The Elephants Dance, Chapter 54
Feb. 27th, 2014 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
yes_2dayThe concert tour comes to an end with a wild and psychedelic gig, and then John and Paul spend a few days unwinding in New York before going back to England.
Warnings: Some fun slash by inference. And - oh yeah - have I mentioned before? This is FICTION.
This is the penultimate chapter of The Elephants Dance.
THANK YOU GDELGHIBLUEEYES FOR THE GREAT CONCERT ENDING SURPRISE!
Chapter 54
That night, after the concert, John, Paul and Ringo had spent a good few hours chewing the fat and drinking whiskey in Ringo’s study. They had laughed themselves silly, and had raked up all the politically incorrect things they had each ever said or done to the point that they were all three unable to laugh any longer. Their sides ached.
“I’m not supposed to drink you know,” Ringo said in his deadpan voice, and then burped loudly. “I’m on the wagon.”
“It must be the wagon that is carrying the whiskey,” John drawled, and all three of them fell apart giggling helplessly.
“I’m serious, John. I’m an alca – alco- holic.” The word was devilishly difficult to pronounce, Ringo noted, not for the first time.
“I’ll drink to that!” John declared, and they all three of them fell apart giggling helplessly.
“Barbara’s gonna kill me when she finds out,” Ringo disclosed.
“Well, at least you’ll die happy!” John pronounced, and they all three of them fell apart giggling helplessly.
Paul’s conscience finally pricked him. “We should probably stop drinking now,” he said, and then hiccoughed. He was thinking only of Ringo in suggesting this, of course.
“No,” said John definitively. “There’s still some whiskey left in the bottle.”
This logic seemed to instantly overcome Paul’s suggestion, and all three of them poured themselves one last jigger, until the bottle was dry.
“It was fun playing with you lot tonight,” Ringo opined, as he held his whiskey up to the light and watched its golden colors change.
“It was fun having you with us,” Paul said sincerely, smiling at Ringo with real warmth and love in his eyes.
“But you’re both a terrible influence on me,” Ringo continued, holding up his tumbler to them as a blatant example. “I’m on the wagon, you know.”
John said, “You mentioned that before. Should we have insisted on soda water tonight, instead?”
Paul joined in, “We should have, yes.”
Ringo laughed. “Well, you two can drink soda water. I’d have more whiskey to myself.”
The three of them, having exhausted the bottle of whiskey, made their way up to their rooms.
“Good luck,” Paul whispered to Ringo, as he prepared to enter the master bedroom, where Barbara awaited. Ringo made a face, and disappeared inside the room. John and Paul continued on down the hall, and found the guest room. After collapsing in bed, having managed to clumsily divest themselves of their various articles of clothing, Paul said, “We fucked up.”
“How so?” John asked.
“We should have realized about Ringo. That he’s an alcoholic. We shouldn’t have suggested the whiskey.”
“He’s the one who suggested the whiskey,” John slurred.
“Well, we should have said no,” Paul slurred right back.
“We’re not our brother’s keeper,” John said in a stentorian voice.
“Maybe not, but we ought to at least give a damn about our brother,” Paul responded. A few moments ticked by before Paul ended with an interesting denouement: “We should have suggested pot instead.”
John couldn’t help the explosion of laughter that escaped him. “Just when I’m about to think you’re a fuckin’ Boy Scout, you pull it out at the last second, Macca!”
This night was inevitable. It had to come. It had been destined to come since the first day of the tour: it was their last gig, San Francisco, California. It had to do with dates: this was the best date Candlestick Park had available and so it ended up as the last gig on the tour. But it was as good a place as anywhere else to end it, and maybe better.
At first they didn’t realize that they were in for a magical mystery tour with the San Francisco concert.
They knew something was different as soon as the vamp started for Figure of Eight. The audience was on its feet, screaming. Over 50% of the floor seats appeared to be occupied by men dressed like women, women dressed like men, men holding hands with other men, and women holding hands with other women. Many of them were dressed in crazy colors and outfits, including hot pink boas and turquoise jumpsuits with silver platform shoes. The full force of this wild audience hit John and Paul as soon as they approached the microphones, and while they were professional enough to keep singing, there was an aura of disbelief hovering over them. The musicians were barely able to maintain their demeanors as they watched the audience’s hijinx.
John was singing his role in the chorus and Paul didn’t come right in with the verse, and he turned to see what was up with Paul. What he saw was Paul bent over at his waist laughing his ass off. John had never seen Paul incapacitated on the stage. The poor man could not stop laughing, so the musicians elongated the vamp and worked their way around to another cue. John stepped away from his mic and shouted, “Paul! You’re up!” Paul waved acknowledgment of this, and the look he gave John said, “so sorry…can’t help it…”, so John stepped back to the mic and burst into Paul’s verse in his stead until Paul had regained his composure and joined back in.
Paul redoubled his efforts to be serious, and decided to look up to the rafters instead of down to the floor, and it was this sense of dedication that got Paul through the next half dozen songs. But when Paul had settled himself at the piano to play the opening bars of Friend of Dorothy’s, the entire floor of the arena stood up and started cheering. Paul bit his lower lip, and stared down at his hands. Now it was John’s problem, because John had to face the audience.
John handled it very well. He watched the audience’s activities with a look of interest and delight. He began camping up the lyrics and slipping into a stereotypical lisping “gay” accent which sent the audience wild. Paul, at his perch on the piano bench, was cracking up again, but forcing himself to stare at his hands.
Again, they regained their composure as they proceeded through another half dozen songs. It was time to sing You Want It Too, and as they both approached their adjacent mics, Paul met John’s eyes and the look they exchanged was: this is going to create a riot! But here goes! This audience didn’t need mere signs, they had huge banners in rainbow colors, and their huge hats with ostrich feathers and psychedelic colors spoke their own language. At least the audience was having fun. With each line sung by “innocent” Paul the audience shouted “ohhhhhh”, and with each snide response by “devilish” John the audience shouted “yeahhhh!.” It took Paul all of his self-discipline not to fall over in laughter again, and even John was cracking up. But he camped up his naughty responses, which only egged the audience on to be even more unruly. John was just having the best time ever; he looked over and saw that Paul’s face was lit up with delight in the way only Paul’s face could do. John loved it when Paul turned incandescent on him. He started to get aroused, actually, which sometimes happened to him when he watched Paul on stage. (Sometimes? John asked himself with an inner sneer.) The applause for the song went on embarrassingly long. They’ve got our number, John thought to himself with a smirk on his face. He was tempted to lean over and give Paul a kiss – just to titillate the audience - but he knew that would not be a good idea in the long run. There would be hell to pay forever. So instead he and Paul moved on with their repertoire.
The next audience uprising occurred when they got to Whatever Gets You Through the Night. As soon as the saxophone wailed out the opening bars, the audience literally exploded. John and Paul, who sang the whole song together in harmony, stared at each other in utter amazement. The entire floor of the arena had turned into a moving conga line. A boa here, a sparkling tiara there, a man painted all the colors of the rainbow, and women (were they women? It wasn’t entirely clear) being carried on men’s shoulders as the audience snaked around the floor.
Up on the stage, John and Paul gamely sang through the madness, but they were staring in fascination at the audience throughout. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope. There was no question that this was the “funnest” concert they’d done out of 69 gigs. These people really knew how to party!
All good things have to come to an end, and eventually John and Paul had made it through the show, and were coming out for their encores. Day In the Life had just crashed to an ending, and the last chord drained out of the hall. The audience was absolutely silent for the first time all night, and John came out, stepped up to a mic, and began playing the acoustic intro to Stand By Me.
It was at this point that the audience had begun to sway and softly sing along with the song, and John turned to Paul and smiled. He gestured with his head for Paul to come join him at the mic, to sing harmony, and Paul slowly approached, playing his bass the entire time, and leaned in towards John to join in…
“We’re going to play something new tonight – we haven’t played it ever before. In fact, its such a surprise that even Paul doesn’t know about it.” John turned to Paul and took in Paul’s expression. It was a cross between genuine surprise, excited anticipation, and deep suspicion. John laughed, and turned back to the audience. “This is Paul’s favorite song – at least his favorite one not written by either of us,” John announced, and the crowd cheered in anticipation. “He came back from California in late 1966 after hearing this song, and was inspired to write Sgt. Pepper,” John added. He had the audience’s full attention – not to mention Paul’s. “I’ve always thought it was a great song for us to sing to each other, because it is true about our partnership in so many ways, so tonight I’m singing it to him in honor of our last gig of the tour.”
By now Paul knew what song it was, and felt thrilled – in both a good and bad way. John was being too revealing in his comments, and it was going to fuel the rumors all the more, but the song really didn’t have to be interpreted sexually – it could be, truthfully, about their symbiotic friendship, so it could be explained away.
John turned to the other musicians and signaled them to begin. Wix started to play the Hammond organ in what were to Paul immediately recognizable chords:
At this point John gestured for Paul to join in on the harmony. Paul had already started picking out some counter-melodies by ear on his bass, and so he moved in to sing harmony with John on the chorus. Their eyes met frequently, and Paul even blushed a little, because he felt as though he were exposing himself a little too much.
The chorus echoed itself out, and John and Paul were standing there in the spotlight, and noticed that the entire audience was on its feet, and everyone was giving them a standing ovation. This ovation wasn’t a crazy, silly, demonstration of flamboyant personalities again; it was a dignified, sober round of genuine applause – the audience thanking these two men for the magic of their creative partnership. Paul’s throat was clogged, and he was afraid to say anything. John had truly surprised him in a wonderful way, and even if there would be hell to pay for this for weeks to come, these 3 or 4 minutes were well worth it to Paul.
It was at this moment that John – seeing Paul was useless – signaled to Wix to play the “trumpet” chords on his synthesizer, and for the last time in nearly nine months, John and Paul sang their closing song for one last wildly appreciative audience:
Almost as soon as the song had started, so had the last and final over-the-top demonstration by this most demonstrative of audiences. Exhausted but exhilarated, John and Paul lingered on the stage a bit longer than usual, taking in the crowd, the applause, the lights, the whole ambience, before reluctantly leaving it all behind. Soon they were in their limo and headed for San Francisco International Airport for their private flight to New York City.
Rather than open up their loft again, John and Paul decided to stay with Gerry and Jason – mainly because Yoko and Sean were not at the Dakota at the time. It was very late at night when they arrived, so other than giving Jason a hug, they’d crawled into bed and fell fast asleep within minutes.
The next morning Paul woke up first, which was usual. He liked to exercise in the morning, and then have a leisurely breakfast. He shrugged into his workout clothes, and called for a car to take him to a local gym. Gerry was up, sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coffee while reading the Wall Street Journal.
“Good morning!” Paul said, as he strode into the room. “Sorry for intruding on you so late at night.”
Gerry looked up and smiled. “I never heard you arrive. Jason sat up and took care of it. No skin off my back. Now he’s sacked out.”
Paul chuckled, and sat down with a bottle of water, as he waited for the car to call. “So’s John. How’s your work going?” he asked, having figured it was the safest subject to raise.
Gerry grunted. “I’m looking forward to retirement, actually. I have about five more years to go before it is affordable, assuming the stock market doesn’t do a complete crash and burn.”
Paul couldn’t imagine retirement. What would a bloke do if he were retired? Sit home and count his money? Nothing about retirement appealed to Paul, but he was tactful enough not to comment. Perhaps if his job were as boring as Gerry’s was, he’d feel the same way, after all.
Gerry put his paper down. He had remembered something. “I spoke to Rob on the phone a few weeks ago, you know.” He said.
Paul couldn’t help blushing a little. “Oh?”
“Yeah. He told me that of course he enjoys your company, but there is nothing for John or Wes to worry about in that direction.”
Paul nodded in full agreement. “That is what I thought. I don’t know why John got so worked up about it. I think he just hates hearing about business and finance. Maybe he felt left out by it.”
Gerry chuckled and said, “Jason’s a bit like that, too. But I didn’t want to have that concern hanging over Rob’s head – or your’s.”
“So that’s that,” Paul said firmly. “Of course, John won’t accept it until he hears it from Rob himself, I think.”
Gerry laughed and said, “I’m sure I can arrange that. It was all a misunderstanding.”
Just then the phone rang, and Paul answered it, knowing it was his car – and it was. “Off to the gym. See you in a few hours,” he said cheerfully, and disappeared. Gerry smiled into his coffee. Once he’d gotten over the “trust” thing he’d found he was quite fond of McCartney. Who knew? Paul was obviously loyal to John, and not the raving egomaniac about his looks the way he certainly could have been. Gerry appreciated that Paul didn’t automatically assume that Rob was interested in him, and had been so reasonable about it all.
About an hour later, Jason was up and started making breakfast. John smelled the bacon and woke up like a shot. He wasn’t allowed bacon when Paul was around, and unfortunately, bacon was a favorite of his. He figured he’d better get up immediately and have his bacon before Paul got back from the gym. He always felt like a guilty child when Paul caught him eating meat. Paul never said anything, but the look of disappointment was a killer!
John came in quietly, with a finger over his lips to warn Gerry to keep quiet. He snuck up behind Jason, and gave him a bear hug from behind. “I love-love-love-love you!” John sang, and Jason giggled and blushed. “Now give me that bacon quick, before the meat police gets home!” Jason and Gerry laughed heartily and Jason put a pile of bacon on John’s plate of eggs.
John gabbed gaily as he devoured the bacon. Jason barely got a word in edgewise. “You wouldn’t believe the concert in San Francisco last night!” John crowed. “It was amazing! All these trannies and cross dressers prancing around in hot pink and purple! They were singing along, and even did the conga!” The details came out bit by bit. “Paul was hysterical. At one point he was bent over at the waist, and he couldn’t move. I had to sing his parts for him.” Jason and Gerry were amused, and paid rapt attention to John’s anecdotes. When John finally ran out of ammunition, Jason cleared his throat.
“Gerry and I were thinking we might all go up to our cottage in the Hamptons for a few days – it’s very private, right on the beach, so relaxing. Not far from Sag Harbor.”
John was enthusiastic about the idea, and agreed that they should do it, so long as Paul was up for it. Almost as if by cue, they heard the doorbell ring.
“Speak of the devil,” said Jason cheerfully, and he got up to let Paul in.
Paul went straight to the en suite to shower and change, and afterwards he came bouncing into the kitchen about 20 minutes later looking as bright as a new copper penny. Jason jumped up and cooked him some eggs. Paul of course smelled the lingering aroma of bacon (which had all been eaten, and the evidence thrown away before he got there), but was polite enough not to mention it. He figured John had probably filled his face with it, which he supposed was okay, since then John might not crave it for several more months.
“Paul, we’re all going to Sag Harbor,” John announced unceremoniously.
“We are? When?”
“Yeah, Jason, when?” John asked.
“We could leave today, or tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, let’s go today,” John said firmly. “I’d like to be somewhere away from it all, without a lot of noise or people. I’ve been over-stimulated for too long, and need a break.”
Paul couldn’t think of anything to counter that argument, so he quite passively agreed to this plan.
Jason and Gerry’s place on the beach a few miles up the coast from Sag Harbor was, in fact, an actual “cottage”. It had two small bedrooms, with a shared “jack and jill” bathroom in the middle. There was a tiny kitchen, and a combined dining and living area, which featured a small fireplace. There was a deck that cantilevered off the house, where Jason and Gerry had configured some lounge sofas, rocking chairs, and a dining table with chairs. Off the deck there was a set of wooden stairs leading down to the beach through tall hedges and trees, providing optimum privacy. It was a very secluded and modest accommodation, but one that was cozy and comfortable. John and Paul felt right at home.
This trip was the first time that the two couples had slept under the same roof, and it was ear- and eye- opening for Gerry and Jason, who had never hosted such prolifically amorous friends before. That first afternoon they had arrived, all was normal. Jason went off to do grocery shopping, while the others settled in, and then Gerry fired up the grill to make the vegetables Jason had cut for them (they were eating vegetarian out of respect for Paul’s sensibilities, although individually the other three would have preferred a little meat, at least.) He also made a delicious fruit salad starring fresh blueberries and mint, and Gerry mixed refreshing cocktails they could sip out on the deck. The air was a little chilly so they wore their sweaters as they sat on the deck.
After they moved inside, Gerry lit the fire, and they sat around with whiskey speaking softly to each other. It was so relaxing, that Paul actually fell asleep sitting on the sofa. His head was thrown back and his mouth was open, his hand still firmly holding the tumbler of whiskey. John noted this and told his hosts, “Let’s get a camera, quick. You don’t see this often.” Jason and Gerry smiled affectionately, and John then added, “He’s exhausted. He doesn’t know it, but he is. He does about 75% of the work when we’re on tour, plus all the business. On top of that there’s the stress of touring, and hoping that each show goes all right. It would kill the average person.” John got up, dislodged the tumbler from Paul’s hand and put it on the table, and then leaned over Paul, gently stroking his cheek. “Come on babe, wake up, its time for bed.”
Paul awoke with a bit of a start, and then realized where he was. “I’m sorry,” he managed to croak, “I fell asleep, didn’t I?” Jason and Gerry made comforting noises, while John pulled Paul up by his arms.
“You’ve earned a bit of rest,” John was saying to Paul quietly, his arm around Paul’s waist, as he led him to the guest bedroom.
Maybe Paul needed his rest, but he didn’t get much of it, Jason and Gerry soon discovered, not for at least 30 or 40 minutes at least, during which time Gerry and Jason lay in bed with their bedside lamps on, each pretending to read a book, while all sorts of bangs and noises came from the other room. They barely could look at each other. The bed was thumping against the wall now. Jason’s eyes slid sideways in their sockets to catch a glimpse of Gerry, whose eyebrows were climbing slowly up his forehead.
“Oh!” One loud, distinct shout echoed through the tiny cottage. The rest of the noises were unintelligible, at least as words. As sounds, though, they were instantly recognizable to Jason and Gerry. Both men squirmed in their bed, praying for it to end, so they could turn off their lights and go to sleep. Jason thought that maybe he and Gerry should do something themselves, but he quickly backed off that idea, since competing with the activity going on in the other room would obviously be impossible.
The next morning, Paul was up bright and early swimming laps in the small pool that was in the side yard of the cottage. Jason caught sight of him while looking out the kitchen window. He and Gerry had awakened after Paul, and Jason started breakfast while Gerry went out on the deck to read his newspaper with a cup of coffee. John was the last to awaken.
By then, Paul was seated at the patio table chatting with Gerry and Jason, topless and wearing a wrapped towel around his waist and over his wet swim trunks. The sliding glass door to the guest bedroom slid open to the deck, and John stuck his head out.
“Macca! Get your ass in here!” There was no mistaking John’s intent.
While Jason and Gerry were a little embarrassed and didn’t quite know where to look, Paul seemed unaffected by it. He sighed and winked at Jason and Gerry and said, “Ahh – the dulcet sound of the loon, crying for its mate.” Jason and Gerry burst out laughing, and the awkwardness went away.
From the interior of the guestroom: “PAULLLLLL!!!!!”
Paul shot a comical look at his audience, one eyebrow impossibly high and his eyes alive with naughty mischief. He got up slowly, and then walked, oh so languidly, taking his time, in the direction of the sliding door. He really can move that ass, Jason and Gerry thought as one. The sliding door shut behind Paul, and suddenly:
A loud sound, and then, “Oooaffff! Ow!” It was Paul’s voice. What on earth? thought Jason and Gerry. They looked at each other in alarm. Then laughter emanated from the room. A great deal of naughty laughter.
Gerry cleared his throat. “Hmmm. Yes, well, I think we should go down to the beach, and give them their privacy.”
“Good idea,” Jason agreed, and grabbing their gear they practically ran down the stairs to the beach.
The second night there they all stayed up late on the deck to watch the full moon. The lights in the house were all turned off, and the four men drank wonderful dark red wine with even darker chocolate, only periodically saying a word or two. This time it was Paul who stood up and said, “I’m off to bed.”
Like a shot, John was up. “Me too!”
“’Night!” Paul said cheerfully, as John rushed ahead of him, and opened the sliding door into their room, and pulled Paul in by his arm. Slam!
This time it was quiet, and all they heard were desultory soft voices, and Jason and Gerry were thinking that maybe the two lovers were going to give it a rest for the night. So, gratefully, they got up and went to their bedroom. It was still quiet on the western front, so they turned off their lights and settled down to sleep.
Bump! Silence for 1-2-3, and then: Bump, bump, bump. BUMP! “Oh Christ Paul!” Maniacal laughter.
Gerry turned the bedside light on, and turned to look at Jason. Jason was sitting up, his back against a pillow, and his eyes looking shell-shocked. “There they go again,” Gerry said sarcastically.
“I had no idea!” Jason said. By now they’d figured the two men were at a 2 to 3 times per day pace. At their age!
The next morning, Gerry broke the news to Paul that Rob and Wes actually had a neighboring cottage, and they had invited all of them over for dinner that night. Paul had given Gerry a lugubrious look, but had then remarked, “I think John will be okay with it, if I spend more time with Wes than Rob. Let me talk to him about it.”
John was clearly not well pleased. Gerry could hear what sounded like an argument coming out of the guest room, and he felt bad that he had suggested it. He should have just told Wes “no” when he’d called to invite them. Jason came out of the kitchen on to the deck at the sound of the arguing, and he had a worried expression on his face. He looked to Gerry for an explanation.
Gerry said softly, “I mentioned Rob and Wes’s invitation.” Jason nodded in understanding and said,
“We should have just said ‘no’.” Jason commented. Gerry sighed and wordlessly agreed.
The arguing stopped. And then…what was that sound? Thump! Giggles. Silence for 1-2-3, and then: Bump, bump, bump…
“Oh no!” Jason cried out loud, and then smashed his hand over his mouth as if to muffle the sound that had already escaped. He looked at Gerry in dismay, and then they both started laughing hysterically.
The drive to Rob and Wes’s cottage was accomplished in a kind of awkward silence, interrupted by brief awkward statements by either Gerry or Jason.
“I forgot to tell Wes that you’re a vegetarian, Paul, I hope there will be enough for you to eat,” Jason said.
“I will be fine, no worries,” Paul said reassuringly, and lapsed back into a thoughtful silence.
A few moments later: “They found out we were here because the local grocer mentioned to Wes that Jason had been in,” Gerry said in a false hearty voice, trying to convey the message that there had been no plan or design behind the invitation, and that it had not been initiated by Jason or Gerry.
“Oh, it’s that kind of community, is it?” John said lightly, and then lapsed back into a more brooding silence. He was still a little pissed about how this had come to be, but he wasn’t going to be a complete ass about it. Paul had, after all, errr, “convinced” him that there was nothing to worry about. And at least he had Jason there for moral support if things got too heavy.
Wes came to the front porch as the car pulled in, and Jason turned to John and said, “show’s on!” and then jumped out of the car as if he were terribly excited and shouted, “Wes! It’s been forever!” and floated over to give him a huge hug. John looked at Paul and they exchanged an ironic look. Paul shrugged and then they each got out of the backseat by his own door. Gerry, meanwhile, was a little pissed at Jason’s put down of Wes to John, but decided he was a little dubious about some of Jason’s friends, too, so fair was fair. He got out of the car last, and ambled towards the cottage.
Wes made a show of giving Paul and then John a big hug, too, and ushered them inside. As Paul stepped into the house the darkness blinded him for a moment as his pupils adjusted, so it was with some surprise that Paul felt himself engulfed in another smothering hug, and it gradually dawned on him it was Rob.
Paul froze a bit under Rob’s ministrations, but soon enough – it was a respectable amount of time – Rob had let him go, and went on to give John an equally affectionate hug. Paul gave John an “I told you so” look, and they all went into the front room, which was elegant and understated. Wes was handing out perfect Manhattan drinks with green olives on sticks, and in the background – way in the background, and very softly - Shostakovich’s Symphony Number 5 was playing. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, and one could still somehow hear the crashing of the waves on the shore a quarter of mile away down the beach.
John sat right next to Paul, so close as to allow no intermediary space, and Paul, on the other side, was squished up against the sofa arm. On the other side of John, Jason sat, looking like a protective hen. Gerry and Rob were chatting amicably, and Rob was not showing Paul any undue attention. Wes was sitting in an armchair facing the sofa, and making small talk with Jason.
Dinner was served, and although Jason had not warned Wes about Paul’s eating preferences, Wes had remembered from their time in South America, so had made an entirely vegetarian dish for Paul, while throwing in some fish for the others. John swore off the fish, in solidarity with Paul (and because fish was not his favorite thing), but Jason and Gerry were grateful for it. The dinner had been catered, and it was outstanding, and they all gathered around the fire after dinner drinking wine and chatting. John had begun to relax. He had seen no signs of Rob flirting with Paul. He noticed that even Wes looked relaxed and calm. John began to wonder if his radar had been off. Perhaps he had been wrong about Rob?
There came a moment late in their evening together, that Rob situated himself next to John. He leaned in and spoke softly to him. “Gerry told me that you believe that I have designs on Paul,” he said. John’s eyes widened in surprise and not a little alarm. “I’m very sorry if I gave that impression.” Rob smiled and leaned back. “It’s just so rarely that I meet someone who is actually interested in the boring things I’m interested in; I probably was overly-enthusiastic about it when I met Paul. I’m afraid I’m not exactly the life of the party, usually. I leave that up to Wes.”
John laughed, although he was watching Rob’s face intently. He could see no artifice or subterfuge there, and John again wondered if he had imagined it all. “Thanks for saying that,” John responded. “But I never worried that Paul would do anything. I was more worried about Wes’s feelings.” John’s eyes were like two lasers burning into Rob’s eyes. But Rob didn’t flinch.
“I was unfaithful to Wes some years ago, and so naturally he worries. All of it is my fault, and I try to make it up to him. But, you know, once you’ve done something to hurt another person, you never really are able to erase it. Vestiges of it always remain.” Rob looked sincere and remorseful to John. And it wasn’t as if John didn’t know what Rob meant. For a moment he had bad memories of the things he had done to and said about Paul when they were estranged in the ‘70s. Who was he, John thought, to judge Rob’s relationship with Wes?
Rob, meanwhile, hadn’t expected to get so much blowback over what he had thought was some subtle opening flirting back in South America. Never before had the subject of his flirting been quite so clueless, and never before had the subject’s lover been so suspicious. On top of it, Lennon had gone and expressed his suspicions to Jason and Gerry, so he was being watched now by four suspicious and disapproving men: John, Wes, Jason and Gerry. Ironically, the only person who seemed not to be suspicious and instead was carefree and utterly charming to boot was the one person he had hoped to quietly peel away from the rest – Paul. Clearly, he would have to rethink his strategy and rejoin the field when he wasn’t outnumbered so badly. He never gave a thought to giving up on this exciting new challenge. Rob was not the type to abandon a goal once it was set.
Warnings: Some fun slash by inference. And - oh yeah - have I mentioned before? This is FICTION.
This is the penultimate chapter of The Elephants Dance.
THANK YOU GDELGHIBLUEEYES FOR THE GREAT CONCERT ENDING SURPRISE!
Chapter 54
That night, after the concert, John, Paul and Ringo had spent a good few hours chewing the fat and drinking whiskey in Ringo’s study. They had laughed themselves silly, and had raked up all the politically incorrect things they had each ever said or done to the point that they were all three unable to laugh any longer. Their sides ached.
“I’m not supposed to drink you know,” Ringo said in his deadpan voice, and then burped loudly. “I’m on the wagon.”
“It must be the wagon that is carrying the whiskey,” John drawled, and all three of them fell apart giggling helplessly.
“I’m serious, John. I’m an alca – alco- holic.” The word was devilishly difficult to pronounce, Ringo noted, not for the first time.
“I’ll drink to that!” John declared, and they all three of them fell apart giggling helplessly.
“Barbara’s gonna kill me when she finds out,” Ringo disclosed.
“Well, at least you’ll die happy!” John pronounced, and they all three of them fell apart giggling helplessly.
Paul’s conscience finally pricked him. “We should probably stop drinking now,” he said, and then hiccoughed. He was thinking only of Ringo in suggesting this, of course.
“No,” said John definitively. “There’s still some whiskey left in the bottle.”
This logic seemed to instantly overcome Paul’s suggestion, and all three of them poured themselves one last jigger, until the bottle was dry.
“It was fun playing with you lot tonight,” Ringo opined, as he held his whiskey up to the light and watched its golden colors change.
“It was fun having you with us,” Paul said sincerely, smiling at Ringo with real warmth and love in his eyes.
“But you’re both a terrible influence on me,” Ringo continued, holding up his tumbler to them as a blatant example. “I’m on the wagon, you know.”
John said, “You mentioned that before. Should we have insisted on soda water tonight, instead?”
Paul joined in, “We should have, yes.”
Ringo laughed. “Well, you two can drink soda water. I’d have more whiskey to myself.”
The three of them, having exhausted the bottle of whiskey, made their way up to their rooms.
“Good luck,” Paul whispered to Ringo, as he prepared to enter the master bedroom, where Barbara awaited. Ringo made a face, and disappeared inside the room. John and Paul continued on down the hall, and found the guest room. After collapsing in bed, having managed to clumsily divest themselves of their various articles of clothing, Paul said, “We fucked up.”
“How so?” John asked.
“We should have realized about Ringo. That he’s an alcoholic. We shouldn’t have suggested the whiskey.”
“He’s the one who suggested the whiskey,” John slurred.
“Well, we should have said no,” Paul slurred right back.
“We’re not our brother’s keeper,” John said in a stentorian voice.
“Maybe not, but we ought to at least give a damn about our brother,” Paul responded. A few moments ticked by before Paul ended with an interesting denouement: “We should have suggested pot instead.”
John couldn’t help the explosion of laughter that escaped him. “Just when I’m about to think you’re a fuckin’ Boy Scout, you pull it out at the last second, Macca!”
*****
This night was inevitable. It had to come. It had been destined to come since the first day of the tour: it was their last gig, San Francisco, California. It had to do with dates: this was the best date Candlestick Park had available and so it ended up as the last gig on the tour. But it was as good a place as anywhere else to end it, and maybe better.
At first they didn’t realize that they were in for a magical mystery tour with the San Francisco concert.
They knew something was different as soon as the vamp started for Figure of Eight. The audience was on its feet, screaming. Over 50% of the floor seats appeared to be occupied by men dressed like women, women dressed like men, men holding hands with other men, and women holding hands with other women. Many of them were dressed in crazy colors and outfits, including hot pink boas and turquoise jumpsuits with silver platform shoes. The full force of this wild audience hit John and Paul as soon as they approached the microphones, and while they were professional enough to keep singing, there was an aura of disbelief hovering over them. The musicians were barely able to maintain their demeanors as they watched the audience’s hijinx.
John was singing his role in the chorus and Paul didn’t come right in with the verse, and he turned to see what was up with Paul. What he saw was Paul bent over at his waist laughing his ass off. John had never seen Paul incapacitated on the stage. The poor man could not stop laughing, so the musicians elongated the vamp and worked their way around to another cue. John stepped away from his mic and shouted, “Paul! You’re up!” Paul waved acknowledgment of this, and the look he gave John said, “so sorry…can’t help it…”, so John stepped back to the mic and burst into Paul’s verse in his stead until Paul had regained his composure and joined back in.
Paul redoubled his efforts to be serious, and decided to look up to the rafters instead of down to the floor, and it was this sense of dedication that got Paul through the next half dozen songs. But when Paul had settled himself at the piano to play the opening bars of Friend of Dorothy’s, the entire floor of the arena stood up and started cheering. Paul bit his lower lip, and stared down at his hands. Now it was John’s problem, because John had to face the audience.
John handled it very well. He watched the audience’s activities with a look of interest and delight. He began camping up the lyrics and slipping into a stereotypical lisping “gay” accent which sent the audience wild. Paul, at his perch on the piano bench, was cracking up again, but forcing himself to stare at his hands.
Again, they regained their composure as they proceeded through another half dozen songs. It was time to sing You Want It Too, and as they both approached their adjacent mics, Paul met John’s eyes and the look they exchanged was: this is going to create a riot! But here goes! This audience didn’t need mere signs, they had huge banners in rainbow colors, and their huge hats with ostrich feathers and psychedelic colors spoke their own language. At least the audience was having fun. With each line sung by “innocent” Paul the audience shouted “ohhhhhh”, and with each snide response by “devilish” John the audience shouted “yeahhhh!.” It took Paul all of his self-discipline not to fall over in laughter again, and even John was cracking up. But he camped up his naughty responses, which only egged the audience on to be even more unruly. John was just having the best time ever; he looked over and saw that Paul’s face was lit up with delight in the way only Paul’s face could do. John loved it when Paul turned incandescent on him. He started to get aroused, actually, which sometimes happened to him when he watched Paul on stage. (Sometimes? John asked himself with an inner sneer.) The applause for the song went on embarrassingly long. They’ve got our number, John thought to himself with a smirk on his face. He was tempted to lean over and give Paul a kiss – just to titillate the audience - but he knew that would not be a good idea in the long run. There would be hell to pay forever. So instead he and Paul moved on with their repertoire.
The next audience uprising occurred when they got to Whatever Gets You Through the Night. As soon as the saxophone wailed out the opening bars, the audience literally exploded. John and Paul, who sang the whole song together in harmony, stared at each other in utter amazement. The entire floor of the arena had turned into a moving conga line. A boa here, a sparkling tiara there, a man painted all the colors of the rainbow, and women (were they women? It wasn’t entirely clear) being carried on men’s shoulders as the audience snaked around the floor.
Up on the stage, John and Paul gamely sang through the madness, but they were staring in fascination at the audience throughout. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope. There was no question that this was the “funnest” concert they’d done out of 69 gigs. These people really knew how to party!
All good things have to come to an end, and eventually John and Paul had made it through the show, and were coming out for their encores. Day In the Life had just crashed to an ending, and the last chord drained out of the hall. The audience was absolutely silent for the first time all night, and John came out, stepped up to a mic, and began playing the acoustic intro to Stand By Me.
When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
Oh darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me
Stand by me
If the sky, that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
All the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me.
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we'll see
No I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
Oh darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me
Stand by me
If the sky, that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
All the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me.
It was at this point that the audience had begun to sway and softly sing along with the song, and John turned to Paul and smiled. He gestured with his head for Paul to come join him at the mic, to sing harmony, and Paul slowly approached, playing his bass the entire time, and leaned in towards John to join in…
And darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me
Stand by me
So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me
Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me
Oh stand by me, oh won't you stand now, stand
Stand by me
Stand by me
There was prolonged applause as the song ended, and normally this would be the moment when Wix would play the trumpet chords of the French national anthem to signal their last song of the night, but John had made a secret plan with the musicians. Without Paul’s knowledge, he and the musicians had put together a big surprise. Paul was confused when John waited for the audience to quiet down, and then began to speak into the microphone.Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me
Stand by me
So darling, darling
Stand by me, oh stand by me
Oh stand now, stand by me, stand by me
Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me
Oh stand by me, oh won't you stand now, stand
Stand by me
Stand by me
“We’re going to play something new tonight – we haven’t played it ever before. In fact, its such a surprise that even Paul doesn’t know about it.” John turned to Paul and took in Paul’s expression. It was a cross between genuine surprise, excited anticipation, and deep suspicion. John laughed, and turned back to the audience. “This is Paul’s favorite song – at least his favorite one not written by either of us,” John announced, and the crowd cheered in anticipation. “He came back from California in late 1966 after hearing this song, and was inspired to write Sgt. Pepper,” John added. He had the audience’s full attention – not to mention Paul’s. “I’ve always thought it was a great song for us to sing to each other, because it is true about our partnership in so many ways, so tonight I’m singing it to him in honor of our last gig of the tour.”
By now Paul knew what song it was, and felt thrilled – in both a good and bad way. John was being too revealing in his comments, and it was going to fuel the rumors all the more, but the song really didn’t have to be interpreted sexually – it could be, truthfully, about their symbiotic friendship, so it could be explained away.
John turned to the other musicians and signaled them to begin. Wix started to play the Hammond organ in what were to Paul immediately recognizable chords:
I may not always love you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
I’ll make you so sure about it
God only knows what I'd be without you
If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me
God only knows what I'd be without you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
I’ll make you so sure about it
God only knows what I'd be without you
If you should ever leave me
Though life would still go on believe me
The world could show nothing to me
So what good would living do me
God only knows what I'd be without you
At this point John gestured for Paul to join in on the harmony. Paul had already started picking out some counter-melodies by ear on his bass, and so he moved in to sing harmony with John on the chorus. Their eyes met frequently, and Paul even blushed a little, because he felt as though he were exposing himself a little too much.
God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows what I'd be without you…
God only knows what I'd be without you
God only knows what I'd be without you…
The chorus echoed itself out, and John and Paul were standing there in the spotlight, and noticed that the entire audience was on its feet, and everyone was giving them a standing ovation. This ovation wasn’t a crazy, silly, demonstration of flamboyant personalities again; it was a dignified, sober round of genuine applause – the audience thanking these two men for the magic of their creative partnership. Paul’s throat was clogged, and he was afraid to say anything. John had truly surprised him in a wonderful way, and even if there would be hell to pay for this for weeks to come, these 3 or 4 minutes were well worth it to Paul.
It was at this moment that John – seeing Paul was useless – signaled to Wix to play the “trumpet” chords on his synthesizer, and for the last time in nearly nine months, John and Paul sang their closing song for one last wildly appreciative audience:
(Love, love, love)
(Love, love, love)
(Love, love, love)
There's nothing you can do that can't be done
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It's easy
There's nothing you can make that can't be made
No one you can save that can't be saved
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time
It's easy
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
(Love, love, love)
(Love, love, love)
(Love, love, love)
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
There's nothing you can know that isn't known
Nothing you can see that isn't shown
There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be
It's easy
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
All you need is love,
(All together now )
All you need is love,
(Everybody)
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
Love is all you need
Love is all you need
Love is all you need
(She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Love is all you need
(Love, love, love)
(Love, love, love)
There's nothing you can do that can't be done
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It's easy
There's nothing you can make that can't be made
No one you can save that can't be saved
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time
It's easy
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
(Love, love, love)
(Love, love, love)
(Love, love, love)
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
There's nothing you can know that isn't known
Nothing you can see that isn't shown
There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be
It's easy
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
All you need is love,
(All together now )
All you need is love,
(Everybody)
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need
Love is all you need
Love is all you need
Love is all you need
(She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Love is all you need
Almost as soon as the song had started, so had the last and final over-the-top demonstration by this most demonstrative of audiences. Exhausted but exhilarated, John and Paul lingered on the stage a bit longer than usual, taking in the crowd, the applause, the lights, the whole ambience, before reluctantly leaving it all behind. Soon they were in their limo and headed for San Francisco International Airport for their private flight to New York City.
*****
Rather than open up their loft again, John and Paul decided to stay with Gerry and Jason – mainly because Yoko and Sean were not at the Dakota at the time. It was very late at night when they arrived, so other than giving Jason a hug, they’d crawled into bed and fell fast asleep within minutes.
The next morning Paul woke up first, which was usual. He liked to exercise in the morning, and then have a leisurely breakfast. He shrugged into his workout clothes, and called for a car to take him to a local gym. Gerry was up, sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coffee while reading the Wall Street Journal.
“Good morning!” Paul said, as he strode into the room. “Sorry for intruding on you so late at night.”
Gerry looked up and smiled. “I never heard you arrive. Jason sat up and took care of it. No skin off my back. Now he’s sacked out.”
Paul chuckled, and sat down with a bottle of water, as he waited for the car to call. “So’s John. How’s your work going?” he asked, having figured it was the safest subject to raise.
Gerry grunted. “I’m looking forward to retirement, actually. I have about five more years to go before it is affordable, assuming the stock market doesn’t do a complete crash and burn.”
Paul couldn’t imagine retirement. What would a bloke do if he were retired? Sit home and count his money? Nothing about retirement appealed to Paul, but he was tactful enough not to comment. Perhaps if his job were as boring as Gerry’s was, he’d feel the same way, after all.
Gerry put his paper down. He had remembered something. “I spoke to Rob on the phone a few weeks ago, you know.” He said.
Paul couldn’t help blushing a little. “Oh?”
“Yeah. He told me that of course he enjoys your company, but there is nothing for John or Wes to worry about in that direction.”
Paul nodded in full agreement. “That is what I thought. I don’t know why John got so worked up about it. I think he just hates hearing about business and finance. Maybe he felt left out by it.”
Gerry chuckled and said, “Jason’s a bit like that, too. But I didn’t want to have that concern hanging over Rob’s head – or your’s.”
“So that’s that,” Paul said firmly. “Of course, John won’t accept it until he hears it from Rob himself, I think.”
Gerry laughed and said, “I’m sure I can arrange that. It was all a misunderstanding.”
Just then the phone rang, and Paul answered it, knowing it was his car – and it was. “Off to the gym. See you in a few hours,” he said cheerfully, and disappeared. Gerry smiled into his coffee. Once he’d gotten over the “trust” thing he’d found he was quite fond of McCartney. Who knew? Paul was obviously loyal to John, and not the raving egomaniac about his looks the way he certainly could have been. Gerry appreciated that Paul didn’t automatically assume that Rob was interested in him, and had been so reasonable about it all.
About an hour later, Jason was up and started making breakfast. John smelled the bacon and woke up like a shot. He wasn’t allowed bacon when Paul was around, and unfortunately, bacon was a favorite of his. He figured he’d better get up immediately and have his bacon before Paul got back from the gym. He always felt like a guilty child when Paul caught him eating meat. Paul never said anything, but the look of disappointment was a killer!
John came in quietly, with a finger over his lips to warn Gerry to keep quiet. He snuck up behind Jason, and gave him a bear hug from behind. “I love-love-love-love you!” John sang, and Jason giggled and blushed. “Now give me that bacon quick, before the meat police gets home!” Jason and Gerry laughed heartily and Jason put a pile of bacon on John’s plate of eggs.
John gabbed gaily as he devoured the bacon. Jason barely got a word in edgewise. “You wouldn’t believe the concert in San Francisco last night!” John crowed. “It was amazing! All these trannies and cross dressers prancing around in hot pink and purple! They were singing along, and even did the conga!” The details came out bit by bit. “Paul was hysterical. At one point he was bent over at the waist, and he couldn’t move. I had to sing his parts for him.” Jason and Gerry were amused, and paid rapt attention to John’s anecdotes. When John finally ran out of ammunition, Jason cleared his throat.
“Gerry and I were thinking we might all go up to our cottage in the Hamptons for a few days – it’s very private, right on the beach, so relaxing. Not far from Sag Harbor.”
John was enthusiastic about the idea, and agreed that they should do it, so long as Paul was up for it. Almost as if by cue, they heard the doorbell ring.
“Speak of the devil,” said Jason cheerfully, and he got up to let Paul in.
Paul went straight to the en suite to shower and change, and afterwards he came bouncing into the kitchen about 20 minutes later looking as bright as a new copper penny. Jason jumped up and cooked him some eggs. Paul of course smelled the lingering aroma of bacon (which had all been eaten, and the evidence thrown away before he got there), but was polite enough not to mention it. He figured John had probably filled his face with it, which he supposed was okay, since then John might not crave it for several more months.
“Paul, we’re all going to Sag Harbor,” John announced unceremoniously.
“We are? When?”
“Yeah, Jason, when?” John asked.
“We could leave today, or tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, let’s go today,” John said firmly. “I’d like to be somewhere away from it all, without a lot of noise or people. I’ve been over-stimulated for too long, and need a break.”
Paul couldn’t think of anything to counter that argument, so he quite passively agreed to this plan.
*****
Jason and Gerry’s place on the beach a few miles up the coast from Sag Harbor was, in fact, an actual “cottage”. It had two small bedrooms, with a shared “jack and jill” bathroom in the middle. There was a tiny kitchen, and a combined dining and living area, which featured a small fireplace. There was a deck that cantilevered off the house, where Jason and Gerry had configured some lounge sofas, rocking chairs, and a dining table with chairs. Off the deck there was a set of wooden stairs leading down to the beach through tall hedges and trees, providing optimum privacy. It was a very secluded and modest accommodation, but one that was cozy and comfortable. John and Paul felt right at home.
This trip was the first time that the two couples had slept under the same roof, and it was ear- and eye- opening for Gerry and Jason, who had never hosted such prolifically amorous friends before. That first afternoon they had arrived, all was normal. Jason went off to do grocery shopping, while the others settled in, and then Gerry fired up the grill to make the vegetables Jason had cut for them (they were eating vegetarian out of respect for Paul’s sensibilities, although individually the other three would have preferred a little meat, at least.) He also made a delicious fruit salad starring fresh blueberries and mint, and Gerry mixed refreshing cocktails they could sip out on the deck. The air was a little chilly so they wore their sweaters as they sat on the deck.
After they moved inside, Gerry lit the fire, and they sat around with whiskey speaking softly to each other. It was so relaxing, that Paul actually fell asleep sitting on the sofa. His head was thrown back and his mouth was open, his hand still firmly holding the tumbler of whiskey. John noted this and told his hosts, “Let’s get a camera, quick. You don’t see this often.” Jason and Gerry smiled affectionately, and John then added, “He’s exhausted. He doesn’t know it, but he is. He does about 75% of the work when we’re on tour, plus all the business. On top of that there’s the stress of touring, and hoping that each show goes all right. It would kill the average person.” John got up, dislodged the tumbler from Paul’s hand and put it on the table, and then leaned over Paul, gently stroking his cheek. “Come on babe, wake up, its time for bed.”
Paul awoke with a bit of a start, and then realized where he was. “I’m sorry,” he managed to croak, “I fell asleep, didn’t I?” Jason and Gerry made comforting noises, while John pulled Paul up by his arms.
“You’ve earned a bit of rest,” John was saying to Paul quietly, his arm around Paul’s waist, as he led him to the guest bedroom.
Maybe Paul needed his rest, but he didn’t get much of it, Jason and Gerry soon discovered, not for at least 30 or 40 minutes at least, during which time Gerry and Jason lay in bed with their bedside lamps on, each pretending to read a book, while all sorts of bangs and noises came from the other room. They barely could look at each other. The bed was thumping against the wall now. Jason’s eyes slid sideways in their sockets to catch a glimpse of Gerry, whose eyebrows were climbing slowly up his forehead.
“Oh!” One loud, distinct shout echoed through the tiny cottage. The rest of the noises were unintelligible, at least as words. As sounds, though, they were instantly recognizable to Jason and Gerry. Both men squirmed in their bed, praying for it to end, so they could turn off their lights and go to sleep. Jason thought that maybe he and Gerry should do something themselves, but he quickly backed off that idea, since competing with the activity going on in the other room would obviously be impossible.
The next morning, Paul was up bright and early swimming laps in the small pool that was in the side yard of the cottage. Jason caught sight of him while looking out the kitchen window. He and Gerry had awakened after Paul, and Jason started breakfast while Gerry went out on the deck to read his newspaper with a cup of coffee. John was the last to awaken.
By then, Paul was seated at the patio table chatting with Gerry and Jason, topless and wearing a wrapped towel around his waist and over his wet swim trunks. The sliding glass door to the guest bedroom slid open to the deck, and John stuck his head out.
“Macca! Get your ass in here!” There was no mistaking John’s intent.
While Jason and Gerry were a little embarrassed and didn’t quite know where to look, Paul seemed unaffected by it. He sighed and winked at Jason and Gerry and said, “Ahh – the dulcet sound of the loon, crying for its mate.” Jason and Gerry burst out laughing, and the awkwardness went away.
From the interior of the guestroom: “PAULLLLLL!!!!!”
Paul shot a comical look at his audience, one eyebrow impossibly high and his eyes alive with naughty mischief. He got up slowly, and then walked, oh so languidly, taking his time, in the direction of the sliding door. He really can move that ass, Jason and Gerry thought as one. The sliding door shut behind Paul, and suddenly:
A loud sound, and then, “Oooaffff! Ow!” It was Paul’s voice. What on earth? thought Jason and Gerry. They looked at each other in alarm. Then laughter emanated from the room. A great deal of naughty laughter.
Gerry cleared his throat. “Hmmm. Yes, well, I think we should go down to the beach, and give them their privacy.”
“Good idea,” Jason agreed, and grabbing their gear they practically ran down the stairs to the beach.
The second night there they all stayed up late on the deck to watch the full moon. The lights in the house were all turned off, and the four men drank wonderful dark red wine with even darker chocolate, only periodically saying a word or two. This time it was Paul who stood up and said, “I’m off to bed.”
Like a shot, John was up. “Me too!”
“’Night!” Paul said cheerfully, as John rushed ahead of him, and opened the sliding door into their room, and pulled Paul in by his arm. Slam!
This time it was quiet, and all they heard were desultory soft voices, and Jason and Gerry were thinking that maybe the two lovers were going to give it a rest for the night. So, gratefully, they got up and went to their bedroom. It was still quiet on the western front, so they turned off their lights and settled down to sleep.
Bump! Silence for 1-2-3, and then: Bump, bump, bump. BUMP! “Oh Christ Paul!” Maniacal laughter.
Gerry turned the bedside light on, and turned to look at Jason. Jason was sitting up, his back against a pillow, and his eyes looking shell-shocked. “There they go again,” Gerry said sarcastically.
“I had no idea!” Jason said. By now they’d figured the two men were at a 2 to 3 times per day pace. At their age!
The next morning, Gerry broke the news to Paul that Rob and Wes actually had a neighboring cottage, and they had invited all of them over for dinner that night. Paul had given Gerry a lugubrious look, but had then remarked, “I think John will be okay with it, if I spend more time with Wes than Rob. Let me talk to him about it.”
John was clearly not well pleased. Gerry could hear what sounded like an argument coming out of the guest room, and he felt bad that he had suggested it. He should have just told Wes “no” when he’d called to invite them. Jason came out of the kitchen on to the deck at the sound of the arguing, and he had a worried expression on his face. He looked to Gerry for an explanation.
Gerry said softly, “I mentioned Rob and Wes’s invitation.” Jason nodded in understanding and said,
“We should have just said ‘no’.” Jason commented. Gerry sighed and wordlessly agreed.
The arguing stopped. And then…what was that sound? Thump! Giggles. Silence for 1-2-3, and then: Bump, bump, bump…
“Oh no!” Jason cried out loud, and then smashed his hand over his mouth as if to muffle the sound that had already escaped. He looked at Gerry in dismay, and then they both started laughing hysterically.
*****
The drive to Rob and Wes’s cottage was accomplished in a kind of awkward silence, interrupted by brief awkward statements by either Gerry or Jason.
“I forgot to tell Wes that you’re a vegetarian, Paul, I hope there will be enough for you to eat,” Jason said.
“I will be fine, no worries,” Paul said reassuringly, and lapsed back into a thoughtful silence.
A few moments later: “They found out we were here because the local grocer mentioned to Wes that Jason had been in,” Gerry said in a false hearty voice, trying to convey the message that there had been no plan or design behind the invitation, and that it had not been initiated by Jason or Gerry.
“Oh, it’s that kind of community, is it?” John said lightly, and then lapsed back into a more brooding silence. He was still a little pissed about how this had come to be, but he wasn’t going to be a complete ass about it. Paul had, after all, errr, “convinced” him that there was nothing to worry about. And at least he had Jason there for moral support if things got too heavy.
Wes came to the front porch as the car pulled in, and Jason turned to John and said, “show’s on!” and then jumped out of the car as if he were terribly excited and shouted, “Wes! It’s been forever!” and floated over to give him a huge hug. John looked at Paul and they exchanged an ironic look. Paul shrugged and then they each got out of the backseat by his own door. Gerry, meanwhile, was a little pissed at Jason’s put down of Wes to John, but decided he was a little dubious about some of Jason’s friends, too, so fair was fair. He got out of the car last, and ambled towards the cottage.
Wes made a show of giving Paul and then John a big hug, too, and ushered them inside. As Paul stepped into the house the darkness blinded him for a moment as his pupils adjusted, so it was with some surprise that Paul felt himself engulfed in another smothering hug, and it gradually dawned on him it was Rob.
Paul froze a bit under Rob’s ministrations, but soon enough – it was a respectable amount of time – Rob had let him go, and went on to give John an equally affectionate hug. Paul gave John an “I told you so” look, and they all went into the front room, which was elegant and understated. Wes was handing out perfect Manhattan drinks with green olives on sticks, and in the background – way in the background, and very softly - Shostakovich’s Symphony Number 5 was playing. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, and one could still somehow hear the crashing of the waves on the shore a quarter of mile away down the beach.
John sat right next to Paul, so close as to allow no intermediary space, and Paul, on the other side, was squished up against the sofa arm. On the other side of John, Jason sat, looking like a protective hen. Gerry and Rob were chatting amicably, and Rob was not showing Paul any undue attention. Wes was sitting in an armchair facing the sofa, and making small talk with Jason.
Dinner was served, and although Jason had not warned Wes about Paul’s eating preferences, Wes had remembered from their time in South America, so had made an entirely vegetarian dish for Paul, while throwing in some fish for the others. John swore off the fish, in solidarity with Paul (and because fish was not his favorite thing), but Jason and Gerry were grateful for it. The dinner had been catered, and it was outstanding, and they all gathered around the fire after dinner drinking wine and chatting. John had begun to relax. He had seen no signs of Rob flirting with Paul. He noticed that even Wes looked relaxed and calm. John began to wonder if his radar had been off. Perhaps he had been wrong about Rob?
There came a moment late in their evening together, that Rob situated himself next to John. He leaned in and spoke softly to him. “Gerry told me that you believe that I have designs on Paul,” he said. John’s eyes widened in surprise and not a little alarm. “I’m very sorry if I gave that impression.” Rob smiled and leaned back. “It’s just so rarely that I meet someone who is actually interested in the boring things I’m interested in; I probably was overly-enthusiastic about it when I met Paul. I’m afraid I’m not exactly the life of the party, usually. I leave that up to Wes.”
John laughed, although he was watching Rob’s face intently. He could see no artifice or subterfuge there, and John again wondered if he had imagined it all. “Thanks for saying that,” John responded. “But I never worried that Paul would do anything. I was more worried about Wes’s feelings.” John’s eyes were like two lasers burning into Rob’s eyes. But Rob didn’t flinch.
“I was unfaithful to Wes some years ago, and so naturally he worries. All of it is my fault, and I try to make it up to him. But, you know, once you’ve done something to hurt another person, you never really are able to erase it. Vestiges of it always remain.” Rob looked sincere and remorseful to John. And it wasn’t as if John didn’t know what Rob meant. For a moment he had bad memories of the things he had done to and said about Paul when they were estranged in the ‘70s. Who was he, John thought, to judge Rob’s relationship with Wes?
Rob, meanwhile, hadn’t expected to get so much blowback over what he had thought was some subtle opening flirting back in South America. Never before had the subject of his flirting been quite so clueless, and never before had the subject’s lover been so suspicious. On top of it, Lennon had gone and expressed his suspicions to Jason and Gerry, so he was being watched now by four suspicious and disapproving men: John, Wes, Jason and Gerry. Ironically, the only person who seemed not to be suspicious and instead was carefree and utterly charming to boot was the one person he had hoped to quietly peel away from the rest – Paul. Clearly, he would have to rethink his strategy and rejoin the field when he wasn’t outnumbered so badly. He never gave a thought to giving up on this exciting new challenge. Rob was not the type to abandon a goal once it was set.
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Date: 2014-02-28 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 08:52 am (UTC)1. YOU MADE ME GIGGLE LIKE AN IDIOT DURING PAUL AND JOHNS LIL SEXY TIME
2. I was smiling like an idiot when they were at the concert
3. I think I past out from laughter XD
Honestly, this chapter made my night. Thank you. :D