“Morning Georgie?”
“Hi” he said hesitantly “Where did you run off to, then?”
“No where” she shook her head and leaned against the door.
George held her gaze for a bit and then looked down at his notebook. He was writing a song which would undoubtedly be turned down by the powers that be, John and Paul, as they always were. He didn’t understand it. John wrote about everything from Julian to one night stands to George Martin. Paul wrote about girls. George had a theory that this girl he always seemed to be writing about was Paul’s make believe imaginary girlfriend, who was most likely perfect in every way. But now he had Jane, who was in every sense of the word to George, a goddess, so the theory didn’t really go so well anymore.
George didn’t know what to write about. He had no idea, no muse, no nothing. No inspiration. He hadn’t even properly been in love… unless you count Astrid. Ooh.
Gabby was watching him, he realized she probably expected something from him but he didn’t know what.
She exhaled loudly and opened the door again. Then she started piling in carrier bags of every different color of the rainbow. George watched with raised eyebrows. He set his guitar on the floor and tried to make out some of the name. Chanel, Gucci, Mary Quant, Harrods.
“Er.. decided to take your new bank account for a spin?” George asked
“Whatever” Gabby sighed tossing the last bag, a smaller one that non the less said Tiffany Co. and was there for very expensive. She pulled off her shoes and walked back to the bedroom that was technically George’s.
He looked at the bags and then at the shut bedroom door and put his forehead on the table. God, she was getting weird lately.
*
When Gabby woke up, George was kneeling next to her bed, still clad in boxers and tee shirt. She glanced at the clock, nearly eleven in the morning. Bah. George was looking at her with a terse expression.
“Are you mad at me or sommat?” he asked,
Gabby blinked “Wor?” she mumbled “George.. I’m wha?” she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What is it?”
“You’re being all weird and womanishly with me” he said, his voice rising strangely
“George I’ve been a woman for some time now” said Gabby calmly as she sat up and flattened down her hair.
George shook his head “Gab, yer me best mate. You like cars and vodka and rock n roll just like me. And yes” he sat back on his heels “You’ve always been a bloody girl and you’ve never been like a tomboy or anything, but you’ve also never been all weird and womanishly with me”
Gaby sighed and put her face in her hands. “George, could you maybe go into depth on this womanishly thing?”
“I checked the calendar, Gab” said George “You don’t go fucking PMS nutters for another two weeks”
Gabby snorted at this. George gave her a look.
“You bloody stormed out of the studio like we all had the plague yesterday, then Eryn the fucking receptionist says you’ve gone out with her mate Jeremy… who I’ve never met and for some reason, I get the feeling you’d rather I didn’t meet ‘im.” George’s voice became suddenly very scouse and slurred together. “I dunno what the fuck’s going on but you show up with a load of posh shopping bags and then you gave me the look”
“The look?” Gabby asked looking up from her hands
“Like me mam gives me” George moaned
Gabby giggled, she reached out for her distressed George and pulled him to her. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a head case”
“Head case?” George mumbled against her shoulder “You’ve been weird enough to go turn me into Paul”
She laughed loudly at that “I’m sorry”
George was silent for a while. “Ringo has an idea that Jeremy doesn’t know about the whole Beatle thing… and that’s why you’ve been fucking secretive or whatever”
Gabby pulled back and looked at George “Have I hurt your feelings?” she asked, ,a funny look passed over George’s face and she giggled “Oh sorry, you’re manly you don’t have feelings, I forgot”
“Shut up Gab” he mumbled hugging her waist and burying his face in her shoulder “Fuck, you hurt me feelings, yeah.”
“Sorry” she leaned backwards and George scooted up, hovering over her on his elbows.
“You know” he lowered his voice as if he was afraid someone would hear and caught her eye. “I’d… you mean more to me then the Beatles” he said softly, his fingers traced the lines of her collarbones, “Much more”
She was quiet. Didn’t say anything to break the moment. Her stomach was lurching.
George put his head on her shoulder and sighed heavily.
“Hey Georgie” she whispered “Do you really want to meet him?”
