Chapter 11: Temperature's Rising, Jukebox Blows A Fuse

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Before I knew it I had popped another prellie, the first one wearing off. "Look who's back," John had hummed in amusement when I stubbornly held my hand out for another one, I reached out and mussed up his auburn hair and he ducked and turned away, laughing. I wasn't about to miss my first Beatles performance, oh no, I was determined to stay awake for the whole magic show.

"And now..." Koschmider said into the mike. "Let us welcome... the Beatles!"

Applause, from perhaps twenty people. I marvelled at how in less than two years the Beatles would be filling concert halls with their fans. Koschmider, the manager of the Kaiserkeller, walked off the stage, wiping his forehead free of sweat, and action that would no doubt soon be useless as the temperature would soon skyrocket due to the blood levels of dancing teens.

The girls around me were wearing all sorts of interesting things. Astrid, who had brought her Exis friends, was mixing in with the usual stripper/sailor crowd that the Kaiserkeller brought in, and the combination was proper funny. Her friends were wearing leather pants and tops cut in a loose, androgynous fashion similar to their haircut, all in shades of gray and black. Other girls were wearing pretty three quarter sleeve dresses and heels similar to mine, as well as capri pants and a short, tight sweater. In contrast, there were a few strippers around in lacy bras and short skirts, heavy-lidded eyes and red lipsticked mouths. I heard Pete was dating a stripper. I remembered Paul's comment about my top and frowned.

The boys came traipsing on stage. They slung the guitars over their heads (or in Pete's case sat down) and Paul stepped up to the mike. The clapping started before he could even say anything.

"Uh, hello," he said, smoothing his hair out and flashing a grin. "Welcome to the Kaiserkeller! The first number we'd like to play is Roll over Beethoven. It's a pretty fast number so if you'd like to get up and dance the floor's yours." He looked back and silently whispered, "one, two, three, four." George entered with the lick. do da da da da da da da da... and John's rough voice entered. I knew this song like the back of my hand, and couldn't resist singing, "Roll over Beethoven, and tell Tchaikovsky the news!" Except the next time around it went, "Put it in the oven, and bake it till it brews," and then, "Wait till it starts grooving, and get up and dance in the pews!"

John. Typical.

He would catch my eye as he belted out the lyrics and give a little grin to me. I clinked my coke in an imaginary toast to him. "Ta, Lennon!" I heard the rough brush of a chair next to me being pulled out. A boy climbed into the chair next to mine and spoke in German, grinning widely at me, and I shook my head and said, "English," taking in his red hair and freckles, contrasting with his dark, exis look about him.

"I'm Karl. Fancy a dance?" he said in heavily accented English. Dancing. Social norms... I dug deep into my memory of my first boyfriend. No dancing with others. I shook my head and said, "Sorry, my boyfriend is in the band," and pointed at John on stage, who hadn't caught my eye yet.

The boy was on his feet suddenly, turning away from me. "Got to go," and turned away. I forgot about him, for in the next moment I heard clapping and cheering and the boys were coming off the stage for a break. "How'd you like it?!" John asked me, stepping down from the stage. He was slightly sweaty, but he looked on top of the world. I knew performing was when he was at his prime. He put an arm around me and beer and sweat wafted into my nostrils, but the smell of success and excitement overpowered.We made our way to Astrid's table, my feet sliding around in my new shoes under John's arm. Her friends clapped and cheered as John neared. I caught a glimpse of Paul's cold glare at me as he chatted up a blonde sitting by the bar. Well, I wasn't wrong, I thought. I gave him a sarcastic smile back, which he ignored and twisted around in his seat until his back was facing me.

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