Chapter Fifteen

I awoke the next morning when thunder rumbled over the gray-skied city, rattling the windows next to the bed. I turned my head and looked over to see Paul still sleeping soundly next to me, holding tight to his pillow with one arm. I leaned over, kissed his forehead, then got up and put on my bathrobe that I'd left draped over a chair in the corner of the room the previous day. Glancing at the clock next to the bed, I saw that it was already nine o'clock. The other Beatles would have to be up soon, too, if they wanted to get to the concert that was due to start at noon that day.

As I showered that morning, I thought about what had happened the night before. For some dumb reason, "The Night Before" suddenly started running through my head-"Last night is the night I will remember you by; when I think of things we did, it makes me want to cry." I bit my lip, holding back a giggle at the silly thought. It was pretty darn true; the more I thought about it, I knew that the previous night would pop up inside my head any time I thought of Paul in the future.

The future…uh-oh! I stopped dead cold in mid-shampoo, staring at the water spiraling down the shower drain at the bottom of the tub. I was sure that Paul hadn't used a condom or anything last night, and I sure as hell wasn't on the Pill or anything… so now I had a slight dilemma. I didn't think my parents would appreciate me coming home with a baby McCartney on the way; they'd barely finished raising me and my sister-I doubted that they were quite ready for a grandkid!

I finished showering, then wrapped a towel around me and ran back into the bedroom, where Paul was awake and getting dressed. He saw my reflection in the mirror and turned around before I blurted out, "Paul! Next time we need to use some birth control!"

Paul frowned. "Well, good morning to you, too, luv," he laughed.

I blushed; oh, real smooth, Laurie! I thought, wanting to pinch myself. Now that's handling things calmly and rationally!

"No, Paul; I mean it," I said, readjusting the bath towel around myself. "I absolutely cannot end up pregnant. I-"

"That's fine, luv; it's no trouble at all," he said, borrowing my hairbrush from the dresser and combing his hair. "You don't need to go crazy over it; we'll get something and use it, okay?"

"But what if I got pregnant from last night?" I said, getting a panicky feeling that I just might have gone and done something pretty damn stupid.

"Then I'll just have to kidnap you and we'll elope," he laughed. "Really, Laurie…"

I frowned. "This isn't a joke, Paul."

"I know it isn't," he said. "We'll do the best we can. It's not like this is the first time I've done this…"

"I-I know…but it's-it's the first time for me," I said, staring down at the pattern in the rug.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know that you'd get so upset over this… I sort of forgot that you hadn't-that you never-"

"Yeah, I know," I said, searching through my suitcase for something to wear. I needed to find a washing machine and a dryer somewhere soon; I was running out of clean clothes already!

"Cor… I wouldn't have gone so fast last night if I'd remembered," he apologized. "I would've made it better for you… I'm sorry."

I reached over and patted his shoulder. "Well… if you get some birth control like I'm asking you to, you can make the next two weeks special, Paul."

We smiled at each other, then continued getting dressed. After a while, Paul said, "I'm just famished. We should get some breakfast."

"Sounds good to me," I replied, tying my hair back with a light blue ribbon.

Just then the phone rang; I reached over and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Laurie, it's, eh, George. Is Paul there?"

I glanced over at Paul, then said, "Uh, yeah; what's up?"

"We're all meeting in the coffee shop for breakfast at ten," he said. "Tell Paul, too, will you?"

I heard someone snicker in the background-I was pretty sure it was John--and I rolled my eyes. "Okay… and you can tell Mister Lennon back there to stop thinking sick thoughts," I said, gritting my teeth.

George laughed. "Him? Sick thoughts? Never!"

"Well, you just keep it in mind, now," I scolded. "We'll see you in a while."

"All right then; bye."

I hung up the phone and said, "Paul, they're going to tease me when we get down there."

"What did you expect?" he laughed. "You couldn't guess that that was going to happen? Hey, I got to sleep with the illustrious Laurie Donaldson-they're bound to be jealous!"

I threw a pillow at him, and he ducked to avoid a direct hit. "Please… give it up," I said.

Around ten o'clock we met the others for breakfast in the rather quiet coffee shop down the hall from the lobby, gathering around a circular corner booth. Paul had stopped in his room to snatch his baseball cap that he and the others wore when they were going into a semi-public area, and the others had followed suit; even just tucking their moptops inside the hat made them pretty unrecognizeable to the casual passer-by.

As I unfolded my napkin and spread it across my lap, I noticed that for once they'd ordered what I consider a decent breakfast: eggs, pancakes, bacon, and orange juice. My stomach started growling at the scent rising from the food and didn't stop until the waitress took my order and brought the same breakfast to me.

"Hey, where's Brian at?" I asked, finally taking note that only the Beatles and Neil had come downstairs for breakfast that morning.

"He isn't feeling very well," Neil said. "He's resting up before we make the trip to St. Louis; it's going to be a long day."

I nodded. "Two shows in one day? That is going to be difficult."

"We've done it before," Ringo said. "We did it quite a few times back in Liverpool; we played two shows in one day on many occasions. Of course, the two gigs were much closer to one another; Britain isn't that big of a country."

John piped up just then. "So, Laurie," he began with quite a smart-ass look on his face; I could just tell what was coming! "Tell us: how-"

"Don't you dare, John!" I laughed. "You start and you'll be wearing your breakfast."

The rest of the meal was pretty quiet; I didn't say much, busy munching on probably the only halfway-decent meal I'd have all day, since we were going to be jumping on a plane right after the noon show ended.

Once we finished eating, I said, "I have a letter to mail; anyone want to walk to the mailbox in the lobby with me?"

"I'll go with," Ringo offered as I took the letter from my purse.

We got up and walked into the lobby, where I kept an eye open for any enterprising fans that might have managed to bust their way into the hotel; there wasn't a very big security presence there, at least compared to what we'd had in Memphis, and one never could be too careful about fans, especially lately.

"Man, it's going to be a lo-o-o-ng day," Ringo yawned as we headed for the blue mailbox next to the hotel gift shop. "We haven't done two shows in one day for quite some time, probably since the Cavern days."

"I wish I could've seen some of those shows there," I said as I dumped Cheryl's letter into the box. "I wish we had clubs as swinging as that near my house or by Rosary; there just isn't anything like that where I live."

"The Cavern isn't all that great, luv," Ringo replied. "It would get so damp that the amps would fizzle out on occasion, for starters. Plus it was so crowded that people would pass out at every show."

"Maybe that was from getting too hysterical. Fans pass out easily, you know… Anyway, I still think it would have been neat to see just once," I said, shooing at a stray housefly that had somehow made its way into the hotel. "I probably would've ended up there ever night if I lived in Liver-damn fly!"

I gave the fly another swat as it buzzed my ear. Ringo said, "I'll get the little bugger… come here, you…"

He took off his baseball cap and swung at the fly, nearly missing it about three times. Then, suddenly, from across the lobby, I heard a female cry out, "Oh my god-It's Ringo!"

I turned my head to see two girls running at us from behind a large collection of potted ferns near the front windows of the lobby; one had in her hand the largest pair of barber shears I'd ever seen in my life-and I had a pretty good idea whose hair they were aiming for!

"Oh god!" I cried, frantically shoving Ringo back down the hall we'd come from. The girls had recognized him the moment he'd took his hat off!

We sprinted down the hall and passed by the coffee shop at lightning speed just as Neil and the other three were coming out of the shop-with their caps off, of course (some luck!). John said, "What the-"

"Attack-fans down the hall! Run!" I shouted, waving them after us. Without another question, John, George, Paul and Neil followed us to the end of the hall and skidded around the corner to the elevators that marked the dead-end of the hallway. Thank god; there were two elevators ready and waiting for passengers when we arrived there! We all dashed into one of them, but before the doors could close, I cried, "Wait!" and jumped back out.

I ran over to the other one, reached around the doors to the button panel and smacked the buttons for as many floors as I possibly could reach in a split second, then raced back to the other elevator. The doors swallowed us up just as I heard the girls' feet stomping around the corner.

Paul looked at me wide-eyed. "What on earth did you do that for?" he asked increduously.

"They can't follow us up on the other elevator-it's going to stop on every floor," I said, watching as the indicator arrow above the door rose to the fifth floor. "Unless they think quick and take the staircase up."

When we arrived on the fifth floor, I peeked my head out once the doors opened and surveyed the hallway. Nothing looked out of the ordinary; it was dead quiet on the entire floor. "Okay; the coast is clear," I said, stepping out cautiously. "Let's go!"

Just as we were stepping past the steel doors, the elevator bell next to us went ping! John turned his head to see the arrow heading past the number four and quickly towards the number five; apparently I hadn't hit as many buttons as I'd hoped for. "Uh-oh; we've got about ten seconds!" he said, breaking into a run. "Move!"

George, Neil and Ringo made the break for their rooms all the way down the hall; John and Paul chose to stay with me as I fumbled with the key to unlock my hotel room door. With shaking hands, I managed to turn the key and fling the door open, and my two companions dashed into my room before I slammed the door shut.

No one said anything as we gasped for breath from our racing around, but as we stood there catching our breath, I started to hear voices coming from the hallway.

"Kate, I know they got off on this floor-the other elevator is stopped here!" one whispered right outside my door.

"Yeah, but which room is theirs? There's 20 doors in this section of the floor alone; we-"

"Ssssh! Do you want security to catch us?"

"Of course not! I don't want to fuck up and mess up our one shot at getting all the way up here-hey, look!"

"Oh my god; someone left the key in the door."

I went pale as John and Paul stared at me; I could do nothing but look down at my empty hand and shrug. "Oops," I shrugged, desperately trying to smile but failing miserably.

I began hearing them toy with the lock on the door. "Shit!" I whispered. "They're coming in!"

John didn't need to hear anymore; he'd already started making his way towards the window, opening it wide and letting a blast of wind enter the room. As he pushed the curtains aside, I said, "John, what are you doing?"

He poked his head out the window, then began stepping over the window frame. "Fire escape," he said, pulling his other leg outside with him as he ducked his head.

"I'm off," Paul said, following suit. I had nothing else to do but follow them, even though in retrospect I could've avoided the problems to follow by just staying in the damn room and screaming at the intruders when they came in!

John was already down at the fourth floor landing for the steel fire escape once I made it outside, and Paul was almost right behind him. I ducked down quickly as I heard the door to my room open and the girls rushed in, closing the door behind them. Paul and John paused just beneath me on the landing as I listened in on the girls' conversation.

"Kate, there's no one in here," I heard one say after about twenty seconds.

"I can see that, Trisha!"

I heard the bathroom door squeak open and the flick of the plastic light switch on the wall. "I don't even think this is their room… unless they've got a penchant for wearing silk stockings-there's two pair of 'em hanging over the shower curtain bar."

I stifled a giggle as best I could, clapping my hands over my mouth.

"And from the looks of the clothes hanging in the closet, this is a girl's room, not theirs."

"Ooh! Damn! We're so close!" one said, stomping her foot on the floor. "For all we know they're right next door; we missed their room by one door! Damn it!"

"Hey, Kate… what if we climbed across the window ledges to the next room and peeked inside? Maybe they've even got their window open!"

"Are you nuts? We're five stories in the air! If we slip we'll be killed!"

"Come on; the ledge is wide enough to hold about four people." Their voices were getting too close to that window! I crawled to the ladder leading down to the next floor, but my shoes made too much noise against the black iron grating. Two seconds later as I landed next to Paul and John on the fourth floor landing, I saw two heads peek out of my room and screech, "Eeee! It's John and Paul down there!"

"Oh christ!" Paul muttered, practically jumping down to the third floor landing as the girls scampered out the window after us. John went next, and I followed them as fast as I could go, landing on the brick patio area on the ground about ten seconds after they had. The girls were already on the second-floor landing when my feet hit the bricks; God only knows how they'd managed to get down those ladders so fast!

We ran around the corner of the building to the glass doors that would take us right back inside to the elevators by the coffee shop, but after giving both doors a yank, we discovered that they were locked tight.

"Oh no!" I said. Those doors were the exit to the outdoor swimming pool area, and since it looked like it was going to rain any moment now, the hotel staff had decided not to open the pool area that day.

I turned and looked at the blue-tiled pool behind us. "You're not going to like this… but that pool is our only way out of this mess."

"Um, Laurie, this is not Help!" John said as I raced for the edge of the five-foot deep section of the pool "There isn't a secret exit through the pool, luv!"

"Okay; then get your hair cut off!" I said, taking a deep breath and jumping straight into the water.

I blinked a few times as millions of little air bubbles rose above me, and a few seconds later, I saw John and Paul jump in after me. I pinched my nose tighter with my fingertips as I kneeled at the bottom of the pool, staying as close to the wall as we could so the girls wouldn't see us. Thank god for those four years of swimming lessons as the Pine Lake Pool-I could hold my breath for pretty darn long! I just hoped that John and Paul could last just as long.

I watched the surface of the water above me for any activity; about two seconds after the water calmed down from John and Paul's jumps, I saw the girls stop about three yards down from us, give the doors a shake, then point to the gate leading to the patio area with tables and chairs. Come on, come on, I thought frantically. I can only last about another ten seconds… move it, move it...

When I absolutely couldn't stand it anymore, I pushed my feet off the bottom of the pool and bobbed my head above the surface-I had no idea it was going to be so hard to swim while wearing a full set of clothes! I saw the girls scampering across the patio area towards the small playground area, probably hoping to find us hiding behind the slides or something.

I sighed with relief, paddling over to the edge and lifting myself out. A few seconds later, Paul and John bobbed to the surface and followed me quickly and silently back around the corner to the fire escapes so we wouldn't attract any attention from the girls searching the playground for us.

We scaled the fire escape as fast as we could, praying that no one inside the windows we were passing would call the hotel security and get us in trouble. Once we reached the fourth floor, I looked up and saw one of the fifth-floor windows slide open and George and Ringo peeking out; they started laughing hysterically when they realized that the three of us were drenched.

"Wh-what were you doing?" George giggled, leaning against the windowsill.

"Lay off, Harrison… it's a very long story," John muttered as we scaled up the ladder to the fifth floor escape by my window. "If you shut your gob now, you just might live to hear it."

George and Ringo pulled their heads back into their room, still laughing as they closed their window and locked it up. I nearly stepped on the key to my room as I climbed over my windowsill; evidently Kate and Trisha had dropped it on their way out, thank god. I didn't need Beatle fans breaking into my room, even though we'd be leaving the hotel in a little while.

"Cor; I need another shower," Paul said, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall. "We'd better be able to get out of here on time…bloody hell…"

I looked in the mirror as well; I looked like a drowned rat! Praying that my clothes wouldn't be ruined by the chlorine in the pool, I began digging through my suitcase as John closed my window and locked it up.

"What am I going to do with these wet clothes?" I commented as I pulled all my bath items out of my cases for the second time that day. "They'll never dry in time…and the chemicals in that pool had better not bleach them out…"

John and Paul went back to their room to fight over who got to shower first and who would sit in soaking-wet shirt and trousers for another ten minutes, and I went throught the process of washing up again, scrubbing my hair twice to get the chemicals out of my hair (blonde hair turns green very easily if it's exposed to a heavy dose of chlorine, and I didn't want to look a wreck for the rest of the busy day). By eleven-thirty I was completely finished and had packed up all my clothes for the trip; Mal would be coming to get the cases very soon.

The midday concert took place under overcast skies in the center of another baseball field. Everything went off without a hitch, for the most part: no temper tantrums backstage, no one having to run to throw up in the bathroom… it was practically the smoothest show they'd had during the entire tour so far. The only thing that was a little out of the ordinary was that Brian wasn't there to oversee the show; he had decided to meet us on the plane, considering that he was feeling so under-the-weather.

Right after the Beatles unplugged their amps and ran offstage, they packed up their guitars and went directly for the limo waiting to take us to the airport for our flight to St. Louis, not even stopping for the Beatles to change out of their stage outfits.

"Aren't you guys going to be uncomfortable in those?" I asked as we drove towards the airport. "I mean, the flight's going to be a couple of hours."

"We're changing on the plane," Ringo said tiredly, rubbing his eyes.

As we approached the terminal at the airport, I noticed that about ten thousand fans had showed up to say goodbye to their favorite band. It looked like the cops were having a difficult time holding the fans back; for some reason, the police had allowed the fans to get all the way up to the doors that we had to go through to get to Gate 15, where our plane was waiting.

"Oh dear," I said, my ears starting to hurt as the fans began their screams upon spotting the Beatles' limo. "They're going to mob the car!"

Just then, the human chain that the police officers had formed broke as two of the cops' hands slipped apart for a millisecond and the fans surged forward. In an instant, about a hundred fans had crowded around the car, screaming and pounding on the windows to get a glimpse of the Beatles. People were being crushed against the windows as others actually climbed on top of the car and tried to hang on to the roof; I thought that the car was seriously going to cave in from the weight! I was glad we'd locked the car doors first thing after getting in at the stadium!

"Jesus Christ!" the driver yelled, beeping his horn and revving the engine in order to disperse the kids. "Someone's going to get killed!"

I stared out the window with a look of wonder at the shrieking, brawling fans fervently trying to bust their way into the car. One girl with a metal-edged purse was smacking the back window so hard with that thing that I cringed and leaned as far back in the backwards-carsick seat as I could so I wouldn't get hit with too much glass if the damn window shattered. Paul and George both shouted, "Stop it!" at her as they tried to distance themselves from the window, really and honestly fearing their safety.

The girl was shoved aside by two others after a moment, though, thank god, but the onslaught of fans didn't look like it was going to end anytime soon. Neil turned around in his seat and gave the driver a tap on the shoulder.

"Drive on!" he said to the driver anxiously. "Just start moving the car; they'll get out of the way!"

"Where am I supposed to go?" the driver said. "This is the gate you're supposed to leave-"

"Anywhere! Just go!" Neil shouted, and the driver put the car into gear. The wheels slowly started moving, and at least the fans at the front of the car had enough sense to get away. Pity the same thing couldn't be said about the fans at the back of the car; about three fans and the purse girl grabbed on to the back of the car somehow, determined to hang on and go with us… wherever the hell we were going!

George, Ringo and Paul chose to keep looking straight ahead, not turning back to look at the girls hanging on for dear life behind them and egg them on; I gave them the report as I watched the whole scene.

"I can't believe this; we must be going about thirty miles an hour and they're still hanging on!" I cried as the driver left the terminal and started heading down the ramp for direct access to the gate area. One of the girls reached up to pound on the window but lost her grip with her other hand and rolled off of the car; luckily she hit the pavement butt-first somehow as she rolled, escaping any serious injury. I gritted my teeth, cringing as I said, "Damn! That must have hurt! She fell right off!"

We hit a bump at the bottom of the ramp just then, giving the unlikely passengers a good shake-and the purse girl lost her one-handed grip on the edge of the car and slid off. Unfortunately, she wasn't as lucky as the other girl-she smashed into the ground face-first at thirty miles per hour!

I screamed as I saw her body hit the asphalt, her arms and legs sprawled out. "Oh my god!" I cried, jumping onto the seat in front of me and watching out the back window as the two remaining girls made a jump for it off of the back of the car and ran back to their fallen sister-in-crime. "Oh my god…that poor girl! Oh my god…"

"What happened?" the driver said as we turned for the gate area.

I felt sick to my stomach as I turned around. "She-the one girl-she fell off! Oh my god; she could be dead! Jesus; please, somebody, we've got to help her!"

"Holy christ!" the driver shouted as he pulled the car to a stop at Gate 15. He got out of the car, signaled a couple of the cops standing nearby to help him, and the three of them ran back up the ramp to where the scene had taken place. One of the other security guards opened our car door for us and asked Neil, "What's going on?"

"A girl that was on the back of our car fell off; we think she's hurt pretty badly," he said quickly as the others got out of the limo. "The driver's going to see what happened."

"What?" the cop said, glancing over at the ramp that the group had gone running back towards just moments earlier. "We've got to get an ambulance down here."

He went running off to the police car parked on the runway as we walked towards the staircase that we would board the plane on. My stomach was doing backflips as I kept reliving the horrifying scene of that girl falling off the car; I was sure I went green in the face every time I thought of it. I mean, all she wanted to do was see the Beatles-and look what happened to her! I really didn't know who to blame: the girl for doing such a crazy thing like hanging off the back of a car in the first place, the driver for driving so fast when he knew we had hangers-on traveling with us, or us for being such a nuisance in every single town and city we'd been in so far.

I curled up in one of the seats in the back compartment of the plane, just wanting to forget the whole sickening scene I'd just viewed as the plane took off. No one else wanted to talk about anything, either; I don't think anyone said a single word, not even a hello to Brian who had been waiting on the plane for us, until John said, "Who wants a Coke and scotch?"

Everyone in the compartment raised their hands, then dropped them back at their sides. John looked at me and said, "Laurie?"

I nodded vigorously, not wanting to open my mouth for fear I'd be sick if I did.

"All right, then; I'll go see if I can find the stewardess," he said, opening the door to the compartment.

I drank everything in my glass in less than five minutes-definitely not my style-then wished I'd asked for another one while the stewardess had been by us. I shook my head as Brian asked, "What in the world happened out there?"

Neil explained the whole thing to Brian as George got up to go change into traveling clothes in the bathroom; Brian's face became creased with stress lines again. "Oh my god…" he said, raising an eyebrow. "What is next?"

The negative ambience within the inner circle that afternoon didn't get any better as raindrops started hitting the outside of the windows. "Not again!" I said, crashing backwards into my seat in frustration. "When is this rain going to end? I know it always rains a lot in August… but this is ridiculous! Every day?"

There would be no hotel stop for us that day in St. Louis-just a limo ride to the stadium for the evening show, a brief press conference at the stadium, the performance, then a dash off to the airport for the flight out of there. At that point I wasn't even sure where on earth we were headed to next; the past week had been a dizzying mess of jetting and driving from one place to another in mostly rainy weather-and this was supposed to be fun for me!

Once again, I could just feel the Beatles' dissent as we waited for the show to begin that evening. The rain had been falling steadily since our plane had landed in St. Louis and didn't appear to be letting up very much. I paced around the room nervously as John stood in one single spot for about five minutes straight, arms crossed and his foot tapping anxiously on the tile floor as he thought what I was sure were some very evil thoughts about what he'd do to those concert promoters if they dared show their faces near that locker room that night!

Brian left the room to hunt down the promoters and ask them what the deal was for the show that night, and John said, "God damn it! I'm tired of this!" and pounded his fist against the concrete wall.

Paul looked up from his solitaire game on the floor and glared at him; he was giving John such a vicious look that I was scared that there would be punches following it! "And you think we're not?" he shouted, unfazed by John's outburst. "You think we've been enjoying all this? Certainly not-so cut out the crybaby bullshit, Lennon! You're not the only one who's gone mad over the past week!"

John's face turned bright red with fury, and he lunged forwards. "All right, you son of a bitch!" John said, charging after Paul. George and Ringo leaped up from their seats on two folding chairs and intercepted John about five feet away from Paul while Neil dropped the stage costumes he was carrying on hangers right onto the floor and grabbed Paul's arms. They looked like a couple of mad dogs, ready to get into an ass-ripping fight if either one of them broke free from their restrainers!

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and cry, John!" Paul said angrily, trying to break away from Neil's grip. "Go ahead and fuckin' cry!"

"Go fuck yourself, McCartney!" John shouted, likewise fighting Ringo and George for a swing at Paul. "You're nothing but a fuckin' whiner, anyways! You're-"

"All right!" Neil shouted at the top of his lungs, aggravated beyond belief. "Knock it the fuck off, you blokes, or I'll beat the living hell out of the two of you!"

Paul shook Neil's arm away and stepped back, finished with his aggression for the moment. "Aye, well, it's not worth the fuckin' effort, John," he muttered, slowly stepping backwards and away from John. "You're not worth it…"

I bit my lip hard, nearly drawing blood as tears began welling in my eyes. Had it come to this? Had it really come down to this? I thought, putting a hand over my mouth and nose so they couldn't see my chin crumple up as two tears ran down my face. My god-were they going to break up the band or something?

"What the hell is wrong with all of you?" I cried, my hand dropping to my side. "Huh?"

I flung the door to the hallway open and fled down the hall, nearly hysterical. The last thing in the world I'd needed was to see the disintegration of the Beatles. I'd always hoped that they'd go on playing and singing forever… maybe this was it; this could be the end of the whole group.

I stopped running after about twenty seconds, collapsing into a folding chair in the hallway and sobbing, not caring if anyone walked past and saw me in such a sorry state. I wanted to go home-I really did, at that point; I did not want to stick around just to see the cracks within the band get larger and larger until they finally split into four parts and walked away from each other. I didn't care if I missed the trip to the sunny West Coast. I didn't care if I barely said a goodbye to the Beatles and took off. I didn't even care if I walked away from Paul McCartney forever, never to see him again, even after all we'd been through in the past few days…I couldn't take it anymore.

A few minutes later as I wiped my face with my handkerchief from my pocket, unable to cry anymore tears, I saw George approaching me. "Laurie? Please come back with me; you can't sit out here like this all by yourself."

"I don't care," I said, standing up. "May-maybe I should just call my mother and tell her that I'll be home on the next flight to Chicago."

"What are you talking about?" he said. "What in the world is wrong with you?"

"George, I'm not going to stand around and watch you guys fight!" I said. I guess I still had some more tears left in me!

"Oh, Laurie… they're just aggravated by everything," George said, genuinely worried about me. "Really; they're just doing that because they're under stress… we're not going to break up the band or anything, if that's what you think is going to happen."

I shook my head, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "That's what it sounded like," I said quietly, following him back to the dressing room.

"No; believe me, Laur, it's not as bad as you're making it out to be. Maybe you girls take out your stress differently… but that's what happens when you get John and Paul liquored up and pissed off at each other. They'll be okay in ten minutes, I promise."

"I don't know… I'm just so worn out," I sighed as we approached the locker room. "You have no idea how terrible I feel-well, maybe you do…"

George smiled, and I couldn't help but bring a little smile to my lips, too, as we went back into the locker room. Sure enough, John and Paul were done fuming; John was making a phone call, and Paul was picking up his playing cards, finished with Solitaire for that evening.

Just then Brian walked in behind us. "Well, lads, I've got good news and bad news," he said, looking a bit more cheerful than he had earlier.

"Oh, no; no, no, no," Paul muttered, half-laughing. "Those bloody bonkers promoters better not be making us wait out an entire show and go on in the pouring rain, because I'll-"

"No, no; just listen," Brian interrupted. "The show is going on; they've set up a rain tarp over the stage."

"Well, it'd better be a hell of a lot better than the one in Cincinnati," John said.

"It is; believe me, the stage will stay dry," Brian said.

"So, what's the bad news?" Paul said, rolling his eyes.

"No; that is the bad news," Brian said. "The good news is that you boys are going on first tonight. And the rain has let up a little bit…so if you get out there right away, you can make it back here before it starts up again."

"All right!" Paul cheered, jumping up and snatching his stage suit from the rack. The other three made a dash for their suits as well, wanting to get on that stage right at showtime, which was in ten minutes.

Luckily they'd all managed to change into their fawn-colored jackets and red silky shirts in time before grabbing their guitars and making a run down the hallway to the dugout doorway. The deejays had already alerted the crowd to the fact that the Beatles would be going on first, and the audience broke into ear-splitting shrieks of joy that the rain-or-shine promise on their tickets for the show would hold up, putting the deejays' introduction for the Beatles into oblivion.

The Beatles made a dash for the stage in the light mist falling from the sky; I think George almost slid a few times on the damp grass in the infield as they approached the stage set up on second base. I felt relieved once they were under the protection of the rain tarp and plugged their guitars into the amps. Moments later, the show was in full swing, and the Beatles seemed to be enjoying themselves as they played for the die-hard fans that had gathered even in the falling rain to see the world's best band. Everything was calm again, and I sighed with relief.

About ten minutes into the show, I turned to Neil and asked, "I know this is a dumb question, but where are we headed for after the show?"

"New York," he said. "We're leaving for the airport as soon as the Beatles' set ends; the other acts are going to join us after the show is completely over with."

"So, there's another show tomorrow?" I questioned. "Shea Stadium again?"

Neil nodded. "Yeah, it's at Shea, but it's not tomorrow; it's Tuesday night. We've finally got a day off, luv."

I grinned. Thank God-just what we all needed! A day off from everything! I watched the rest of the concert happily, knowing that we would all have a well-deserved break once it was over with.

Continue to Chapter Sixteen...

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