Chapter Two: Die Schmetterling
“Sehr schön,” (Very nice) the voice of Bruno Koschmeider echoed in the naked walls of the nearly empty room that served as a changing room for the stars of his club. “Ausgezeignete Vorstellung, Delilah.” (Excellent performance, Delilah)
“Nenne mich Alyssa,” (Call me Alyssa) was all the girl said.
She was putting on her normal clothes as she let out sighs of tiredness from time to time. Bruno hugged her from behind and held her tight, breathing sonorously in her ear. “Oh, was würde ich mit ohne Dich tun, Schmetterling?” (What would I do without you, my butterfly?)
‘Du würdest warscheinlich unhommen.’ (You’d probably be starving to death), she thought with a mock of disgust showing in her pretty, rounded face.
“Du machst mich reich, Liebling,” (You’re making me rich, darling) he placed a kiss on her neck and then let her go.
“Ja, Du wirst reich,” (Yes, you are getting rich) Alyssa Kirchherr said as she watched her image reflected in the big, oval mirror that was situated on one of the greyish walls. Her almond-shaped, chocolate eyes looked gloomy.
It wasn’t hard to tell she wasn’t happy. She had never been happy with Bruno Koschmeider and her famous, breath-taking strip shows. But she just couldn’t leave her man. She was tied to him by a contract which, though it was soon to expire, was her biggest nightmare.
“Was ist los mit Dir, Schmetterling?” (What’s going on with you, butterfly?) Herr Koschmeider asked.
“Ich habe Kopfweh,” (My head aches) she lied.
“Weisst Du was, ich habe eine Überraschung für Dich.” (You know what? I have a surprise for you.)
“Was ist es?” (What is it?)
“So ich es Dir sagen würde, würde es keine Überraschung mehr sein,” (If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise) he smiled. “Du wirst alles morgen Nacht wissen, nach Deiner Vorstellung im Kaiserkeller.” (You’ll know everything tomorrow night after your show at the Kaiserkeller.)
“Ich kann kaum abwarten,” (I can hardly wait) was her sarcastic reply.
***
The lights went out and the screaming audience stamped their feet and clapped as The Beatles left the stage, their guitars in hand.
“This club is much better than the other,” Stu commented as they entered the small and smelly changing room.
“Aye, yer right. Do ye reckon they ‘ave strippers ‘ere too?” John asked as he took off his humid T-shirt and looked around for another one.
“I ‘ope so,” Pete laughed lecherously.
They were in the middle of a huge laughter when the door flew open and Bruno Koschmeider entered the room, showing his uneven row of yellowish teeth.
“Hallo, Jüngen!” (Hello, boys!)
“Hey,” Paul nodded.
“I hope you had a good time tonight at this club,” he continued in English, even though his German accent was still very present. “Now you have a break until the next show finishes and you are on again.”
“We’re on again?” George complained.
“I thought we had the night off after this set?” Paul asked, scratching his chin.
“Oh, yes, yes, you do,” Bruno nodded. “Until the next show finishes, liebes Beatles!”
The lads growled and rolled their eyes. They already were very tired and they didn’t want to keep on playing. This man was clearly exploiting them and, even though they were really excited about being in Hamburg, physically they were destroyed. They deserved a break, but nobody was able to get that into the stubborn German’s head.
“And who is goin’ to perform now?” John asked.
Bruno grinned again. “Meine Schmetterling.”
“What?”
“My personal butterfly,” he laughed like Santa Claus, “Delilah.”
The lads widened their eyes and they smiled. Delilah…
“Oh, I see…” John chuckled and sat down on the filthy sofa. “Delilah…”
“Yes, Delightful Delilah for you,” a female voice said from the doorway and everybody turned their heads to look at her.
Delilah was a short, black-haired girl and for that night she had chosen to dress up as an officer from the Polizei. The blue costume was far from demure, though. She had a thick belt which narrowed her already small waist; and from it, a chain and a pair of handcuffs hung. She was wearing a blue cap, but one was able to see her extremely long black hair.
Her little round face was very beautiful: she had big, twinkling, chocolate eyes with long and curved eyelashes; her nose was small and turned-up and her well-defined lips were thick and pink, as she was wearing no lipstick. All of them liked her at the very moment they saw her.
She was grinning widely, showing her perfect white teeth as she walked beside Bruno.
“Hallo, Bruno, wer sein Sie?” she asked.
“These, my dear,” he pointed at them, “are Die Beatles!”
“Die Beatles??!” Delilah laughed. “Beatles?”
“Yes. The new band from England. It’s their first night at the Kaiserkeller.”
“Oh…” she nodded.
The first one she spotted was the smallest one. He wore a pair of sunglasses and she thought it was very peculiar, not to say ridiculous. A huge bass guitar was hanging from his shoulder, but he looked as if he didn’t really know what to do with it. Despite all this, he was very handsome to her eyes.
“Hello,” she said to him.
“Hey,” he nodded. “I’m Stu.”
“I’m Alyssa.”
Then her eyes went to another one who, even if he was just as tall as the other three, looked way younger. His lopsided grin was charming and brought a grin to her own lips. He was also cute, but nowhere near Stu.
“I’m George,” he smiled.
“Nice to meet you, George,” her German accent was thicker than ever. Perhaps because she felt a little nervous about meeting them. They were from England, and everything related to that country made her jittery and excited.
“I’m Paul,” another lad said and shook her hand.
He was also tall but better built than George. He had an astounding baby face but something in his eyes showed he was no baby when it came to behaviour. Delilah checked his body and was not let down at all.
“Nice to meet you too.”
A pair of lecherous eyes were burning irritatingly on her so she looked at the lad that was standing beside Paul and noticed whose eyes they were. He had a pair of drumsticks in his hand and a silly smile on his face. ‘Scheißekopf,’ she thought to herself as she frowned.
“I’m Pete.”
“Hey…”
“And last but not least, I’m John Lennon,” he grinned and wriggled his eyebrows at her.
John Lennon was really fine to her. In spite of not being cute or pretty like Paul and Stu, he was certainly handsome and terribly funny. She liked him from the kick-off.
She laughed, finding it really amusing. “Hello, John Lennon,” she smiled. “I’m Alyssa Kirchherr.”
“Kirchherr?” Stu asked.
She looked at him. “Yes, Kirchherr.”
“That’s not a common surname. Do you happen to know Astrid Kirchherr?”
She chuckled, genuinely surprised. “Of course! Where do you know her from?”
Stu and John looked at each other and grinned. “She usually comes to our shows,” Stu replied. “In fact, I’m quite surprised she’s not here. She’s your… relative or something?”
“Yes, my cousin.”
“What a coincidence!” John exclaimed. “Meet your new cousin, then,” he smiled and pointed at him.
“Ohhhh!! So you are THAT Stu??” Alyssa grinned. “This is a big coincidence!”
“Indeed…” he nodded.
“Well, Schmetterling,” Bruno interrupted, “I hate to interrupt, but you have to go and do your show, huh?”
Alyssa sighed. “Yes, I’m on my way there… Well, see you later!”
She left and John walked to Bruno, put a hand on his shoulder and asked him, “do we get to see ‘er show?”
“If you pay like the other customers, why not?!”
“Thank you, mate,” John rolled his eyes and went back to the filthy sofa.
***
Alyssa’s show lasted about half an hour what with dancing, inviting people to the stage and stripping. She really didn’t like that kind of job, but thought she wasn’t really able to do anything else. Besides, she had to do it since Bruno Koschmeider was kind of a protection to her. When she finished, she hurried to leave the club before meeting those English fellows in a corridor.
While she walked back to her little flat warmed by a cheap leather jacket, she lit up a cigarette and thought about them. They all seemed nice lads and from what she had heard from Astrid, they were really enthusiastic about the whole thing. It was funny, though, that she never mentioned their name. The curious thing was that, while they were so glad to be in the Reeperbahn, she was dying to get the hell out of there.
‘It would be so great if you could take me to your country with you, Beatles,’ she thought in English and laughed at this crazy idea.
***
After a few days of coming across them at the Kaiserkeller, Alyssa and The Beatles could be labelled as acquaintances. Sometimes they chitchatted, shared a few beers, or when they were very busy or in a hurry, they just said hello and kept with their own business. She talked a lot with Stu, mainly about Astrid, and found out to her delight that he was just as much in love with her cousin as Astrid was in love with him. With John and George she joked a lot, but never got in deep conversation. With Paul, though, she did.
“You see,” Alyssa said once when they were alone talking in the changing room, “it’s not that I love my job… in fact, I hate it.”
“I dunno why, I love it,” Paul joked as he exhaled the smoke through his nose.
“Ach, shut up,” she elbowed him softly. “I’m trying to be serious here…” she smiled.
“Okay, okay, sorry,” he smiled. “You must be used to the Reeperbahn to say that you don’t like it. We love it, it’s gear. Why in hell would you like to leave?”
“Let me ask you something, Paul, um… have you taken a look around?”
“Oh, yeh…” he nodded. “Breasts, legs, arses… for viewing and touching… it’s paradise, luv, you should try it.”
Alyssa started laughing. “What’s up with you, huh? You’re a bit… overexcited. Mmm… you’ve tasted the Preludin, haven’t you?”
“As if it were the first time…” he huffed. “Want a pill for yourself?”
“Nein, danke,” she declined.
“I have some left. John, however, he just swallows them altogether and with too much beer…” he smiled. “See? At the beginning, I didn’t need to take anything… their excitement was contagious!”
“The thing is that as time goes by and you continue taking those Prellies, you’ll have to take three, for example, to get the same effect one used to have.”
Paul shrugged. “It was you we were talking about. Tell me, if you hate your job so much, why don’t you go and look for something else? I’ve seen you, you’re a pretty good dancer, perhaps if you get a job as one… without the part of getting naked…”
“Yes, well, I’ve thought of that as well… but Bruno would never agree.”
“Fuck Bruno, are you married or something? Is he your owner?” Paul asked. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was she so afraid of him or what?
“You could say that, yes,” she nodded sadly.
“Come on, you’re more intelligent than that.”
“I don’t know what he’d do if I left him… but I think I don’t want to know either…”
“Oh, Lys,” he said and put his arms around her. “Don’t be silly. I’m sorry if this will disappoint you, but I’ll tell you what he’ll do if you left him: he’ll get a little mad, of course, but then he will find another Schmetterling to dance for him and he’ll be happy again, luv.”
She laughed softly… maybe that smooth-talking, English fellow was right. Perhaps she would be able to leave Bruno Koschmeider after all.
“Maybe all I need is a little bit of encouragement,” she smiled.
“This place and the crappy audience of drunken sailors should be enough encouragement,” he chuckled. Then he looked at her in the eyes, their noses very close. “Listen. You’re young, you’re beautiful and I’m sure that even though you’ve said many stupid things in these last minutes, you’re very intelligent. You deserve something much better than this and that fat, greasy bastard, right?”
Then, without even thinking about it, he kissed her lips softly, so as to show her that she could have much more than what she imagined. Alyssa was very surprised, but felt extremely fine after the contact.
When their kiss finished, Paul smiled and stood up. “Gotta go. Think about it, huh?”
Alyssa nodded and watched him as he walked away with a smile. However, some kind of strange force made her stand up from the sofa and run after him. Before he could notice, she had turned him around by the arm and was kissing him again.
“If Bruno sees this,” Paul commented as Alyssa kissed his neck, “he’ll deport us back to Liverpool.”
“Or perhaps he’ll just make you pay,” she said, making him laugh and lock the door so as not to be interrupted.
***
November arrived and Alyssa and The Beatles could be now labelled as friends. She spent most of her time with them, helping them with their dirty clothes, listening to them as they rehearsed or suggesting a song or two for their repertoire. At first she used to sing with them when they rehearsed, but when she was thrown a shoe once, she chose not to keep on doing so.
Her little affair with Paul was more friendly than romantic. They had a great time together and afterwards, they talked about anything that came into their minds. He told her about Liverpool, about his family and about their friends. He also told her that he was eighteen years old and, as she asked, he told her what he had done for the occasion.
“We went out with the lads to a pub called ‘The Jacaranda’,” he told her.
“And was it nice?”
“Yes. Well… kind of,” he said, frowning.
“Oh, why?”
“Everything was okay until the pest of John’s cousin ruined it all.”
Alyssa burst out laughing, “Ohh, cousin?? A he or a she?”
“I don’t know, really…” he chuckled.
“Oh, come on!!”
“A she… supposedly.”
“What’s her name?”
“Prudence.”
“That’s a name?!” she asked in authentic surprise.
“Yes, it is,” he laughed. “Not very nice, now is it?”
“Well…” she shrugged. “And is she as nice as her name?”
“She’s terrible,” he huffed. “She’s just… crazy.”
“But is she ugly? How old is she?”
“She’s eighteen. Her birthday is a day before mine and she got angry because John and George didn’t go to her stupid party to go to The Jac with me. See how childish she is?”
Alyssa nodded. “But tell me, there must be something good about her… right?”
“Not that I can recall,” he shook his head.
“Is she friends with John?”
“Yeh… sort of,” he nodded, feeling angry at the thought.
“Well, I don’t think he’d put up with her if she were such a stupid girl, Paul.”
“The thing is, she has it in for me.”
“Why is that?”
Paul explained to her the relationship she had with George and how mad she became jealous when Paul became friends with him. Now that he thought of that, it was amusingly idiotic.
“Oh, well… but you didn’t tell me.”
“What?”
“How does she look like?”
“Um… she’s… I don’t know, just a normal girl,” he shrugged.
“And how do normal girls look like in your country?” she smiled.
Paul scratched his forehead dubiously. He didn’t want to talk about Prue’s appearance, for it was the only thing about her that didn’t repulse him. And that was something hard to admit.
“Well… she’s tall… almost like me. She’s got blonde hair… green eyes… nice curves… but no brain. And that’s the problem.”
“Um… I see…” Alyssa nodded, smiling slightly.
“God, she’s such a creep,” he shook his head softly. That was his favourite word for her.
“Now that I think about it,” Alyssa started, “I’ve never heard a man talking like that about a woman. There are two possibilities to it -- either you are a queer, which I personally discard, or-- you like her.”
Paul laughed hard and somehow nervously. What a ridiculous idea.
“The fact that I like her body doesn’t mean I like her personality,” he said, and regretted it at the second that the last word left his mouth.
“Oh, so you do somehow like her,” Alyssa smiled mischievously.
“No, not really.”
“Paul likes Prudence, Paul likes Prudence,” she chanted laughingly.
He couldn’t help laughing too, “don’t be a creep too, yeh?”
“What, you’re going to fall in love with me as well?”
“I might just do that,” he said jokingly and kissed her to finally shut her up.
***
Following Alyssa’s advice to get the hell out of Koschmeider’s claws as soon as possible, The Beatles moved to another Club called Top Ten, run by Peter Eckhorn. It was much better than the other two, and at least they were given a few breaks now and then. A week passed and everything went great. However, the old Bruno was not going to stay sitting, arms crossed, while his employees went to enrich another man. Besides, they had a binding contract.
One afternoon two policemen entered the Top Ten the club. Alyssa was chatting with John and George at a table when they came to them.
“Guten Tag,” one of them said.
“Hallo,” Alyssa answered in the same language, “Was brauchen Sie?”
“We came here because we received an accusation from Mr.…” he looked down at a paper and read, “Bruno Koschmeider which says that an underage person is working here. Can I see you IDs?”
Alyssa swallowed hard. George was that person and he was going to be deported back to England. That Bruno pig had done it because he was mad now everybody went to see The Beatles to the Top Ten and nobody went to his stinky club anymore... bastard. John and George looked at her without understanding.
“He said that Bruno Koschmeider told them there was an underage working here so they want to see our IDs...” Alyssa explained.
George went instantly pale, “what?” he asked.
“Yes, George... that's what he said,” she continued, looking for her ID in her purse and giving it to the policeman. He looked at it and gave it back to her.
“Ja, richtig,” the man said, “next.”
John did the same, looking nervously at George. After they returned John's ID, George said, “tell them I don't have the fucking ID...”
“But—“ Alyssa protested.
“I can't do anything else, tell ‘em.”
She looked at the two policemen, “Er hat es nicht,” she said, pointing at George.
They wrote down something on a paper, “he'll have to come with us to the police station,” one said.
“What did he say?” George asked.
“You'll have to go with them to the police station,” Lys translated.
“What?” John said, “no way in hell!”
“You’d better cooperate, John,” she said nervously. The sight of the German police always made her edgy… the memory of the Gestapo killing her parents was constantly there.
“No, if he goes with ‘em we'll all ‘ave to go back to The Pool!”
“Don’t make this more difficult!”
“Tell ‘em he’ll be 18 in three months.”
“That won’t matter, let George go with them. You’ll get in more troubles if he doesn’t!”
John huffed, got up and left upstairs. George looked up at her, got up and sighed, "Ok, tell ‘em I’ll go..."
“He’ll go,” she said to the policemen.
“Fine. Come with us to translate.”
George looked nervous and was pale, “c’mon, George, let’s go,” Lys said softly to him.
John was already in the room, lying on his bed and thinking about the fucking bad luck they had when the noise of the door opening interrupted him. He looked up and saw Paul and Pete entering the room. They looked at him and noticing his enraged expression, they both frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked him.
“Know ‘bout George?” John replied.
“George?” he asked.
“Yes... two bloody policemen took him to the police-station because he’s underage.”
“Really?” Pete inquired, surprised.
“Do I look as if I were jokin’ or sumthin’?”
“And who’s with him?” he asked worried.
“Alyssa...” John answered.
“Oh, fuck, this can't be! We can't go on playing without him!” Paul complained.
John huffed and Pete sat down heavily on his bed, putting his head between his hands.
***
A couple of hours later, George and Lys came back. He was like in a trance, just took some money and went out again. John was sitting at a table with the rest of the lads, talking about what had happened when he stood up and approached Lys.
“What happened?” John asked.
“He has three days to leave Hamburg, otherwise he'll be arrested.”
“Oh, damn... that's not fucking fair...”
Lys looked around, “where are his things?”
“What?”
“Ja, he asked me to pack for him.”
“He's leaving now?” he asked surprised.
Lys nodded, “he doesn't want to say goodbye to anybody...”
“Well... I'll go with him to the train station,”
“I'm going too,” she stated.
The boys stayed silent, they were obviously very angry, or sad, to talk. Lys packed George's stuff and went to the train station with John. George was sitting on a bench, with his elbows on his knees and his head in hand when they approached him.
“Hey, George,” John sadly greeted him.
“We brought your stuff... do you want us to leave you alone?” Lys asked, as sad as John was.
“No. It’s fine...” he said in a whisper and stood up.
“At what time do you leave?” Lys asked.
“Ten minutes, I think...”
Those ten minutes passed slowly and no more words were said till the train arrived.
“I think it's time to go, then...” George said, grabbing his bag and his guitar case from the floor.
John approached him and patted his shoulder, “we'll be with you soon.”
George just nodded and went to hug Lys, who told him something in the ear that made him smile. When they separated, he waved at them and headed to the train.
“George!!!” somebody yelled from behind, making them all turn around. There were Paul (the one who yelled), Pete, Stu and Astrid. They ran to meet them and said goodbye. George waved at them quickly, got into the train and it left.
***
After George had to go, they decided to go back to England as soon as possible. One night, Pete and Paul went back to the Bambi Kino to look for some things they had left there so they could leave. The place was very dark and they couldn't see, so they lit up a condom too see better. Then Bruno entered, saw the little fire and called the police, accusing Pete and Paul of trying to fire the whole place, which would have been impossible due to the fact that the place was made of stone. The guys spent four hours at the police station and were deported back to England as well.
When Alyssa heard the news from Astrid’s lips, she ran to the club and found John sitting at one of the tables. His bags were scattered around him and his amplifier was tied to his back so nobody could steal it from him.
“So, you’re leaving?” she asked, sitting down beside him.
“Yes… or perhaps I could stay and pursue a solo career,” he joked even though there was no humour reflected in his eyes.
Alyssa looked at him and smiled sadly. “When are you leaving?”
“In a few hours… I hardly have any money to pay the ticket back to Liverpool, you know? I had to ask Stu for some Geld.”
She chuckled. “But are you sure you’ll be able to make it?”
He shrugged. “Dunno… but I can always hitch a ride.”
Alyssa bit her bottom lip and thought for a second before saying, “you know, John, I could lend you some money. I’ve been saving and—“
“Nah, it’s okay, luv, don’t worry,” he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand.
“—and I think,” she continued, “that it would be enough for two.”
“Stu is staying,” John said, “didn’t Astrid tell you?”
“I meant for you and me.”
John’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“Take me with you to England.”
“What?” he repeated. “Yer barmy,” he shook his head softly.
“Yes, please, I have to get out of here… and this might be my only chance,” she explained.
“Lys, I dunno… your papers… have you got a passport or something like that?”
“Don’t worry, everything’s okay. I always had everything prepared to leave the bastard of Bruno.” She took his hands in hers and pleaded passionately, “John, please. Help me here.”
“But where are you going to stay?” John shook his head. “I dunno, Lys…”
“I don’t care, John, I could very well live under a bridge and I’d be a thousand times better than now.”
“I don’t think it can be done…”
“Yes, of course it can be done,” she nodded emphatically. “Please, Johnny, help me… you’d be my favourite Beatle if you did.”
“Aren’t I already?” he asked laughingly.
“Well… yes! But I’ll like you even more,” she smiled.
John huffed and stood up. He grabbed his bags and his guitar. Finally, he put his expressionless eyes on hers.
“I’m on my way to the train station,” he said. “Be there in less than an hour or I swear I’ll leave without you.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!!” Lys stood up in a jump as she clapped happily. She approached John, kissed both of his cheeks sonorously and left the club as fast as she could.
John grinned to himself as he walked. She was one special lass.