After the last girl had been wrangled out of the cellar and the last autograph signed, Paul made his way over to Gabrielle. She was chatting with Mal about the sate of Liverpool football.
“I mean, I like it and everything,” she complained. “And I understand it unlike most daft birds who can’t be bothered to figure out which end of football is up,” she took a swig from her coke like it was whiskey, “But I’m not competitive so I just don’t get the fucking concept of sports in general.”
“To win, actually,” Mal giggled.
“Well obviously.” She shrugged. “But like rugby, right? What the fuck? What the fuck is rugby, man? You know? I just don’t fucking get it. Fuck off, have a drink don’t go beating each other up for a ball, knowarrimean?”
Since being in Liverpool for the past eight hours her accent had returned to its usual scouse, fast, hard-to-understand self.
Paul grinned and put his arm around her, not at all startling he as she took a sip from her coke and continued ranting. “Fuck rugby man. I ask you. That’s just fucking mad--what d’you want Paul?”
Mal laughed as Paul made a show of petting her air and kissing her neck and holding her close to him. Mal snickered as Gabby turned round to tell him to fuck off, but then Paul puckered his lips up for a kiss. They made loud smacking sounds as he planted one, two three big wet kisses on her lips. Gabby’s eyes flicked around nervously to see if anyone but Mal was watching.
“Er…” Mal mumbled taking a drink from his Coca Cola, “Pa…”
Paul kissed her eyelids shut. “No one but Malcolm here luv,” he whispered. Gabby’s eyes closed and she visibly relaxed into Paul’s arms in a way that looked so natural it was as if they’d been married for sixty years.
“Sure?”
“Sure,” he nodded nuzzling her neck affectionately and then kissing her once more deeply and passionately in a way that friends just do not kiss one another. Mal watched, his big eyes going wide and his glasses nearly fogging up.
“Um,” he managed to say at last when the broke apart and blushed like teenagers. Which…they really just were; Paul was twenty-one and she was just nearly twenty.
Paul kept his arms around Gabby. “Yeah?” he asked, not looking at Mal but looking at Gabby blow some hair out of her face.
“I… nothing.” Mal said finally.
“Ooh,” Gabby tried to hop up from her seat but Paul kept his arms fast around her like bondage. “No, lemme go Paulie. I gotta go, George and I are going back to our houses tonight. He’s catching up with you tomorrow.”
“No, that’s not fair,” Paul whined. “I want to come!”
“Paul,” she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, “Go home and see yer Dad and Mike. Give Mike a kiss for me or something.”
Paul whined but let her go. She hopped off her stool and started towards George near the stairwell. She paused and turned back around. She hesitated and blew Paul a kiss and then ran towards George.
“So,” Mal asked, his voice back. “What’s that then?”
“What’s what?” Paul asked blandly, watching Gabby grab George and drag him up the stairs as he yelled goodbye to a few old Cavern mates.
Mal nudged Paul, getting his attention. “You and Gabby…I thought she was with George.”
Paul looked confused. “Oh fuckin’ hell, what would give you that impression? She’s with me…kind of.”
Mal shrugged. “Well there’s not exactly defined lines on this thing…I thought *you* were with *Jane*.”
The color drained out of Paul’s face. “Oh shit,” he moaned. “I totally fucking forgot about her.”
Mal raised his eyebrows. “Last month all you could think about was seeing Jane, Jane Jane…so what? You’re in love with this Gabby bird?”
“No,” he said quickly. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends?”
“*Close* friends.” Paul rolled his eyes. “Bloody Christ. This could get very confusing. I’ll be sneaking around with Jane behind the press’s backs and sneaking around with Gabby behind Jane.” He shook his head. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Mal agreed. “Do they even know about each other?”
Now Paul looked guilty. “No.”
* * ** * *
“Gabby,” Brian was screeching as she and George fell into a cab in a pile of giggles and tipsy fumbling. “Gabby, luv make sure he gets back to the hotel by noon! Noon!”
“Sure Brian,” George waved, slamming the door as the car took off.
Gabby sniffed deeply. “That was so much fun,” she grinned, falling back against the seat.
“Yeah,” George agreed, imitating her action.
Gabby rolled her head in his direction. “Do you know what I would give for some Meth right now?” She shook her head, her bangs falling into her eyes like a shield. “Oh man, really, what I would give.”
George frowned. “Meth?” He sound befuddled.
Fuck, she’d let it slip. “Uhm…” she faltered, clamping her mouth shut and glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
“I’m just guessing,” George said, his voice low, “That was one of the things you got into in the states?”
Gabby looked down at her hands and then at the needle scars in the crook of her arm. She felt violently ill remembering being sick and at the same time the amazing feeling of floating and never coming down that the drugs gave her.
“Uh huh,” George nodded, taking her lack of response for an affirmative. He looked down at her hands, because she suddenly found them so interesting. And then he saw the scars. And his eyes went really big and his mouth went all gaping open. And he looked from her face to the scars and back again.
“Gab…” his voice hitched. “What the fuck is this?”
Her face crumpled. “Georgie, come on. Don’t go all motherly on me, here.”
“Gab!”
She moaned. “George, fine! Fuck, want a list of all the shit I put in my body or what? It’s not a big deal! Fucking
bloody Christ, they’re just scars!” she exploded, yanking her arm away from him and then shoving it back in his face. “Remember Prellies? Meth is like that. Only hundred times faster and you shoot it into your arms with a needle like at the doctor’s office…ok? Fuck me…”
“And it put you in the hospital?” he asked after a long period of silence and then cab driver looking at them.
“No,” she shook her head, and slumped back down in her seat. “Not it specifically. I mean, Georgie you know how I am…irresponsible twit, that’s me. I didn’t eat and or take care of myself or whatever and I drank myself into a…a bad state. Got sick and had to go to the hospital.” She smiled up at him. “It wasn’t directly from the
drugs.”
George nodded, accepting this. “That’s what I figured,” he said in a strained sort of way. “Always taking something to extremes that can kill you.”
“Yeah,” Gabby agreed. “So don’t go all weird and motherly and prudish on me now, Georgie…”
“How d’you mean?” he asked, confused.
“Well.” She paused. A long long pause that she finally ended with a heavy sigh. “Just, you know. Just because I fucked up doesn’t mean you can’t like…try stuff. There’s a whole world of prellies out there.” She laughed.
“Just do what you like, George. I am.”
George snorted. “Gab you must be fucking joking me.”
“What?” she squinted up at him.
George leaned against her shoulder, laughing and all smiles again. “If there’s something a hundred time better then prellies why wouldn’t I fuckin’ try it?”
Gabby laughed and shoved him away. “Fucking drug addict.”
