Just Another Day [COMPLETE]

[emrald]

The blurred images of the masses of people standing on the platform came into focus as the train slowed to a stop. Rising from her seat she made her way towards the opening doors of the train, “Excuse me, please” she softly and politely said to the patrons that were standing as she sidled between them. The brick wall in front of her was painted in its traditional London tube fashion of white, blue and red and stenciled professionally stated ‘Mind the Gap’; as always she looked down at the space between the train and the platform before disembarking to head off towards the stairs.

The train stations were always busy in the morning, no matter where you got off; the walls lined with posters, the ground littered with occasional ticket stubs and rubbish and the usual hubbub of people. Everyday she walked by a panhandler that sat resting up against the wall by the stairs that lead up to the outside world; he sat with his knees up to his chest, he had a hole in the knee of his already grubby trousers, his jacket was at least two sizes too large and he had a brown flat cap on the ground in front of his shoed feet flipped upside down to catch any generous offerings. His hair was salt and pepper in colour and wild like an un-cared for hedgerow, his face and hands looked like well worn leather and much like the clothes he wore he looked old and tired. As usual she smiled as she dug her hands in her pockets and pulled out a few coins and dropped them onto the dusty pink silk lining of the upturned hat. “God Bless ya my gell” he said as he looked up with a smile that bore few teeth. She smiled back and waved as she hurried up the steep stairs towards daylight “Anytime Frankie, you keep safe.” He hollered back as he watched her disappear skyward “Like always me old china, ‘ave yerself a good ‘un!”

She shivered as she was hit with a blast of brisk air, she was thankful for the blue tights that hugged her slender legs. Her legs looked even longer given the mini dress she was wearing, her grey and black wool houndstooth jacket wrapped around her to keep the cool morning London air at bay. She slipped her hands in her pockets and headed up the road, a trek she made day in and day out. The sounds of her heels clip-clopping on the pavement was met with all the sounds of London; horns honking, people chatting, people walking, buses and cars driving by. She reached the zebra crossing and hit the button for the lollipop lights; they started flashing their bright yellow light inside the large globe on top of the black and white striped poles. Traffic slowed to a halt and she swiftly marched across to the other side, as she stepped over the curb she turned right and kept on walking now with a slight skip in her step. Nothing made her happier than the record shop, the smells of the records in their covers nestled on racks, the music and the people who came in to buy from her, just everything, she loved it all. It all reminded her of him.

As she neared the shop her fingers played with the keys hiding inside her pocket, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window a pale pretty face stared back at her. Her chestnut coloured hair framed her face in curls that she had so carefully rolled before leaving her house; she removed her peach knitted beret and fixed any strays, she licked a finger and smoothed out her eyebrows too. Satisfied she stood back and gave herself a once over and smiled brought the keyring out of her pocket and looked for the long brass key and slid it with precision into the lock of the glass front door surrounded by an oak frame. The mechanism clicked and she pushed on the dulled metal door handle, the cheery brass bell above her greeted her with a chime as she entered the shop. A single finger flipped up the black switch to the right of the door, the lights flickered on and hummed illuminating the wares. She unbuttoned her jacket, straightened out her blue paisley mini dress and hung the jacket up on the coat rack on the right side of the wall just past the window. As she walked back towards the door she tugged on the beige rolling blinds and guided them up the window letting in the morning sun, she let out a contented sigh as she reached up and turned the closed signed hanging on the door to ‘Open’. Pleased with herself she put her hands on her hips, “’Al Dee’s LPs’ ready for another day.” she turned on her heel towards the front counter to ready for her first customer.

[BRIAN SAMUEL EPSTEIN]

It was rumored, or perhaps it was fact, that Mister Brian Epstein was the manager to one of the hottest bands in town... Hell, possibly the entire world if he could have his way. And he would. He'd fight for it damnit. He'd fight for those boys. All four of them. And he'd be lying if he was to say aloud that he wasn't fighting for his own place in the world as well. Brian knew that he was a terrible liar and for that reason he wouldn't even try. To think, one day he had been doing an apprenticeship in his father's shop. Never once had his father, or he, entertained the possibility that this would have been possible. And yet it was. He had most of London, and whatever they happened to carry, in his fingertips. He didn't have what he wanted most in the world, a person to share it with, but he was working on that as well. Well, not so much working as longing. Hoping.

Making his way down the sidewalk, careful to walk in the center (the perfect center) and not anywhere near the curb, he held his hands in his coat pockets. He had to relish in the few moments that he had alone where screaming girls couldn't mute his thoughts. The screaming was never for him of course, that was an act reserved for the four boys that he looked out for, and truthfully he would have freaked out if girls ever screamed for him. He didn't want it. Didn't need it. No, he needed something far different.

Despite his family living close by Brian had instead chosen to stay in a hotel room. As it turned out so had the Fab Four though their decision had been based more so on keeping their family safe from the growing media than it had been for Brian's reasons... Of just wanting to avoid it completely. The last time he had opened up to his father as a lad he had him sent to a family friend who happened to be a psychologist. There the once gullable Brian had opened up about things.. Many things that he shouldn't have. This resulted in some consequences he didn't care to talk about. Luckily nor did his father so he would save them both the trouble by staying out of sight and out of mind.

His loafer clad feet soon carried him to a record shop. He found that they fascinated him even now, even when he heard music a good 24/7. And though he found himself with a group of talented boys who he cared for deeply, there'd be no harm in digging. Nothing wrong with appreciating and not touching. He did that with John Lennon nearly daily.

The door jingled and Brian found himself instinctively straightening even though the shop was just about empty. Shame really. Then again perhaps it was the hour. Tugging at either end of his coat he did a quick once over to fix his 'look', his work was all about presentation after all even when he wasn't on the job, and made his way toward the rock'n'roll section.

Bending over he peered at the titles and his fingers, that in his boyhood had been shy and nervous, began to make quick work of moving each record case in pursuit of the next. His eyes scanned each title quickly like a machine might. He had done this before. Numerous times really. Brian was surprisingly a man of habit and routine, naturally so were his quirks.

[emrald]

She looked over her left shoulder as the bell rang; she was standing on the top step of her wooden step ladder rearranging the albums that lined the top of the shelves. She always liked having the covers facing out it made for cheap decoration; granted she had a few posters pasted up here and there but that was something beautiful about the cover to a record. She watched the man as he strode casually through her door and expertly leafed through albums. Her eyes were drawn to his feet. Loafers. She thought to herself. Must be someone important, not the usual footwear that stomp these tiles.

She looked back at what she was doing before her attention was distracted nodded with and self-satisfaction and carefully stepped backwards off the ladder. She folded up the ladder all the while keeping a watchful eye on her newest patron, something seemed familiar about him; she shrugged her shoulders as she shook her head to herself and leaned the ladder up against the wall behind the counter.

She dusted her hands down the back of her paisley dress, a bad habit her Mum scolded her constantly for doing, and cleared her throat. “Hello” She felt like her voice was too timid and hushed to carry across the shop as the bluesy trombone melodies resonated throughout. She moved around the counter turned down the record player a notch and made her way over to the man deep in trance flipping through the rows of LP’s.

Clearing her throat again, she smiled and spoke up “Hello, finding anything you fancy?” she shifted her weight on to one leg bending her knee, she watched the way he moved the way his face changed expression with each new cover that met his eyes. “If you find anything you want to hear, please, let me know.” She said still smiling as she gestured to the huge wooden record player near the main counter.

[BRIAN SAMUEL EPSTEIN]

Continuing to leaf through the albums he would stop every once in a while, admire the front cover, and then continue going about his business. The titles and artist names flew by in a whir. This was something he had long ago become used to even before he had become a manager. Why, he had been doing this as a teenage lad pondering on becoming an actor: However shortlived a dream that was. Many roads to the same place as it were.

He could hear the soft shuffling of footware on wooden ladder rungs from behind him. When it stopped he knew all too well that he had become a target. He was the only person in the store at the moment after all. Just his luck. A girl. Completely wasted on him. He was willing to bet (and he was a gambling man) that when he regailed the boys of this venture later they would regret abandoning him when they decided to go about their antics: Whatever those would be today.

"Good morning." He greeted without even looking up. He was a polite man all be it a very focused one when it came to his work. He continued to move through the records with a quick yet gentle touch. Practiced. That's what it was. Practiced.

She had now approached and still he didn't turn around right away. "Nothing yet." Still he leafed through. "But I'm hopeful, as always, that something might jump... out.. at... me... Here we are!" He retrieved an album and four familiar faces greeted him. Wasn't an album so much as an LP an old one, as far as the band's so far brief history of existence. The four faces of the Beatles looked directly at Dede and now, so did Brian, seemingly friendly yet serious.

"What do you think of these boys?" Might as well make this moment productive. Do some research. She was a girl after all, and she worked in a record shop: She had to know music, right? If anything at least she'd be honest.

[emrald]

"What do you think of these boys?"

She tilted her head and looked at the cover, Ringo, Paul, George and John looked down off a balcony all smiles. She knew this record quite well. Nodding she spoke “I don’t mind them, mind you I’m not into the hype like summuv the others gells that come in ‘ere.”

They were suddenly surrounded by blanket of white noise followed by an intermittent clicking sound. Fine time for the music to stop, she thought as she inhaled sharply. She held her breath for a moment before letting out a long exhale. She shifted her gaze from the posing Beatles and looked at the man who held the cover to her like it was a trophy. “We could listen to it if you like, unless you’d like summit else to listen to. Have that very LP in my private collection; I’m sure I’ve worn the grooves a little deeper on it. Soon it'll be playing 'Please, please replace me'” She let out a little nervous laugh, he made her feel uneasy. There was something about him, something that screamed businessman. She felt the same way when that man came to her about the shop shortly after her Dad passed away; he had wanted to buy the shop off her and her Mum said it wasn’t something a woman could handle the responsibility of. She smirked a little to herself, I’m sure that little weasel wore loafers too.

She found herself looking past him at the window, she watched as a small group of young lads hurried by. She saw them trundle by everyday. Must be almost eleven. She focused her blue eyes back on the gentleman before her, she raised a slender right hand up to her face and swept a rogue strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. “I don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round ‘ere before.” She might as well ask before assuming he was another wolf. “What’s your mornin’ glory?”

[BRIAN SAMUEL EPSTEIN]

Brian watched Ellen's expression closely without being too terribly intrusive. He had always been a rather observant fellow though it wasn't something that he necessarily flaunted. It was one of the many tools in his arsenal that had helped him rise to success... When those tools weren't dulled by alcohol or gambling that is. And right now his eyes were telling him that the young lady wasn't like a lot of the, well, young ladies this day and age. Perhaps that was a good thing... For research purposes... Not so much for the 'money in the pocket' purposes.

"Well, I can see that." He said simply though he most definitely was not shutting the girl down. To the contrary. He actually found her of the upmost help. What did they need to impress the market that they had already wooed to their side? No, girls (people) like this record shop worker were exactly who they had to focus on... Whether poor Ellen wanted to be a part of the experiment or not.

"Right." He was being a man of few words though not intentionally. He actually could speak quite eloquently during business meetings or interviews but right now his mind was working and for the moment words had escaped him. Instead he was focused on looking at the record that he had previously held out for Ellen to see. Holding it in front of himself he eyed the four boys on it. What were they missing?

After a few long moments of study (and Ellen's rambling) he sighed and responded to her latest question. "I'd be these boys' manager." He admitted as if it was no big deal. In fact judging from his soft voice it sounded like quite the weight of the world. Holding out the record for Ellen to take he then pocketed both of his hands in his pants pockets. "Well, attempt to be."

With a bit of a sigh he shifted where he stood shaking his head some. "It's Harrison's hair isn't it? It's longer than the others..." Though deep down he secretly wanted to blame Lennon. That one was always trying to cause trouble in more ways than one. "I swear, he's been taking a page right out of John-John's book lately. Not sure I like it..." Ah, but now his mind was wandering. He had long ago corrected his rambling, or at least had attempted to, he planned to keep in that direction.

[emrald]

She pursed her lips and half closed an eye at him as if she was trying to read him.

"I'd be the boys' manager... Well attempt to be"

She furrowed her brow and looked him up and down in a state of disbelief. "Pull the other one!" she exclaimed with a slight scoff. Ellen wasn't one to be led on but she couldn't help but feel as though this man might be sincere. After all he did seem familiar.

She continued to eye him with a sense of caution as she reached out and took the record from his hands. She continued to watch him as he put his hands into his trouser pockets.

"It's Harrison's hair isn't it? It's longer than the others... I swear, he's been taking a page right out of John-John's book lately. Not sure I like it..."

Her eyes widened, what an odd thing to ask, never-the-less the indirect question managed to pique her interest enough to study the cover held carefully between her svelte fingers. Ringo Starr, leaning on his right elbow, a very distinct wave of a coif atop his head. Paul McCartney peering over his elbow, his crown adorned with a definite mop top with his fringe swept carelessly across his forehead. George Harrison leaning on his left arm, his face beaming with a broad grin, he too wore a mop top style. Right next to George, last but not least, stood John Lennon wearing a smile oozing boyish charm, and yet another mop top. They must use the same barber she mused to herself. She chewed on her bottom lip as she pondered a moment more. "Hmmm, to be honest if anything his fringe looks a little thicker than the others." She shrugged lightly as she spoke finally, her voice softened with her expression.

She stepped forward and replaced the record back in amongst the others the supposed manager had recently flipped through. She ran her hand over the tops of the albums realigning them again as she always did when she tided up the shelves of vinyl treasures.

She rubbed her hands together and clasped them neatly in front of her small frame. She was trying hard to not fidget, at least not noticeably; her initial wariness and shy nature had already made her ramble. He'd seemed irritated by it, either that or he was there solely for business and was too focused to notice.

She studied him one more time. "So, what brings a man with your credentials to a small record shop such as mine?" She excused herself momentarily as she strode across the tiled floor to the still spinning record, raised the needle with a single finger and took the vinyl off the turntable. She spun it with ease between her fingers and replaced it back on the rotating turntable and lowered the needle onto the first groove. Brassy tones filled the air once again, it made her feel warm just like he did whenever he came in for new listening delights. A look of tenderness flickered across her simple pale features."I mean"' she turned on her heel, her attention once again back on her guest, "Not that I'm a nosey parker but shouldn't you be in a studio managing... or something?"

[BRIAN SAMUEL EPSTEIN]

Brian didn't immediately spot the suspicious sort of look that the girl was giving him. He never paid particular attention to members of the opposite sex which should have been a dead giveaway to those around him. Unfortunately it usually took him pointing it out or friends walking in on him before they understood that the female sex was not where his interests laid. And even if he was attracted to her, which he wasn't, he was of a business sort of mind and when he discussed this business, in this case The Beatles, he really didn't see anyone even if they stood directly in front of him staring him down.

It wasn't until she uttered her sarcastic little comment that he rose his gaze from the record featuring his Fab Four. "Pardon?" He cleared his throat and shifted a tad, for the first time looking a bit frazzled and uncomfortable. "I will certainly not pull anything." He murmured as his soft eyes glanced every which way before looking down at his loafers. There was humor somewhere in that statement but he wasn't about to point it out to the young lady.

Clearing his throat he winced slightly and made himself look back up at Ellen. "I am. They are my boys I'll have you know." He forced out with a somewhat defiant tone as he gave a shakey sort of wag with his index finger. "You take a look there. You'll see. Turn it over. Take a look." He rambled pointing a succession of eight unnecessary times with an insistent finger. Whenever Brian felt cornered, which happened quite a bit in one on one situations especially those involving females or children, he often resulted to such a behavior.

However when she pointed out the error of George's ways.. Er.. Hair.. He kicked right back into business gear. "Ah! See? There you have it. Harrison." Brian declared with yet another wave of his finger. "Johnny's rubbing off on the dear lad, something he's rather proud of I'm sure." Ugh, the words tasted like sulfur in his mouth. He made a mental note to corner the two later at the hotel before this situation got even more out of hand.

He had been so transfixed by the difference of George's hair that he hadn't paid attention to Ellen cleaning the record stacks until she was a good minute in. "My hometown is nearby. As is the boys'. Liverpool." But surely everyone knew that... No, to the contrary. This girl, despite working in a record store, seemed to know very little about the local to be sensations. Honestly Brian found it refreshing after the initial shock wore off. But did this mean he was doing a poor job as a manager?

"And who says I can't enjoy a good LP as much as the next bloke?" He poised, a little smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watched her. "Or are stuffy manager types supposed to be stuck in a studio with a cigar in mouth and wine glass in hand? Not my style I assure you." Another little, comfortable smile. He was only teasing. He could manage that once in a while.

[emrald]

She couldn’t help but smirk to suppress laughter; finally he seemed to loosen up. He was starting to seem as tight as the collar buttoned around his neck. She let out a chuckle ”A Liverpudlian accent is hard t’miss down in these parts.”

Ellen walked around and stood behind the counter leaned forward and rested her elbows on the well polished wooden surface and propped her head up with the palms of her hands.

"And who says I can't enjoy a good LP as much as the next bloke?... Or are stuffy manager types supposed to be stuck in a studio with a cigar in mouth and wine glass in hand? Not my style I assure you."

She felt her cheeks redden slightly at the teasing comments. She couldn’t help it, she always blushed when people said the unexpected to her, and especially if it was with someone she never conversed with before. Behind the counter she could fidget with her feet unbeknownst to anyone wandering the floor before her, and she did at this very moment; tapping and scuffing her free foot whilst she pressed her other knee up against the wooden door behind the large dark stained wooden counter. She replied almost apologetically ”I didn’t mean anything by it; I don’t normally see high-to-do characters such as yourself.” She straightened herself up and placed her palms flat on the wooden top a half smile curled on her pinked lips, ”Besides I had you pegged as pipe and scotch man.” Her smile broadened as she let out a laugh, after all as her Mum always said ‘What’s good for the goose is good for the gander’ and he’d teased her first.

Curiosity always got the best of her; if it wasn’t for her inquisitive nature she was sure she’d be one of those painfully shy types. The ever constant wallflower that wouldn’t make a peep. No, once she found a common ground with a new face or she’d warmed up to someone no-one could ever peg her for being shy in the first place. That’s why the shop worked for her. But in the meantime his statement intrigued her.

”So, if babysitting and being in a studio with four men in the midst of rapid fame isn't your style then what, if I may ask is your style?” She paused and suddenly realized that she had no idea how to address this man. By his first name? Mister? Sir? She quickly drummed her fingers on top on the counter and looked at the manager. ”I’m dreadfully sorry; I’ve yet to ask by what name I should address you as. I’m Ellen. Ellen Dedross, my friends call me Dede.”

[BRIAN SAMUEL EPSTEIN]

At the comment about his accent he gave a soft chuckle. "Lucky for you I suppose." She really did seem like a sweet girl. Modest means of course but Brian had once been in her place working at his own father's record shop. They had even tried to expand it too! They had been up to two stores in the count when Brian had left for schooling though that didn't work out so well either. Still, standing in the record store he actually felt nostalgic for his childhood something he thought he would never feel especially with the lifestyle that he was living currently. Most would claim he had it good including Brian himself!

"Relax Miss. I was only poking fun." He offered back just as apologetic as the poor girl had been. This would teach Brian to attempt to make a joke especially when in the presence of a bird. Paul McCartney and John Lennon were far more suited for such acts. Birds liked them. Brian had never gotten along well with the oppposite sex... Perhaps it was intentional. Usually he didn't feel so guilty, or guilty at all, by making someone feel bad let alone someone he didn't even know, but today was a different story.

"See here..." Quickly shoving his hand into his coat pocket he retrieved his wallet where he yanked out payment and put it on the countertop in front of her. "You seem to know a great bit about the scene nowadays." He declared, fishing out the odd change as he set that as well down on the counter. "You set me up with any record here in this store. Any one. You choose. And keep the change for yourself." He announced rather calmly before slipping his hands into his coat pockets casually, awaiting her next move.

"Brian. My name is Brian." The manager introduced with a nod. "My friends find all sorts of cutesy little nicknames to call me but I'll leave you to figure out your own." There. Now that wasn't so difficult.

[emrald]

Ellen looked down at the money that Brain had pulled out of his wallet and pocket and placed on the counter, then she looked back up at the manager before her. Her face read a look of bewildered shock, this was the last thing she had ever expected. She blinked at him in disbelief, this man was turning out to be an interesting soul indeed.

"See here... You seem to know a great about the scene nowadays... You set me up with any record here in this store. Anyone. You choose. And keep the change for yourself."

Part of her wanted to ask if he was having her on but decided best against it. "I-I don't really know what to say." she finally managed to get the words out of her mouth. She puffed out her cheeks and lightly blew outward. Think, think, think. She rested a hand on her hip and tapped a finger her other hand up by her mouth, her fingers drumming on her lips as she scoured the rows of records from behind the counter. Ellen knew where everything was, each album and single had its place. Her eyes finally rested back on Brian, with her eyes lit up she held up a slender index finger to him. "Wait right here."

Off she went and pored over the racks, lifting and replacing albums. After a few moments Ellen came back to the counter and lined up three albums. " You've shown such generosity and there is enough money for at least two albums with change still left over, which is very kind of you. So here is Beach Boys 'Surfer Girl', Sammy Davis Jr. 'As Long As She Needs Me' and finally Elvis Presley 'Elvis' Golden Records Vol. 3'." Ellen smiled at the man, it was the least she could do, she'd never had anyone ask her to pick for them. The most she ever came close to was looking for a genre or artist, never anything like this.

Ellen extended her hand over the displayed albums before them. "Brian, it's a pleasure to meet you. I insist, please, pick two. You honestly have enough." Ellen nodded with a kind smile. This turned out to be an interesting morning.

[BRIAN SAMUEL EPSTEIN]

He had to admit it. He rather enjoyed seeing the look of disbelief on the young lady's face who ran the counter. She seemed absolutely dumbfounded as though he had managed to pull a rabbit out of his ass or something. She was acting like many birds acted around the infamous John Lennon! Now that was something that Brian could do without. Those sort of idiotic looks. But this Ellen was silly. She wasn't a git. And she definitely wasn't stupid. No, even Brian could find joy in the element of surprising someone especially since he rarely had the honor of doing so!

"You don't need to say anything. Just give me a good one." Brian offered with a smile in an attempt to guide her in the right direction, or to at least get her to speak up! If a silence befell them Brian wasn't sure that he'd be able to fill it. He always felt so gosh darned awkward with the opposite sex and not for all of the reasons that George or Ringo might. Or maybe so... Everyone had their secrets.

Brian waited patiently, busying himself with allowing his eyes to wander over the scenery that Ellen's record store provided. Luckily she didn't take too long and Brian found himself back in company within seconds. At the titles Brian nearly grinned from ear to ear: A rare sight. "Say. I know some of these." Yes, Brian had done his research he had to in order to keep the best interest of promoting the band. He had listened to a song or two in passing, just to get a feel for who they were competing with, yet he had never listened to an entire album.

"I have enough groups of boys in my life." Brian shuddered as he pointed toward the Beach Boy's album and then made a go of reaching for the Elvis record and then Sammy Davis Jr. (definitely more his style). "Lennon and Paul will enjoy the Elvis I'm sure." He thought aloud before admiring both and tucking them under his arm. "Thank you muchly Miss Dedross." He nodded again before making his way toward the door. Stopping himself he walked right back toward the young woman and made her take back the Elvis record.

"But that wouldn't be following guidelines. I only asked for one." He offered with a bit of a wink, purely teasing though she now had the Elvis album back in her possession. "Always remember the importance of rules Miss Dedross." He offered with another friendly nod before he moved back to the door. Almost doing a nice thing for Lennon? What the hell had he been thinking?!

And with that he exited the store.

[emrald]

Ellen smiled to herself as Brian looked over the albums she had picked out for him, something about his shudder over The Beach Boys made her chuckle quietly to herself. I suppose when he works with a group of boys it's the last thing he'd want to listen to. She nodded in return as he turned to walk away. "Anytime Mr. Epstein." Ellen called after him, using his formal name as he had used hers, she'd been raised with good manners. With her nimble fingers she pick up the coppers and other money off the counter and opened the register putting each denomination in its right spot.

She was then taken aback when this man with places to go and people to meet stopped and turned back and strolled towards her. He placed the Elvis album into her hands as he spoke.

"But that wouldn't be following guidelines. I only asked for one... Always remember the importance of rules Miss Dedross."

She nodded in agreement and let out a soft "hmm". Ellen flashed a quick smile as she noted that he had kept the Sammy Davis Jr. album for himself. A man has to spoil himself sometimes. "Have a terrific day!" she spoke one last time as the man left the shop as quietly as he came in.

[EMMY ELIZABETH SILVIAS]

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