Chapter 7


The next week or so flew by for me, waking up, dashing to Apple, racing from there as soon as I got off, and either jumping in a cab or running all the way to Phillip's flat, depending on how late it was and how much money I had. I discovered early on that it was better to just leave my guitar there rather than stopping at home and picking it up on the way. After a weekend that was spent primarily in sleeping and practicing some songs, I went back to the grind.

On Monday night, Craig informed me in his usual polite way that it would be useless to try to play my guitar during a gig, and I needed to get an electric one. So, during lunch on Tuesday, I made my way back to the music store.

"Janice! I thought you'd gone back to the states or something!" I heard as soon as I walked in.

"Not even," I said. "I did get a job, though... a couple, come to think of it!"

"What could be better than working here?"

"Well, first I accepted a position offered to me at Apple, and then I was asked to be in a band."

"Wow! Full-time job, isn't it?"

"Tell me about it! And we haven't even played any gigs yet. Which is kind of why I'm here."

"Let me guess. You need a guitar."

"How do you do it?" I said jokingly. "Actually, I just kind of wanted to take a real look at them. I never really looked very hard at the electrics, especially the prices."

"That's true, you usually played an acoustic of some kind when you came in, didn't you?"

I nodded. "But I was told I need to get an electric guitar if I wanted to stay with the group, which kind of worries me."

"Getting the guitar?"

"No, just being told. We just started, and already there's more tension than you can believe. Basically, there's three guys who all think they're the leader."

"When, in fact, it's you?"

"Naturally!" I laughed and said, "No, I know I'm not the leader. I have no experience in bands at all, but it seems to me that I'm going to get the experience quick. Personally, I've already got one of the guys that I would side with, but I'm not sure if he asked them to join his band or they asked him to join their band, or what. But he asked me to join his band, and I know that he's been playing in bands for years. That makes him the leader to me."

"Well, whoever is really in charge will be apparent as time goes by. In the meantime, of course..." He then showed me the electric guitars and explained some of the differences. He plugged a few of them in by turns and let me play them. After a few minutes, I had a thought that I understood how Dylan could carry on playing electric, even when the fans booed. As magical as an acoustic was, playing the electrics had an excitement to it that was just completely different. Maybe that was one reason why songs like 'Sunshine Of Your Love' had a kind of energy that 'Blowin In The Wind' simply couldn't have. At any rate, when I finally said that I'd be back later that afternoon or the next day and ran back to Apple, I knew that no matter what happened, I would get an electric. Of course, I was no closer to deciding which one I wanted, but at least it was a start.

It struck me as I ran by them that there were more "Apple Scruffs" in front of the building than usual. More than when I had left for lunch, in fact. I recognized Jill and Carol, the two girls I had met on my first day, and they had a laugh as I ran by, thankfully managing not to hit anyone!

"What's with the royal guard?" I asked Grace as I came in, short of breath.

She shrugged. "Sometimes there's just more of them. They all stay to see George, you know."

"How often do they get to see him?"

"Once or twice a day, usually."

"And they wait out there all day just for him to walk by?" I said incredulously.

"Sometimes he stops and talks to them."

"That's nice of him." I considered this for a moment. "Well, I guess I can understand, sort of. But... don't they have things to do?"

"They make arrangements. Some of them get here early and wait for him to come, then go to work, and then get here just before he leaves."

"That makes a little more sense, comparatively!"

"I know, it's still crazy! Oh, George asked me to tell you when you came in that they just finished recording for the day, but he's got a few things left in the office to do."

"Okay, I guess I'd better move! Thanks!"

She gave me a wave as I ran to the stairs and she went back to what she was doing. I took the stairs two at a time, as usual. When I walked into the office, George was on the phone, so I closed the door quietly and sat at my desk. There were a few things to be filed away, and then I started cleaning up the mess that seemed to grow there naturally. It wasn't that either of us were particularly messy, but there were just so many things that went in and out of the office, things were always out. Folders were removed hurriedly from the filing cabinet and pertinent papers taken. There was no time to put the folders back right away, so they waited til there was time.

I thought it was odd that the recording had stopped in the middle of the day, and mentioned this to George after he was off the phone.

He shrugged. "None of us were working very well today. I more or less told Eric that he needed to try to come in clean in the morning. I have no idea how much he's shooting now." With a shock, I realized that he was talking about heroin. "He couldn't play at all today." He sighed, and I waited. "I don't know," he said, laying his forehead on his palms. "I worry about him. I suppose that's the only real thing I'm worried about, but there's a thousand different things that seem to pop up each day. They're telling me that I need to do a tour of some kind to promote this album, but I really don't want to. I hate touring, I really do. I was so happy when we quit. I hate playing live. I just get so nervous, and I worry about making a mistake, and then I do make a mistake, and it snowballs from there. The screaming girls actually helped matters, since they covered up almost every sound, anyway. No one could tell if we made a mistake. No one could even tell if we were playing!"

I thought about that for a moment. "Well, if you end up doing a tour, take along friends. Don't just hire random musicians. Take Eric. Maybe the pressure of that will help him, too. And as far as the rest of it goes, I still think you're a wonderful guitarist. And to be honest, I love your singing, too!"

"Get on."

"Honest. At a concert, they're there for you. They're not waiting for you to mess up, they just want to hear you."

"I don't owe them anything."

"That's true, you don't. They don't think you do. They just want to see as much of you as they can."

"It doesn't always work like that."

"But it usually does, doesn't it?"

He didn't say anything for a few moments. Then he lifted his head from his hands and said, "When did you get so wise?"

"Probably in a past lifetime, because in this one I grew up very sheltered in Southern California. I'm still working on getting smart. Wise can wait."

Finally, he cracked a grin. "I keep forgetting how old your soul is." Of course, I couldn't help returning the smile. "Okay, your turn. You've got something on your mind, too."

I debated telling him. Then, I decided that he could probably help me more than anyone. "Well, I joined a band just after I got the job here, and it's a little tense..." I told him pretty much what I had told the music shop owner.

When I finished, he said, "First bands never last."

"It's not Phillip's or John's first band."

"It doesn't work that way, though. Each of you will occasionally play with other people, and you might find a group you like better. People you get along with better, and who are better creatively. By the same token, you'll probably have other people play with you guys from time to time."

I nodded. "That makes sense. I don't suppose that I'm particularly worried about my place, but I'm just very uncomfortable with lots of anger around. John and Phillip are fine, but Craig's got a real chip on his shoulder. I don't know if I'm the problem or if he just takes it out on me." I sighed. "It seems like whenever he says something to me, it's with an attitude. I have no idea why."

"He'll never make it as part of a band. In a band, you have to boost each other up, compliment each other. When that doesn't happen, it falls apart."

"So, either he'll learn or he'll walk?"

"One way or another."

I nodded. "Oh, and I need some advice. I need to get an electric guitar. What are some good ones and what should I watch out for?"

"Well, I..." He seemed to think for a bit. "Oh, hell," he finally said, "Let's pack it in for the day. There's a music store nearby, isn't there?"

"Yes," I said, surprised.

"Come 'ead. Let's go."

"To the music store?"

"Of course. Guitar shopping."

"Okay!"

It was about three o' clock when we walked out, much to the surprise of the Apple Scruffs gathered there. As Grace had said, George stopped for a minute and talked with them. They asked if he was going to come back in today, and he said that no, probably not.

I noticed a few of them eyeing me suspiciously, and the one I recognized as Jill also noticed them and whispered to me, "They're wondering if you're sleeping with him."

I looked at her, my eyes wide in amazement.

"Don't worry," she said, he voice still low. "We won't tell anybody. I guess some of them are just jealous, is all."

"But I'm not!"

"No? And you're not trying to get him?"

"No, I swear it! Please tell them so. I hate for people to think ill of me. I'm just a friend, is all."

She nodded, and George began to say goodbye to the ones he was talking to. I gave Jill a quick, grateful smile, though I was still fairly reeling from the rumor. Talk about jumping the gun! Why would they think that? The human mind simply tends to think the worst, I told myself. Also, they *are* jealous. They want a reason to despise me.

That thought frightened me a little, and I tried to clear my head. Rather than walking the short distance to the store, George was unlocking the passenger door of his white Mercedes. As polite as he had been to the Scruffs, I sensed that he wanted to get away from their ever-vigilant eyes.

Whether that was the reason for how he drove or not, I'm not sure. Now, you'd think that, living in California, I'd have seen the craziest drivers. People zipped along on windy mountain roads -- Jesse was a good example of such a person -- and generally did things that most of the population considered pretty stupid. Well, not even Jesse drove through city street at this speed! My knuckles were white by the time we stepped out of the car. I made my way shakily across the sidewalk as George strolled nonchalantly in front and held the door open for me.

I managed to recover enough to heartily announce, "I'm back!" as soon as I stepped in. A familiar figure popped up from behind the counter with papers in each hand and a pencil in his mouth. "That's a good look for you," I said.

"Haha," he returned as soon as he'd set the papers and pencil on the counter. Then he noticed George, who was already looking over the guitars, and said, "Well, this is an unexpected honor."

George turned and gave him a smile and nod as he walked over to shake his hand. "George Harrison," he said.

"I'm aware of that. Pleased to meet you. Jeff Mason. How can I help you?" he said, coming out from behind the counter.

So that's his name, I thought, realizing I'd never heard it before.

"We're just picking out a guitar here."

"Something tells me that you don't need me to give you much information, but I can if you need it."

"Thanks, I'll give you a shout," George said, turning back to the guitars. Mr. Mason shrugged and went back behind the counter and returned to what he had been doing. I started to look over the guitars again, and George said, "So, which do you fancy?"

"I dunno, really. I got to play a few of them at lunchtime. The necks on those Strats were kinda wide for me. It was hard to get some of the chords." He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Well, my acoustic was made with a narrow neck." I held up my hand. "I'm willing to bet that Jimi Hendrix's hands were three times this size."

George grinned and chuckled a little. "Well, then, how about that Ricky? The neck looks fairly narrow." He took it down. "Only a six string."

"As if I'd know where to begin with six extra strings to contend with!" And the twelve strings were usually much more expensive. I could hardly afford a new six string!

"You never know. It's easier than you'd think."

"Regardless, I'm going to be stubborn on this point."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say. At any rate, I don't see any twelves here." He handed me the guitar.

"Neither did I." I took the Ricky and played a little bit. It was really great, that was true. I was a little nervous about getting it, though, since the Rickenbackers really seemed to be going out of style lately. I couldn't even remember if Fogarty or McGuinn were using theirs.

Regardless, I liked it. I set it down after a few minutes, though. "I admit it, I really like it. I probably better try a couple others, though."

"Which ones?"

I looked around, trying to remember what I had played earlier. "That's a new kind of Fender, isn't it?"

George followed my gaze. "Yeah, the Telecaster. They just brought it out a couple years ago. I got a pilot one," he added with a good-natured smirk.

"Show-off," I muttered. Nevertheless, I picked up the guitar and played. Yes, this was one I had liked at lunch. I looked around, trying to remember what else... the Gibson Les Paul was good, but we just hadn't really meshed... and despite their history and reputation, I just didn't like the Epiphones... and although I loved the Gretsches, there was no way I was going to be able to fork over that much money! "Okay, I think it's down to the Telecaster and Ricky. What do you think?" I said after a couple minutes.

"Well, which one do you like better?"

"If I knew which one I liked better, I'd know which one to get! You've played them both, what do you think of them as guitars?"

"They're both really good, to be honest. Totally different attitudes."

I shrugged and set the two guitars next to each other. The Telecaster was a deep rosewood color, while the Ricky was a lighter wood color, like McGuinn's. And the Telecaster was just a little more expensive...

"The Ricky," I finally said. "It's easier on my bank account."

"You've made a decision, then?" I heard Mr. Mason call from behind the counter.

"I have!" I answered as he came over to see which one I was getting.

"Good choice. Guitar strap?"

"Um..." My eyes scanned the ones that were hanging off to the side. "The flowered one."

He lifted it off the rack and handed it to me. "I'll go get your case," he said, and walked into the back storage room, followed by George. I shrugged and put the strap on and adjusted it. Wow, that felt strange... cool, just unusual... weird. I grinned to myself.

A few minutes later, George and Mr. Mason came back, Mr. Mason carrying the case. I took the guitar off and walked over to the counter, where he had laid it open. He took it from me, put it in the case, and handed it to me. "There ya go," he said. "You're off!"

George started walking out, but I stood there a moment, not getting it. I reached into my purse to bring out my checkbook. "I can't pay all of it right now, but I was hoping--"

"Think nothing of it. Really," he said, as George came up behind me and took the checkbook from me, closed it, and put it back in my purse.

It still took me a minute. "But-- Hey! I could pay for it myself, you know!"

With a chuckle, George started leading me out the door. "Yes, I know. I know exactly how much you get paid. I don't need the money, you know. It's pocket change. Save your money." He opened the passenger door of his car for me, and I got in, still dazed. What can I say? I just wasn't thinking.

"Well, thank you. Yeah, thank you!" I said, recovering from the shock and realizing how nice of him this was. I *could* afford it, technically, but it was an expense that I wasn't too crazy about in the first place.

George grinned and pulled away from the curb, and asked me how to get to my aunt's flat.


Chapter 6 - - - - Chapter 8

Dream Away