innocently.

“All right. I guess I’d better go,” she sighed in defeat.

I grinned triumphantly. “Yes, yes, go on then.”

She reached for her bag and there was a knock on the door. Shit.

“I’ll get it!” I shrieked, struggling to put the nail polish away fast enough.

Lucy gave me an evil smirk and walked casually over to the door.

“Lucy! Wait, I’ve got it! Really,” I yelled loudly. Maybe if Paul heard who was answering the door he might hide or something.

No such luck. Lucy flung open the door and saw the handsome Beatle standing in her “Beatle-Free” apartment doorway.

“Paul!” Her blue eyes grew wide with fear and embarrassment. She immediately averted her eyes.

Paul rose to the occasion. “Hello, Lucy. I was just coming to meet Alice for dinner at a friends’ place. How are you?” He was speaking to Lucy but his eyes were on me.

“Fine,” she muttered, glaring at the floor.

By now, I had picked up my stuff and made my way to the door.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Lucy, and with that, I let Paul lead me out of the apartment building.

We walked in silence in the hallway, and then I felt myself blush as I led the way to my blue Thunderbird. If it had been John with me, I would have gotten several smart-ass remarks, but none from Paul. In fact, the old intimidation factor was starting up again. In his suit and silence, he was Beatle Paul, and I didn’t know him very well.

Before I started the engine, I hesitated and turned to him.

“Paul, you don’t have to come, you know. I haven’t told anyone you were coming; you can always back out.” I said this all very fast and I stuttered a few times.

Beatle Paul turned apologetically to me, his brown eyes gazing at me intensely. “I don’t want to pull out, Alice. Let’s go, shall we?”

I gulped and started the engine, still feeling his stare. My hands trembled as I reached for the steering wheel. I drove slowly to Molly’s house. My dad’s car was already there.

I leaped out of the car and breathed in the cool night air. Paul was beside me in a heartbeat. He reached for my hand and I let him squeeze my cold fingers.

“Alice!” Molly gasped, pulling me into a big hug. Molly was thirty-eight years old and she still looked lovely.

“Hello, Molly,” I smiled at her. “Where’s Des?”

“Oh, he’s talking to your dad. I swear they could talk over beer for years at a time!” She laughed, her red ringlets bouncing. “Who’s your, ah, driver?” Molly winked.

I grew red. “This is my friend Paul. Paul, this is Molly Jones.”

Molly flushed rather becomingly. “I know who you are. Big fan, big fan. Please come in, both of you.”

Paul motioned for me to go first. I stepped inside eagerly; the place smelled delicious. My dad was indeed drinking beer with Molly’s husband Des, and their two kids, Maggie and Lewis.

“Hi, Des, dad,” I greeted as I shrugged out of my coat and placed it on the coat hook.

“Hey, Alice!” Des grinned, getting off of his barstool to give me a hug and kiss on the cheek.

My dad, on the other hand, didn’t greet me. He was staring behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. I could smell Paul and sense his presence. My cheeks heated up.

“Des, this is Paul. Dad, you’ve met him before,” I spoke quietly.

“Hi, Paul.” Des’s smile was polite, but his green eyes were sparkling.

My dad said nothing. Which was odd considering dad hit it off with the other Beatles the night before.

“Dad,” I snapped my fingers in his direction. His eyes finally focused on me. “Dad, you know
Paul; he was at our house for dinner back in February.”

Paul held his hand out for a shake, but my father simply nodded curtly and glared at me.

“Can I have a word?” He demanded.

I followed him into the Jones’ spare room. His eyes were angry but tired.

“Alice, what’s he doing here?” he sighed. Dad was never good at getting angry.

“He’s visiting and I brought him for a dinner. I don’t see why you’re so bent out of shape;
you’ve met him before!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms across my chest defensively.

“Yeah, and he spent the whole time flirting with your best friend and then breaking her heart!” he retorted.

My eyes widened. “You don’t know what the situation was, Dad. Don’t judge him for the two hours you’d seen him for.”

“I managed to see him exchanging spit with Lucy after dessert,” Dad snapped, his voice rising a bit.

I groaned. “Dad, he is only here for one week. Then he’s gone.”

“I’ll be civil. I feel bad for Des and Molly. Just a week?” he raised his eyebrows suspiciously.

“Yes!”

“Right then. Let’s get back in there.”

I led the way back into the kitchen/living room area. Paul was doing a jig-saw puzzle with Lewis and Maggie while Des and Molly watched in amazement.

I saw my dad’s own jaw drop and I smiled. Wordlessly, Molly handed me a drink. Paul’s attention never wavered from the two children.

I cleared my throat. “Hey, you want to come and sit with the big kids, Paul?”

Paul’s head shot up and he flushed a little. “Sorry. Your kids are lovely,” he offered.

Molly beamed and promptly handed him a glass of something. “I’ll drink to that,” she announced.

We all took a sip of our champagne. I watched Paul carefully when he wasn’t looking, and I caught him staring at me too. We all cleared out at eleven; Maggie and Lewis were conked out on the couch. I said my goodbyes and just as I got my coat, my dad stopped me.

“You didn’t say you were dating. I would have been nicer,” he whispered.

I blushed. “We’re not. And you should have been nicer.”

My dad looked taken aback. “You’re not a couple?”

“No.”

He frowned. “Well, that’s odd...”

I rolled my eyes and said goodbye to him. Paul was waiting just outside. We were silent once again, and I hated the awkwardness that engulfed us.

Silently, he sat in my car and waited to for me to start the engine. I turned to him. “Look, I’m sorry if you thought that was boring. I shouldn’t have made it seem like you had to come.”

Paul looked horrified. “Alice, no! I had a lovely time. I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

I hesitated. “I’m sorry my dad was shooting daggers at you all evening.”

He cracked a smile. “I’ve had worse. I promise you I’m not angry.”

I was unsure, but I let the subject drop. I started the engine, and Paul kept talking.

“They’re the spitting image of a happy family, you know,” he sighed almost dreamily.

I was surprised, and I didn’t bother hiding it. “What’s this? Paul McCartney, the famous musician wants to settle down and domesticate? I never would have guessed!”

Paul looked unabashed. “I don’t see why you’re so surprised. Don’t you want to settle down with a husband?”

I parked the car and let the engine run. “I suppose. If I were with someone I truly loved.”
He was looking at me strangely again. I felt the usual blush rise in my cheeks. “Right, right. Love.”

I cleared my throat. “So, what time do the others get here tomorrow?”

“Er, at ten in the morning,” he replied.

I nodded. “See you at noon.”

Paul nodded. “It really was a nice dinner, you know.”

I smiled shyly. “Thanks for being a good sport.”

He kissed my cheek softly and then got out of my car and disappeared into the lobby. I touched my cheek and I shivered involuntarily. The sexual tension on my end was reaching boiling point, so I drove off quickly and crawled into bed. I didn’t fall asleep until two in the morning.