"First, we ought to get some food, though," Ringo said. "I'm starving." "Oh my, that's unusual," Geo smirked. "We have some stuff here, don't we?" Beth said. "I could make us dinner with it." "Alright," they all shrugged indifferently. (Secretly, the guys were glad that they didn't have to do it themselves, but they couldn't say that out loud, now could they?)
Beth opened up the cabinets, freezer, and fridge searching for edibles. A big bag of chicken breasts sat in the freezer. "Anybody want chicken?" she said. They licked their chops in agreement. (You'd think they hadn't eaten anything in a week! But with take-out almost every day, one can imagine their mindset.) "Too bad for anyone who doesn't, 'cause that's what I'm makin'! Alright, now get outta here while I make yer supper, ya ingrates," she laughed. They filtered out of the kitchen, all save Paul. "Hey, honey pie, what's this letter on the table?" he asked.
She pulled the chicken out of the freezer and put them on the counter. "I don't know, bring it here," she said. "It was in the mailbox when I came home." She wiped her hands on her jeans and took the envelope from him. "Huh, no return address." Her name was scrawled on the front in hurried writing. "No stamp, either," Paul said. "Must've just been put in the mailbox."
Beth ripped open the top of the letter and pulled it out. She read it aloud.
Dear Jew Lover,
watch out. We know what your family is shamed with. You have poisoned blood and we're here to rid the world of your kind. You'd better look behind you every minute, because we're going to be there sometime, and you won't live to tell about it.
Sincerely,
the Ku Klux Klan
"Wha - Shit, this is not good," Beth said. "Not good at all...is it some sick joke?" She began to cry. "Oh god...they know about my mom, Paul! And now they're gonna kill me for such a thing. What am I gonna do? I'm putting you guys in the middle of a firing squad..." "Beth, shh, they're not gonna get you, don't overdramatise," Paul said, touching her face. "They're not gonna kill you, honey. Not while I'm here. 'No bark, no bite', eh?" She sobbed quietly. "But they are," she cried bitterly. "Those lying bastards use the most low-down, dirty ways to get at people. They'll really get me in the end."
"Shh, no, it's not as bad as you make it out," Paul said. "All we've gotta do is tell Brian and the guys what's going on, and we'll all stick together and keep you safe, okay?" "Okay," Beth sighed. "I suppose I am overreacting a bit, but I don't like this letter one bit. Well, we might as well tell the others now." She picked up the letter and they went into the living room to talk to the group.
They sat on the couch by a still glowering John. But after noticing Beth's teary eyes and long face, he instantly dropped that countenance in favor of a more tender one. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Beth got a letter from the sheet-wearers today," Paul said quietly. "She just opened it, and they say they're going to kill her." "But why?" George said. "She's as pure as a bloody angel feather. She's never done anything to get their attention, unlike us. What could they want with her?" "My mum used to be Jewish," Beth said softly. "I don't know how they found out, but they did. And now they would hurt me for sake of the past and their own diminished self-worth...I was afraid of this."
A light bulb went off above their heads. "And they said to 'look behind you every minute, because we're going to be there sometime, and you won't live to tell about it'," she cried. "I've never been so scared in my life." "Beth, it's alright," John said. "We'll protect you." "I know you will, but I still feel awful," Beth said. "What if they hurt one of you guys?"
"They won't, because we'll be extra careful," Brian said. "I'll keep guards posted here at the house around the hour, and one of you fellows can accompany her if she goes out. We'll have guards check the concertgoers for suspicious persons. Let me go make some phone calls, and I'll arrange everything." "Thanks, Brian," she said. "Oh, and that means no beach outing," he called from the kitchen.
"Dammit, now I've ruined everybody's fun," Beth winced. "Oh, it's alright," John said. "We'll have a pool party!" "Yeah, and we'll help you make dinner," Ringo said. "See, hon? Everything's coming up roses," Paul said. "I sure hope so," she said. "I feel so awful about getting you guys in the middle of it." "Oh, they're a bunch of lying bastards," John said. "Remember D.C., and Memphis? All talk and no action." "Guess so," Beth said. "It seemed pretty serious to me, though." "Nonsense!" John said. "How serious can they be if they run around in white bedsheets?"
Beth smiled, if just a teensy smile. "There, she's back," John said. "Smiling, happy Beth! So, smiling, happy Beth, would you require some assistance preparing the evening meal? I know that we are all rapt in anticipation to taste the sweet cuisine." Beth laughed. "Okay, follow me, and don't do anything unless I tell you to."
They walked into the kitchen and Beth gave orders. "Alright, preheat the stove. Get out this. Do that..." Surprisingly, they took orders well, and dinner was ready in no time. Beth used potholders to pull the dish of chicken from the oven. "Hey, this looks great!" she exclaimed. She put it on the counter. "What else is there?"
"The macaroni and cheese!" Ringo said, stirring the noodles. "They need the cheesy powder!" Beth took out a strainer and put it over the sink. "Pour them into this," she said. He did so, and Beth readied a dish. "Now, put them into this bowl," she directed. He did, and she poured some milk in. "Now empty the packages of cheesy powder in and stir well."
Beth let Ringo do his thing and gave more orders. "Somebody needs to get glasses out and put ice in them!" she yelled. "Then someone else should set the table! We need napkins, silverware, and plates." George and Paul jumped up from their posts and went to it. "Oh John!" Beth called. "Could you pour drinks?" "Yes, of course," he said, bowing.
Having taken care of everything, they all sat down and ate. "Thanks for helping me with dinner," Beth said. "You're welcome," they chimed. "And I'm surprised no one's dying of food poisoning," John laughed. Everyone eyed their plates suspiciously and then shrugged it off, laughing. They finished up in a hurry, and went upstairs to put on suits. "Hey, no swimming after you eat! Wait one hour!" Beth yelled after them. "Yes, mummy!" John yelled.
* * * * *
The pool was nice to relax in during the quiet hours before darkness fell, just as the sun hung sleepily over the horizon. However, Beth just couldn't shake the feeling that someone was shadowing her, watching her every move. She felt so violated that these people would step within the boundaries she had so carefully erected around herself. Instead of swimming, she sat atop her beach towel, huddled in a ball.
Paul got out of the pool to check on her. "C'mon, luv, the water's nice and warm," he said. "I can't; they'll see me," Beth said. "Beth, luv, this is just what they want," he said. "To make you paranoid." "I know," she said, "but they still could do something. They have the capability to. And Christ, it's could out here. Just hold me." Paul held her close. "This is where I feel safest right now," she mumbled. "Really?" Paul said in amazement. "Yes," Beth said. "I could stay here for days on end. You know that I need you, don't you?" "I didn't realize," Paul said.
Paul's face went blank. She needs me. She really needs me! Just like I need her. "I do," she said. He stroked her hair and silently kissed her forehead. "I think perhaps you need some sleep," Paul said. "You're under a terrible lot of stress." "Yeah, I guess I do. Can you help me inside?" Beth asked. "Certainly," he said, pulling her up. They went inside and up the stairs to her room.
Paul helped her into bed and prepared to go. "Don't leave me, please," Beth said. "I need you tonight." "Alright, luv," he said. "I won't leave." He shut the door, and closed the curtains. "I need you to love me tonight, dear," she said. "When I'm with you, I don't think about what worries me. When you love me, it makes it all the more better." And it makes me forget."Alright, luv, we can do this," he said.
He searched through the drawer for protection. Having taken care of that, they undressed, and went undercover. He was tender to her, always reminding her that she was alright, and that everything would work out. She somehow still couldn't shake it, although he comforted her, gently touching her face and smiling that sweet, easy smile that normally pushed away clouds of darkness. But the sun peeking through the clouds was better than an endless night. They spent the half-sated night in that warm embrace, free from the world and far from the problem they would soon face.
* * * * *
The next few days were spent in the midst of fear. It was a subtle fear that got stronger with every phone call with a husky, threatening voice at the end of the line, with every messily scribbled hate letter. Before the concert at Dodger Stadium, it was to the point that the gang was held up in an armored truck for two hours so that security guards could screen the crowd for ne'er-do-wells.
At last, the final concert of the tour arrived. 29 August, 1966 seemed to be the end of it. No hate mail, no phone calls, nothing. The pursuers had finally given up the chase. Everyone was elated. The concert went smoothly; Beth remembered every note, every word of her songs, and finished out her set with John on "Then I'll Be Dead", a rarity and a rather morbid joke. Once the fabs had finished, they invited her on stage for an encore. John and Paul snapped pictures of the audience, and they all laughed and played. It's over was everyone's thought, reffering to everything they'd gone through. It's finally over.
Ending the concert, they went out back to relax and wait for the crowd to dissipate. The darkness of the evening was humid and trapped in the heat from the concert. "That was great," Beth marveled. "I don't think I've ever seen that many people in a venue before." "Well, the promoters can pack more people because it's a ballpark," George said. "I think Brian mentioned somewhere around 25, 000 people."
"Whoa," Beth said, stunned. "Hmm, and to think that just a couple of years ago, I was playing filthy coffee houses for ten bucks an hour. THAT is heavy." In the silence, the steady pound of earth could be heard in the distance. A constant beat that grew louder and closer. Like marching. "Huh, that's odd," John said, dropping his cigarette and smashing it out. He pulled another one out of a package. As he flipped open his lighter, he could see five big figures coming near. He squinted his horribly equipped eyes and, upon closer inspection, noticed bands on their arms emblazoned with large, black swastikas.
John froze. He dropped his lighter in shock. No, not them. Can't be. It is. Say something! Can't, can't move, can't speak... The men were huge and muscular with shaved heads. The leader was distinguished by only one thing: a silvery glimmering pistol. Everyone else was unaware of their presence. John tried to say something, but still couldn't speak a word. "Die, Jew lover," the big man spat, and fired at Beth.
Beth took the shot in her left arm, falling quickly to the ground like a ten ton weight. Blood poured out of her as if the hole were a faucet. She put her hand to her arm and screamed as loud as she could, which was her best defense at that moment. The others, alerted, stared wide eyed. "You're next," the leader said, pointing the weapon at John.
John broke out of his trance quickly. He rushed at the man with fury. He deadlocked with the thug, struggling for the gun. John swung a hard right at the guy...Liverpool's best brawler was back in business. The guy fired the gun once before he went out cold, and it hit a nearby cohort right in the stomach. Two down, three to go.
Those in question rushed at the others, vainly trying to get at the helpless Beth. Ringo stepped up to a guy at least a foot taller than he. The thug looked down on him and laughed. "Take your best shot," he said smugly. "Okay," Ringo said, judo chopping him in the neck. He had hit the guy right on his jugular vein, making him faint out cold. "Huh, thought that only worked in the movies," Ringo shrugged.
He noticed the remaining guys towering over Paul and George. They were the biggest and ugliest guys he'd ever seen, and they weren't exactly bringing them flowers. "Hey, you big uglies!" Ringo yelled. The thugs turned around, and Geo and Paul ambushed them. The bad guys were (with luck) out in a minute.
John sat beside Beth on the ground, holding her to him. "C'mon, honey, keep talking, stay awake," he said. "I feel so sleepy," Beth mumbled. "I...put something over my arm. Wrap it up with something. I'm losing too much blood." "Fellas!" John yelled in panic. "Get a piece of cloth! I need a tourniquet!" Paul haphazardly ripped the sleeve from his shirt and John wrapped it around Beth's arm, holding her to him protectively. "Get an ambulance," John yelled. "And hurry it up!"
* * * * *
Fortunately, the scuffle had been noticed, and an ambulance arrived in minutes. The guys all rode with Beth to the hospital and waited in the...*ta da* waiting room, pacing madly. The doctors removed the bullet speedily (but with care), and patched Beth up. They gave her a list of do's and don't's, along with plenty of bandage materials. She'd lost a lot of blood, and it was a quite serious injury, but not enough for her to need a trasfusion or to stay overnight at the hospital. She made a phone call to her mum to tell her what happened and that she was alright, and joined the guys. They made their flight out just in time.
"I'm ready to get back to England," Beth said. "That little experience took a lot out of me..." "I believe you," Paul said. "You were in a puddle of blood." "Ugh, don't remind me," Beth said. "Looked like a fuckin' massacre." "At least John got the gun away from 'em," Ringo said. "You might have lost a lot more blood." "That's right," Beth laughed. "John, you saved my life! You saved all of us!" "All in a day's work," John said. "I got a few bruises meself. 'Sides, the bloody bastards needed to be taught a lesson."
"You were all so daring," Beth laughed. "You need big shiny awards." "We've got plenty of awards," George laughed. "No mooore!" "Really, I love you guys," Beth said. "You're such great friends." "Aww, group hug!" John sneered. Fits of laughter ensued. "Quit making me laugh!" Beth said. "I'll start spurting blood!" More laughs. "Alright, show's over," Beth said. "Somebody get me a margarita!"
"No alcohol, honey pie, doctor's orders," Paul said. "Okay, then get me a Coke. I'm parched!" she ordered. "Yes, ma'am!" Paul said, going back to the wetbar. Everyone but John followed him.
"John, thank you so much," Beth said. "You truly saved my life." "I don't want to keep doing that," John laughed. "Really!" she said. "If you want any gift, anything, just say the word." "Alright, one thing," he said. "Marry me?" "Seriously!!" she said. "That was serious! But okay, okay," he said. "Then...write me a song." "For saving my life?!" she said in disbelief. "Well, that...and a kiss. Right here," he said, pointing to his lips.
"Well, I can't make good on that song right now," Beth said. "I don't want to write you some crappy, second rate song. So that'll get to you eventually. But..." "Oh, come luv. You know that a little kiss can't be any harm," John said. Beth paused. "Well...alright." Am I crazy?! But I guess there's no turning back now. She leaned over and kissed him square on the mouth. "Oh, you can do better," he said. "John!" she smirked. "Oh, alright." She did it again. "Happy?"
"Yes, very," John said. "I'd been wanting to do that just once...or twice...but I didn't have a good excuse to ask." "You slick Johnny!" Beth exclaimed. "It's no wonder you're a ladies man, and terribly ironic that you're married. But that smooth talking will get you everywhere." John smiled slyly. "Under different circumstances, you know," he said, "you would be mine." "Yeah," Beth laughed. "Right."
"Oh, c'mon, admit it," John said. "If we were both single, you'd be mine in a second." "Alright, alright," she said. "You would be impossible to resist. Luckily, I have willpower." "Yeah, the both of us," he said, brushing it off. "We'd really horrible together, though. We're always trying to outsmart each other." "Like a game that never ends," Beth said. "Yeah. Not a chance. We're too odd." "Yeah, we're so odd," John laughed. "The oddest," she said. "Like two wet fish on a telephone wire." At this, they doubled over in laughter.
Paul walked in on their gigglefest. Puzzled, he turned his head to the side and looked at it from another angle. Still bewildered, he entered the room. "Hi, honey pie," he said. "Here's your Coke." "Why thank you," John said, batting his eyelashes. "Not you," Beth laughed, taking the drink. "I'M Paul's honey pie." "Oh, I'm hurt, Paulie," John weeped. "I thought I was yer honey pie. Yer always lonely, callin' for me at the latest hours of the night, tossin' and turnin' in yer bed..."
"So THAT's what they call it these days," Beth said. "Paul, were we tossing and turning?" "Hmm...guess you could call it that," he laughed. "Oh! I'm shattered," John said. "I'm sure you are," Paul said, nibbling on Beth's ear. "Ah! That tickles!" she said. "Quit it!" "Hmm, I think I'll just leave you two alone for a while," John said, slipping out behind the curtain to the wetbar, giving Beth a wink and a thumbs up.
Beth and Paul spent the rest of the flight "catching up," and talking with the others. They agreed that Beth should stay with Paul for a week, at least; she wasn't allowed to drive and needed help changing her bandage. (Of course, Paul didn't mind this happening!)
The plane ride was a good twelve hours, so there was much time to do many things. Many things, indeed...when the plane finally landed at Heathrow Airport, it was One AM London Time. Somehow, the fans had managed to get up to meet the returning heroes, as well as the media. Somehow, they had already heard about the "San Francisco Scuffle," as they called it, and were there to take lots of pictures of Beth's bum arm. But, as always, they finally evaded the media, got their luggage, and went to their respective homes.
* * * * *
At the McCartney residence, the two very tired tenants stumbled inside. "Home!" Paul cried, kissing the floor. "You goofball!" Beth said. "C'mere." He went to her, and she kissed him. "Not the floor, ME," she said. "Yeah," he said, dazed. "I don't think I got all that, though. Could you refresh me?" His voice was drowned out as Beth kissed him again. "Mmm, okay, Paul...I don't want to get you started up..." she said as he kissed her and led her back to the couch. "Owwww!!" she cried as he grabbed her bum arm.
"Oh shit," Paul said. "I'm sorry, so sorry..I..oh God..." "It's alright," she said. "You just have to be a tiny bit more careful with that arm, dear. Perhaps we could put this off for a while? I need some help changing this bandage." "Oh, sure," he said. He picked up her bags, and they went upstairs to Paul's room, stopping in the bathroom.
"So, how do we do this?" he asked. Beth was sitting on the toilet seat, and he was standing, eyeing her materials. "After you take off the old stuff, I need a washcloth to clean it up a bit. After I dry that off, take two cotton pads and hold them onto my arm hard, so that the blood won't leak as badly," she said. "Then wrap the gauze around those, and tape it down securely." "Are you sure it won't hurt?" Paul asked. "Of course it'll hurt!" Beth said. "But I need to change it about every twelve hours or so, and you're the only one that can help me out right now. It's not gonna hurt much worse than it already does, and it needs to be done."
"Okay," Paul sighed. "Here it goes." He removed the old dressings. They were drenched in blood. Beth winced. "Oh my God, honey," he said. "You didn't tell me it was this bad!" "But what's the use of having you worry, eh?" she said. "It's nothing. Now hand me the washcloth." Paul gave her the cloth, and she carefully washed around the stitches and scraped away the dried and sticky blood.
"Hey, rinse that out in the sink, if you don't mind," Beth said. "I don't want it to stain your nice shirts and things in the laundry." Paul did as she asked, hurriedly, and she dried the wound. "Now, hurry and put the cotton pads on. It's bleeding. And don't take them off no matter how much it hurts me, okay?" "Alright," he said.
Paul pressed the cotton pads over the wound, and Beth bit her lip hard, trying not to cry. "Okay," she choked, "put the gauze on." He wrapped the gauze, cut off the extra, and taped it down.
"Okay, that's over with," Beth sighed. "Honey, that looked awful! With all the stitches and things...are you sure that doesn't hurt so much?" Paul said. "I'd be crying like a baby." "Huh, that's what I've ben trying not to do the whole way over here," she choked. "But I don't need to cry. I'll be fine." "Oh Beth, it's alright," he said. "You don't have to hide anything from me. Go ahead and cry, shout, get mad. It's okay to do that."
"That's what I've avoided doing all my life," Beth said. "Showing emotion like that. Guess I thought it made me weak. No time to start like the present, though." Paul kneeled down and she wept on his shoulder. "Why'd they have to do this to me?" she said quietly. "What's so wrong with me?" "It's not you, it's them," he whispered. "Their twisted minds can lead them to do anything to anyone. It's not your fault, honey."
"Not my fault," Beth repeated. "That's right, innit? Not my fault." "Exactly," Paul said. "Hey, why don't we go in here and lay down? I'll roll back the sheets for you, and go get some aspirin." "Alright," she said.
They walked into the master bedroom. "Before you go," she said, embarassed, "I have a feeling that I'll need some help changing clothes." "Oh, alright," Paul said. "Which suitcase?" "That red one," Beth said, and pointed to it. "The short sleeved blue pajamas." Paul opened the suitcase and pulled out the said items.
"Alright, how are we gonna do this..." Beth said. She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the bed. "Alright, could you pull off my knee-highs?" she asked. Paul complied, tickling her toes. "Hey, no fooling around!" she said, standing up. "Now could you unzip my skirt? There's a button above the zipper, so you'll have to get that, too." He undid the clasps and the skirt slid onto the floor. "And the slip," she laughed. Paul slipped that off her, and grinned. "Peepshow," he laughed. "Oh, you dirty, dirty man," Beth laughed. "Just help me put these bottoms on."
Paul mischeviously slid the elastic band of the pajama bottoms up to her waist. "Okay, now pull the shirt over my head." Paul reached around to her back and lifted the shirt over her head. "You little..." Beth said, cut off by a kiss. "C'mon," she laughed. "Unhook me brassiere." "With pleasure," he grinned. "Don't go getting any ideas," Beth said. "I don't think I'm in any condition to do what's on YOUR mind..." "Oh, but I can at least have a feel, right?" Paul said. "Rrr, c'mon, don't get me started," she laughed. "Slip it off me and help me with the shirt."
Paul took the brassiere off her, but pretended to have lost the shirt. "Hmm, where is that shirt?" he said, staring. "It's in the crook of yer arm," Beth smirked. "Oh, yeah!" he said, snapping out of it, and helping her into the top. He buttoned it up, and nibbled on her ear. "You've got quite a set, luv," Paul said. "I think I'm going to enjoy having you over." "Quit gettin' my mojo up and go get some aspirin!" Beth laughed. "And a cold compress, and some food, please." "Oh, alright," Paul smiled. "But I'll be back..." Paul helped Beth into the bed and went downstairs to do her bidding.
Paul quickly returned with her items. He had snagged a couple of cokes and two hastily stacked ham sandwiches, as well as the aspirin and compress. "Hope you like mustard on your sandwich," he said, putting the tray down on the bedside table. "You go ahead and eat, and I'll change." "Hah, peepshow," Beth grinned. Paul grinned slyly and flexed his muscles. She laughed.
Paul got into the bed gingerly, as not to shake Beth's arm. He put the cold pack carefully on it, and propped her arm up under a pillow. "Does that help?" he asked, stroking her arm. "Just your smile helps," she said. "I love you, Paul." "I love you, Beth," he smiled. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she said. "Kiss me!" Paul leaned in and slowly kissed her.
"So," he said, "are you going to be able to play again? Please say yes!" "I don't know," Beth said. "I'll find out tomorrow when I go to the doctors. That's something you'll have to take me to..." "Oh, right," Paul said. "Not a problem. I'll drive you anywhere. Any idea of how long it'll take to heal?" "Anywhere from two weeks to two months," Beth said. "I'd say probably in between there." "Wow! Are you sure you're going to be alright, just sitting around here with me all day?" Paul asked. "Of course!" she said. "I love spending time with you, no matter what we're doing."
Paul stared into her never-ending green eyes. "Listen, Beth, I..." he struggled, debating over some unknown issue. "I--I love you, and I don't want you to leave me," he said. "Stay with me past tonight, past this week...I want to help you get better. And I love being in your company." "Alright," Beth said. "It's much appreciated. You really don't have to..." "But I am," Paul smiled, still stroking her face. He kissed her hand gently. "I love you, honey pie."
*Continue on to Chapter 15!*
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