Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Three hours later, the sets were finished, and Trixi and the Beatles were having a snack in the restaurant next to the theater. Thankfully, all four of them had wanted simple sets, so all Trixi had had to do was assemble different elements that were backstage from previous shows. Ringo had even lent a hand, lifting and carrying stuff when it got to heavy for Trixi to carry.
John drained his glass and signalled the nearest waitress.
“‘Ey, miss, might I ‘ave another scotch ‘n coke?”
The waitress gave him a funny look before explaining that there was a house rule that there was only one drink per customer before 7 o’clock.
“And why th’ bloody ‘ell’s that, may I ask?”
The waitress told him patiently that as they were situated right next to a theater, they had had previous experience with people coming in during the lunch hour and getting dead drunk. It was bad for the buisness, and so the firm reply was no, he couldn’t have another drink. At least, not an alcoholic one. John scowled, and ordered a plain Coca Cola. The waitress flounced off to the counter to place the order.
As everyone else around the table broke up laughing, Paul piped up in mock sadness, “Sometimes, not even being a Beatle gets you a drink.”
“Yeah, but what else will it get you?” asked John, smiling slyly. The table went into hysterics.
The waitress returned, carrying John’s Coke and the check.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but the noise of your party is forcing us to ask you to leave. Please pay on your way out.” The five of them reluctantly began to head for the door. As they were about to leave, George turned around and said, “Aw, you ain’t no fun anymore!”
Before the manager had a chance to emerge and chase them away, they ran out and next door back to the theater.
Back at the theater, George and Paul went to rehearse some of the songs they would be doing. Trixi asked if they would be doing anything off Sgt. Pepper.
“Yes,” said Paul, “but only the title track and the reprise, to start and finish up the show. All the other stuff is impossible on stage.”
George added in with, “We’ll mainly be doing the old songs and some old rockers that we’ve always liked. Anna asked us to put together a show about what drives our music and what influences us. And that, to begin with, was the classic stuff. Y’know, like Berry and Holly - those guys. It’s great.” Paul nudged him and they went off.
Trixi talked to Ringo for a while. He turned out to be just as nice and funny as she had expected him to be, but “humorous” funny, not “witty” funny the way John was. She never got a chance to know him well though: after about fifteen minutes, he excused himself to go “cop a smoke” outside. Trixi didn’t smoke, so she stayed inside.
In the interum, John had snuck off somewhere and disappeared. Trixi went to look for him, as he was the only one she hadn’t really had a chance to talk to. After she had looked for ten minutes and hadn’t found him, she got frustrated and went to ask Anna if she had seen him.
“Anna!”
Anna looked up from the set list the sound crew was going over.
“Yes?” she said, “Have you lost something?”
“Yes, actually,” replied Trixi, “John. He nicked off somewhere and I was wondering if you had seen him.”
“I haven’t,” said Anna, “but you might want to check in the reference room. He might be reading or something. I know he hasn’t come this way, though.”
“Thanks!” yelled Trixi over her shoulder, as she started with enthusiasm
towards the ref. room.