Beatlemania!

“You free for a minute, love?” George asked me gruffly a week later.

I smiled care freely. “Sure, George. What’s up?”

“I have something I want to show you,” he explained, leading me further away from the crowd that had gathered around a bonfire for dinner.

“You mean you haven’t been meditating for the required twelve hours?” I gasped mockingly.

George cracked a smile. “Hilarious, my dear. I doubt you and Paul ever get any meditating the way you two animals are at it. It’s disgusting!”

I laughed. “Don’t pretend like you and Pattie were never like that. Paul’s told me stories.”

“He’s a compulsive liar,” George retorted with a grin.

I rolled my eyes and sat down with him, uncaring of the dust that would undoubtedly coat my sari. George was holding his guitar rather fondly, and I looked eagerly at him with a smile on my lips.

“Is it a song?” I asked hopefully.

He shrugged. “It just sort of came out.”

His fingers effortlessly pressed here and there, and a beautiful melody seeped through the air. He hummed a quick tune for a few seconds before chiming in, with his deep, melodic voice.

I look at you walk,
See the lover that’s sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps.

I was silent until he had finished the very last chord, and he looked up expectantly.

“George Harrisom, that’s probably the best song I’ve ever heard from you,” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him in a sloppy hug.

His face broke into a grin. “Really? Do you mean it?”

“Truly, I do. Play it for the others; I’m sure they would love it!”

“Ha!” he snorted. But he was pleased; I could tell.
~

It wasn’t too long until Paul and I started to get a bit sick of India. Neil arrived to tell us that Sgt. Pepper had won four Grammy awards. Paul was especially excited, and we both yearned for England.

Everybody seemed to be in a song-writing mood. John had recently written a song for Prudence Farrow, who had hidden in her bedroom for weeks.

I personally loved the song; although I personally wished my name had been featured in a song. I casually mentioned it to Paul one evening and he laughed at me.

“Come on, love! Nothing rhymes with Alice!”

“Nothing rhymes with a Rita, Prudence, or Julia!” I sniffed only half jokingly.

Paul kissed me. “Jesus, Alice. Only you could be jealous of Rita, a fake little policewoman, a hibernating girl, and John’s mum!”

I blushed. “I just want to feel special.”

“Oh, and “I Will” doesn’t make you feel special?” he asked casually.

I gaped at him. “I Will was for me?”

“Well who else could it be for, silly?” Paul tickled my sides with a grin.

“I don’t know...Ringo? I hear you’re secret lovers,” I teased.

“Who told you? Nobody was supposed to find out!” he gasped mockingly before planting a kiss on my lips.

I giggled. “You goose.”

It was my turn to kiss him, firmly and passionately, pushing him down onto the dusty floor with a smile.

Paul was suppressing laughter. I stopped kissing him.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded.

“You’re just not as good a kisser as my darling Ringo,” he batted his long eyelashes at me.

I smacked him. “Oh shut up, you. You’re not getting anything from me tonight.”

“That’s fine; I was planning on staying with Ringo anyway,” Paul winked.
~
Paul and I decided to leave India at the end of March. I said a sad goodbye to India, but I was more than looking forward to getting back to England and my life there.
~
“I’m sorry I missed so much work; I truly am,” I explained in vain to my employees. “But I’m back for good, and it looks like you all did fine without me here.”

The bright-eyed newbies that stared at me with a glazed look in their eyes.

“So...” I trailed off. “Class dismissed,” I laughed nervously.

The group trooped back to do their jobs and I returned to the large pile of paperwork that had been steadily growing for months.
~
John and George arrived from India weeks after we did. George had been reluctant to leave, but after some persuasion, he agreed that they couldn’t stay in hiding forever.

John had been increasingly into LSD even before Sgt. Pepper, but the India stint had done away from that. Now, it seemed he was in over his head with a new drug – Yoko.

Yes, yes. That odd Japanese woman that had been rather rude to me last year. Whatever.

I couldn’t help but feel possessive of John – in Spain, he had been mine, and I loved him to bits; just not the way I was in love with Paul.

I watched John tear away from the Beatles and stitch himself to this Yoko woman, and I didn’t dare and try to stop him. John’s anger was a lethal weapon when he unleashed it on someone.

George was preoccupied with Pattie, and they were trying to get pregnant. While they failed for their first, Ringo and Mo were already expecting number two. Apparently, Mo had been pregnant even while we were in India.

I often asked Paul if the lads were concerned that we spent too much time together. He had laughed at me. “They’re all wrapped up in their own lives, love.”

I sighed. The band was not the number one priority anymore.
~

“Alice, there’s someone here to see you,” Lillian, my second in command announced.

I looked up from my desk. “Who?”

“I dunno; it’s a man,” she shrugged.

“Send him in,” I called, fixing my hair quickly. It was probably Paul.

Paul was always stopping by to say hello or take me out to lunch. He admired the power I held at my office and often spoke about opening his own company that he could run. I laughed and told him that musicians were terrible businessmen. This usually resulted in a mock fight and a beautiful night of making up.

“Hello, love,” a deep voice greeted.

I was surprised. “George! What’s up?”

“Thought I’d come and bring you down to the studio; we’re recording my weeping guitar song today,” he grinned.

I threw my pencil down and jumped up with my coat.

“Well, hurry up, Harrison!” I called.

“I don’t know why you’re worried; they can’t exactly record it without me,” George laughed.

I raised my eyebrows at him questioningly.

“Shit!” he cried. “Hurry up, Westwood!”