|The Time Of My Life
Author: The Starkiller PM
"If I told you what you want to hear, 'Oh, being the fifth Beatle was so fab all the time', I'd be lying to you. We all know I find it physically impossible to lie. But... It was the time of my life." From start to finish, she was there. Here's the story of The Beatles, through the eyes of Holly McFarlane, best friend of Paul McCartneyRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Friendship - Chapters: 69 - Words: 72,083 - Reviews: 72 - Favs: 20 - Follows: 16 - Updated: 06-19-13 - Published: 08-06-12 - id: 8402341
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Give Me Love
Paul walked in through my door with a large bag slun over his shoulder.
"What's all this?" I asked, looking up from my issue of Rolling Stone, my favorite magazine.
"Jane may or may not have walked in on me cheating on her," Paul said slowly, not moving a muscle until I reacted.
"Paul!" I exclaimed.
"I know, I know," he said. "I just- I don't know. I just don't think she's the one anymore." I rolled my eyes.
"Why couldn't you have just broken up like normal couples and remained friends?" I asked.
"Because- I don't know," Paul admitted.
"You're a twit," I told him straightforwardly as I turned my attention back to Rolling Stone.
"Which brings me 'round to what I'm doing here," Paul said, ignoring my comment. "I need a place to stay." I sighed.
"Welcome home, roomie," I told him. My best friend's face lit up. He walked over to the couch and kissed my cheek after he set down his bag.
"Ta, love," Paul smiled.
"You're lucky I like you as much as I do," I told him, still not looking up. "Wait, what about Martha?" Paul shrugged.
"I'll go back to get her later. Jane just told me to take my shit and leave. I forgot Martha," he admitted.
"You're a great pet parent," I told him sarcastically. Paul stuck his tongue out, and sat down next to me on the couch.
"Well, roomie, what're we going to do today?" Paul asked.
"Don't you have some recording session to go to?" I complained.
"Off. You're stuck with me all day, Missy!" Paul exclaimed cheerily. "Isn't that grand?" I sighed.
"James, you'll be the death of me. I just want to go to sleep and never wake up," I groaned.
"John still driving you mad?" Paul asked.
"Actually, we've barely spoken. But it's just the thought of him. I'm so bloody confused!" I ran my fingers through my wild brown hair madly. "Why'd I have to be a girl?!"
"You'll pull through, you always do," Paul reassured me, rubbing my back. The phone started ringing before I could utter a 'Ta'. Paul jumped up answered it.
"McFarlane/McCartney residence," he answered like a housekeeper. I heard a voice speak on the other end, but it was too muffled for me to identify who it belonged to.
"Oh, I see," Paul replied. "Be careful. She's-" I left to use the loo before I heard the rest of that sentence.
"Can I please put you on hold?" Paul asked, but he saw me reenter. "Oh, nevermind, she's back." Paul handed me the phone.
"Hello?" I answered, playing with the phone cord on my index finger.
"Hello Harri, what is it?" I asked. "I could be sleeping, you know."
"I wrote a song, and I want to play it for you. Would you be interested in driving here?" George asked.
"Oh, what the hell, why not?" I replied. "Sure." I could hear his smile on the other side of the phone.
"Thank you, love. See you soon," he told me.
"Bye Geo." I hung up, and went about getting my things. "Going to Harrison's, I guess," I said to Paul.
"Come home soon," Paul told me while browsing my copy of Rolling Stone. I grabbed my motorcycle helmet, and went out the door. I had recently gotten my motorcycle, and I loved it. It was even more fun than driving! Riding a motorcycle was like flying. Especially on the scenic route. I swung my leg over the motorcycle (I named it 'Lucille'), and immediately felt on top of the world. I put on my sunglasses, and we were off. The wind blew my hair away from my face, though I mentally made a note to myself to get it cut (it went well past my shoulder blades, it was time). It was time for me to have my own identity, and not just be another hippie, or that girl that's always hanging out with the Beatles. I wanted to be Holly McFarlane, whoever that was. I wasn't so sure anymore. I think she's a gypsy, who's chained down by possession and love, or a bird with broken wings. Anyways, I could see Kinfauns in the distance, and I started to knock the speed down from 80 so I could make the turn. George was waiting for me, smiling. He looked rather happy actually, which was a difference, since I was used to seeing him go at it with Paul or John at the studio.
"You're going to kill yourself someday on that thing, you know," George told me as I pulled in.
"That's alright, sounds like a pretty alright way to go," I replied, taking off my helmet. "But you didn't pull me away from Rolling Stone so we could discuss my reckless driving like my sister, did you?" George laughed and shook his head.
"Not in the slightest. Let's go inside."
I stepped in the door, instantly surprised how much the place hadn't changed for all those years. Tangerine came and greeted me at the door by rubbing against my legs. I rubbed her cheek, something I remembered her liking. She purred loudly as George shut the door behind him.
"Cor, she sounds like a bloody motor," I remarked. "Where's Little Guy?" I asked after a moment.
"Ehm, about that," George said slowly. "He ran away a few nights ago, and I couldn't find him."
"Oh," I replied softly.
"If it makes you feel any better, I wandered around for hours in my underwear and a t-shirt calling for him," George told me. "An it was bloody cold."
I smiled a little. "Well, let's get on with it, then," I said, standing up from my crouching position next to Tangerine.
"Tea?" George offered.
"Sure," I accepted, even though I was in more of a Scotch and Coke mood. I sat down with my tea, and got into a music critic state of mind.
George Harrison's POV
I saw her close her eyes, which is what Holly does every time she hears a song for the first time, so she can visualize it. I sighed, and got ready to play the song for her. I had already decided that this was an acoustic song, so she wasn't missing anything. I was conflicted about playing this song for Holly because I knew she was having a really hard time with her thoughts about John, and I didn't want to throw myself into the mix. But introversion got the best of me. Paul seemed to read my mind, and told me to be careful. I took another deep breath, and started to play.
It's been a long, long, long time
How could I ever have lost you
When I loved you?
Take a long, long, long time
Now I'm so happy I've found you
How I love you
So many years I was searching
So many tears I was wasting
Now I can see you be you
How can I ever misplace you?
How I want you
Oh, I love you
You know that I need you
Oh, I love you
I finished the song, and looked for an answer in her eyes. They were blank, as if she were in another universe, and I knew that she had comprehended what I was saying.
"What do you think? Do you think it's good enough for the album?" I asked her softly.
"Yes," Holly said equally soft. "I need to go, Paul will starve if I don't go feed him." Like a good gentleman who doesn't invite his ex-girlfriend over to tell her he still loves her when she's battling feelings for another guy, I showed her to the door. Holly put on her helmet, and roared away on her motorcycle. I watched the dust settle, and I sighed. Once again, I watched her leave me.