#john does not like that alex is starting shit with his fiancee! who he has to live with indefinitely and who he is starting to think is

[bloodiedbeloveds]

this is such a good idea!!!

Okay. Is this something? Arranged marriage AU.

In our context, the oldest kid needs to get married off for "procreating and securing the bloodline" reasons to someone of the opposite sex – but for the siblings after that, sure, why not let your kid get gay-married if the union would be useful to you?

Henry Laurens wants that sweet sweet west-indian trade business, so Harry (the first) is contracted to marry one of the Manning girls – and no harm in letting second-son John consolidate that with a marriage to the Hamiltons' second son, Alex.

The boys meet up over the years to get acquainted, and as they grow up, love blooms! How thrilling! John and Alex can't wait to get married, it's gonna be so great, they'll have a whole lifetime of--

Then Harry dies.

All of a sudden, John is the eldest. All of a sudden, a gay marriage isn't feasible for him anymore.

What now?

[mermaidsirennikita]

books (in the time of corona)

PART I: ADULT EDITION

Let’s get real--we’re all going fucking insane.  

Therefore, I’m recommending some books with which you can kill time.  I’m breaking them into categories--the romance category including several subgenres but by and large covering books that focus more heavily on the romance than anything else.  These will all be adult books; I’m doing a separate page for YA recommendations.

I’ll be adding to this list as I finish books that I feel belong here.

ROMANCE

A Knight in Shining Armor by Jude Deveraux.  A young woman is abandoned by her scoundrel of a boyfriend, only to find a literal medieval knight in shining armor.  Pure 80′s cheese, a classic in the time travel subgenre long before Outlander ever happened.

The Circle Trilogy by Nora Roberts.  Six sexy people, three men and three women in Roberts fashion, travel across time and parallel dimensions to fight an evil vampire and her undead army.  Come for three fun romances, stay in particular for the “virgin bookworm queen captures the heart of the formerly evil 1,000 Irish vampire” ship.

The Hating Game by Sally Thorne.  Rival coworkers who’ve always hated each other compete for the same job--until maybe?  They start?  Hooking up?

From Lukov with Love by Mariana Zapata.  A down on her luck singles figure skater pairs up with the pairs champion she’s always despised... Unless they in fact, in a STUNNING TWIST, do not hate each other?

Pestilence by Laura Thalassa.  A BIT ON THE NOSE RIGHT NOW, but I promise that this tale of a hot virgin Horseman of the Apocalypse spreading his plague and the one woman brave enough to fuck him is WORTH IT.  As is the sequel, War.

My Lady’s Choosing by Kitty Curran.  A literal choose your own adventure novel, but the adventures bodice ripping Regency romance plots!!!

The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang.  A sweet and smart woman on the autism spectrum hires a male escort to teach her to be good at sex.  Shit goes DOWN from there.

The Flatshare by Beth O’Leary.  She works days; he works nights.  She needs a cheap place to stay, and he needs a roommate.  So they share a flat and even a bed (sleeping on opposite sides and never at the same time) only communicating through post-it notes throughout the apartment.  What could go wrong?

Marriage for One by Ella Maise.  She can only get her inheritance if she’s married.  Good thing a glacial attorney has offered to marry her out of nowhere, only for paper purposes.  What could go wrong???

The Worst Best Man by Mia Sosa.  Lina is a wedding planner who was left at the altar.  Max is the younger brother of the man who left her, and apparently convinced him to do the leaving.  What happens when they work together?

Get A Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert.  Chloe suffers from a chronic illness, which means that she’s never had a life--and so she compiles a list that will help her get one.  On the list?  Meaningless sex.  Which she won’t have with her building’s superintendent, even though he’s really down to help her cross off all the other items, riiiight?

HISTORICAL FICTION

Passion by Jude Morgan.  The dramatic and intense height of Romantic England, told from the perspectives of Caroline Lamb, mistress of Lord Byron; August Leigh, his sister and lover; Mary Shelley; and Fanny Brawne, fiancee of John Keats.

Girl with a Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier.  Impoverished Griet becomes a maid in the household of the painter Vermeer, becoming his muse after he realizes that she has a natural eye--much to the dismay of his wife.

Snow Flower and The Secret Fan by Lisa See. In nineteenth century China, best friends Lily and Snow Flower follow each other through emotional and cultural revolutions, communicating through the secret language of fans.

The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George.  Cleopatra recounts her life story, from her earliest memory, through her affairs with Caesar and Antony, and her end.

Mistress of Rome by Kate Quinn.  In Domitian’s Rome, a Jewish girl rises from the position of lady’s slave to the emperor’s mistress through wiles and scheming.

The Tiger Queens by Stephanie Thornton.  The rise and fall of Genghis Khan’s empire, as told through the women of his family--from his favorite wife to a clever daughter-in-law.

At the Water’s Edge by Sara Gruen.  A socialite follows her incompetent to Scotland as he struggles to find the Loch Ness Monster and redeem his ancestor’s name--finding herself and questioning her life in the process.

A Year of Ravens.  A collection of short stories by different authors, all centering on Boudica’s rebellion through the eyes of her countrymen and her enemies.

Feast of Sorrow by Crystal King.  A slave becomes a chef in the treacherous household of a social climber struggling to gain the favor or Caesar August.

Fatal Throne.  Six authors tell the stories of Henry VIII’s wives, all from their differing perspectives.

Daisy Jones and The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid.  The rise and fall of a 1970s rock band is charted through the recollections of its members--as they recall what drove them apart, and in particular the intense relationship between the leader singers.

THRILLERS

The Girl in 6E by A.R. Torre.  A woman with murderous impulses locks herself in her apartment to keep the public safe, making a living as a camgirl.  She’s left torn between morals and impulse when she begins to suspect that one of her “fans” is dangerous.

Little Deaths by Emma Flint.  In 1960s America, a single mother finds her personal life and image called into question when she’s accused of murdering her two young children.

My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite.  A nurse covers up her beautiful sister’s murders, only to be caught between loyalties when the doctor she loves falls for said sister.

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine.  A plain “nobody” transforms herself in order to steal a high society housewife’s husband, only to deal with more than she bargained for.

The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks and Sarah Pekkanen.  A woman obsesses over her ex-husband’s new fiancee, leading her to disturbing lengths.

The Other Woman by Sandie Jones.  After meeting her ideal man, a woman must contend with his possessive mother, who will do anything to maintain her hold over him.

Something in the Water by Catherine Steadman.  A couple on their dream honeymoon find something in the water that will change the course of their life together.

The Au Pair by Emma Rous.  The day Seraphine and her twin brother were born, their mother flung herself off a cliff and their nanny disappeared.  Decades later, Seraphine discovers a photo taken of her parents just before her mother’s death--with only one baby.  The only person who holds the key to the mystery?  The au pair.

My Lovely Wife by Samantha Downing.  A couple keeps the spark alive through murder.

Lock Every Door by Riley Sager.  A young woman takes a job apartment-sitting in a high-end Manhattan building.  Shortly after she befriends another sitter, the girl goes missing--with everyone else acting like nothing is amiss.

The Wives by Tarryn Fisher.  Thursday is one of her husband’s three wives, though she’s never met the other two.  When she finally does meet the third wife, she discovers a woman far different from what she expected--and covered in bruises.

FANTASY/SUPERNATURAL/HORROR

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier.  Sorcha is the youngest of seven children in medieval Ireland.  When her stepmother curses her six older brothers to live as swans, Sorcha agrees to weave them shirts of painful thistles, all the while remaining silent, to break the spell.

Black Pearls by Louise Hawes.  A collection of dark fairy tale retellings.

The Incarnations by Susan Barker.  A man receives letters from an anonymous source, detailing his supposed past lives throughout historical China.

Girls Made of Snow and Glass by Melissa Bashardoust.  A dark Snow White retelling, with a stepmother whose goals extend far beyond the princess.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo.  Alex Stern is discovered as the sole survivor of a brutal multiple murder, and is promptly scooped up by a group charged with monitoring the occult societies at Yale.  Now disguised as a university student, Alex must figure out who’s been murdering locals, while also hiding what happened the night she lived.

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell.  A young widow in Victorian England is sent to her husband’s country estate to wait out her pregnancy, and is not alarmed to discover a “silent companion” (a painted wooden figure) in the house.  But when the figure’s eyes begin following her, she is sucked into a history beyond her imagination.

Circe by Madeline Miller.  The story of the woman who would seduce Odysseus, from her beginnings as a plain witch born of Helios and a mother who couldn’t care less.  A classic rise to power story.

CONTEMPORARY LIT

Erotic Stories for Punjabi Widows by Balli Kaur Jaswal.  Down on her luck Nikki takes up a job as a creative writing class instructor for the Punjabi widows in her West London neighborhood.  It turns out that the widows thought she was there to teach them to write in English--which leads to the class becoming a place for them to share their stories orally instead.  And it turns out that they’re a bit... erotic.

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones.  Upwardly mobile newlyweds Celestina and Roy have their lives upended when Roy is falsely accused of a terrible crime and sent to prison for twelve years.  When he’s released early after five, he returns home to find that Celestina has changed completely, and their marriage is entirely unknown.

Stay With Me by Ayobami Adebayo.  A young Nigerian couple has always been against polygamy; but after the wife fails to get pregnant, her in-laws show up on their doorstep with a second wife.

NON-FICTION/MEMOIR

Harem: The World Behind The Veil by Alev Lytle Croutier.  An examination of the Ottoman Empire’s harem culture, focusing on the women within.

Love For Sale: A World History of Prostitution by Nils Johan Ringal.  Not really a GLOBAL history of prostitution, but a good introduction starting with ancient times and going into the cases of more recent madams in America, with a strong case for legalization worldwide.

Georgiana: Duchess of Devonshire by Amanda Foreman.  A readable biography of the famously scandalous and tragic duchess, to be read while you kill time rewatching “The Duchess” starring Keira Knightley.

Lucrezia Borgia: Life, Love, and Death in Renaissance Italy by Sarah Bradford.  A fair but none-too-precious assessment of one of Renaissance Italy’s most controversial women, and an analysis of her relationships with her father and brother.

The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn by Eric Ives.  While you’re quarantining, you might as well read the definitive Anne Boleyn biography, yes?  This one is responsible for much of the modern attitude on Anne.

Queen of Fashion: What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution by Caroline Weber.  A fascinating analysis of Marie Antoinette’s political life through her clothes.

The Monster of Florence by Douglas Preston and Mario Spezi.  An analysis of the infamous, unsolved “Monster of Florence” case.  One of the most gruesome serial killers in Italy’s history, the monster’s crimes were pinned on several different men, and even investigated by the prosecutor who botched the Amanda Knox case.

The Forger’s Spell: A True Story of Vermeer, Nazis, and the Greatest Art Hoax of the Twentieth Century by Edward Dolnick.�� An examination of the case of Han van Meegeren, a painter who forged and sold many Dutch master fakes, and the pretentious art world that let him get away with it for years.

The Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire by Jack Weatherford.  A study of the women in Genghis Khan’s family, and in particular those that kept his empire from falling to ruin after his death.  A good companion read with Stephanie Thornton’s fiction novel Tiger Queens mentioned above.

Chasing Aphrodite: The Hunt for Looted Antiquities at the World’s Richest Museum by Jason Felch and Ralph Frammolino.  How did the Getty Museum end up with so many stolen artifacts?  This book aims to find out.

The Creation of Anne Boleyn by Susan Bordo.  A different kind of Anne Boleyn book, studying her portrayal in culture and fiction--complete with input from Natalie Dormer following her portrayal of Anne Boleyn on The Tudors.

Blood Sisters: The Women Behind the Wars of the Roses by Sarah Gristwood.  An examination of the women of the houses of Lancaster and York during their famous, long-running conflict--and how these women had an impact on battles and politics alike.

The Dragon Behind the Glass: A True Story of Power, Obsession, and the World’s Most Coveted Fish by Emily Voigt.  The author delves into why people are so obsessed with the arowana, a rare and exotic fish, to the point that they’ll commit murder--and becomes wrapped up in the fascination herself.

The Rules Do Not Apply by Ariel Levy.  Over the course of a month, Ariel Levy watches everything she held true in her life--her financial security, her career, her marriage, and her pregnancy--fall apart.  Levy must confront what it means to live an “unconventional” and “free” life, only for that to become meaningless, and pick up the pieces.

From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to find The Good Death by Caitlin Doughty.  Doughty recounts her global travels to observe and study different funerary and death rituals, recounting and analyzing her experiences with respect and personality.

Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History by Tori Telfer.  A collection of female serial killers, analyzing why they did what they did and the cultural legacy they left behind.

Severed: A History of Heads Lost and Heads Found by Frances Larson.  A history of decapitated human heads, and what different cultures have done with them.

From Scratch: A Memoir of Love, Sicily, and Finding Home by Tembi Locke.  Tembi Locke was never truly accepted by her husband’s Sicilian family, as a black American woman.  But when Saro dies young of cancer, she finds herself more deeply entwined her in-laws, as she works to pick up the pieces.  (Warning: one of the most achingly romantic books I’ve ever read; but it will destroy you.)

[bewaremylove]

In Novermber (?) 1974, John Lennon interviewed himself for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine. The interview, as the title in the pictures say, is conducted by/on John Lennon, and/or Dr Winston O’boogie. For those who don’t know, Dr Winston O’boogie is a pseudonym John used to use. 

Here, John talks about Walls And Bridges, seeing UFO’s in New York, producing other artists’ albums, Klein and how “he was unfaithful”,the other beatles, and sex with men... Of course Paul and Brian were brought into this... *snort*

The interview is rather long. You can enlarge the pictures above, or read the transcript that I will add below. 

Disclaimer: The pictures aren’t mine. Credit goes by whoever originally released them on the internet. 

INTERVIEW:

Q. Well, er, John it's been a long time no speak....

A. Has it been that long?

Q. Probably, anyway, what have you been doing since we last talked?

A. Oh, the usual.......

Q. I see, well, weren't you supposed to be making an oldies album with Phil (for is it he) Spector?

A. Yes, we started in '73, but it never ended, even Alex beeinhisbonnet Bennett noticed that.

Q. Then suddenly, as it were, you were working with that great radio star, Harry (Buckminster) Nilsson.

A. Quite right! I produced his album, "Pussycats" out now, at a reasonable discount, then went on to make my own reasonably wonderful album, "Walls And Bridges" out now, which includes the fast rising single, "Whatever Gets You Thru The Night" featuring my close friend and fiancee, Elton John, on piano and vocal harmony.

Q. Do you feel that you new album, "Walls And Bridges" is a step forward in your never ending search for artistic fulfillment, the struggle of the lonely........

A. I went to party in L.A., just to look at Liz Taylor, was I thrilled to meet her, and on top of everything, who, but who, do you think was all over her armpit? None other than the great, great show, David The Bowie! Wow! Was I thrilled to see that they were both smaller than me!

Q. The track I liked best was that miserable one about "Nobody loves you when......."

A. And Brian Wilson was there too and Ringo and Elton, and it was somebody's 21st.......

Q. Do you mean smaller physically?

A. I feel quite happy about the album. "Walls And Bridges" out now, the tittle of which, was sent from above in the guise of a public service announcement.

Q. How How! I was meaning to ask you, John, what you thought of the Bealtefest, and why you didn't go, and are you getting back together again, how's your immigration, and is it true about you and.......

A. Great. Nervous. You never know. Very appealing. If you want to help, write your congressperson, or some such similar.....

Q. About those dreadful stories that came out of L.A. with you and Harry, etc.....

A. Mostly fiction, with a grain of alcohol....

Q. I mean you don't have to answer, but did you rape a waitress in the Rainbow.....?

A. I never actually laid a hand on anyone, in fact, it was impossible, I was carried out...

Q. But.... But.... Todd Rudgren said that you.......

A. That's what you get for reading fanzines.

Q. Do you like glitter?

A. Yes.

Q. Talking of the Beatlefest, didn't you find it strange that David Peel and Alex Beeinhisbennet were both there playing 5th Beatle?

A. Yes! Considering that the day before I'd seen Peel on cable TV screaming about the Beatles ripping people off etc. etc... Alex? Well, he's sooo controversial! He's just getting into Andy Warhol you know, he's very deep.

Q. Didn't you produce an album of Peel's for Apple?

A. Yes, one of the highlights of my career!

Q. Who else have you produced records for in you astonishing but sometimes perfectly ordinary life?

A. Elephant's Memory, Yoko, Harry... myself.

Q. Now that you've been living in N.Y. 3 years, do you still....

A. If you look closely at the wonderful "Walls And Bridges", out now, album package, you will notice a little notice saying, "I saw a U.F.O..." why don't you ask me about that?

Q. Oh, I hadn't noticed, did you really... where you drunk? high? having a primal?

A. No. Actually I was very straight. I was lying naked on my bed, when I had this urge...

Q. Don't we all...?

A. So I went to the window, just dreaming around in my usual poetic frame of mind, to cut a long short story, there, as I turned my head, hovering over the next building, no more than a hundred feet away was this thing... with ordinary electric light bulbs flashing on and off round the bottom, one non blinking red light on top.... what the Nixon is that! I says to myself (for no one else was there)... Is it a helicopter? No! It makes no noise... ah then, it must be a ballon! (Frantically trying to rationalize it, in all my too human way) but no!! Balloons don't look like that, nor do they fly so low, yes folks, it was flying (very slow, about 30 m.p.h.,) below.... I repeat, below most roof tops (i.e. higher than the 'old building' lower than the 'new'.) all the time it was there, I never took my eyes off it, but I did scream to a friend who was in another room "Come and look at this" etc. etc. My friend came running and bore witness with me. Nobody else was around. We tried to take pictures (shit on my polaroid, it was bust) with a straight camera. We gave the film to Bob Gruen to develop, he brought back a blank film.... said it looked like it had been thru the radar at customs.... well, it stayed around for a bit, then sailed off.......

Q. Did you check to see.......

A. Yeh, yeh, the next day Bob (is it in focus) Gruen rang the Daily News, Times, police to see if any one else reported any thing. Two other people and or groups of/ said they too saw something..... anyway I know what I saw.......

Q. Aren't you afraid of people won't believe you.... crazy Lennon/Maharishi/etc....

A. That's just one of the many burdens I will have to bear in this day of waterbabies, inflation, generation crap, highly influential but not untidy....

Q. That's very brave of you, John, talking of Marharishi, what is the concept behind your new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now?

A. It's an unconcept album....

Q. But it has to have one.......

A. No it doesn't

Q. Yes it does.. take the first track for instance "Going Down On Love," that seems to be saying something....

A. Next you'll be asking me who "Steel And Glass" is about (3rd track side 2..).. I can tell you who it isn't about, for instance, it's not about Jackie Kennedy, Mort Sahl, Sammy Davis, Better Midler... Eartha Kitt, it's not about her either....

Q. It's not Paul again... is it? I mean you two are like... I mean grow up...

A. Wrong again.

Q. Everyone's saying this is your best album since Imagine... how do you feel?

A. I prefer the "Mother/Working Class Hero" then "Imagine" album myself.. Anyway, I suppose anything you do is either better or worse than something or other, I mean, that's how we seem to categorize things..... it's probably the way we remember.... it helps us remember... "this fish tastes as good as the fish we had in St. Tropez, but not as nice as the one Arthur caught off Long Island, do you remember that fish and chip shop in Blackpool..."

Q. I'm supposed to keep this up for a few more pages... when actually I'd finished the whole thing on "do you like glitter?"

A. Yes.

Q. It's so hard to think of questions to ask you, I mean, you must have been asked nearly everything over that last few year... is there anything you'd like to say, you know, instead of just answering these dumb... I mean you can say ANTYTHING YOU WANT.... I'm sure you mus have something to say that you haven't said already.......

A. Not really.......

Q. Oh.......

A. I'll ask you one. Why does Roman Polansky always wear the same suit?

Q. I'm stumped.

A. To get to the other side! Silly!

Q. My turn... What happened between you and Klein?

A. He was unfaithful.......

Q. I mean, you always seem to get in so DEEP, with things, then the next minute...

A. To get to the other side! Silly!

Q. That's deep... do you see much of the other ex Beatles? Or is it a sore point?

A. I love my little Beatles... I've seen a lot of Ringo... cause he comes to America a lot, as you know, I can't leave here or they'd do a Charlie Chaplin on me and I don't want an award at sixty, telling me how wonderful I used to be, but not quite wonderful enough to be allowed to live here now.... Paul, Ringo and I spent some nice afternoons in L.A. He (Paul and Linda) also came to visit in New York recently, and we had a great evening reminiscing.. in fact, it was two great evenings... which reminds me... only yesterday... to coin a phrase.... he and lovely Linda sent me a heartwarming telegram about my new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now...

Q. Don't you ever stop name dropping and plugging your album, "Walls And Bridges," out now?

A. Not if I can help it!

Q. It is rather gross, John....

A. 20% in fact....

Q. How cute! I see you never mentioned George... is there something....

A. No it's just that he hasn't been here in such a long time.

Q. Is it true you and Ringo are going to appear with him on his upcoming tour?

A. Not on your nelly! Just another rumour Dr.....

Q. Why not? It sounds like fun...

A. No one ever asked... and he probably wants all the loot for himself...

Q. That's a little bitter sounding, John, people might get the wrong idea....

A. No, it's just a pleasant reality, my dear, nothing more nothing less..

Q. Todd Rundgren said you were a "fucking idiot" in an english rock paper, what do you have to say to that?

A. I appreciate his concern...

Q. Is that all you're going to say.. I mean aren't you going to be bitingly witty or something?

A. Well.. I did write a little something... I sent it to the Melody Maker.. the trouble it.... I quite like the little rabbit....

Q. Have you any plans to go on tour? Like it's a long time since... what was it... Geraldo?..

A. I haven't got a band. It's not that easy without a band, I mean, you've got to start from scratch... I get a lot of offers to do benefits.. it makes me guilty to refuse... trouble is... the people that ask, don't understand the business...

Q. That sounds like a copout, John, if you don't mind me saying so...

A. Well, you're entitled to your opinion... I also get BIG MONEY offers too... but that doesn't make the job easier... slightly more interesting but...

Q. I HEAR YOU'VE BEEN DOING A LOT OF RADIO.......

A. In connection with my new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now...

Q. How do you like being a d.j.?

A. Actually... I really enjoy it.. I was brought up on it... Radio, I mean,.. I've been thinking of doing something regular... for a few years now...I don't mean just playing records... but like, making tapes and... I wouldn't like to get stuck in there, you know, with formats and such... I thought the best thing to do would be to, you know, just make tapes and put them on W.B.A.I., Pacifica or whatever, they could have any money etc.. and I'd have fun... maybe I will.... I just never seem to get around to it.... tho I was talking to an old ex radio friend, Elliot (after dinner) Mintz, on the west coast, he said he'd love to help.... you know... well who knows....

Q. I'm sure a lot of people would love to....

A. Yes, yes quite.

Q. Talking of radio, I heard that you and... of all people... Howard Cosell... were going to do something together...

A. On radio, yes, I only heard about it today myself... hmmmm.. interesting..

Q. It's your birthday soon and you will be 34.. doesn't that worry you... you know 'aging pacifist, rock star crinkles before our eyes'.. that kind of thing..

A. 9th of October... send presents to Lennon Music, 1370 Ave. of the Americas, 6th floor... I quite like feeling the way I do, since thirty etc., in fact, it feels better than say 24... it's the sound of it, it SOUNDS sort of scary... you know.. life simply flashing by... and me still trying to get in the top ten and all... but it feels ok.

Q. Do you think you'll make any more movies, I mean, appear in them, like that Dick LEster thing... "How I Won The War?"

A. The main thing I learned from that... when was it 66/67? was that it's BORING, sitting 'round waiting for the director.. he has all the fun... not that I'm actually inundated with offers... but the things that do come my way are sort of... I think shit is the word I'm looking for.

Q. How about writing music for movies?

A. Well obviously I get offered more of that kind of thing, but it would have to really interest me.

Q. Why are you typing this as if someone was here with you, asking all these things?

Q. It makes a change... anyway, I enjoy typing... I only learned it last year... but my neck IS beginning to hurt and it's getting a bit boring..

Q. I'm sorry. Just a few more questions MR. LENNON, I'm sure you understand I have a deadline... my editor... etc..

A. Alright then, GET ON WITH IT!

Q. Have you ever fucked a guy?

A. Not yet, I thought I'd save it til I was 40, life begins at 40 you know, tho I never noticed it.

Q. It is trendy to be bisexual and you're usually 'keeping up with the Jones', haven't you ever... there was talk about you and PAUL...

A. Oh, I thought it was about me and Brian Epstein... anyway I'm saving all the juice for my own version of THE REAL FAB FOUR BEATLES STORY etc.. etc..

Q. It seems like you're saving quite a lot for when you're 40..

A. Yes, there might be nothing better to do, tho I don't believe it.

Q. Your life must be so Glamorous being a superstar and meeting people like Howard Cosell and Mayor Beame...

A. I havent met either of them...

Q. Well, you know what I mean... because of my association with you, people are always asking me 'What's he really like,' how can I them you're just a beautiful, shy, modest, amazingly creative, paranoid pop star?

A. Shucks! You dont have to do that, just listen to my new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now..!

Q. Of course, on the other hand, you're a fucking ego maniac...

A. Of course, but who isn't?

Q. Off hand I can't name one...

A. Well, if you find one let's go and interview him/her/it...

Q. What a jolly idea. Perhaps we could get a commission.. you know a sort of wandering Jill Johnston.

A. I bought her a pair of shoes once, she's never forgiven me! Didn't somebody buy the Village Voice? It seems to have changed a litte, mainly in the way they squash the front page up... does Jan Wenner own it or what?

Q. No, it's just keeping up...

A. With the Times... we all know that one... I don't care what Lori Sebastian says, I've had enough of this... anyway it's not as if I'm on the cover or anything, I mean jeeze, I love Andy and everything, but this is it!

With that Mr. Lennon showed me the door, which was white. He was wearing jeans and a Mick Jagger tee-shirt. I wore a certain look.

[mellicose]

That Woman Over There - Chapter 23

A You Me and Him Fix-it Fic

Rating: Teen, for some mature themes

Word count: 3832

Warnings: none

Summary: ~ Set after the birth of Monty, Olivia’s baby ~ A dear friend of Olivia comes to visit for a week, and she disturbs the fragile peace between her, Alex, and John.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 |

Alex slammed into the gallery, cursing. She forgot to bring a damn umbrella, of all things. She shook herself off and threw down her bag. Rainwater dripped off it, to the parquet floor. The place was eerily dark. She wondered whether it was on purpose. She sniffed at the air. It smelled a bit like John’s house.

Her chest burned. “Fuck,” she said out loud. She wondered whether he hated her, and whether she’d ever smell his house again. She looked around and noticed pieces of art in pools of light. She walked to the closest one.

A painting. Fleshtones. Abstract, but the image began to take form in her brain almost immediately. Bodies. There was something about the sumptuous curves of the negative spaces … but she felt like she was missing something. The paint had a matte quality, a texture that fascinated her.

“It looks like living, breathing flesh, no?”

“Goddamnit!” she said, jumping aside. A lithe man in a striped t-shirt and a pair of jeans stood behind her.

He stood beside her and smiled a cheshire cat grin that was oddly nostalgic. He hugged his slim arms.

“Flesh, no?” he repeated.

“Yes, but there’s something off. I can’t tell where one body ends and the other begins,” she said. Her heart was only slowing now. He drifted the scent of cedar to her. Cedar and … violet? Her eyes drifted to him again. He wore a neat goatee and mustache, and his eyes were the color of his hair - golden brown.

He nodded, and stretched. His shirt rode nearly to the bottom of his ribcage. His smooth belly flexed. His jeans rode low on his hips, and she saw so much happy trail it made her blush.

“You can look away at any time,” he said, giving her a half grin. She didn’t know she was staring. “Not that I mind. You’re cute.”

Her cheeks were hot. Whether it was embarrassment or something else, she didn’t care to figure out.

“You are Alex?” he said, turning to her.

“How’d they get the paint to look like that?” she said, looking back at the painting.

“I don’t know how she does it. That’s why it’s here,” he said.

“Ah,” she said. “Yeah. I’m Alex.” She held out her hand. Again, he smiled as they shook hands.

“How professional,” he said. “You’ve got a firm handshake.”

She shrugged. “Want to see my work?”

“Of course. No more flirting. Straight to business.”

“I’m not flirting,” she said, walking to her bag and digging in it for her laptop. “I’m-” she stopped. She was going to say she was gay. But it wasn’t true. At least, not all the way true. But she could still say it. She gave him a sidelong glance. She decided against it.

“You’re what?” he said. “Taken? If so, I’m sorry.”

She frowned. “No. Not taken.” She coughed.

He nodded. “Come, let’s go upstairs. There’s more light in my flat.” He walked to the far corner. He opened a door to an elevator.

“It’s one of those fancy personal ones,” she said as she entered behind him.

“Yeah. I don’t want a nosy visitor finding their way to my personal space,” he said. He punched in a code. It moved up smoothly. She caught another whiff of cedar.

“Again, you’re sniffing,” he said, smiling.

“Oh. Yeah. You smell a lot like a friend of mine,” she said, smiling bashfully.

“You close?” he said, opening the door. Beyond, was open space with islands of tasteful furniture.

“He’s my best mate,” she said. She hoped it was still true.

“He has good taste, then.”

“It’s not a perfume. It’s, uh, he works with wood, so the smell sticks to him.”

“Carpenter?” he said as he guided her to what looked like an office.

“Artist,” she said confidently. “He makes beautiful things. Precious things. You know, keepsakes.”

“Ouiai,” Alphonse said, and offered her a seat in front of his computer.

“The screen big enough for ye?” she said, and chuckled. It was at least 45 inches.

“I use this to view art,” he said.

“Sure, mate. Art.” she said, and handed him her USB with a sardonic grin she couldn’t wipe off.

His lips trembled with mirth. “You’re not terribly formal, are you?” he said.

“Should I be? This isn’t like, a proper interview, is it?” she said, and slung a leg over the arm of the office chair. “This chair’s rad, by the way. It’s ergonomic, right?”

“Maybe not how you’re using it,” he said. The screen came on and she lost her balance and fell back.

“Holy fuck! I can see colors I didn’t even know existed,” she said, crawling back up to the desk and standing up. “Sorry about the language.”

“Speak however you like. This isn’t the Vatican,” he said.

She looked over his shoulder.”There’s the folder with my work.”

She swore when he clicked on the first photo. “That’s bloody gorgeous,” she said. “Okay, you’re absolutely right. This screen is a requirement. All I’ve got is my mam’s grotty little 200 quid laptop. I can see every single brush stroke with this thing.” She leaned forward. “It’s brilliant.”

“Now you see the method to my madness,” he said.

“Yah, I do. It’s definitely not just for porn,” she said. She nodded.

He burst out laughing. “You have absolutely no filter, do you?” he said.

“Why? Should I? I have a feeling the posh art buyers might cringe at me, eh?” she said.

“Maybe you’re not the affected art school type, but it honestly doesn’t matter. Most of them don’t even know what they’re looking at anyway. They just buy to say they did. It’s very rare to find collectors with an actual eye for talent. That’s where I come in.”

“You’re an art dealer,” she said, emphasizing the last word. “You make the good shit available to ‘em.”

“Exactly,” he said. 

“You scare your fancy customers down there?”

“You were in my space,” he said.

“You could’ve made noise walking up, like normal people.”

He crossed his legs, and she noticed that he was barefoot. “Again, my space.”

She smiled. “Sorry. But I almost wee’d myself.” She squirmed.

“You need the loo?” he said.

“I think so,” she said. He pointed to a frosted glass cube in a corner of the apartment. She sighed. “Seriously?”

He winked. He watched her walk away. She was a bit rough around the edges, but her honesty was refreshing. Perhaps he had been around posh art students for too long. Even her shape was more inviting – curvy in places where so many others had on-trend angles.

“This is ridiculous,” she yelled as she closed the glass door behind her. “There’s no privacy whatsoever.”

“I live alone,” he said. He felt strange yelling in his own apartment.

“And when you have … guests?” she said.

“I don’t really hold parties in this space – any guests here are usually beyond that kind of embarrassment.”

“Oh. Yeah,” she said, and flushed. She looked around. There was a large shower in front of her, also glass. It was fancy in a way that made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine washing her body in a place like that. And it was a place, not just a shower. The chrome fixtures gleamed, and the bottles on the shelf were not in English. She wondered whether they smelled like wood. She washed her hands, saw no towel, and dried them on her shorts. She felt weird letting the water dry on the sink. It would get spots.

“Hey, do you wipe down the sink?” she said as she walked back up.

“Shhhhhhh,” he said. He leaned forward, looking intently at one of her blue period pieces. At least, that’s what she called it. It was not naturalistic, but also not as abstract as some of the pieces she saw downstairs. “Viens-ici,” he said, and beckoned to her. “Tell me about this.”

She took a deep breath. “It’s the last piece I painted before I stopped for a while. I just sort of … sat in front of a canvas and let the brush do the talking.”

“Yes, it speaks volumes,” he said. He hugged himself again. “What’s most striking is that although the composition hints at desolation, you did not use the stereotypical washed out palette. It’s searingly bright.”

“I couldn’t stand using muted colors.” She echoed his action, hugging herself. “She deserves better than shades of gray.” She shivered.

“She?” he said.

“Jo,” she said softly.

“An ex?” he said.

“My daughter, who died last year right before being born.”

He gasped.”Ah, petite. J'en suis désolé,” he said. He patted her hand, and for some reason, she burst into tears again. He stood and hugged her. She wrapped her arms around his narrow frame and wept into his chest.

“I’m a mess. I’ve had the worst day ever. I think I just lost everything.”

“How do you mean?” he said.

It surprised her that he even cared. She didn’t know where to start. He was a stranger, so lying wasn’t worth the effort.

“My fiancee just broke up with me. She was right to do it. And I just fucked up my relationship with my best mate. At least, if he’s got any sense.”

“Eh,” he said. He didn’t expect the full truth. She was extraordinary.

“When you say “just”, do you mean in the last month or something?” he said. He rubbed her back. Her hair smelled like cigarette smoke and satsuma.

“I mean, today. Earlier.”

He pulled her away to look at her. “Putain. And you’re here?”

“I’ve got nothing left … what’s your name again?” She wiped her face with her arm.

“Alphonse. You can call me Alfie if you like.”

“Alfie. Sounds posh,” she said. “You don’t like Alphonse?”

“I’m named after my dad. He’s as asshole,” he said.

“‘Least you know ‘im,” she said, and sniffed.” I’ll call you Alfie, then. Don’t wanna be bringing back any bad memories. I don’t usually get like this.” She finished wiping her eyes, but her lips still quivered.

“You want a beer?” he said.

“God yes,” she said. He ran to the kitchen space and opened a giant fridge built into a brick wall “Jesus, man, got enough space in there?” she said. There was actual food in it. Like John, he liked to cook.

“You peckish? I’ve got some leftover cold sesame noodles,” he said, putting two bottles of beer on the counter. She shrugged, but approached the counter, curious. He pulled out a plastic tub and opened it.

“It’s not takeaway,” she said. The noodles were glossy with oil, and dotted with toasted sesame seed and green onion. “Smells amazing.”

“I made them for dinner. As ever, I made too much. I suppose some habits die hard,” he said, and handed her a fork.

“Cooking a lot?” she said around a mouthful of noodles.

“Adjusting to cooking for one again,” he said, and sat on a stool opposite her. “Tell me more about that piece. I noticed that it’s unfinished. Or am I wrong?”

She took a sip of her beer. “That’s perceptive,” she said. “This is delicious, by the way. Better than from a restaurant.”

“Merci,” he said. “I have a mild obsession with asian cuisine.”

“Was your ex girlfriend from there?” she said, taking another generous mouthful.

“Perceptive,” he said. She winked. “No, she isn’t. She’s Portuguese. But she’s a chef who specializes in pan-asian cuisine. She got me hooked.”

“She’s a chef? If I dated a chef I’d gain two stone in a year,” she said. “I’d wear it as a point of pride.”

He laughed. “I wish, but I can’t. Genetics won’t really let me gain much of anything. Some might consider it a blessing. I guess it is.” He shrugged.

“Uhuh,” she said. “I was like that until I hit 25. After that, things started happening in this area,” she said, gesturing to her middle.

“I’m quite a few years over that, and nothing’s happened yet,” he said.

“How old are you?”

“39,” he said.

“Really? You look amazin’, bruv,” she said. She blushed at the ease with which she gave him the compliment, but she didn’t regret it. He beamed.

“I avoid sunlight whenever possible,” he said.

“Okay, Nosferatu,” she said. She looked at the sweating bottle of beer in front of her. She liked him. He seemed like a good bloke, and he hadn’t acted funny when she burst into tears. She didn’t know what she expected when she came, but definitely not him. She looked at him. His eyes were gold, with flecks of green near the iris. It was one of her favorite color combinations.

“You’re staring again,” he said. She was so zoned in she didn’t see his smile.

“Your eyes. The green is nice,” she said, then stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“Thanks. My maman has Persian blood. I get my eyes from her,” he said. “And in more ways than one. She’s the artist. My father thinks art is a hobby.”

She snorted. “My mam’s the same. She thinks I should go to school to become a nurse’s assistant. But I can’t stand the sight of blood. I’m working on being a teacher, maybe.”

“Maybe?” he said, opening another beer for her. She took it gratefully.

“Liv, my fi-my ex-fiancee, suggested it. She had a baby too, Monty. He’s the sweetest little guy you’ll ever meet. He’s gonna be one year old in a month and a half.” She took a deep swig of beer. Her eyes started to swim again. He walked beside her.

“He’s going to be one. And you said you lost Jo last year…” he said.

“It’s a hella long story, mate,” she said. “And you’re a stranger.”

“I’ve got an empty dance card and a case of beer,” he said, walking to a nearby sofa. “Let’s get acquainted.”

She stared out one of his large windows. The night was setting in, and it was pouring rain.

“I think we should wrap up the art stuff. It’s pissing outside and I’ve got to take a train back to Bristol...” her voice failed. She didn’t know where she was gonna go once she got there. She would have to speak to Olivia, then her mam. She dreaded the latter far more than the former.

“I can give you a ride to the station, if you like,” he said.

“Ah,” she said. “You that bored that you wanna listen to my long list of fuck ups?” she said. She sat on the other side of the sofa. She wished she could kick off her boots.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said.

“You just wait till I get into it, boyo,” she said.

“So that means you’ll stay for a bit,” he said. “I will open my ears and refrain from any possible censure until you’re done.”

“Century what?” she said, making a face.

“Censure. It means a strong or vehement expression of disapproval.”

“Huh. Whatever.” She looked down at her lap. She looked so lost. It made him want to stroke her rain-frizzy blond hair. She broke up with her fiancee just today, yet here she was, braving wind and rain to show him her worth. It was beyond his capacity to understand. He had not gotten out of bed for three weeks after Lorena left him, and it had been over two months until he was able to face the world. It was still difficult to adjust. She had been his life for six years.

“Where are you?” he said.

“I couldn’t finish it,” she said, tracing the shapes printed on her tights. She took a deep breath. He waited patiently. “At the time. It was, like…”

He moved a little closer, but made sure to give her plenty of space.

“It was like admitting she was finished. That her story was over,” she said. “I couldn’t bear it.” She hiccuped, but kept her composure. “I don’t even know why that’s in there. It’s a mess.”

“You keep saying that,” he said.

“Because it’s true. My life’s a mess. My work. My brain. They’re all one great big horrible mess.”

“You also said it’s unfinished,” he said softly.

“The painting? Yeah.”

“You don’t get me,” he said. He used his hands to speak, and it was beautiful to see. “I mean, it’s unfinished. Your life. Your brain. You. You’re young, no?”

“Old enough to know better about things, though,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You haven’t told me your unforgivable trespasses, but obviously not,” he said.

Her mouth dropped open.

He smiled. “I know you can’t see it from the inside looking out, but I have faith in you. You’ll right the wrongs of which you speak.”

“You don’t know me, bruv,” she said, taking a sip of beer. “I’m, like, the queen of fuckups.”

“That’s why it’s faith. If 2.2 billion Christians can believe in an invisible God, I can believe you’re not an incorrigible fuck up.”

She scratched her head. This bloke was something else. She rolled her eyes and gave him a half-grin.

“Alright. But you haven’t heard what I did yet,” she said.

“Will it explain the mystery of you and your ex being with child at the same time at some point? I am very rudely curious about that. Did you do it on purpose?”

“No,” she said loudly. “I didn’t.”

“Okay,” he said, and stretched his legs out. “We’re getting to the meat of the story.”

“I’ll bore you with my stupidity, but what does this have to do with my art?”

“We’ll figure it out along the way,” he said. “Talk to me.”

“Whatever. So my girlfriend got pregnant without telling me. I was really angry, and I got blind drunk and got off with our next door neighbor, John…”

“Wait. You’re gay?” he said.

She bit her lip. This was the first time she was going to say it out loud to someone she didn’t really know. But considering the stuff she was sharing, it couldn’t be that bad.

“I’m bi. I go both ways,” she said. She paused, as if waiting for peals of thunder and lightning, but the rain continued, silent and dark. “I didn’t know it at the time. But that comes later.”

“I see,” he said. “Take your time. I’m here all night.”

“Yeah. So, all it took was one night, and I was well preggers.”

“By the neighbor? Fuck,” he said. “And he was okay with it?”

“John? We became best mates during the pregnancy. He was in love with me or whatever, but we dealt with it. Now he’s in love with Connie.”

“What?” he said up. “So your ex girlfriend got pregnant without telling you. Then, you got off with your neighbor John, got pregnant after one night, and you’re still living by each other?”

“Yep,” she said.

“And now Encarnacion is with John, the father of Jo, and in love? Wasn’t she with Ella?

“Her and Ella went kaput last year. Big drama – at least, the bits I heard. Super messy.”

“I believe you now,” he said, eyes wide. He had to call Encarnacion. Her and Ella had once felt as immutable as a mountain. But Vesuvius most probably felt the same to the Pompeiians. “You remained friends?”

“Of course. Even after Jo. Like I said, he’s my absolute best mate. Or, possibly, was.”

“If you could endure that triangle, what happened to break it?”

She looked out the window again. She wondered what he was doing. Connie, most probably. He deserved happiness. She couldn’t get the indignant look on his face when she confessed. She never wanted to see that look on his face again.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Oui.”

“What?” she said, snapping out of her train of thought.

“You developed feelings for him. That’s why you broke up with your fiancee.”

She kicked off her books and started pacing the open space in front of the window.

“I’ll have you know she broke up with me,” she said. “He’s the father of my girl,” she said. “Jo was ours.”

“You said he was in love with you. What happened to change that?”

She snorted. “I’m a fool. A damn fool.” His brows rose. “He moved on. I suppose to keep his sanity, but he did. Fully.”

“With Encarnacion,” he said.

“Who is Olivia’s best friend,” she said.

He brightened up. “How is Olivia? She was a hell of a drinking buddy, back in the day.”

“Drinking buddy, huh? Of course,” she said, but she didn’t ask. It was just another story Liv hadn’t bother to tell her. “She’s fine, I hope.”

“You’ve given me only the blurb, but it already sounds like a hell of a story,” he said.

She sat on the windowsill, which was lined with silk pillows. “I think I’ll need something stronger than lager to really get into it,” she said. She held out the half-empty beer bottle.

“I’ve got vodka in a freezer,” he said, taking it.

“That’s good. Pour a drop of juice in. I’m still nursing a hangover.”

“As one does,” he said with a smile, and handed her a glass. He sat against the wall, at her feet. “So, start at the beginning.”

“At the actual beginning, or when everything got fucked?”

“At the very beginning,” he said, nursing his beer. He was a believer that you could tell a lot by a person by the kind of conversation they had. There are people who could talk your ear off for hours, but in the end, you didn’t know them any better. And there were people like Alex – open to a beautiful fault. He already knew he would be crazy about her. Whether it was romantically or not, he couldn’t ascertain now. But he’d know soon enough.

“I met Olivia online, on a dating site. I’d joined as a gag, but in less that 24 hours, I had over 30 messages…”

They talked until dawn, and in the interim, he figured it out.

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