Baby, You’re A Rich Man I
Chapter: 1/28
Rating: U
Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.
Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst
Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here
Ringo had been working as a waiter for almost a year now, but that had never been his plan, he wanted to work long enough to afford a proper drum kit so he could really start his music career but when he finally met this goal a couple of months ago he realised he couldn't quit and focus solely on drumming or else he couldn't afford to live; working took up so much of his time he was often too exhausted to even practice by the time he got home, and so he felt trapped with no real end in sight. He didn't mind his job, it was a family run business with a small staff which meant he could get really friendly with everyone and he was never short on hours. All sorts of people visited the place at all times of the day and Ringo had gotten to know many of the regulars quite well, out of all the jobs he could've had he was happy he was at least stuck with this one. It was just after the lunch rush and Ringo was going around cleaning the tables as the building emptied more and more, only a couple of loners sitting by the windows finishing their coffee. Then, the bell rang and Ringo turned to see who was coming in to order and he was met with three familiar faces; Ringo had seen this group of boys quite a few times recently but they weren't like the rest of the regulars, they didn't speak to the staff much and always seemed to hush their conversation anytime they were approached. They were young, probably around Ringo's age, and were always in matching black suits and they were always together. The three of them took a booth in the corner, as far away from anyone else as they could get, and were laughing continuously. Ringo had an uneasy feeling about them as he wasn't even sure what their names were and he couldn't help feeling that there was more to them than met the eye. Nonetheless he approached their table to take their order and just as Ringo predicted they stopped their conversation almost immediately as though they didn't want anyone overhearing them.
"What'll be lads?" Ringo asked, putting on a friendly face despite his underlying discomfort. The boys didn't look particularly menacing, one of them had a very soft and friendly face, but Ringo couldn't rid himself of his gut feeling that there was something fishy about them.
"Soup, please." The one closest to Ringo spoke, the one with the soft face, with a small smile as he handed his menu back.
"What soup would you like? We've got quite a few." Ringo chuckled awkwardly.
"Any old will do." Another spoke now, he was the one Ringo felt most uncomfortable about due to his piercing eyes and very serious expression. Ringo collected his menu too and looked over to the third boy who appeared to be very engrossed in his menu as he furrowed his brow and pouted his lips slightly.
"I think I'll have..." He began and Ringo could see he was squinting at the words as though he needed glasses "The soup!" He finally said which warranted a chuckle from the other two.
"Three soups it is then." Ringo smiled and collected the final menu, as he turned away to walk to the kitchen he let out a sigh of relief, there was just something about them that made him so tense.
He returned to the table a few minutes later with their order and as he approached he could see one of them, the intense one as Ringo had nicknamed him, glaring at him the entire time which did wonders for Ringo's anxiety.
"Here you are." Ringo tried his best to put on his customer service voice "Let me know if I can get you anything else."
The soft one smiled at Ringo politely and the seemingly blind one thanked him, the other remaining silent until he turned to walk away "What's your name?" He asked, startling Ringo who stiffened before turning around with a fake smile.
"It's Ringo." He said, tapping his name badge which he was very proud of - his previous jobs had insisted on calling him Richard, which he hated with a passion.
The boy scoffed "How'd you end up with a name like that?" He wasn't being rude, brash would have been a better word, and the way the other two boys almost took no notice made Ringo think this was merely the boy's way of making conversation.
"Well, my name's actually Richard but my friends gave me the nickname on account of all the rings I wear. Not right now o'course, can't wear them at work." Ringo forced another smile as he displayed his bare hands with a wiggle of his fingers which made the soft boy chuckle.
"I see." Was all the boy said in return as he turned his attention to his soup, showing no sign of wanting to continue the rather odd conversation.
Ringo stood there for a beat, unsure as to whether he should walk away or not as there was something compelling him to stand his ground. "What's yours?" Ringo asked finally, fiddling with his tray.
The boy looked up with a devilish grin, exposing a very sharp canine tooth which Ringo was strangely fascinated by. "George." He replied, his voice seemed softer than before "This is Paul, and that's John." He gestured lazily with his spoon as the others gave him a little smile and a nod.
Ringo responded with a smile, a genuine one this time, and backed away to serve another customer. The group of boys stayed for quite a while after finishing their food and Ringo kept gazing over to them to see what they were doing and oftentimes he'd find one of them looking back at him, usually George, but they never called him over to order anything else, they just sat laughing and smoking. When Ringo went out for his lunch break they were still sat there and he gave them a sneaky glance through the window as he walked past to see them collecting their things. He often went home for lunch as he only lived a couple streets away and the weather was never really nice enough to sit outside for an hour. Besides, it was a perfect time for him to get some drum practice in while he still could, he was finishing late tonight and he swore to himself that he'd never play after 9 because the last thing he needed was getting kicked out for pissing off the neighbours.
When he returned to work after his break his colleague called him over "Oi, Ringo. Those shifty lads left this tip for you. I considered knicking it but they were proper intense about me giving it to you and I don't need that bad karma." He joked, handing Ringo a £20 note to his surprise.
"20 quid? All I did was give them bloody soup." Ringo chuckled, taking the money happily and stuffing it deep into his pocket "God knows what those guys do for work."
"Fuck knows is more like it. They give me the creeps, but if they're dishing out tips like that I'll do a sodding handstand for them if they asked." He joked again, pushing past Ringo to continue serving customers.
Ringo felt very pleased with himself even though he knew that he shouldn't really, after all he had only asked their names. Part of him felt even more uneasy about the group but was hoping they might pay another visit if they were going to continue to be that generous; he was certain he'd never heard about them tipping so much before but then again he'd never served them and he wondered what all this was about.
Almost a week had passed before Ringo saw those boys again and he had begun to forget about them, he figured they had moved on to another place and he could forget about getting an extra £20 every week, which he didn't desperately need but it certainly wouldn't go unappreciated. It was 9pm on a Saturday when they returned, Ringo was pretty exhausted after working another 12 hour shift and was watching the clock desperately for it to strike 10. He was in the back chatting with one of the chefs when his co-worker walked in with a cheeky smile.
"Those lads are back." He said looking directly at Ringo "Best hurry up before I take that juicy tip from you."
"Ha ha." Ringo said sarcastically as he headed back into the restaurant, scanning the room until he saw them again sat in the same booth in the same black suits.
Ringo walked over with a smile yet again, he wondered if he could possibly get any more money out of them if he really pushed the boat out "Alright lads, what can I get for you?"
They were all silent for a few moments, Paul and John looking at the menu intensely while George just looked at Ringo which suddenly reminded him why he had been so wary of them in the first place.
"What would you recommend?" George asked, his eyes were so dark that Ringo struggled to read any emotion in them at all.
"Um..." He was at a loss for words to begin with, the other two didn't even seem to take notice of their friend "Personally I can't eat a lot of the stuff of the menu, but everyone seems to love the pizza." He forced another smile, gripping on to his pen and notepad tightly.
"Can't eat? Is it that bad?" George snickered, his gaze unwavering.
"Oh no, I-I've got a lot of allergies you see." He chuckled nervously "You probably have a better idea how good the food is than I do."
"Alright then, we'll get a pizza between us them won't we lads?" George's grin returned as the other two looked up, seemingly unbothered and unfocused, nodding without saying a word. "Do you do beer?" George asked, turning his attention back to Ringo, who nodded "Fab, we'll take three largers then."
Ringo collected their menus silently, unable to meet George's gaze who continued to look at him until he disappeared into the kitchen. Ringo's colleague gave him a nudge as he passed him but he felt too out of it to respond, what was it about them that was so unsettling? No, it wasn't them, it was just George; had the other two been alone Ringo was sure he'd feel perfectly natural about them but George's intense demeanour and monotone voice just put Ringo on edge in a way he'd never felt before. He returned to their table with their drinks and he was shaking somewhat as he put the glasses down.
"You alright?" Paul asked, looking up at Ringo through his dark eyelashes "Your shaking."
Paul was the complete opposite of George, soft everywhere the other was sharp, and he put Ringo at ease in the same inexplicable way that George unsettled him. "I'm fine." Ringo croaked out "Been a long shift, is all."
"When do you get off?" George asked, taking a sip from the glass and Ringo's eyes honed in on how his slim fingers worked around the beer.
"At 10, so not long now." He chuckled weakly, gripping onto his tray as though it could somehow deflect George's effect on him "I'll be right back with your pizza."
When he returned to the table the boys were whispering amongst themselves, leaning in closely but returning to normal as soon as Ringo walked within earshot. He put the pizza down on the table with his signature smile and laid the cutlery on the table.
"Enjoy." He looked anywhere but at George who was staring at him once again, and he walked away as calmly as he could manage as he hurried into the back room again to collect himself.
He only had 20 minutes left of his shift and he spent the majority of it cleaning tables on the other side of the room to the boys, he ensured to never even glance over at their table as he was sure if he caught George glaring back at him it would only intensify his panic. The clock struck 10 finally, this final hour had felt like an eternity, and Ringo hurried towards the back room so he could get out of here as fast he could but as he turned the corner a voice called out.
"Ringo!" Paul was calling, lifting his arm up in the air.
Ringo walked over filled with exhaustion but still managed to paint his face with a smile "Everything alright, lads?" He asked, clutching his hands together behind him.
"No problems to report." John beamed.
"Just wanted to make sure you got your tip. People can be a little sneaky sometimes." Paul chuckled lightly, but it was George who was reaching into his wallet to take out another £20 note which perked Ringo up immediately.
"Did you get the previous one? The lad seemed a bit shifty, I was certain he was gonna pocket it." George held the note towards Ringo and pressed it into his hand with another grin.
"Oh! No, he did give it to me, I was meant to thank you but I completely forgot, sorry about that." The feeling of shyness enveloped Ringo entirely as he placed the note into his pocket.
"Don't be silly, you don't need to thank us. Wouldn't give it to you if you didn't deserve it." George's tone was serious as ever and all Ringo could manage in response was a weak smile, he worried that if he spoke his voice would crack.
"Don't let us keep you, your shift's over now isn't it?" Paul asked as he pulled his coat on.
"Yeah, I best be getting home before I pass out." Ringo looked down at the ground as he spoke "Thanks again for the generous tip, really appreciate it." He didn't leave much time for a response as he rushed into the back to take off his apron and finally be released.
By the time he'd signed out and walked back into the restaurant the boys were gone and Ringo let out a heavy sigh of relief as he walked out into the cold night. He shoved his hands in his pocket for warmth, feeling the money lying there which he toyed with as he walked. He felt exhausted but his brain was running a mile a minute, filled with questions about who this odd group was and why they had taken a shine to him; most of all he thought about George, about how he was the most mysterious of the three and the most intriguing yet also the most unnerving. Was it some kind of strange joke between them, perhaps? Ringo didn't know as he turned the corner into the dark alleyway which led him home. He never liked walking his way late at night, he always heard stories about people being mugged or attacked in the dark, but he was far too tired to take the long way around and he always figured that those things would just never happen to him, as everyone always thought until it did. He let out a yawn as he trudged down the alley, his heavy feet echoing loudly as he could barely keep his head up. Just as his thoughts started to creep back into his mind, thoughts of George's dark eyes and slim hands, he felt a sudden tight grip on his arm and something sharp poking into his back. Ringo felt almost too tired to panic, he figured his good luck had to run out sooner or later.
