TURN ME ON, DEAD MAN

Chapter Four

By the time they found a cab and got to the studio, a man was waiting for them by the front door as they climbed out of the cab. He was tall and thin with dark wavy hair and glasses with thick 1960's style black frames.

"Doctor?" the guy said to them. "Amy, Rory?"

They nodded and the man smiled.

"Name's Mal Evans. I'm the Beatles roadie and part time bodyguard. The lads said you were coming so I came out here to make sure they let you in. Follow me."

He led them through the building to the recording studio. When they entered, a thin man with short dark hair was sitting at the sound board.

"This is George Martin," Mal said. "He's the producer of most of the Beatles albums and he's working on this one as well."

George stood up and shook hands with them. While they were doing that, Amy glanced through the window and saw the Beatles playing 'When I'm 64'. Paul winked at her as he kept on playing and singing. George gestured to three blue suede chairs that had been brought in and set up at the back of the room beside a tea trolley.

"Make yourselves at home," George said. "I have to get back to work."

They nodded and Mal left the room while the Doctor, Amy and Rory went over to the tea trolley. They used three Styrofoam cups and fixed three cups of tea before all of them sat down in the chairs and listened to the Beatles. They ran through several takes of the song and Amy had to keep reminded herself not to sing along since it was supposed to be a brand new song. Her thoughts drifted back to the Sargeant Pepper album and once again her hand went down to her skirt pocket.

After about an hour and a half, the Beatles took another break. All of them came out of the studio and smiled at the Doctor, Amy and Rory.

"Well, what'd ya think?" John asked while George Martin stood up and left to use the restroom with George and Ringo.

"It was fantastic," the Doctor said.

"Yeah, it's a wonderful song," Rory added.

"Well, we have Paulie to thank for that," John said, pointing to him. "And now that we're on another break, would you like a quick tour of the studios?"

They nodded and stood up. John beckoned to them and the Doctor and Rory followed him as he went out the door. Amy started to follow then noticed Paul walking over to the tea trolley, making himself a cup of tea.

"Not coming?" Amy said.

"Not interested," Paul said with a shrug. "I've seen the studio a million times and I think John's capable of leading a tour on his own. What about you? Not interested in seeing a recording studio?"

"Not really," Amy said.

"Well, I'm having a cuppa if you wanna keep me company," Paul said, sitting down in the chair nearest the trolley.

Amy nodded. Paul watched while she refilled her cup and gave another appreciative glance at her long legs.

"You better watch it. Your legs could cause traffic jams," he said, pointing to them.

Amy glanced down and her mouth dropped open when Paul gave her a devilish grin.

"Cheeky," Amy said.

"Can't help it. I see a pair of lovely legs, I gotta admire the view," he said with a shrug. "I may be in a committed relationship but I am a man and I do still like to browse from time to time. Doesn't mean I'm interested in being your boyfriend. But...would you mind if I counted you among my friends? Don't have very many friends outside the band and our inner circle."

"I'd be hon..."

She laughed when Paul raised his eyebrow at that.

"I would love to be your friend," she corrected herself as Paul sniggered. "And I'm sure you can count on the Doctor and Rory to be your friends as well."

"Good. I mean it. That's another downside to being famous. You can't enjoy real friendships anymore, at least not without wondering that the people you're befriending are only there because you're a Beatle and they want to have bragging rights."

"It must get lonely at times being famous," Amy said sadly.

"Can be. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being a Beatle. I'd rather have dosh than be on the dole any day but there are all the downsides to fame, especially when you're as famous as we are. I think when I wrote Eleanor Rigby I was writing about myself and how isolated I've become from the rest of the world. I think John was thinking the same thing when he wrote Nowhere Man. Blimey, now I'm depressing you, sorry. Here, wait a tic..."

Amy watched with an ache in her heart while he sat his cup down on the trolley and went into the studio.

"I know how you feel, Paul," she murmured when he was out of earshot. "I felt the same way when I lived alone in my house."

Paul returned with his acoustic guitar. He plopped down beside Amy and began to pluck out a pleasant melody.

"Don't mind me. I do this frequently. Gives my hands something to do while I chat and I figure a pleasant tune will lighten the mood a bit. So...you like the song? I realize it must have been boring listening to the same song for an hour and a half but what did you think?"

"I liked it. It's a great song."

"Thanks. I wrote it one day after imagining what my life might be like at 64 years of age. Living in a house with Jane, being happily married with grandkids on our knees, that sort of thing," he said as he continued to pluck out the melody. "Hopefully, I'll make it to 64 and..."

He trailed off when he saw Amy flinch again.

"Hey, can I ask you something? Everytime someone mentions death, you act nervous. Does death scare you or something?"

"Um...yeah, I s'pose so," Amy said.

Paul shrugged as he played.

"Nothing to be scared of. At least I don't think so. Death's as natural as life. We're born, we die, we're reborn, all part of the cycle of life."

"You believe in reincarnation then?"

"Yeah. Didn't use to but George digs India and I read a few books on Hindu philosophy and most of what I've read rings true with me. I figure most things in life are part of a cycle of death and rebirth, why not us as well? I'm not quite as keen on India as George is but I like what I've read and heard about it. In fact, George wants to use more of the sitar on this next album like he did for Norwegian Wood."

"That's a good idea. I like that song," Amy said.

"So do I."

Amy smiled when he strummed the melody to Norwegian Wood while he spoke.

"I'm glad you like my song. John thinks its rubbish to be honest," he said while he played his guitar.

"What? Why?" Amy said.

"Oh...he thinks I spent too much time writing soppy, simplistic love songs instead of writing deep, thoughtful songs. John believes we should use our celebrity status and our influence to make a difference in the world and write songs that deal with social issues. I believe that as well but I also think a love song can influence someone just as much as a political song. But John's never been much of a romantic, at least not openly so he's not too keen on my latest offering."

"Nah, ignore him. I like love songs," Amy said.

Paul beamed at that.

"Thank you. Nice to have someone not mocking my songs for a change," he said.

Amy giggled and began to sing to him.

"You think that people have had enough of silly love songs. But I look around me and I see this isn't so, oh no. Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs. What's wrong with that, I'd like to know? Because here I go...again!"

"Hey, that's nice. Is that yours?" Paul said, momentarily stopping his strumming.

"Um...no...I...read it somewhere as a poem," Amy said sheepishly.

"I like that. Sums up my feelings perfectly. I'll have to keep that in mind and use it in a song someday. And you...anyone ever tell you that you could be a fabulous singer?"

Amy blushed and shook her head while Paul laughed.

"I'm serious. You have a beautiful singing voice and you're beautiful if I may say so. That and your voice and your personality...you could make millions, my lovely."

"Thanks," Amy said, blushing, while Paul chuckled.

"Something to consider. Our manager, Brian Epstein, manages several other bands besides us. He's always looking for new talent. If you're interested, I could recommend you."

"Um...I better talk it over with my husband and friend before I go off and have a singing career," Amy said.

Paul shrugged.

"Fair enough. Let me know your answer though because I think you could make it in show business."

He gave her a million watt smile and began to strum the melody to Yesterday while Amy drank her tea.

"Yesterday," he crooned while Amy's heart did flip flops, "all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay, oh I believe in yesterday."

"I love this song," Amy said after swallowing her tea.

"Good," Paul said.

He went on singing while Amy took another sip of her tea.

"Suddenly...I'm hot and tired and dead manky. I got a shower waiting at home for me. Or a bath...with thick sud-sees!"

Amy nearly choked on the tea in her mouth while Paul chuckled and continued to play.

"Why...we...have to make songs, I don't know, I couldn't say. I am...really bored; now I wanna go out and play-ay-ay-ay."

Amy laughed and sat her cup down so she could applaud him. Paul smiled and bowed his head. He thought for a moment and then played the opening chords of Michelle.

"Mi...chelle, you smell, you're a slag and a hag and you have a bum like a bell, my Michelle."

Amy chortled as Paul kept on innocently singing.

"Mi...chelle, you smell, frère Jacques, vive le France, din, din, dong...din, din, din, dong."

Amy bent over laughing while Paul grinned. He began to sing Eleanor Rigby to her while he played.

"Aaaah, look at all the grotty people!" he sang while Amy laughed hysterically. "Aaaah, look at all the manky people! Eleanor Rigby, she is a bore and a whore and I'm glad that she's dead. Now I can go to bed."

"Stop that!" Amy said, giggling along with Paul. "You're gonna make me wet myself, you jerk."

"Jerk?" Paul said as Amy laughed harder. "See here, I'm a Beatle, you don't call a Beatle a jerk, only the Beatles are allowed to call the Beatles jerks. How dare you, madam!"

"You're funny," Amy said.

"Thanks. Gotta be a bit silly to get along in this world. Plus, when you hang around John Lennon and listen to his constant teasing, you can't help but develop a weird sense of humor. I'm more than the cute one, you know."

Amy smiled at that. She hesitated a moment and then leaned over. Paul's eyes widened when she gave him a peck on the cheek. He stared at her for a moment.

"Um...got a question for ya. How stable is this marriage of yours?" he teased.

"Very stable but after everything you've been through, I figure you needed a friendly kiss to cheer ya up."

Paul grinned from ear to ear. He leaned over to her cheek and gave her a friendly peck in return. Amy sipped her tea and listened while Paul continued to play melodies on his guitar while they waited for the others to return.

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