The Devil In Her Heart (Beatles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 16

3rd July, 1965. Barcelona, Spain

George sat on the leather sofa, his black Gretsch guitar across his chest. He idly turned the machine head and strummed it. He didn't really need to tune it. The show had finished an hour ago. The guitar should have gone back in it's case, but it had been in George's hand when he left the stage, and it was still there when he parked himself on the black leather sofa at the after show party a short while later. He watched the room fill with people, most of whom George didn't recognise. It was the last night of the tour, the last night before home. George couldn't wait. He was tired, too many late nights and early starts. He wouldn't care less if he didn't go to another after show party or press conference again.

"Do you want me to take that?" Mal Evans appeared next to George. He pointed to the guitar in his hands.

George looked down at it. "I suppose so," he said, and surrendered the Gretsch to Mal.

"Tired?" Mal asked. George nodded. "Never mind, be back in your own bed tomorrow night."

"Yeah," George agreed.

"And then there's the American tour in a few weeks," Mal added with a sly smile.

George groaned. "Don't remind me," he said.

However, despite his protests, George was quite glad to be away from home for a while. Grace had not relinquished her pursuit of George, simply not taking no for an answer, and on occasion she had got her way as well. Much to George's regret the following day. She threatened to spill the beans to Pattie at every opportunity and reminded him of Pattie's alleged infidelity too, although George had yet to see any further proof, other than Grace's spiteful words. And despite her threats, Grace hadn't told Pattie anything, although George worried she might be building up to something rather spectacular.

"Where's everyone else?" Mal asked.

George shrugged. He'd lost track of his bandmates a while ago. He didn't know how they found the energy. "Ringo and John were talking to some girls by the buffet table," he replied. "But I don't know where they've gone to now. And Paul..."

"...Is right here," said Paul, dropping down next to George on the sofa. "Alright, lads, what's the crack?"

"Nothin' much," George replied.

Nothing?" Paul repeated. "The last night of the tour and you're sat here, moping around..."

"I'm not moping," George said. "I'm just knackered."

Paul laughed. "George Harrison, too tired for fun? I thought I would never see the day."

George shook his head with a thin smile. "Must be getting old," he said.

Paul laughed. "Come on, the night is young!" he said. "You've got all next week to sit at home with your feet up!"

"Okay," George agreed reluctantly.

"Fab," Paul said. "Let's find John and Ringo and go to a club or something. This party's all full of business types."

George got to his feet, smoothing down his creased shirt, the same one he'd been wearing on stage earlier. "Comin' Mal?" he asked.

Mal shook his head. "I really am getting too old," he said. "Nah, me and Neil and going to finish getting all the stuff packed up ready for tomorrow and then I'm getting my head down, I reckon." He turned to go, George's guitar still in his hand. "Don't stay out too late, boys," he said turning his head back to the two Beatles and not looking where he was walking. "Whoops, sorry mate," he said as he walked into a uniformed boy, nearly knocking him over. Mal put an arm out to steady him and then carried on his way.