Work Text:
It was late in the evening, or early in the night, where a young Paul McCartney found himself sitting in a small German flat. The teenager had been quietly sulking to himself, since being abandoned there by his best friend, John Lennon. The two musicians were supposed to be practicing together, but then a super sexy bird took the impulsive leader of the group’s attention. Margo, was a twenty-eight-year-old French lounge singer, that looked strikingly like Brigitte Bardot.
The radiant and mature woman swept Lennon off his feet, with her feet. Her red painted nails poked seductively through the narrow opening of the tip of the high heels she wore. She must have realized the effect she was having on the lead singer of the band, as Margo made sure to keep those parts of her body in Lennon’s sight. The woman teased him relentlessly, making the young musician focus on her. The two men went from guitars in their lap, with the beautiful blonde singer, taking the instruments place for John. Needless to say, a very sexy bird took Paul’s friend for the night, along with their shared room. Now McCartney was stuck with Stuart Sutcliffe and his girlfriend Astrid Kirchherr, at her flat near the club. Astrid was nice enough to let him stay on the couch, more as a favor to John, than to Paul himself.
It was raining outside as the night swallowed the evening, and condensation gathered upon the window pane McCartney was looking through. The city street were being struck by forces of water, thrusting wildly from the sky. Puddles formed and merged, as the flooding overtook the drainage systems, pooling in the streets. Inside the apartment, the tiny two room home was heated with the stove, heavy with the aroma of chicken soup in the air. The trio had condensed canned soup for their supper. It was more water and rice that chicken, but there was enough of it to stretch for three people.
“Come join us Paul.” Stuart suddenly said, breaking the verbal silence. The apartment was never fully quiet. A baby was crying a floor below, music was playing from the club down the road, a family above was loudly walking about and, in the distance, a dog could be heard barking. Turning abruptly from his deep thoughts through the window, Paul looked over the couple he was visiting. They were both in their bedclothes and so was Paul. They each sat at the table, drinking tea, smoking their cigarettes and Astrid was shuffling her tarot cards.
The dark-haired youth nodded in agreement and dragged the wooden stool he was sitting on, over the table, really just big enough for two, but the three were fine with the closeness from the lack of space. Lighting a smoke for himself, Paul watched as the cards were divided, flipped and interlocked together.
“What do you want to know tonight love?” Astrid asked her boyfriend.
“Will it rain this weekend? “The older lad answered with a grin. “So, I can spend my Saturday with you instead of doing that concert outside.” The fortune teller giggled at the thought. Paul wasn’t so keen on Stuart’s question. It seemed like wishful thinking, when that show was very important, especially to John. Yet the baby face youth didn’t comment. He simply watched the cards be shuffled in the long fingers of the photographer, as she focused on her boyfriend’s question. Then she pulled a single card. This was a yes or no question, so only one card was needed. It was revealed to be the Ace of Cups.
“Yes.” The blond-haired card reader replied. “The odds are in your favor.” She answered with a kiss.
“John will be so disappointed.” Paul stated, interrupting the lovers bliss.
“Yeah, well we’ve been playing every Saturday for two months now.” The shorter man told his girlfriends guest. “For crying out loud, I want a Saturday with my girl, when she’s not working!” It was true, that with Astrid’s work schedule and the band’s ambitions, there seemed to be little time for the couple. Paul always thought it was foolish to be tied down so young, before you had your life together. That way he could focus on his career without the hassle of a family and enjoy having a family, without the demands of building a career. However, this wasn’t his place to speak, so the younger singer just watched as the couple forgot he was there.
Then Astrid broke their kiss and turned to look at Paul. She returned the Ace of Cups card back to the deck and started to shuffle again.
“Okay Paul, “ She began with a glazed smile. “What would you like to know?”
“I don’t know?” McCartney answered. There was always so much to know.
“What, you’re no longer looking for love?” Stuart inquired as he chained smoked.
“I just have my mind focused on the group.” The younger musician answered.
“Then why not ask about the band?” his fellow bandmate asked, thinking this game really didn’t deserve much thought.
“Okay.” The round face sighed. “Will our group ever become successful?” Astrid smiled as she shuffled the deck, cut the pile and laid the cards out in the Celtic Cross for the more in-depth question.
“Your first card is the Hermit.” The woman explained. “Where you’re group is at this moment in time, you are in need of guidance.”
“That’s an understatement.” Sutcliffe snarked. “Hell, we’re you two supposed to be practicing and instead John goes off with some floozy.” Astrid then pointed to the card laying on top of the first card, creating a makeshift cross from the rectangular images.
“What is standing in your way is the Six of Pentacles.” Miss Kirchherr said, holding up a card of a man standing, with two people kneeling before him. “You are feeling comfortable with the level of success you have and not being as serious as you all should be.” She gave her boyfriend a teasing look, which made him laugh. Then the young woman laid the card back over the Hermit and pointed to the card above. “The best way to achieve your dreams is the Queen of Swords.” The rectangular paper displayed a picture of a queen at a side angle, sitting on her throne, holding the large weapon in her hand. “A guide, who can see through all of the nonsense holding you all back and direct you in the right direction.”
“We need a manager.” Paul agreed.
“What? Pete’s mum isn’t doing it for you?” the artist laughed. Astrid and Paul joined him in amusement. Pete Best was the bands drummer and his mother Mona ran a club in Liverpool. The wise elder helped them get connections for their tours, which was helpful. However, Missus Best was rather controlling and demeaning at times. Even John compared her to his Aunt Mimi. None of the lads really took her seriously and that was a problem, but John often speculated she was holding them back to benefit herself. Then Astrid returned to her reading. She indicated the card at the bottom of the cross.
“The foundation is the Nine of Cups, Happiness.” The blond-haired lady explained. “This guide will bring you to your goal!”
“Which is to be rich and famous!” Paul exclaimed. Then the fortune teller focused on the card at the right of the cross.
“Your passing influence is the Seven of Swords, Futility.” She told him looking at the card on the right side of the cross. “Someone has offered you a chance to leave the band and to make good money now, but you turned it down. That was a wise decision.” The German accent articulated in the musician’s ear. This was a surprising revelation to the teenager. McCartney never told anyone about the job offer at his old school, as an assistant teacher. The wage was good for a single man and would lead him down the path of education, which was a respectable line of work. However, the young man didn’t want to give up touring with his group, so he turned down the offer, which broke his father’s heart.
“You don’t want to struggle, son.” Paul could hear his father tell him. The man receiving a reading nodded in response to the woman’s words, and she continued her predictions to the card on the left side of the cross.
“Your approaching influence is,” the card reader continued while looking at a printed picture of three women, each holding a golden cup, participating in some type of circular ritual. “… the Three of Cups.” Astrid explained. “This card symbolizes Abundance, which means if you listen to your benefactor, you will be successful.” Then she went to the row of cards on the right side of the cross and it’s surrounding cards. “Your role is the Six of Cups.” She told him. “You must be open minded and willing to accept the gifts being bestowed on you, and the group.”
“What of this unfortunate lass?” McCartney asked, pointing to the card above the last card read. It was a grim image of a lady blindfolded and tied to a sword, surrounded by other swords. It was a most ominous depiction.
“This is your surroundings.” Astrid informed him. “It’s what you think the Six of Pentacles is. What you think is a safe a good time, will actually lead to your groups doom.” Her eyes locked onto his as she gave her prediction. “You are surrounded by those who will lie and cheat you.”
“Which is why we need a real manager.” Paul concluded. “Not Pete’s mum!” The reality was becoming more evident the more he pondered on it.
“Your hopes and fears, is the Knight of Wands.” Miss Kirchherr pointed to the third card up, or second card down. The reading was almost to it’s conclusion. “You hope to have a good time, but you fear you will all get carried away.” The lady detailed to the man she was doing the reading for. Finally, she reached the last card. “Your outcome is “the Two of Pentacles. Balance and harmony. With hard work, but willing to embrace the good, you will achieve your goal and the band will be a success.”
“You just need a rich convict to support you.” Stuart teased, as he referred to the novel, Great Expectations.
“Maybe John will charm a rich widow.” Astrid speculated.
“God, could you imagine him with a Miss Havisham!” Paul laughed just thinking about his friend flirting with an old lady in a wheelchair, from the Charles Dickens novel.
“Well, Johnny’s never minded dusting the cobwebs.” his fellow groupmate backed up laughing hard. Everyone got a barrel of laughs from that one. The three young people in their early twenties were wiping tears off their faces from the very idea. John Lennon had a pension for older women, the joke was an obvious exaggeration, but not by much as they saw it. The three retired for the night soon after. It was late and there wasn’t much to do. Astrid didn’t have a radio, so people were more inclined to sleep than stay up. Paul slept cramped on the couch in that apartment, just a few feet from the kitchen area they all were sitting earlier together.
The young man had no idea the power behind the reading, and as he slept, forces were at play that would forever change his life. As the light from the street formed at pattern over the sleeping Paul McCartney’s face, a white owl perched itself on the window frame, outside. Its silhouette displayed briefly and disappeared as soon as it came.