#paulmcartney

“That was the summer of 1963, when people called me baby and it never occurred to me to mind. Before the stones came around, before kennedy was assassinated and I never thought i’d find someone better than my father.” It was a family vacation, just him, his dad, Angie and his brother Mike. His father, James McCartney was a diplomat, a rich one at that but Paul never let it get to his head, he studied like every other student with the dream to be a doctor, one that travelled to 3rd world countries to save lives that normally wouldn’t be saved. He sat in the back of his fathers Cadillac as they drove, his nose stuck in that medical book of his as Mike relentlessly combed at his hair “will you give it a break?” he teased snatching the book from Pauls grip making Paul whine trying to pull it back “dad! tell him to give me it back!” he complained but his father only smiled in the rear view mirror “it’s a holiday baby, relax won’t you?.” Paul, always a huge fan of his fathers gave in smiling as he leant forward wrapping his arms around him from the back of his chair as he watched the road, ‘Kellermans’ was written on the nearest street sign and Angie smiled taking her sunglasses off “this is it boys.”

The car travelled down the cobbled path until this beautiful resort came into few, a giant mansion type estate with people running around, playing tennis or drinking overly expensive wines. James parked the car as the owner, Mr Kellerman, came to greet us. A friend of my fathers all because he’d gotten him out of some money troubles with his hotels abroad, it was all the rich cared about really. “I’ve broken my comb” Mike complained and James laughed “this isn’t a tragedy, a tragedy is three men stuck in a mine, police dogs in Birmingham” “monks burning themselves in protest” Paul added smiling to his father “stay out of it baby” Mike huffed but quickly retired from his tantrum at the sight of Mr Kellerman. “James! After all these years i’ve finally got you up in these mountains” he grinned clasping his hand over the diplomats “hows the hotel going?”. “Boys I want you to know if it weren’t for your father i’d be out millions” he said happily looking to Mike and Paul who shared a shy smile before the plump joyous man was off again “George, get the bags” he called and a skinny fella, probably the same age as Paul replied “right away Max.” He watched him curiously before following to the back of the family car “we’ve saved the best cabin for you and your beautiful family” he heard Max say as he was walked. He began pulling some luggage out himself gaining a smile from the lad “hey thanks a lot” Paul smiled rather flattered by the boy, you see the McCartneys’ were always moving country to country so maintaining a steady friend group always was a struggle. “you want a job here?” he only laughed shaking his head as he continued on unloading. “There’s a merengue class in the gazebo in the next few minutes” Max went on coxing the family into new activities “the greatest teacher, she used to be a Rockette!” Angie laughed her arm draped over her husbands “come on Max, it’s his first real vacation in years give him a break?” He grinned reassuringly putting his hands together “three weeks here will feel like a year”.

Paul found himself in a dance class moments later, a thin blonde girl in one of those merengue dresses stood in front of them dancing her way through the steps whilst calling out to those behind her. “One, two, three, four! Stomp those grapes and stomp some more!” Paul tried to keep up with her movements but found himself standing on his neighbours toe looking up with a quick “sorry” as he started again. Musically talented, yes, but a dancer, not quiet. Sure Paul adored a good dance with his family but he’d never known the names or the techniques.. he just danced! They were arranged now, men on the outside women on the inside “okay now ladies when I say ‘stop’ you’re going to find the man of your dreams!” the blonde girl called. Paul hesitated, looking before he was paired with an elderly woman smiling awkwardly before looking to his father who was chuckling for him “remember,” the girl started again catching his attention “he’s the boss on the dance floor if no where else” she’d looked at him while he said it and he only smiled shaking his head as he resumed his dance with his elderly partner.

“Dad i’m going to the main house to look around” it was dark now, evening entertainment was just about to begin as Paul walked alone tucking his arms under his armpits as he looked around. He walked up to the house where they were setting dinner tables standing at the door he peaked in dark curls falling over his forehead. “There are two kinds of help here” Max spoke with the waiters “I shouldn’t have to remind you college kids this is a family establishment! Keep your fingers out of the water, your hair out of the soup and show the goddamn teens a good time!” Paul furrowed his eyebrows at that more interested by the conversation now. “Take them to the terrace, romance them anyway you like!” “Got that guys?” Paul jumped at the sound of a new voice his eyes focusing on a leather cladded man with auburn hair and sunglasses settled on his long nose. He was joined by others but he, he was the one that grabbed Pauls eye. “Hold it!” Max called making the man stop turning to look at him “well isn’t it Kellermans entertainment staff” Max scoffed at them moving towards the stranger “Listen, wise ass, you got your own rules. Dance with them. Teach 'em the mambo...the cha-cha, anything they pay for. That's where it ends. No funny business, no conversations,and keep you hands off!” Paul watched now crouched slightly fascinated by the complete switch of the nice Kellerman he saw earlier and the wonderfully cool worker. “It’s the same in all these places, some ass in the woods maybe but no conversation!” one of the other workers said, a small guy with slicked back hair gaining laughter from the rest “watch it Sutcliffe” Max warned before he was off again. “Can you keep that straight, Johnny? What you can't lay your hands on?” a waiter spoke and immediately Paul disliked him, his arrogance, the way he looked down at him. “Just put your pickle on everybody's plate, and leave the hard stuff to me” he bit. Then he left, the mysterious stranger had well and truly wiggled his way into Paul McCartneys mind.

Well I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this dirty dancing Au!!