After a few weeks, John and I became close friends. STRICTLY friends. In fact, he was alot like the brother I'd always wanted. Sure, we made more "suggestive remarks" to eachother than a real brother or sister would, but that was the fun of us being friends. Then one ay he approached me with a question I never would have expected from HIM, of all people.
"Rita...I was wondering...That is, if you wasn't busy an' all..." he stammered. He was quite shy when he wanted to be. "What I'm trying to ask is...would ya be interested in meetin' me band mates? We 'ave practice t'day, an' I thought maybe you'd 'ave fun listening to us butcher our own songs and some old classics."
"Sure," I had replied, with a teasing tone. "I love to see the one thing you never shut-up about."
"Great, 'cause I know they wanna meet ya an' all...even if it means breaking the hallowness of our practices," John smirked. "But watch out fer Paul... he tends to be a little too nice. 'e's a charmer."
As John had predicted, Paul tried his BEST to get me to go out on a date with him. But I knew his type...they were the ones that gave girls like me a bad reputation. I'd been burnt before by someone like him, and I wasn't planning on going through it again.
The lead guitarist however...I had often glanced at him, and caught him watching me while he was supposed to have been concentrating on his playing. When he noticed he'd been cuaght his face would flush a soft red and he'd look away. His name was George. I also picked up the vibe that he was sort of shy. So, I did the only thing I could think of...I watched and waited for him to start watching me again and sent him an "air kiss"...which is the kind you don't blow off your hand, you just send a kiss in their general direction.
This caused George to lose his place and start playing out of rythmn. Which got him in a tizzy with the drummer...Pete...excuse me...PETER Best.
"John," Peter complained. "You might want to concider leaving your girlfriend at home next time. She's distracting George."
"Yer just jealous 'cause it's not you," I commented with a tone so sweet it would have given Shirley Temple fans a toothache. "Georgie, where's you WC...I need to freshin' up a little."
"In the house," John said, trying his best to hide a laugh. I had to have been one of the only girls that saw Pete for the ego-maniac he was, which is why John had to keep from laughing.
I casually skipped into the main part of the house. It took me about five minutes to find the WC. I tooked at me reflection in the mirror. Not to sound conceited, but I thought I looked great. Slim, a healthy slim that meant I had a little muscle and required fat tissues, my hair had been black, but my mother had talked me into putting in red highlights, my eyes were sort of a greenish-brown. I pulled my lipstick from my jeans pocket and put on a fresh layer of cranberry red. My carmel colored skin made me look more hispanic than the Irish/American I was.
I sighed with satisfaction for myself. I had always been ahead of my time. Wearing jeans and bright colors when women wasn't supposed to...needless to say, I was going to fit in perfect when the mid-sixties hit...too bad it was only the late 50's.
I snuck back to the practice room and listened outside the door. They were talking about me...
"Well, if ya 'ave a problem wi'h her Pete then leave," John was saying. "She's probably a better drummer th'n you anyroad."
"Then I guess I will...just don't bring her to practice again. Stu doesn't bring his brids, you shouldn't bring yers."
"Big difference there Pete. Rita and I are just friends."
"Whatever..."
I waited a few seconds after I heard a door slam before re-entering the room. John, Paul, Stu, and George gave me a faint smile when I entered. I sat at the drums and joked, "What song are we working on boys?"
"You're joking...?" Paul scoffed.
"Rock and Roll Music," John grinned. "If ya c'n keep up...you'll be the first. We do it a little faster th'n Chuck Berry."
"I'm game," I said with my challenging smile. "Just sing a few lines the way you do it...and I bet I can match you up."
So Johnny did it. And so did I. The other three were slightly shicked that a girl could play like I did. When they aske where I had leaned it, I had to tell them...
"From one of my friends...he's the drummer for Rory Storm and the Hurricanes. His name is Ritchie. He specializes in doing things fast," I replied with a wicked grin.
Paul's eyes seemed to light up. "Will you marry me? I work fast too y'know."
"No thanks," I replied smugly. "You're the LAST guy I would ever concider marrying."
"So...you're saying I might have a chance?"
"No, Paul, I'm saying I wouldn't give you the time of day...OR night."
"I'm up for the challenge Lovely Rita," Paul said with a smooth smile.
"Well...prepare to lose Pretty Boy," I smiled back. "'Cause George here is taking me out this weekend."
John asked "He is?" about the same time George asked "I am?"
"Yes, you are...I knkow the perfect place too Georgie," I said with a hidden wink that made him blush again.
Thus was sealed a fate I would never be able to escape.
