Chapter 39

The ‘White Album’ sessions were going fine according to Paul, and I spent my time away from him hanging out with the girls and doing odds and ends around the house. It was noon on this particular day and I was just heading off to Abbey Road to meet Paul for lunch. I drove to the white building, parked the car and got out. A few people gave me looks, obviously either recognizing me or wondering why I got to go in and they didn’t. I paid no mind to them and made my way up the cement stairs. As I shut the door behind me, I could hear music. I smiled and walked up to the main recording area; peeking in the cracked door. The Beatles were all huddled around, plinking away on their instruments. I saw Paul look at his watch and then look up at the door, a smile spreading across his face when he saw me. I smiled in return making my way in.
“There’s me girl!” Paul smiled, wrapping his bass around to his back and walking towards me.
“I’m not late am I?” I asked in innocence as he gave me a kiss.
“Oh, not at all, love,” he replied and took my hand, leading me over to the others.
“Working hard I see,” I commented and they all smiled, except for John—he just seemed to stare at me. I shook it off.
“Oh yeah, it’s been a busy day,” George said, “I’m ready for a break,” he took his guitar off his shoulders and set it next to the chair, reaching towards the sky for a stretch.
“What are you working on?” I asked curious. Paul smiled, him too taking off his bass, and putting in on the stand.
“You know the rules love…” he said shaking his left pointer at me. I laughed.
“I’m not asking you to perform it, just a title?” I pleaded. Paul chuckled and rolled his eyes.
“I suppose, but only cuz I love you,” he said kissing my forehead, “We’re working on two actually—‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’-”
“That’s mine,” George chirped in proudly. I smiled.
“And, ‘Sexy Sadie’,” Paul finished. I nodded.
“Sounds fab,” I said and Paul nodded.
“Are you ready to go, then? I’m starving,” he asked rubbing his stomach.
“Yeah, anytime,”
“Alright, well lads, I’ll be back at 1:30,” Paul told them.
“Sounds good Paul,” Ringo smiled, “Have a good lunch,”
“Thanks,” I said waving as Paul and I turned for the door. As we exited Paul scooped me in his arms and pushed me against the wall, kissing me all over. I laughed and Paul pulled back smiling.
“What? I missed you,” he said with puppy eyes.
“I missed you too,” I said still laughing. He smiled and kissed me again, then pulled me away.
“Let’s go eat,” We walked to the door and nearly ran into a short, black haired, woman entering.
“Oh, sorry,” I apologized to her. Without turning her head she answered in a little squeaky voice.
“It’s okay,” As she continued on towards the Beatles studio room, Paul and I froze. Paul’s smile immediately faded.
“Was that….?” I started totally confused.
“I think so,” Paul answered, reading my mind. He scratched his head, “What is she doing here?”
“That’s what I’m wondering,” I said looking at her as I saw her disappear in the room.
“I wonder if she’s buggin’ him again—he’s been in a rather foul mood today,” Paul said.
“I noticed,” I said, thinking back to his cold stare.
“Gosh, I hope she’s not back….” Paul complained. I shrugged and we continued to walk outside and to a nice little restaurant just a ways up the street—eating a wonderful meal. There was about a half hour or a bit more before 1:30, but Paul suggested we go back early.
“Excited to get back to work?” I asked him smiling. He shook his head.
“No, not really….I’m just curious to why Yoko was there,”
“I see,” I replied. Paul paid the waitress and we walked back to Abbey Road, hand in hand. I stopped just outside the door, making Paul pull back a bit. He turned around.
“Something wrong love?” he asked.
“Should I come in?”
“Of course—we have a bit before we’re starting again,” he told me, “unless you don’t want to that is,”
“No I do, but, I don’t want to be in the middle of a very possible fight between you two…” I said knowing that if Yoko was a part of John’s life again, Paul would not be a happy camper. He shrugged.
“We won’t fight—I won’t bring it up now,” he assured me but as I followed him in I heard him utter something contrary under his breath. We made it upstairs and sure enough Yoko was sitting next to John, as he played his guitar to her. She looked up at us, smiling (quite evilly I thought), and John turned around. He glanced quickly at me, still frowning, then at Paul.
“Back already?” he asked. Paul nodded.
“Yeah, we didn’t go far,” he responded sitting down at the piano, a few feet away from John and Yoko. He pulled me over with him and I sat down. He began to play.
“What the hell’s going on? I thought he was past this?” he asked me in a whisper, still plinking away.
“I wish I knew,” was all I responded—watching his hands slither over the keys.
“Cor, this bloody sucks. What am I going to do?” he sighed, “He’s going to start bringing her along to every damn session now, like before….” He said hitting a key rather hard.
“Whoa, don’t wreck the piano Macca,” John commented from behind us, with a giggle from Yoko. Paul smiled.
“Sorry,” he responding turning back to me.
“Try talking to him again—you know ask him if it’s possible that she stay at home,” I suggested. Paul shrugged and turned around again to look at the two of them, but it was only John. We looked around and there was no sign of Yoko.
“Where did Yoko go?” Paul asked John, “she was just here,” John looked up.
“She went to grab some things from home—she’ll be back,” he replied. Paul rolled his eyes and lifted the corner of his lip.
“Great,” he muttered a little too loudly. John frowned.
“What do you mean by that?” he asked. Paul, surprised he was heard, pulled back a bit.
“What?”
“I heard you say ‘Great’, you twit—and I want to know what the hell that meant.” John asked firmly. Paul shrugged.
“I don’t know—I just--what’s going on man? I thought you were over this….”
“Yeah well, I’m not. I ran into her when I was in Los Angeles for you. She asked if we could talk and I agreed. She got to me again….I can’t help it, there’s something about her—I love her,” he replied.
“But-” I began, ready to ask him what he planned to do about Cyn and Julian now. He shot a glare at me, and pointed.
“I don’t want to hear a damn word from you,” he exploded, “I’m sick of your preaching shit—let me live my own damn life, and get off me bloody back!” I was totally taken aback because I hadn’t even said anything. Paul stood up abruptly, pointing at John, face full of anger.
“Hey, don’t you dare talk to her like that!” he said to John firmly. John was surprised at Paul’s order—and I think it made him all the angrier.
“I can bloody talk to her any way I please. She talks to me when I don’t want her to—I have a bloody right to do it to her,” John retorted. Paul walked towards John, still in an angry fluster.
“You better watch it Lennon,” Paul warned, “You can’t damn talk to her however you want to—especially if I’m around. She didn’t even say a bloody word,”
“Yes, but she was about to,” John said glaring at me again,” and I don’t need to listen to her right now,” I was annoyed.
“Stop it John,” I told him.
“No—I’m sick of you putting judgment on me. I don’t need you,”
“I didn’t even say anything!” I argued, and noticed Paul just standing there and watching the two of us.
“Yeah? What were you going to say? I bet it was dripping with judgment,” John challenged me. I thought about lying, but decided not to.
“I was just going to ask you if Cyn knew, and what you planned to do about them,” I said. He stood up angry.
“See! There you go, judging me!” he boomed. I stood up angry, and Paul walked slowly over to me.
“I didn’t judge you!” I shouted.
“Oh yeah? You don’t think anything negative about me now that I’m back with Yoko?” he asked raising his eyebrows testily.
“Yes, but that’s beside the point, because I didn’t say that till now. My last statement wasn’t judging you; I was just asking what you planned to do about your current wife and son!”
“Can’t you bloody see that I love her?” John yelled, making me angrier.
“I don’t care if you love her or not John; You can go off and marry her if you dang well please, what I care about how you go about presenting this new found feeling of yours to Cyn and Julian! You didn’t do so hot the last time and I care about their feelings in this situation, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,”
“Oh really? Do they know?” I asked him, and Paul turned to look at John, curious of his answer. John stood silent, “See! You obviously don’t care, or else you wouldn’t be leaving Cyn at home with your five year old son, thinking everything between you is fine--while you’re here cheating on her with Yoko! That’s what I’m angry with!”
“What are you saying Olivia? I’m a piece of shit and I don’t care about anybody’s feelings?” he asked.
“Nobody but your own,” I muttered frustrated.
“You know what, not everybody’s perfect like you! We weren’t all blessed with perfect little relationships like you and Paul have,” he started and I just glared at him, “oh wait a minute, if I remember correctly, you were a little slut going through all of us before you settled with Paulie here,” he yelled, and his statement cut me like a knife. Paul walked towards John.
“Shut the hell up John!” Paul yelled at him, and I just stood there hurt.
“I don’t need your shit! Neither of you!” John shouted, and then stared at me, “Especially yours! You have no right to tell me what I’m doing wrong and what I’m doing right!” he said walking towards me angrily, and for a moment I got really scared…I had never seen John this upset before and I had wished now I would’ve kept my mouth shut, “You think you’re such the perfect bloody angel, but I’ve got a reality check for you--you’re not! You’re just a snotty bitch who thinks she’s the queen of the world!”
“HEY!” Paul boomed, now standing between John and I—stopping John from coming any closer to me, “What did I tell you about talking to her like that!?” Paul questioned John, fire in his eyes—the two of them standing inches apart, “Take that back right now,” Paul ordered. John scuffed in his face.
“Like I hell I will,” Paul clenched his teeth together,
“John Lennon, take back what you just said to her, now,” he repeated pointing at me. John shook his head.
“I’m not apologizing for something that I meant,” he said, staring at me. Paul fumed up with anger.
“You know what John, she’s bloody right! I wasn’t going to get into this with you now, but since you’re being such a bastard, I am! She’s right and that’s a fact—and I think you know it! You act like you don’t care what she’s thinks, but it’s obvious you do or else you wouldn’t care whether she spoke her mind or not! You know you’re an ass!” Paul yelled and I could see John’s jaw moved as he clenched his teeth in anger, staring coldly at Paul. Paul continued, “And don’t you ever, EVER talk to her like that again! Especially if it’s just lashing out because you know she’s right about you’re life being so f*ckin’ screwed up!” Paul yelled—and seeing the anger in both their faces made me want to cry.
“You bloody bastard!” John yelled pushing Paul back into the piano. Paul’s legs hit the bench, making him bend at the knees and fall backwards, hitting the back of his head on the keys. My hand rose to my mouth in worry. Whether he was hurt or not I couldn’t tell, because he immediately kicked the bench towards an attacking John and jumped up, lunging towards him. He slugged John in the face and pushed him back, making him fall on the floor. John, getting angrier by the minute, grabbed Paul by the legs and pulled at him, sending him speeding towards the cement floor, landing on his back. Paul made a wailing noise, as the pain I’m sure shot through him and the breath was taken out of him. I screamed,
“Knock it off you guys!” They paid not attention to me and as Paul tried to make his way up, still angry, John sat atop him—holding him down and choking him.
“John stop it!” I screamed again. He didn’t reply but continued holding down his weight on Paul’s neck.
“Get off of me you bastard!” Paul yelled angry, as best he could. He was kicking and squirming trying to break free. I didn’t know if John would stop and I figured if I didn’t do something he could really end up hurting Paul—his face was already beat red. Without even thinking I ran towards the two of them and, with all my weight shoved John. He sailed off of Paul, landing on his side, me on top of him. I heard Paul coughing and scraping for air behind me. John turned and shoved me hard off him, sending me plummeting towards the chairs and guitars—all in which fell on me, one jabbing me right in the face. I screamed with pain.
“Olivia!” I heard Paul scream and he ran towards me and moved the guitars. He helped me up into his arms—my face was burning, “Oh gosh love are you okay?!” Paul exclaimed.
“I think so,” I answered in pain, rubbing my sore cheek and closing my eyes. Paul kissed it lightly then turned to John,
“You’re such an ass hole you know that! Dammit, look what you’ve done! She didn’t even do anything, except to help me out of your bloody strangle! And she’s a girl on top of it! How dare you hit her!” Paul shouted. I opened my eyes, one feeling a bit swelled, to look at John. As I saw him just standing there staring at me in complete shock of himself, my eyes filled with tears. How could he have done this? To me and Paul? How far would John have gone with choking Paul?
“Oh my gosh…” he mumbled, “Oh my gosh, Olivia! Shit, luv, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me!” John said walking towards me, and through my teary eyes, I swear I saw tears in his, “What have I done?” I heard him whisper. Paul held out his hand to stop him.
“Enough, that’s what,” Paul answered John’s mumbled question. John looked at Paul and me as we stood up, “Don’t come any closer to her--”
“Everybody ready to do some wo-” We all turned to see George and Ringo enter the room. They both stood and stared.
“What the hell happened here?” Ringo asked seeing Paul and John’s rustled up clothes, and myself, surrounded by fallen guitars and a piano bench.
“John here is being a total ass hole, and hit Olivia,” Paul snapped glaring at John—who just stood in silence staring at the floor.
“What?!” George exclaimed, “Why, what happened when we were gone?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Paul said, “You can bloody ask John if you want—he’s the one acting like a complete dick,” Paul finished and George and Ringo just stared, totally confused and shocked, “Come on love,” Paul tipped his head towards the door and we walked out into the next room. We sat down on the couch and Paul immediately took me into his arms.
“Love I’m so sorry, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, “I didn’t want any of this to happen,” I nodded.
“I know you didn’t, and neither did I,” I answered, “I’m alright—physically, but emotionally—not so much,” I responded, “What the heck happened back there? Why did he just explode on me? And why the hell was he choking you!—what if he didn’t stop!?” I said freaking out. Paul raised his eyebrows at me and I had to laugh knowing why, “Yes, I know I said hell, but I’m confused--and angry. I just can’t comprehend it…..I can’t believe he just attacked you like that….”
“That’s nothing love,” Paul said pulling me towards him, “I’ve told you before. We’ve been in fights like that in the past—a lot actually in the Hamburg days. It’s the fact that he hit you that ticks me off to no end—that’s why I’m never going to think of him the same….” He shook his head, “What a bloody bastard,”
“I shouldn’t have come in,” I said. Paul turned, looking at me with shock.
“Love, don’t you dare go blaming yourself! He blew up before you even said anything, and it’s because he knew you would be right and didn’t want to hear it—that’s the way John operates. We probably would’ve fought whether you were here or not,”
“Yes, but physically?” I asked and Paul shrugged.
“Honestly, I don’t know—but don’t blame yourself. He has some stick up his ass and was taking it out on us both. I shouldn’t have even brought Yoko up,” Paul said, “It was probably my fault,” I just leaned against Paul and we sat in silence taking in all that just happened. I was still completely bothered.
“So you think he would have stopped choking you? I mean, you couldn’t breathe! I could see it and it was scaring me to death!” Paul laughed slightly.
“Ah, I would’ve got out of it eventually—you know, I’d do me spaz attack. I wasn’t at the stage yet,” he said and I had to giggle a little remembering all the fun little fights they used to get in before Paul and I were together. He never seemed to fight back—instead, if they had him in a head lock or something, he would just go spastic getting free.
“That was so funny,” I said. He laughed.
“Hey, but it worked now didn’t it? They can’t control a spastic little man—therefore I break free,” he explained and I laughed again.
“That’s true,” I responded and there was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Paul asked.
“It’s John,”
“Go away,” Paul retorted.
“Please let me talk to Olivia for a minute,” John pleaded. I looked at Paul who wasn’t taking sympathy on him. He scuffed to himself.
“Hell no, I don’t want you near her,” he answered.
“Please,” John asked again, his voice somewhat defeated. Before Paul could answer no again, I touched his arm so he would look at me. He saw the look in my eyes and he shook his head.
“I’m not letting him talk to you—I don’t want him near you. Before I had to worry about him hitting on you and now I have to worry about him hitting you!” he told me frustrated.
“He’s not going to hit me again,” I said, “I think he wants to apologize. Just let him, it’ll be okay…..” Paul stared at me for a bit then stood up.
“Fine, just for a few minutes,” he agreed as he walked to the door opening it. John looked up with red eyes, “Hurry up, you’ve got five minutes,” Paul said, sternly, “And don’t you dare lay a finger on her or we’re through,” he warned before leaving. John nodded, sniffed, and shut the door behind him. He walked over to me slowly and sat down beside me. He was silent as he stared at his lap.
“Olivia, I’m so sorry,” he crackled, “I honestly don’t know what I was thinking—it wasn’t me. I would never, never do anything to hurt you,” he said looking up with water filled eyes.
“What’s going on with you John?” I asked him. He grunted a laugh.
“Exactly what Paul said…you’re right. I am a piece of shit—I know that. And I do really care what you think, so I knew I would feel even lower if I heard you say it to me—so I just lashed out and blamed you for me wrong doings,” he admitted, “When me dad left us when I was younger, I was completely devastated. I’ve hated him ever since and promised me self that if I ever had a wife and kids I would never do such a thing because it hurt us so terribly—I promised myself I would never be like him, and now I’ve bloody become him!” he said frustrated with himself. I touched his shoulder.
“I’m not going to lie to you John, what you’re doing to Cyn and Julian isn’t right—but you can stop that,” he looked up at me, “I’m not saying leave Yoko—if you love her, you do. But stop sneaking with her behind Cyn’s back. You can’t pretend to be happily married--you need to talk to her—explain that you didn’t understand but you know that you have these feelings for Yoko. Don’t just leave her in the dust like last time, talk to her before you do anything else,”
“I’m sorry about what I said to you—calling you a bitch and all. Honestly, I think you’re one of the nicest, smartest, caring person I’ve ever met.” John said, “I didn’t mean it at all, I’m so sorry—you’re right about everything, I know that but didn’t want to admit to it. I didn’t want to admit I’m a huge jerk off,”
“You’re not a huge jerk off,” I said and he looked at me with doubting eyes. I smiled, “Well, yes maybe just now you were, but like I said—you can change it. Talk to Cyn—make things better. I’m sure she won’t understand, in fact, I can guarantee she won’t, but she’ll respect that you came forward and told her instead of what you did last time,” I said and he nodded. Paul opened the door just then.
“Five minutes is up,” he said just standing there. John turned to him then back to me. I was a little surprised when he leaned in and hugged me—so was Paul. His eyebrows went up, like they always do.
“Thank you so much, and again, I’m so sorry for hurting you physically and emotionally. If I ever, ever start to do that again, I give you permission to kick the living daylights outta me,” he offered and I laughed.
“Like I could ever do that,” He smiled.
“You never know, you’re a strong girl,”
“It’s a deal then,” I said shaking his hand. He smiled and stood up—Paul just staring at him, I think now with a mix of sympathy and anger. As John passed Paul, he stopped.
“We’ll talk later?” he asked him with hope. Paul nodded his head slightly,
“Yeah—Yoko’s back. She’s waiting for you in the studio,” Paul replied.
“Thanks,” John said leaving. Paul walked back over to me at the couch and sat down.
“What did he say?” he asked.
“That he was sorry and that it was because he knew I was right. He told me about his dad and how mad he is because he thinks he turned into him,” I explained. Paul nodded.
“I wondered if that had anything to do with that,” he said, “I understand he’s angry at himself, and I don’t care if he wants to beat the tar out of me—like I said, we do it a lot. But to hit you like that?!” Paul shook his head, “He’s really going to have to make that up,” I didn’t reply, only rested my head on Paul’s shoulder. Paul went on with the session and I went home. By the time Paul got home, I had the slightest bruise on my face—barely noticeable.
“It’s not as bad as we thought it was going to be,” Paul said looking at it himself. I nodded.
“I know—thankfully,” I smiled, “Did you and John talk?”
“Yeah,” Paul said and I just stared at him. He smiled as he looked at me, “What?”
“Well, how did it go?” I asked.
“Like always—he apologized and we talked about it—I forgave him about you, but then we got into another fight,” Paul said.
“What?! Another fight?!” I said shocked and Paul laughed.
“Not physical love, verbal—about music,” Paul assured me and I sighed.
“You guys always get into musical fights,”
“I know, that’s why it’s nothing. We got over it like usual, and actually got a lot done today, the albums’ almost finished,” He said.
“Well good! It’s taking you guys long enough,” I said and he smiled.
“Yes, and we decided to close the boutique,” he informed me. I probably should’ve mentioned this earlier, but not long ago the Beatles decided to go into the retail business and open a boutique entitled, Apple. They sold various things there from clothing to records.
“You shut it down?” I repeated. He nodded.
“Yeah, not because it wasn’t making money, but we don’t really think that the retail business is our particular scene you know? So, after the session, we went along and chose all the stuff we wanted—I got this smashing overcoat, I’ll have to show you—and now we’re going to tell our friends and such. I’ll go in with you tomorrow if you’d like, then everything that’s left will be left for the public,”
“For free?” I asked and Paul laughed.
“Yeah for free,” he replied, “Hey, can I show you something?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“Okay, come ‘ead then,” he said getting up from our couch and heading to the music room. He went and sat at the piano.
“What do you think of this…..” he said and played a chord.
“Wait a second, are you going to actually play me an unfinished song?” I kidded him. He stuck his tongue out at me.
“Yes dear wife, now sit down,” he said and I laughed. He played the chords and sang a few lyrics,

‘Hey Jules, don’t make it bad,
Take a sad song, and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start, to make it better.

Hey Jules, don’t be afraid,
Mmm, mm, mm,
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na!

And anytime you feel the pain,
Hey Jules refrain, don’t carry the world,
Upon your shoulder,
Mmmm, mmm, mm, mmm, mmm, mm
Na, na na na na na na na na!

Hey Jules, mmm, mm,
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember, to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, mm,
Mmmmm, mmmm, mmmm,

Hey Jules, don’t make it bad,
Take a sad song, and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin,
Then you begin, to make it better.’

Paul stopped playing that piano and turned to face me.
“What did you think of that? I’m not done, obviously, but for a start?” he asked me. I nodded.
“That was really pretty actually—what’s the inspiration? Anything in particular?” I asked.
“Yeah, Julian actually,” Paul answered, “The last time John did this whole thing with Yoko, I felt horrible for him. His dad was going to leave him, and he never really had a chance to know him. Plus, now he had this, in my mind, wicked old step mum—you know. So I kinda wrote it as advice to him—how to make better the situation type thing,”
“Wow, that’s really good,” I complimented him. He made a face.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, definitely! What will John think though?” I asked. Paul shrugged.
“I don’t know, I’m afraid of that,”
“Hmm, maybe change the name or something…you know, Jules. He might get that, since that’s what he calls him.” Paul nodded.
“Good thinking—yeah, maybe something like…” he thought for a moment, “Julie?” he suggested and I made a face. He laughed,
“I agree with you…no Julie. Uh….June—no…Jude?”
“Hey Jude?” I asked thinking about it.
“Yeah, ‘Hey Jude, don’t make it bad….” Paul sang a bit, “I like it.”
“So do I,” I smiled.
“Then ‘Hey Jude’ it is!”
“Very nice,” I said, “You’re so talented,”
“Wanna help me fill in the lyrics?” he asked me and my eyes grew big.
“Me?” I asked surprised. He laughed.
“What, are you meeting me for the first time all over again or something? Yes you,” he asked noticing my very much ‘fan’ behavior. I laughed.
“Sorry,” I shook my head, “But, you want me to help you write a song? I might ruin it—you’re the Beatle,”
“And you are a Beatle wife,” Paul said laughing, “Stop acting like a little fan and help. I think you are wonderful songwriter. I just need help filling in the lyric spots….”
“I’ll try….” I said. Paul smiled and kissed me.
“Alright, let’s take a gander, as you say, shall we?”
“Let’s,” I said as Paul patted the piano bench, I sat next to him.
“How do you write? Do you have a particular process?” Paul asked me. I shook my head.
“Not really, if I know what I’m writing about—it’s just usually all my feelings put into like poetry form, and then I put it with music. But other times, things just come to me. I’ll just keep singing it over and over again, and soon the words will fill the spots,” I explained.
“Good, pretty much like me then,” Paul answered, “We’ll start with the second verse,”
“Go for it,” I said and he began singing. He sang it a couple times and he came up with ‘You have found her,’ but we needed a few more words to finish up that lyric.
“How about, uh, go and get her? Or maybe,-”
“Now go and get her…I like that,” Paul said scribbling it down on the paper. He sang the verse over, “Yeah, that’s good! Next,” he said and between the two of us we completed the song—and honestly the finished product, in which he made me sing with him, sounded good.
“I think you may have another number one there sweetheart,” I said kissing his cheek.
“Only cuz I had your help,” Paul said smiling and kissing me in return.
“Oh please, you have most of it done and came up with most of the missing parts,” I laughed.
“That’s not true—you came up with many parts and if you didn’t, your suggestions made me think of the lyrics I did. You’re fantastic song writer and I love your voice, I don’t think I tell you that enough,” he said.
“Well thank you,” I said kissing him. We tweaked a few other musical things to the song and by that time we were both whooped. We headed off to bed. Paul got up early for the next few days to go record. He was going to present his new song and introduce it to the group as being the next single. However it didn’t go like he planned….I heard the door slam shut and I turned to see Paul storming in.
“I don’t think I need to ask how your day was,” I commented as he walked to be and landed hard on the couch.
“John bloody pisses me off sometimes,” he said shaking his head.
“What happened now?”
“Well, for starters, I asked him the other day if he could leave Yoko at home—you know, to keep to the pact. He said he would, but she’s bloody been there every day since then. I approached him on it today, and he said he was sorry but he just couldn’t do it. He has to be with her all the time—he misses her. I tried to explain that I miss you like hell when I’m working, but we all agreed so I’ve not brought you to work, same with George and Ringo. He said I wasn’t in love like him, which is a bunch of crap because I’m so head over heels in love with you sometimes I can’t think—but anyway, so that started everything,”
“I’m sorry,” I said. He smiled and took my hand,
“It’s not you love, it’s just been building up day after day—ever since they moved in together a few days ago,” (It had been a week since John, Paul, and my encounter and John and Cynthia had now divorced, Yoko moving in with John), “She’s there every bloody day, in the middle of everything, still giving us her opinion thinking we actually care. But what topped it all off is, we agreed that ‘Hey Jude’ would be the A side of the next single. But after laying down the bass, lead vocal, and orchestra today, John decides to change his bloody mind,”
“He doesn’t want ‘Hey Jude’ the A side, or not on the single at all?” I asked.
“He doesn’t want it the A side,” Paul answered, “He’s been working on a song called ‘Revolution’, which is a gear song, but now that Yoko told him she thinks his song should be the A side rather than mine, he’s changing his mind on me—when we all already agreed ‘Hey Jude’ was the A side—and keep in mind, this is going to be our first Apple record,”
“So what did you decided on?”
“Well, we had a bit of a fierce argument, well, more than one, but I won in the end,” Paul said.
“And you’re still angry?” I asked him not sure why he was mad if he won the A side, which to me, wasn’t that big of a deal—but I suppose with the competition between the two of them, it mattered.
“Yeah. Mostly because he’s already listening to every damn word she’s saying, and doing everything she’s telling him to do. I hate her, I really do. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I’ve tried to tolerate her, but she’s impossible. It’s like she’s purposely trying to get John wrapped around her crooked little finger,”
“Well, you listen to everything I tell you to do,” I said and he shot a glance at me.
“I do not,” he argued. I smiled.
“Yes you do, I have control over you,” I said waving my fingers at him. He laughed and pulled me onto his lap.
“You do not,” he said leaning in to kiss me. I smiled.
“Yes I do, believe it or not sweetie; I can pretty much get you to do anything I want,” I argued again just for fun.
“Only by seduction,” Paul said making a face at me.
“So, it’s still a way,” I said, “It’s my power,” Paul laughed.
“That doesn’t count,”
“Sure it does—how do you know Yoko’s not seducing John to get him to agree with her?”
“Because, I’ve seen her tell John something and then he changes his mind right then and there—no sexual things involved,”
“So you wouldn’t do something just cuz I asked you to?” I asked him. He rolled his eyes and sighed.
“Ah, love you know I would. You’re right, you do have a bloody power over me—it’s called love. I love you so damn much I’ll do anything you tell me to,” he admitted and I was shocked because I was just playing.
“Really?”
“What do you mean really? You know that, you’ve seen it,” he said.
“I suppose, I did get you to do that Officer Strip dance for me so long ago….” I laughed and his eyes grew big.
“Oh love, did you have to bring that up?” he asked and I laughed even more.
“I can’t believe you actually did that!”
“If I remember correctly, you were using your seduction power on that one,” he pointed out.
“So, maybe I was—but you still did it! ‘Olivia, you’re under arrest’,” I giggled imitating him. He groaned.
“Don’t make fun—you said you liked it,” he responded with those puppy eyes. I looked sadly back at him.
“I did, very much—it’s funny to think that the Beatle Paul McCartney did an Officer Stripper Dance…”
“The things I do for love,” Paul said shaking his head. I laughed and we kissed for a bit. We finished off the day just being together. A few days later Paul was back in the studio working on a new song by George called ‘Not Guilty’. The session didn’t end until 5:30am in which he woke me up and asked me to go to the now empty Apple Boutique. Not sure why it couldn’t wait till a decent time, I got dressed and we drove over there. Paul had a couple cans of black spray paint and wanted me to help him write ‘Hey Jude’ and ‘Revolution’—the songs on their new single—on the whitewashed walls. I felt like I was vandalizing the place, like graffiti or something, but Paul continually told me I wasn’t because it was his store. A few days later, some local Jewish traders misunderstood the title ‘Hey Jude’ and complained. Paul went on live to apologize for offending them. He said it was nothing to do with Jews and he told the Evening Standard, ‘We thought it we’d paint the windows for a gas. What would you do if your shop had just closed?’. Whoops!

Onto Chapter 40