Beatlemania!

New Year Resolutions~ 1966

1. Fall in love-properly this time.
2. Change jobs
3. Move somewhere...maybe out of the city?
4. Father-daughter bonding with Dad (no fishing!)
5. Figure out these Beatles. What are they about really?
6. Lose a couple pounds...just to prove I can
7. Find a new roommate for the apartment (if I don’t move, that is)
8. Learn to play an instrument
9. Try new things, at least once

We all agreed to keep our resolutions secret, unless there was one we wanted to tell everyone. George admitted he wanted to learn how to play the sitar, an Indian instrument he had seen in a film. John said he wanted to write the best fucking album in the world, and Paul looked up shocked, because he had written the exact same thing. Ringo wanted to get married, and George admitted that was on his list too.

I smiled at all of their confessions. They were brothers, the lot of them. Just regular old brothers. And yet questions still haunted me. Where did I fit into the equation? Did they really like me or were they just being nice? Did anyone but George know about Paul and me?

That shook my confidence and made me glad I was only here for two more weeks. However, as George offered to drop me at the hotel and John and Ringo said bye cheerfully, I felt like Wendy, surrounded by her lost boys. If I could, I would bring them back to New York with me.
~

“Will you come with me to this party tonight?” John asked me almost shyly.
Someone (I couldn’t remember who) was throwing a New Years Eve party and everyone was to come with a date. Paul, who I hadn’t spent much time with recently, was going with a busty blonde, and now John was asking me.

“What about Cyn?” I asked, concerned for both John and her.
He shrugged vaguely. “She’s out on holiday with her mum and Julian somewhere, and I need a date. All my favourite dates are out tonight.”
“Oh I see. I’m your final option, I suppose,” I teased only half meaning it.
“’Fraid so, love. Paul may be the cute one, but I’ve just won the “sexy one” title,” he winked, leering at me.

I laughed, slapping his hands away from where there were heading. (And they were most definitely headed for my breasts.)
“Alright, Lennon. I’ll go with you tonight. Is it formal dress?” I asked worriedly.
“Wear something nice, that’s all Alice.”

I bit my lip anxiously. When it came to these glamourous parties that the Beatles attended, I always felt self conscious about what I was wearing and how I was acting. I was spending the day at George’s house with everyone else. The only missing Beatle was Paul.
I quickly made my way to George, who was boiling tea in the kitchen.

“George, where’s your lovely girlfriend?” I asked with a smile.
He turned away from the kettle, his face serious but his eyes teasing. “I think she ran off with Paul. I haven’t seen either of them all day.”
I sighed. “Damn, I’m having a wardrobe crisis.”
George threw his arms up halfway as if to say, “Leave me out of it!”
Just then, the door opened with a bang, and George yelled from the foyer. “Speak of the devil, Alice!”

I ran in and found Pattie smiling under her stylish beret, carrying leftovers from a lunch she had just had.

“Thank goodness! Pattie!” I yelled, running over to greet her.
“Alice! What’s on fire?” she asked, her laugh tinkling sweetly.
“I have nothing to wear tonight!” I groaned dramatically.
Pattie beamed. “Oh for tonight’s New Years Eve party, of course! Well, come on, let’s go shopping!”
“Now?” George grumbled.

The beautiful model kissed George full on the mouth. “Sorry, George, this is a girl emergency. We’ll see you all in a couple of hours.”
“Take a shower before we go, you filthy animals!” I yelled before grabbing my purse and going out on the hunt.
~
I was standing next to John rather awkwardly, sipping my glass of champagne and smiling becomingly. The dress Pattie and I had managed to find was ruby red, with a touch of black lace at the hem. It was strapless, and I found myself thanking it was, because it was boiling inside. I had also pinned my long hair up so the back of my neck was not sweaty.

“Hey, Johnny,” a blonde stranger grinned at my escort.
John grinned. “Hey, mate. You having fun at this piece of shit they call a party?”
“Of course! There are loads of lovely looking birds all over the place. Oh, look, here’s an exceptionally nice one,” the stranger smiled at me.
“Oh that’s me date,” John explained with a wave of his hand.
The man raised his eyebrows curiously. “Where’s Cynthia?”
John shrugged vaguely. “Cyn’s out of town. This is my Alice.”

I didn’t bother to correct him about his use of “my.” In fact, I sort of liked the way it rolled off my tongue. I smiled politely at the visitor and let him kiss my hand.

“I’m Pete Shotton,” he introduced. “John’s best mate from the early days.”
“Hello,” I smiled graciously. “I’m afraid I only met John about twenty-two months ago.”
“Well, you seem to be very comfortable around each other,” he remarked with a wink. After some more chatting with John, Pete gave me another teasing wink and then left.

Eventually, I left John and wandered around on my own. Ringo dragged me onto the dance floor and we danced enthusiastically to Buddy Holly.

“No more!” I gasped for breath after two songs.
Ringo laughed. “You look like you’re about to collapse, love.”
“Well, I’m not going to stand around and find out!” I announced, marching off of the dance floor rather clumsily.

I spotted Paul getting cosy with a leggy blonde and I turned away quickly. Part of me was hurt that after all the time we had spent together, he hadn’t asked me to be his date for tonight.
Instead, I hastened over to the bar, where George and Pattie were sitting.

“Hey, you two,” I smiled brightly.
Pattie turned around to give me a hug. “Alice! It’s lovely to see you.”
George gave me a wink and a quick hug. “Are you here with Paul?”
“Nope, John asked me because Cyn’s off somewhere.”

George’s eyes filled with confusion, but wisely, he kept his mouth shut in front of Pattie. He handed me another glass of champagne and I sipped it gratefully.
“Do you have the time?” I asked curiously.
Pattie grinned in anticipation. “Five minutes to midnight.”

My eyes widened in surprise. I had no idea it was so late already. “I’d better go find John then.”
As I weaved my way through the busy crowd, sweat building up on the nape of my neck, I felt somebody grab my wrist and pull me outside onto the Spanish-style patio.

“Alice, you’re killing me tonight,” Paul’s familiar voice groaned before he kissed me overpoweringly.
I pushed him away quickly. “What the hell are you thinking, Paul?” I snapped. “People could see.”
“Oh, I don’t care. I don’t! Not anymore,” he insisted, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I sighed, and it took a lot of strength to push his hands off of me. “I’m here with John, and you’re here with-”
“Shelly,” he filled in with his eyes glowing at me.
“Right-and there’s about four minutes until midnight, so we should really find our dates,” I pronounced.
Paul looked annoyed. “Oh blow the dates! Just stay here, with me.”
I laughed coolly. “I came here with John, and I intend to keep it that way tonight.”

I shoved him one more time and hurried back inside. I had less than four minutes. Everyone was buzzing with excitement and running around trying to find their loved ones. I froze. Perhaps I shouldn’t be running to John. He was married, after all. Who says he would even want to kiss me at midnight?

The thought tortured me and I remained rooted to the spot even as the large clock read one minute to midnight.

“There you are, you silly girl,” John laughed at my petrified expression. “What’s the matter with you?”
I shrugged. “I suppose the wine is making me drowsy.”
“That’s strange, because you’re drinking champagne,” John pointed out, eyebrows raised.

I went red with embarrassment. “Well it looks like my excuses are all gone.”
He swallowed the rest of his drink and I followed suit. Time was ticking down slowly now.

“So you know that New Year Resolution thing you made us write?” John asked shyly.
I nodded. “Sure.”
10, 9...everyone was chanting.
“Well it seems I’ve achieved one early,” he whispered into my ear, pulling me close.
I gulped nervously. “And which one is that?”
6, 5, 4... We were almost there.
“I’ve filed for divorce.”
2, 1, zero

With that, John tilted my head up slightly and kissed me sweetly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and returned it.
Seconds turned into minutes and John and I were still at it. I liked the feeling of his lips on mine too much. His arms were gripping my waist now, pulling me in closer. Our kisses were deeper now, and more meaningful.

“Oi! Let the girl breathe, Lennon!”
“Get a room!”
“Nice going, Lennon, you dog!”
“Run, Alice, run!”

We were being yelled at from either end of the crowd, and eventually, I pulled away, bright red and embarrassed. John, on the other hand, looked like the cat that ate the canary - proud as a peacock.

There were mixed reactions from our audience. Some looked shocked; some looked happy; some seemed smug, as if they knew it would happen all along.

“Um, I think I need a drink,” I gasped, heading for the bar.
John took my hand. “I’ll join you.”

I sank into a seat at the bar and a gin martini was placed in front of me. John took his scotch and then melted back into the crowd. George plopped into a seat next to me.

“So, what the hell was that?” he asked conversationally, taking a swig of some beer.
“I have no idea,” I admitted. “But it was nice.”
“And what about Paul?” George continued.
I glared at my glass. “You know how it is, George. We’re here with different people. I kissed John, so what? Paul’s probably somewhere in here shagging his date right now.”
“Well yeah, but I’m sure he cares that you were snogging one of his best mates,” George said diplomatically.
I stood up, tired of this lecture. “Why the hell are you telling me off? I know what all four of you are up to on tours. You’re hypocrites; all of you are!”
I was about to walk away, but George grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down into my seat.

“Alice, I know you’re brilliant at storming off, but I’m not going to let you do it this time.”
I blushed. “When did things get so complicated, George?”
He laughed. “You think I know?” Suddenly, his face turned serious. “But I do know that John’s unpredictable. If he kissed you like that in front of everyone, I’m not sure what his next move is going to be.”
I nodded understandingly. “I’m worried. What have I gotten myself in to?”
Raising his glass to me, George sighed. “Welcome to 1966, love.”
~
I woke up in my hotel room again, and it was again past noon. The first thing I did was notice that a letter had been stuffed under my door. It was certainly addressed to me.

Dear Alice,

We’re having a lovely time in Paris. It’s certainly the city of love. I don’t ever want to leave! But Geoff and I will be home in three days, don’t you worry! I’ve arranged it so we can fly back early. That way, when you come home, the flat will be free of all my crap. Phone me when you’re back in New York.
Love you!
Lucy

I sighed. The prospect of coming home to an almost empty flat was not very promising. I had almost forgotten that I had to go back to New York. Soon, I would have to stop living this dream.

I spent the first two days on 1966 sleeping and sitting in a bubble bath relaxing. My muscles relaxed, and my stress evaporated like steam. I took deep breaths and read girly magazines. I was unwinding, and for once it was nice to be alone, and to be selfish.

It all ended on the third of January.

I was awoken by almost maniac knocking on my hotel room door. It was three in the morning, and I was in the middle of a peaceful sleep. My eyes shot open and I stumbled out of bed in a t-shirt and underwear. Rubbing my eyes, I threw open my door.

There, standing in my doorway, breathing heavily and looking gorgeous, was Liam.