“George! Luv, Gabby called!”
His foot hovered over the next step up. Oh well he’d dwell on it later.
With that, George flew back down the stairs and into the kitchen expecting hi mother to be holding a phone with his best friend on the other end of it. Instead Louise and Harold were reading in the family room with the radio on low in the background. Harold gave his son a wearily look and went back to his paper.
“Mum? Gabby? What?”
“Honestly” she stood up patting her son on the shoulder while she passed him “Control yerself or you’ll spurt”
George rolled his eyes “She called? Did she leave a number?”
“Yes, I wrote it down. But it’s late dear… Harold, are we five hours ahead or behind the East Coast”
“Ahead” Said Harold, not looking up from his paper “And try to be a bit quiet son, I’ve got to get up early to get to the bus depot in the morning”
“Sure, da,” George said distractedly following his mother into the kitchen. Half way there he realized what an absolute prat he was in fact being. Who got this elated over a fucking phone call? Really? Who? John wouldn’t have. And besides that what did Brian say, girlfriend and wives or other female companions were not to take priority in their lives. He’d looked meaningfully at George with that bit about female companions.
Oh my god, I’m completely sad.
Sighing heavily George stopped walking “Mum, maybe I’ll just ring her later…”
Louise turned to look at her son in surprise “Why? You were looking forward to speaking with Gabby”
“Yeah” he shrugged “I’m just kind of tired, it isn’t like it can’t wait or anything”
Louise frowned “Well, you should ring her back I think. The number’s near the stove” She brushed past George back in to the living room.
He sighed. Oh god. Well, calling her back didn’t mean that he was as dependent on her as he appeared to be. Maybe if he didn’t bring her up to the lads anymore…
He sighed and found the number and began dialing.
* * * * * * * * *
“Gabby, this is Bob!”
“What?”
“Bob!”
“What!”
*
Laughter, music and people filled Gabrielle’s new apartment. Megan, as promised brought amphetamines galore. Mike Roony showed up fashionably late only to blink in surprise at the amount of people there. Art D’lugoff it seemed, had friends in high places. Megan, Montana, Cyn and Gabby opened the door all high except for Cyn who was sticking to normal booze gapped in surprise at the retinue of probably twenty people behind Art.
“Party still on?” he asked swinging a bottle of Jack Daniels and winking “A few friends of mine from the Village Gate wanna know about the music scene in jolly ol’ England right now and I figured you could help us out”
“Actually” said a blonde man poking his head in the door “He just said there were hot girls upstairs”
Montana laughed “Well come on in, we’ve got a fully stocked bar Mr. D’lugoff”
“Can she just let them in like that?” Cyn whispered to a beaming Gabby
“I don’t care” Gabby laughed back “They seem like they just want to have a party”
“And who, is this delectable fine specimen of a woman” A man with sandy hair and brilliant eyes saddled up to Gabby. He had a definite presence about him, though not to the extent of John. He took her hand and mumbled “enchanter, mademoiselle” kissing her hand delicately,
That was a first.
“Lay off, Farina” Art stumbled into the apartment “She’s just eighteen”
There was a chorus of ‘ooohs’ from the men in the party as they all filed into the flat.
“Richard Farina” said the man, sticking his hand out to shake “And you are…”
“Gabby” she grinned “Gabrielle Gallagher”
“Oh” he sighed deeply “I was going to say a gorgeous angel that has fallen from heaven into my arms,… Gabby works too”
“Oh, ta very much. I must say Mr. Farina you do lay it on a bit thick”
“Only for the really pretty ones” he winked
Montana grasped Gabby’s hand, yanking her away “Oh, got to go, By Richard Farina!” she yelled
“Bye angel!”
Gabrielle giggled and turned around to see a very amused Montana “What?” she giggled
“Do you know who that guy is?” Montana asked bewildered
“Uh... Richard Farina?” said Gabrielle “No, if yer going to say sommat about ‘im being older then the bloody ‘ills I noticed, mate. I was just ‘aving a bit of a laugh”
Montana blinked and then busted up laughing “Gabby, I am never gonna get used to the way you talk, man”
Gabrielle grinned.
Montana shook her head “Richard Farina is Carolyn Hester’s husband. The one that we thought was you? She’s a really gorgeous folk singer. Nice as all get up as far as I can tell. But she’s just signed with a big record label because they want her to be the next Joanie Baez. And her record’s in the top forty so I don’t doubt that she can do it”
“And ‘e’s ‘er ‘usband, then?”
“Can you not pronounce words with ‘h’?” Montana giggled “Yes, he is her husband. And he’s a top cad, too”
“ooh, I see” Gabrielle nodded “I say we break out the drinks though. I would like very much to get off me head tonight”
“Off your head?” Montana grinned “I like the sound of that, it’s great”
It was no wonder they didn’t hear the phone ringing. The party just kept getting bigger and bigger an louder and louder. A few folkies came and played a few songs for music while everyone else got smashed. Really, New York parties were nothing like Liverpool parties. They didn’t show any sign of ending, everyone kept going, drinking, smoking, dancing, laughing. It was nearly as bad as Hamburg. They all found Cyn and Gabrielle amusing. Their accents. Laying it on a bit thick, Gab dropped all her h’s and even rambled with Cyn in Liverpudlian scouse and got cheered for.
“What kind of music do you like?” asked a girl with a guitar who was smoking heavily.
“Rock n roll mostly”
Everyone groaned
“Wot?” she asked, grinning “What’s wrong with rock n roll”
“It’s for kids” the girl explained blowing smoke at Gabby “Who likes Rock n roll anymore. It doesn’t say anything, Twist and Shout and all that fucking yeah yeah yeah. It doesn’t say anything, it hasn’t got any roots, you know?”
“Yeah, like our songs, they’ve been around for years and years. What’s Jerry Lee Lewis and his fucking balls of fire got to do with meaning” said someone else everyone agreed.
“Meaning?” Gabrielle repeated “But Rock n roll does have meaning”
“How so” the girl asked spitefully.
“Well” Oh good. Now everything that John, Paul or especially George has ever rambled at you about their religion and you can’t think of a thing. Channel George! The kid lived for Rock n roll music. Or John. God. “Well…” she said again “rock n roll, it makes you feel something that, nothing, no matter how old it is, can’t make you feel.”
There was a silence. That wasn’t extraordinarily profound but… she kept going “And yer right. Young kids listen to it. Because… that’s what rock n roll is about, you know? It’s about being young and being a regular fool and rebel. You can’t explain how it makes you feel. But you all must have felt it. In Liverpool we have a thing called the Cavern and everyone used to crowd into this little cellar and listen to the rock n roll and it was just being sweaty and drinking and having a good time. That’s what it is. And while a good time may not seem completely profound like some tune on a guitar about a bloke in the mountains a few hundred years ago… rock n roll is, it’s just fucking amazing.”
She turned to look at Art “Didn’t *you* love Buddy Holly when you were a kid?”
“I did” he grinned “And I think yer half right, but you’ll never change most of their minds you Rock n Roll martyr you”
Gabrielle sighed “It’s funny cause our mates in the band. It’s all they talk about, I’ve never realized how much I really love it too”
A whisper rolled through the room just then. Who just arrived with her little sister? Joan Baez?
Gabrielle peered over at her front door to see the two dark skinned woman enter and wave at people they knew. Both were unconventionally pretty, wearing long flowy skirts and blouses. One seemed to cower behind the other though.
“Who’s that?” Gabrielle whispered to Montana
“Joan Baez, oh fuck me. Gabby how did these people get here?” Montana laughed “Oh look, she brought her sister Mimi, they say she can play almost as well as Joan can”
“She plays folk music?” Gabrielle asked
“Oh, yeah, you’ve not heard of her?”
nodded and took a sip of her rum and coke “But never in England. All they’ve got there are the Shadows and Frankie Avalon. No folk music”
“I wonder what Baez is doing here?” mused Art
“Prolly just looking for a party” Gabby said standing up “Is she very famous? She probably doesn’t want to be treated any different then anyone else then”
Art and Montana ignored her and continued to whisper about Joan Baez. Gabrielle decided to go see about getting a lager. Christ, it was hell letting a good beer in America. It all tasted like piss.
At the bar however Gabrielle spotted a boy that caught her attention. He was wearing faded jeans and a work shirt and an old sea captain’s cap that looked as if it had been to hell in a hand basket. His hair was curly and stuck out at odd places and his face was cold and separate. He was sipping a beer at her bar with a notebook out in front of him. His free hand held onto a pen and drew lazy circles on the page. He wasn’t looking at the page though.
Gabrielle slid behind her bar where low and behold... Mike Roony was getting himself plastered and lining up pills on the counter.
“Gabrielle! My lovely lady!”
Was this the same Mike from a few days ago? It couldn’t have been. Oh wait… he’d been smoking weed then… now he looked like he’d swallowed a pharmacy of uppers.
“Hi mike!” she laughed “Care to share the wealth” she gestured at the lined up pills. Which were in order of color. Blue, green, yellow, red, pink, and purple.
“Ah yes” he said, he was talking fast and drew the attention of the man in the faded sailor’s cap to him. The man… who could be no more then nineteen like Gabby frowned at them as if they were distracting from his circle drawing. Gabrielle ignored him pointedly. He looked from Mike to Gabby. And stared at her for a long time. He began to draw circles again but his time he was staring at her. Not the wall. It was unnerving but she ignored him, figuring that was intended to make her nervous.
Mike was still talking and pointing to pills. “This red one is methylphendiate, we call it Ritalin though. They prescribe it to kids who are hyperactive to calm them down. Don’t know why though. All it does is speed you up. Then there’s Dexedrine, the green ones. Those are slow acting. Yellow are the ones we were talking about earlier with Meg, pink are the Benzedrine, blue are the Methadrine and purple are Dexedrine with a sort of… kick”
“A kick?” Gabrielle repeated, grinning, “What sort of kick?”
Mike got really close to her ear and then whispered in a very low voice that was obviously excited and almost possessive “Cocaine”
She pulled back in surprise “What’s that?”
“Cocaine” he said again “It’s not a very big drug- most people don’t know about it….. but oh, baby, it blows yer fucking mind”
“Really?” she asked wide-eyed. In the past two days she’d found out more about drugs then she’d ever needed to know. And god, it was great.
“Cocaine is an upper?” Gabrielle asked
She then got a crash course in Coke which left her slightly perturbed and just a bit weary of the drug. Addictive. That wasn’t a good word. You didn’t want to be addicted or dependent on something. That wasn’t fun. She’d seen alcoholics, people who couldn’t stop drinking. You didn’t want to become like that. Dependent on something. Unable to live without out.
“Er, Mike, maybe I’ll just stick with the uppers for now”
“Whatever floats your boat man” Mike grinned “But I’m telling you the purple are amazing”
“They’re pretty cool,” said a new voice “I dig them”
They looked over at the boy man with the captain hat.
“Gabby!” Mike exclaimed “I didn’t introduce you to a friend of mine… Bob Dylan”
“Huh?” she repeated as someone had just screamed out something lurid and laughter ensued
“This is bob!”
“What?”
“Bob”
“Oh, sorry” she stuck her hand out but Bob Dylan didn’t shake her hand. “Hullo’ she tried.
He stared at her face. “Dig it” he said
“Are you a musician?” she asked
“Are you British?” he snapped back
Gabrielle raised her eyebrows “Well there’s no need to be a fucking git about it, I was only asking *Bob*”
“He’s fucking awesome Gabby” Mike was saying “He’ll be the next big thing, I swear”
“I don’t want to be nothing” Bob shrugged and looked down at his paper. He drew a circle and then flipped the page. He drew a giant heart and wrote G-A-B-R-I-E-L-L-E and then drew an X through the hart and wrote “Tragic”
He looked back at them, Gabrielle staring at his paper “Dig it” he said
Gabrielle cleared her throat “Yer very weird Bob Dylan. You remind me of a friend of mine named John”
“I’m just me” he said simply
She grinned “And I’m only me. Dig it?”
He raised his eyebrows and then tried not to look impressed “You a musician Gabrielle Gallagher?”
“Depends” she shrugged “I don’t play guitar but compared to you lot of depressing fucken geezers I’m prolly as good as Buddy Holly”
“She’s a rock n roll martyr” Mike said, he then busted up laughing and poured himself a drink “Fucking Buddy Holly. He was great”
“Everyone loved Buddy Holly.” Gabrielle stated
Bob Dylan nodded and then stopped half nod he looked at her in surprise “You’re very different” he said gravely
“That’s because I’m a muse” she grinned
“Are you?” she was obviously impressing and surprising this geezer at the same time. Why? Generally she had to fight to impress John, and this fellow seemed to be the oddest person with the most compelling personality. She didn’t want to talk to him because he seemed cold like John was underneath all his warmth. Instead she wanted to get in his head like she did with John. But no one could be more compelling then John Lennon.
“So yer telling me you don’t want to be a rock n roll star?” she asked him
Bob sneered “No. Who wants that. Fucking rock n roll. It’s no good. No soul too it.”
“I think we Brits bight be able to make it good again”
A brief look flashed across his face “Maybe” he admitted “You in a band at home?”
“No but my friends are. They’re called the Beatles”
“Like Beat music?” Bob Dylan asked. The first person to ever get it the first time.
“Yes”
“Well then that’s different. And they play rock n roll. Humph. They’ll need to be special then if they want on my cloud”
