He tried to squirm away from the leader's grip, tried to pry John's arms off his back to get the point across, but he just wouldn't let go.
The deep blue-green water rose up and down like a sleeping chest; slowly but briefly. A white crashing wave about two meters higher than them billowed on top of them and they sprawled and kicked to get some air.
George spat out the salt water and rubbed his eyes. His clothes felt heavy and were dragging them down. He looked to John, who was still clenching with fear to him and took a breath to speak.
Another wave crashed upon them, but this time they were able to regain the surface more fluently.
Lennon coughed and spluttered, and for the first time they were in the water George realized he was absolutely petrified. He began to scream every time the water beneath them rose; scared a
"What game is it lads?" McCartney choked with the emotion still hiding underneath him.
"Blackjack." Aspinall nodded and passed Ringo a pair of cards. "Come to play too Rings'?"
"Sure." Starr's voice was tight.
"Okay," Mal cleared his throat, "You all know how to play?"
They did. The game was light-headed. No one really got into it, but it's not like they didn't try. In fact, it was one of the friendliest games they, as competitive men, had ever taken part in.
The food was served by the blond American woman who had met the remaining Beatles at the door. The others with Ringo ate every crumb, but Paul didn't even glance near it, his plate completely untouched.
Ringo looked at Mal and then to Neil who both eyed him back, concerned.
The bassist took a ciggy from his mouth and glanced over to his friend, his eyes half-closed.
"Are you gonna eat that?" Ringo nodded towards Paul's full plate.