Chapter Fourteen

I never saw a happier bunch of guys as the Beatles were that night as we rode to the airport in the Greyhound bus for our flight to Cincinnati. All the pressures seemed to be off of them, at least temporarily, almost as if the tour were over and they were on their way back to England. Good, I thought. The worst must be over by now; there's nothing else that could be as bad as that happening!

After about ten minutes of driving, John jumped out of his seat and softly started singing, "In the town…where I was born… lived a man… who sailed to sea…" Within a few moments, everyone else on the bus started singing along with him as much as they could-even I didn't know all the words to that song yet.

I looked over at Paul, and he shrugged. "What's with the 'Yellow Submarine' bit?" I asked him.

"Probably just happy to be alive and kicking," Paul said, smiling before chiming in with the rest of the bus' singing-probably the world's first "Yellow Submarine" singalong in history!

We kept on singing until we reached the airport a while later. I swear, I never felt so happy to see the inside of an airplane before! Being the first ones off the bus, the Beatles and I got to board the plane first, making a beeline for the private compartment in the back of the plane. It felt nice and cool inside the plane; the weather in Memphis was starting to feel a little muggy again.

"Well, I'm quite glad that's over with!" John said while the plane was lifting away from the runway just a while later. "How many more shows do we have left?"

"Six more cities are on the agenda, from what I remember," George said, reclining back in his chair and closing his eyes. "Blimey… I still feel worn out from that show… plus having the wits scared out of all of us…"

"Hey, at least we didn't pass out like you almost did!" Ringo said to him.

"You almost passed out?" I asked George.

He nodded. "It's not like I could help it-I thought it was all over for us at that point," he said. "I thought that was the first of many shots that would be fired at us… we all don't have cymbals to duck behind if there's bullets coming at us like some people do!"

Ringo grinned. "Hey, that's life, George," he said. "None of you blokes want to play the drums, so…"

Once the plane was sailing along in the air, the Beatles got up and went into the main part of the plane to chat with members of the supporting acts and everyone else in the entourage. I stayed back in the compartment, just resting and thinking about all that had happened during that busy, hectic day-I hadn't had a chance to sit down by myself and just think a thought or two the entire day.

It felt to me like I'd risked my life by going out to get breakfast for the lads that morning, even in hindsight. I still shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if I hadn't been able to get back into the hotel. Maybe I would've been stranded in the middle of a strange city where being a Beatle fan could be hazardous to your health. Of course, I didn't think that they would have left me behind there… but even that would have made me feel bad. What if they'd delayed their next shows just to stay in town and look for me if I couldn't have gotten back into the hotel? I would have messed up their tour schedule that dozens of people had probably had planned out for months and months. Wow… the possibilities were just staggering…

The anti-Beatle thing was also terrifying, too. It was so strange actually seeing a record-burning right before my eyes. I'd seen a lot of it on TV, but it always seemed like it was a million miles away, maybe even on another planet, and the only glimpse I would ever have of it would be through a television tube in my living room. The worst part, though, had to be the Klan rally that was held outside the stadium before the concert that night. It was another one of those things that I never thought I'd see, perhaps something that was a long-gone part of the past, like from back after the Civil War and during the Depression like I'd heard about in history class. But here it was, modern times, and that sort of thing was still going on in America.

Another thing that I was pretty preoccupied by, but perhaps not as scared of, was the fact that Paul had made a very strong move on me that day. It was a bit of a shock, first of all, because he hadn't even kissed me in days, and suddenly he was all over me in the middle of an elevator ride to the hotel room! Maybe it was in part because we honestly hadn't had a chance to be alone since we'd made up over the fight over his little girlfriends during that virtual orgy in Cleveland. Sure, I'd admit it easily: I'd wanted to get my hands on him ever since he'd asked me to be his girlfriend earlier in the week. Hell, I'd seriously wanted him since last January! Maybe Anna was right; maybe she just would win her little bet that we made before I left Chicago-I was beginning to doubt my own resistance to the McCartney charm… if there was anything left to doubt over.

Our landing in Cincinnati was a bit delayed because the weather was starting to act up again. I think our plane came close to being struck by lightning about three times while we made the approach to the airport that night. I wished I had my rain slicker with me so I wouldn't get drenched in the pouring rain that was flooding the tarmac when we landed; so much for the couple days of sunshine, I thought as the plane rolled to a stop.

Believe it or not, there were still about a thousand die-hard Beatle fans that had camped at the airport all evening to see the Beatles' plane come in that night. Sure, they were a little soaked from the rainstorm, but nonetheless, they were ecstatic to get a glimpse of the band as we stepped down the slippery stairs from the plane and headed for the black limo that had been parked near the runway exit so we could get the hell out of there right away. Since there was only one car there (and everyone in the Beatles' inner circle-myself included-wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible), all of us had to pile in and somehow squish ourselves into the seats. So down the street away from the airport we drove-John, Paul, George, Ringo, Laurie, Mal, Brian, and Neil, all smashed into a car big enough for six passengers.

I lucked out and had a window seat, since I was the first one to leap into the car on the runway. It seemed to me like we were heading out of the city instead of into the downtown area where we usually stayed in hotels.

"Um, are we going the right way?" I asked Brian after a few minutes, taking note of the decidedly suburban houses lining the streets.

"Indeed we are," Brian said, nodding. "We're staying in a smaller hotel outside of the city; staying right in the middle of town has been nothing but problematic since the tour started."

I must have made a face, feeling a little guilty that maybe it was my fault for causing so many problems earlier that day, for Brian then reassured me, "There's just less fans around… sort of like when they stayed at your house last year, Laurie."

"Oh, okay," I said, blinking as a flash of lightning lit up the purple sky.

We did end up at a smallish hotel for our stay in Cincinnati, but it wasn't too bad. It was only about five floors high, and we had the nicer rooms located on the top floor for our visit to the city; we still had room service, and the hotel had luxuries like a pool and a game room, much like the ritzier ones we'd been staying at for the past week.

My room was located at the very end of the hallway on the top floor, right next door to the room that John and Paul were sharing. I washed up in the smallish bathroom and was in the process of getting out my stationery to write Cheryl and Anna some letters when I heard a knock at my door.

"Who is it?" I asked before sliding the lock open.

"It's Paul, luv."

I smiled, opening the door for him. He was still in his traveling clothes, minus the jacket he'd been wearing while on the plane. "Oh, I'm sorry, luv; were you going to sleep?" he asked when he saw me in my blue cotton pajamas.

"Oh, no; I was going to start a couple letters to my friends, that's all," I said, closing the door after him as he walked inside. "What's up?"

"Not much," he said, walking around the room and surveying the décor. "Well, you have much nicer wallpaper than we do next door-ugh! You should see the colors…"

I shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Can't be any uglier than the way some people decorate their dorm rooms at Rosary," I commented.

Paul stopped circling the room and approached me, then leaned over and kissed me softly. "I love you," he whispered, smiling while his eyes were still closed after our kiss. "It wasn't just something I said while on an adrenaline rush after the show… I really and truly mean it, Laurie."

I blushed. "I know," I said quietly, lowering my eyes. "I could tell…"

He leaned over to kiss me, but I yawned just then on accident, and he laughed. "You're tired, aren't you?" he said.

I nodded. "Very… I don't think I've quite kicked my weariness from that cold yet; it's no good going back out and running around right after getting over it, you know."

"I know, I know," he said, looking a little disappointed for some reason. "No problem at all; I'll leave you be."

"Okay… if there's nothing wrong," I said. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about or something?"

He shook his head, digging his hands into his jeans pockets. "No… nothing at all," he said, acting a little funny.

"Uh, okay…" I wasn't about to question the hell out of him; I seriously was too tired to deal with the wonderful workings of McCartney's Mind that night!

"I'll just see you in the morning, okay?" he said, bringing a smile to his face as he headed for the door. "Goodnight, Laurie; I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad you're okay, too," I grinned, patting his shoulder as he opened the door. "Believe me, I think the worst is over; you'll never have another tour like this, I know it."

He smiled a little qualifier smile, then looked away. "I suppose not," he said. "Goodnight, Laurie."

"Goodnight," I said before closing the door. Um, okay; what had I missed? He showed up just to talk about nothing for about one minute, then leave? I don't think so…

As I stared at the blank sheet of rose-colored paper in front of me when I sat down on my bed, it dawned on me. Talking was about the last thing he'd had on his mind that night; he'd wanted to sleep with me! I'd seen that sort of nervousness right before a couple of my exes propositioned me during high school: the nervous glances at me, the gabbing about absolute bullshit before making a move… all too familiar!

I was still quite amused over this fact when I woke up around one the next afternoon, getting a very good night's sleep. I thought it was so amusing that I almost wrote it into the letter I sent to Cheryl and Anna:

Dear Cheryl and Anna,

Hey there! I'm in Cincinnati right now; we got in very late last night since the weather here is not too great. It's still raining outside as I'm writing this; I wonder how the Beatles are even going to do a concert in this terrible weather if it's raining this bad tonight.

Anyways, I just wanted to drop you both a line and let you know what was going on with me. Yesterday was a pretty exciting day (and I don't mean good-exciting); for starters, I nearly got stranded in Memphis! I left the hotel to go pick up some food for the guys and I couldn't get back inside afterwards! Paul actually had to dress up in disguise as a waiter to get me back inside the hotel-he pulled one of those things from A Hard Day's Night where he had the fake beard and mustache; I seriously didn't know it was him at first! Anyway, I made it back in safe and sound. The shows in Memphis were a little tense; a firecracker went off during the second show, and we all thought that one of the Beatles had been shot! I nearly passed out watching them from inside the doorway leading to the field. But don't worry-your precious George and Ringo are just fine! J

Well, I'll write you again soon; we're headed for the West Coast next week, so that'll be fun-something different for a change, right? I'll be seeing you guys soon; take care!

Laurie

I stuffed the letter into an envelope addressed to Cheryl this time-she'd share it with Anna when she got it-and headed into the shower so I could wake up. The hot water did miracles to wake me up until I accidentally got shampoo in my eyes and nearly screamed bloody murder from the stinging. My eyes were still red when I left the bathroom to get dressed.

I spent a pretty quiet day just lounging around my hotel room, watching some wonderfully entertaining Saturday afternoon television and playing game after game of Solitaire with a deck of cards that I found in the nightstand drawer next to the Bible-great mix, gambling and religion! What would those ladies in Memphis think of that? I thought, smiling with satisfaction at how I'd told them off but good!

Around six-thirty that night, after I'd eaten a fish dinner from room service, Brian rang my room and asked if I was ready to leave for the show.

"Oh, of course," I said, turning to look out the window. "But it's raining outside; are they still going to do the show?"

"Well… I don't know," he said. "We'll just have to see what the promoters say when we get there."

We all piled into a limo parked at the back door of the hotel just about fifteen minutes later and drove to the stadium. By the time we arrived, it was raining even harder than it had been the previous night; we almost ended up with another shower as we dashed into a side entrance at the stadium.

As we walked down the corridor, Ringo said, "Hey, if it's raining like this, I don't think we're going to do this show."

John's face brightened up. "Eh, you've got a thought there, Ring."

We sat down in the dressing room; John began shaking his head back and forth wildly to get the water out of his hair. "I probably shouldn't even bother with this," he said. "We're probably not going on, after all…"

Brian left the room to go find out what the promoters had planned, returning about twenty minutes later. Ringo and I were getting ready to play a game of Speed when we saw him come walking back in, shaking his head.

"The concert is still on," he said. "They've put a cover over the stage to keep the rain off."

"What?" George said. "You must be soft!"

"What the… I want to go see this," Paul said, getting up from his chair. I followed him down the hall to the dugout to take a peek at the stage on the field.

"Are they joking?" I said upon seeing the setup. Oh, yeah, that tarp over the stage looked really great; they'd put one over the stage, but nothing on the sides where the rain was blowing in, soaking the stage anyway.

"Fuckin' hell," Paul muttered, wide-eyed. "No; there's no fucking way… I'm not going out there for all the tea in China…"

We ran back down the hall to the dressing room to report the news to the others. "They're bloomin' bonkers," Paul said the moment he stepped inside. "There's still rain getting on the stage. What if the amps blow up? We'll be killed!"

John and Brian went to inspect the situation as well, then returned, just as nervous as Paul and I had been. "Where's the promoter?" Brian said to Neil.

"Yeah-I'm going to knock his bloody brains out the back of his head if he wants us to go on," John said. He was not at all kidding, either; his face was bright red with anger. "Are they purposely trying to kill us?"

The promoter showed up, and Brian and John went into the hall to discuss the situation. I actually heard Brian getting pretty agitated-quite out of his character-and John was pretty vocal as well, expressing the dissent of the entire group. Then they came back in; John did not look amused at all.

As we anxiously stared at either of them for an answer, Brian cleared his throat and said, "It's only for this one night, boys."

"You must be joking!" Paul sputtered, half-laughing. "We can't go on!"

"We have no other choice," Brian said. "The promoter still wants the show to happen. They can't reschedule the baseball game set for tomorrow night. We can't reschedule the show for tomorrow night, either; we're due to be in St. Louis."

"But we're-we'll be-" Paul began, starting to turn green in the face again. I raised an eyebrow as he ran for the bathroom and slammed the door behind him; this time I think the nerves had completely gotten to him and he was puking his guts out. Everyone was dead quiet in the dressing room, not wanting to carry on the discussion anymore until Paul returned.

He came back out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a paper towel, and right away I asked him, "Jesus; are you okay?"

He didn't answer me; he just sat down on the floor, folded his arms, and looked Brian dead in the eye before calmly saying, "No fucking way, Eppy. I'm sitting right here; I'll sit here all night if I have to… I'll even go back in there and bring up my breakfast if I need to…"

John joined him on the floor a few moments later. "Me, too."

"I'm with them," Ringo said, standing behind the two of them, George following close behind. I could see that Brian was getting quite upset by this sudden act of defiance.

"Lads… what am I supposed to do? Go out there and tell the promot-"

"Go out there and tell them to shove it up their arses," John said, lighting up a Marlboro. "We don't need their bloody money."

Brian rubbed his strained eyes and took a deep breath. "John, it's just not that easy, you see. There's a few thousand fans already in the stands out there; we can't just send-"

"Sure we can," Paul said. "If the fans don't understand, then they're not real fans. I don't think they'd find it very fun to see their favorite band get fried by zapping amps… Isn't that right, Laurie?"

All the blood drained from my face just then as all eyes turned to me. "Uh, yeah," I agreed quickly, hoping that I wouldn't get dragged in on either side of the standoff; I didn't need the Beatles or Brian pissed off at me.

Just then there was a knock at the door. I was unofficially nominated to answer it, since neither the Beatles or Brian moved an inch. Outside stood an older guy and a couple of security guards. "Can I help you?" I asked.

"Is Mr. Epstein in there?" the guy asked.

I nodded, opening the door all the way. John and Paul quickly got to their feet as Brian turned around.

"Mr. Epstein, I've discussed the matter a little further with the technical crew, and they think it's best if the show were indeed cancelled for tonight," he said. I assumed that this guy was the promoter.

"Oh?" Brian said, and the Beatles' faces lit up.

"Can the show be rescheduled for noon tomorrow?" he asked.

"Noon?" Brian repeated. "That's going to be a close call; we've got an evening performance in St. Louis tomorrow night… but I suppose it's possible."

I raised an eyebrow and whispered to John, "St. Louis is about a full day's drive from here; how do they think we'll get there in time?"

"We'll have to fly," he said. "I'd much rather do that than go out there tonight."

So there it was: the show would be cancelled for that night, and tens of thousands of teenagers would be sent home in the pouring rain, only to return at noon the next day for the show. Thank goodness the promoter had come to his senses; we would've had fried Beatle on the stage if the wind blew any more rain onto the stage that night!

Paul still didn't look too great during the drive home; he looked a little groggy. I patted his knee gently as we rode back to the hotel, letting him know that I was there for him. John and Brian still seemed like they were at odds; after all, Brian hadn't been the one to cancel the concert-the promoter was. If Brian had stuck to his guns, the Beatles would have gone on, and John would be none too happy, along with the others, I suppose.

When we got back to the hotel around nine-thirty, I held tight to Paul's hand during the elevator ride to the top floor. We hung towards the back of the group as we got out of the elevator, and Paul tugged me towards my room as the others walked towards their rooms.

"What?" I asked, unlocking my door and stepping inside my room. Before I could even close the door, Paul had put his arms around me and pulled me close to him, nearly knocking the breath out of me. I could taste the minty flavor from the piece of gum he'd been chewing on the way home to settle his nervous stomach as he deeply kissed me, kicking the door shut behind him and leaving the lights off.

"Oh, Laurie," he whispered hoarsely as his hands went to work at my blouse buttons. "Please, luv… don't turn me away tonight…"

Oh, boy! Lauren Ashley Donaldson, here it is! I thought frantically as he finished with the buttons on my blouse and pulled it away from my shoulders. This is it…this is how it was going to be: totally unexpected, totally unplanned-at least in my mind! Whether or not he'd had it planned was beyond me; I didn't really care at that point.

"Never, Paul," I said at last, reaching up and running my hands through his hair. He moved pretty fast; my blouse was already on the floor, and he was slowly working my skirt upwards to my hips. I could barely see a thing in the completely darkened room; we hadn't bothered to turn on a light.

"Paul… the bed," I said as he tried fumbling for the button on the side of my skirt. He stopped just long enough for us to stumble over to the bed at the other side of the room, nearly hitting the lamp on the nightstand in the process. I laughed nervously as I stepped out of my black heels, and Paul fell backwards onto the mattress, reaching up for my hips and pulling me against his body, continuing his kisses as he ran his hands up and down my back.

"Unnh," I moaned as he undid the clasp on my bra and discarded it to the floor. I reached for the buttons on his shirt and tugged at them, doing the best I could as he gently caressed my breasts. After a few minutes, all we still had on was our underwear; Paul moved himself up to the pillows at the head of the bed, then rolled over, pulling me beneath him as he pressed himself against my hips suddenly. I gasped as he pulled my legs up around his waist, encircling him tightly. Oh god… there was no way I was going to stop this time!

With one swift movement, he started making love to me. It hurt for a split second, but then the sheer pleasure of his kisses and his body moving against mine took over, and the pain was gone-only passion remained. I wasn't thinking about anything; I didn't even have time to think about the fact that I was losing my virginity to the most gorgeous guy in the world, or the fact that this was exactly what my mother had been worried about when I left home, or the fact that Anna and Cheryl would be insanely jealous if they heard about what happened. All that was on my mind was that Paul was making me feel so good that I never wanted him to stop!

His movements became more frantic after a while, and he began breathing harder and harder until finally I felt him come. Then he pulled away from me, and I gasped as he pressed all his weight against me. So it was over… he'd just shared one of the most intimate experiences of my life with me.

I sat there gently rubbing his shoulders, thinking about how fast everything had happened from the moment we'd stepped into my room. So that was what people meant when they said that they just got swept up in the moment…and what a moment that was!

"How's everything?" he said quietly, stroking my bangs away from my face as he looked down at me.

I smiled up at him. "Fine," I replied.

"Luv, I didn't do something that you didn't want to do, did I?" he asked.

"Of course not," I said. "You've just made another dream of mine come true, Paul… that was one that I never thought would happen, not in a million years…"

"I never thought it would happen, either," he said. "I've been thinking about you for the longest time, Laurie… you are so special; you're the most exciting girl I've ever met… So… was it good for you?"

I laughed. "Is 'no' an acceptable answer?"

"Hey!" he said, pinching my thigh. "No teasing!"

"I know, I know; I'm sorry… it was incredible, Paul."

That was about it for our conversation that night; we fell asleep not long afterwards, tucked in tightly beneath the bedsheets. It took me a while to fall asleep that night as Paul held me in his arms, breathing in and out slowly as he slept; I wasn't used to sharing my bed with someone else… but perhaps I needed to get used to it now… after all, there was over a week left of their tour, and I'd be seeing Paul just about every day! And I knew I'd been nervous, too; once I got over my nervousness, things couldn't do anything but get better.

Continue to Chapter Fifteen

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