Chapter Eighteen

The entire car situation was fixed in less than half an hour, much to everyone's relief, and we were at the airport within another half hour. As soon as we found our seats on the airplane, I could tell that everyone was in much better spirits, almost as if they were on their way home and not flying to another set of concerts on the West Coast. It must have been the thought that we'd be getting away from the lousy weather and all our other problems by going from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Once the plane had taken off and everyone had had the chance to order a few drinks, it appeared that everyone's nerves had calmed down and that it would be a peaceful, uneventful flight to California. I sighed with relief after a Coke and scotch, leaning back in my chair and watching Paul flip through the pages of a news magazine.

Just then, Ringo, who was sitting in the seat right in front of Paul, turned around and kneeled on his seat, peering over the back of the seat at us. He'd been messing with his Pentax camera before take-off, and now he wanted to take some pictures.

"Please, please-no pictures of me and Laurie!" Paul laughed, hiding his face behind a magazine. "My reputation will be ruined forever!"

He leaned close to me and tried to hide my face as well behind the pages of Life, but I giggled and pushed him away. Once he dropped the magazine back down, he moved over, shoulder-to-shoulder with me, and said, "Smile pretty for the camera, Laurie."

"Okay; say 'Bloody Mary'!" Ringo said, which we obliged right as he snapped the picture.

"Bloody Mary, huh?" I commented after two more clicks of the shutter. "That's one I haven't heard from a photographer."

"Ah… any word that ends in 'eee' will work," Ringo said, rewinding the film in the camera. "I needed to use up the rest of the film; perhaps I'll get these pictures developed while we're in California so I can bring 'em home to show Mo and Zak."

"Hey, did you ever hear the one that if you say 'Bloody Mary' a hundred times to the mirror, she'll come out of the mirror and get you?" I laughed. "We used to say that one all the time at sleepovers when I was younger."

Ringo made a face as he took the roll of film out of the back of the camera and pocketed it. "That's just stupid."

"I didn't say I believed it," I said in defense. "Of course, there are all those legends about ghosts and stuff at Rosary."

"Like what?" Paul asked, leaning his elbow against the window next to him and resting his head in his hand.

"Oh, they're kind of dumb, but they're just sort of neat," I began, crossing my ankles and swinging them back and forth. "For starters, there's this set of three doors by the Social Hall that lead to the dorms and to Power Hall. Right above each corner of the door, there's these stone heads with no faces on them, and-"

"No faces?" Paul repeated.

"Yep; where the faces should be, it's just a flat surface. I heard that there once were faces on the heads…but they were sandblasted off."

"Why would they do a thing like that?" Ringo asked. "Doesn't that look a bit soft, just some empty heads over the doors?"

I nodded. "Well, I guess it was somewhat a relief for some people… not long after the school opened, all the nuns that lived and taught there swore that when they walked past those faces, the eyes were watching them."

"Eeech," commented Paul, making a face. "That's strange…though I don't suppose I'd be too happy if I was walking around and the eyes were following me."

"It's true, absolutely true," I said, holding up one hand. "That whole wing of the building is a little scary late at night; it's sort of medieval-castle-looking in that room. I helped clean up after a guest lecturer did a presentation in the hall one night; it was just me and this other girl, Mary Ann Ellerbee, cleaning up in there, and this storm blows up outside. The rain was going ping-ping-ping against the big square-paned windows, and the wind was screeching through the little microscopic cracks between the panes. And, I mean, there's no one else around there…and knowing the legend of the faces, it wasn't exactly a joy being in there."

"Ah, that's like the legend of the Tower of London," Ringo scoffed, shaking his head. "All those ghosts there…rubbish."

"Well, there's other sorts of wacky stories about Rosary…like there's an underground tunnel that leads all the way across campus to the Des Plaines River…and the ghost that haunts the library and the chapel on the second floor."

"A ghost in the library? Now I've heard everything," Ringo laughed.

"No, really! And I've heard it, too! Supposedly the ghost plays the church organ in the dead of night-I've heard it, guys!"

"Probably just some prankster," Ringo said.

"No…there's no room for pranks at Rosary. We're all asleep in the dorms at that time…and those nuns don't get up at two o'clock in the morning, not that early."

"Well, then, how did you hear it, then?" Paul inquired.

"I was at a family party one Sunday night in Pine Lake, and it didn't end until nearly midnight, and I had school the next day," I explained. "My dad drove me back to school; we got there around two o'clock in the morning, and I took the shortcut across the balcony by the Quad that's right next to the chapel windows. I'm telling you, I heard the music on the way to the dorm building, and when I looked into the windows, there were no lights on in there! Not a one!"

"Bah…ghost stories," Ringo said, turning back around. "You'll give us all nightmares for a month…"

"Oh, then you do think something of them!" I laughed, standing up and looking over the chair at him. "How do you think I feel? I go to the school every day…They make it seem like the school is five-hundred years old sometimes…"

"How old is it?" Paul asked, doing math figures in his head. "It can't be anymore than two-hundred at the very most, right?"

"Try about forty-five," I said, blinking a few times. "The oldest building there, Power Hall, was built in 1920. The Fine Arts building was put up just within the last ten years or so, if I remember right."

"So it's not that old, eh? Could've fooled me…it looks pretty darn old to me."

"Well, all those Gothic windows and ivy make it look older than it really is…though I think those radiators in the dorms could possibly be some ancient imports from Europe or something; they never work right. I only have one more year of getting frostbite in that dorm room…then I'm out of there for good."

"So this is your last year, then?"

I nodded. "Yep. Just a few more classes…senior history seminar, Literature of Early America, Victorian British Literature, History of Ancient Greece…I have to fit in a biology or botany course in there somewhere…oh, and a public-speaking class, too, before I graduate."

"Well; busy girl," Paul remarked. "I was-"

Just then I felt a hand on my sleeve, and the hand gave the cuff a little tug. Paul leaned forward in his chair to look beyond me, and I turned my head as well to see a girl, about fifteen years old or so, kneeling on the floor right behind my seat and right in the doorway connecting first-class with the coach section.

"Uh, can I help you with something?" I asked, frowning.

Her blue eyes were glued directly on Paul. She seemed to be at a loss for words for about five whole seconds; her jaw just dropped wide open. "Oh my god; it is you!" she breathed, gripping the arm on my chair so tight I saw her knuckles grow white. "Oh, wow! I am such a big fan of yours, Paul! Would it be too much to ask you for your autograph…pleeeease?"

She held out a small note tablet and a pencil, and Paul gave her a nice smile as he took it from her. "What's your name, luv?"

"Careena Gale," she replied quickly as he scribbled out "To Careena, Best Wishes, Love, Paul" and added a few Xs and Os beneath the message. She managed to drag her gaze away from him long enough to check her surroundings cautiously; if the stewardess caught her sneaking into first-class, she'd get kicked back to coach immediately with no time allotted for explanations.

"And what's a girl like you doing in a place like this at this hour?" Paul said, checking his watch. "It's nearly midnight, you know."

"Oh, my mother and I are heading home to San Diego from visiting my aunt and uncle in Buffalo," she said, keeping her voice low. She gave me a funny look all of a sudden; I could just tell what question was coming next!

"Who's she?" Careena asked with a nod of her head.

"This is Laurie Aspinall," Paul explained quickly. "She's our assistant's sister."

"'Ello," I said, smiling courteously at her. Please, please, don't let me mess up on this one, I prayed.

"Hi…you're a lucky girl!" Careena said. "Wow; getting to tour with the Beatles…I could only imagine… Listen, Paul, would it be too much to ask for you to get the others' autographs?"

"Not at all," Paul replied, hanging onto the tablet. "But perhaps it might be best if you went to sit down; I'll have Laurie run it back to you, if that's all right."

"Yeah; that's not a half-bad idea," she murmured, still absolutely star-struck. "I'm about seven rows back, on the left…okay?"

I nodded. "Yeh, I'll bring it right over there," I replied, nearly forgetting my "accent" for a split second.

The lads didn't have very much time to write out their autographs and pass the tablet back and forth between them; the plane landed at O'Hare in Chicago for our quick stopover to pick up additional passengers and re-fuel for the flight to California. None of the Chicago travelers had first-class tickets, either-Brian must have bought out the entire section of the plane for us.

I stared out at the tarmac, pitch-black at that hour except for the runway lights nearby. Not many passengers boarded the plane during the stopover; mostly businessmen walked up the flight of stairs to the open door and took their seats in coach. I prayed to God that no one I knew was getting on the plane! Who knows? Someone from Pine Lake could be heading to California on vacation and would recognize me!

And I really started hoping that I would encounter only a bunch of strangers when I realized that I would have to go back to the coach section to give Careena her autographs from the guys. Oh crap, I thought as the yellow tablet and pencil made its way back into my hands once it was signed. This is going to be such a joy…

"Laur? What's up?" Paul said, noticing the rather overwhelmed look on my face as I stared down at the autographs.

"We just made our stopover in Chicago," I muttered, spinning the pencil in my hands.

"Yeah? So?"

"Well, God help us all if someone in there knows who I am," I explained, jerking my thumb backwards towards the coach section behind us. "The word'll be out and we'll all be in trouble…"

"Nah; it'll be okay," he said. "I mean, come on, Laurie; what are the chances…"

"I suppose you're right," I sighed, still feeling a little skittish as I stood up and straightened my skirt. "Who would I know that would be traveling this late at night?"

Okay; by this point in time, don't you think I would've learned to just keep my damn mouth shut and not say something as dumb as that in such a situation? Well, apparently I hadn't! I took about ten steps into the back section of the plane when I heard a female voice cry out, "Laurie!"

For a moment I thought it was Careena, but then I felt a tap on my left hand. I turned my head to see whom but Anna sitting in one of two vacant seats next to me!

"Anna!" I gasped, grinning, just as I saw Careena getting up from her seat towards the back of the plane and heading over to me. Oh, god, Anna, don't spill the beans…Jesus Christ, don't ruin this for me…

"Wow! I'm on my way to visit my grandparents in L.A.; who would have thought we'd be on the same flight?" Anna said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I don't believe this; how the hell are you? How's everything been going with the guys? I bet you miss good ol' Pine Lake a lot, right?"

At that point Careena was standing about a foot away from me, and I quickly handed her the tablet and pencil. "There you are," I said in my British accent, my palms suddenly all sweaty out of nervous tension.

"Oh, thank you so, so, so much!" she said, staring down lovingly at the scrawls on the paper. "Please tell them thank you, will you, Laurie?"

Anna looked at me as if I was speaking Mandarin Chinese or something. "Laurie, what the-"

"Is this a friend of yours?" Careena said, pointing to Anna. Uh-oh… time for a phony story…but what? Frantically I searched my mind for something that would make up a halfway-decent excuse.

"Uh, yes it is, sort of," I said slowly, piecing together some kind of excuse. "She, um, is a reporter… that's been covering the Beatles' tour, city by city… for a British… teen magazine. Her name is Anna… Brocklehurst. Anna-Anna Brocklehurst, this is Careena G-Gale, a-a B-Beatle fan."

I fidgeted nervously, but I thought Anna kind of got the drift of what I was up to, for she put a wide yet utterly confused smile onto her face and said, "Hi, Careena" in a very, very phony English accent. Oh my god, Ann, I thought. You're going to have to do way better than that!

"Really? That's fab! My father's in journalism; he writes for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, but I live in San Diego with my mother; they're, uh, divorced," Careena said, pretty much ignoring the fact that Anna had no skills as a convincing actress. "But why aren't you up there in first class with Laurie and the rest of them?"

Before Anna could even open her mouth, I said, "Well, it gets kind of noisy up there with the boys; she likes to stay back here so she can work on her stories and write letters back home to her mother and her father."

Anna's eyes practically popped out of their sockets suddenly as she sucked in her breath and bit her lip. Uh-oh; did I mess up by saying that or something? I thought frantically. Well…whatever I did, it's just gotta pass; we've got to get rid of Careena before we blow this!

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the door to the bathroom open right ahead of us, and Anna's mother stepped out of it, closing the door behind her. "Oh, shit," I muttered under my breath as she turned to head to us. So that's why Anna freaked out-her mother is bound to say something to one of us!

Just then I heard a bell go ping-ping-ping; the seat belt light had come on near the front of the plane. Whew! A lifesaver--twice!

Careena said, "Oh dear; I'd better go sit down… Thank you again, Laurie," and hurried back to her seat near the rear of the plane.

Without another second of hesitation, I grabbed Anna by the hand and said, "Come with me right now." We practically knocked her mother to the ground in the process.

"Anna Brockle-" Mrs. Brocklehurst began, giving her daughter a stern look as she grabbed the back of one of the nearby seats to steady herself.

"Mom, I'll explain it all in a minute!" Anna whispered fiercely as I pulled her towards the first-class section. "I'll be right back-just be quiet!"

About two seconds later, I yanked Anna beyond the first-class doorway and shoved her straight towards Paul's lap, the first available seat anywhere. Paul gave a cry at this sudden hurling of human beings at him. "Cor! What the fuck are you doing, Laurie?" he shouted, nearly dropping the bottle of Coke he'd received while I was gone.

I crashed into the seat next to them as Ringo and George, who was across the aisle and one seat up from us, turned around to see what the bloody hell was going on. I think Anna was frozen solid with shock at that point, sitting on the lap of a Beatle-maybe not her favorite Beatle, but still…

"Yeah, Jesus, Laurie!" she sputtered out a few seconds later, getting over the rapid shock of events that had just taken place. "I think you ripped my arm out of the socket!"

She began rubbing her shoulder as I said, "Well, I'm sorry, but it was life or death. My god, Anna, can't you do a decent British accent? You'd make Eliza Dolittle look like she's a diction coach!"

"Well, pardon me for not brushing up on my acting ability, Lauren Ashley Donaldson," she said, blinking coldly. "I didn't realize we were having tryouts for My Fair Lady on the goddamn flight to L.A…"

I leaned towards her and spoke barely over a whisper. "That girl out there…she asked for the Beatles' autographs before…and I was introduced as Laurie Aspinall, their road manager's sister…a very British sister… she's kind of nosy, and I don't want her finding out what's really going on…"

"Indeed. What is going on, by the way?" she said, scooting herself a little further away from Paul and sitting more on his knees. "I'm going to have to have a pretty good explanation for why I nearly knocked down my own mother to run up here. As far as my mother is concerned, well, she never knew about this whole deal with you traveling with the Beatles; she thinks you're still in Pine Lake and that you're just extraordinarily busy...well, at least that's what she did think; I don't know about now…"

I shrugged. "I-"

Just then the plane hit an air pocket, and everything in the plane took a jump of about five inches straight into the air, sending the crown of Anna's head straight against the low ceiling above us. "Yeow!" she shouted, rubbing her head as the plane lurched again, but this time upward.

One of the stewardesses headed our way upon hearing Anna's cry. She gave Anna kind of a dirty look. "Um, I beg your pardon, but I believe your seat is in the coach section," she sneered as she appraised our bizarre seating situation. "And the seat belt lights are on-I suggest you return to your seat before you get hurt any more."

Anna stood up as the bitchy stewardess crossed her arms and waited impatiently for her to head back into the coach section. Once the stewardess stepped away and headed back towards her seat at the front of first-class, I turned around and whispered to Anna, who was just a foot or so back into the coach hallway, "Ann! I'll come back there in a few minutes…as soon as the Queen of American Airlines gets the bug out of her butt…"

Paul snickered, covering his mouth to keep from laughing aloud, and Anna grinned as she returned to her aisle seat next to her mother.

"What are you going to tell her?" Paul said once he'd regained his composure.

"Well, I was wondering…do you think she could come visit us while we're staying in L.A.?" I asked, twisting my watch around my wrist a few times. "I mean, maybe just for a couple of hours during one of the days?"

"That's not my decision; you'd have to take it up with Brian," he said, shaking his head.

"Okay," I said, glancing over the tops of the seats to see Brian seated five rows ahead of us. "Wait…dammit; he's asleep, Paul! What am I supposed to do?"

Paul shrugged, then took a swig of his Coke. "Don't know," he said after swallowing. "I wouldn't go wake him up, though; this is about his only quiet time. We might have a couple of days off, but not him; he'll be back to work the moment we step off this plane."

"Oh; okay," I said, sitting back down. I felt a little on the tired side myself; after all, it was practically the middle of the night, and we were on a long flight to California. I yawned and wondered how long it would be before we got there; would it be morning by the time we arrived there? I checked my purse for my rose-colored specs that Anna had given me over a week ago before I left Pine Lake; they were still there, and in one piece, too!

The next thing I knew, I felt someone nudging my left shoulder. I opened my eyes-I must have fallen asleep!-to see John standing next to me in the aisle. He looked down at me through the thick lenses of his glasses and said, "Rise and shine, Laurie; the plane's landed."

I blinked tiredly a few times, realizing that the plane had indeed come to a stop. "What time is it?" I asked, not thinking to check my watch.

"It's four in the morning-rise and shine!" he said in a sickeningly sweet voice, poking my shoulder. "Come 'ead; we'll be leaving the plane in about two minutes."

"Mmmph," Paul grumbled. I turned to see him open his eyes and gave us a confused look for a moment before stretching out his limbs. "Are we there?"

John nodded. "Yeah," he said, taking off his glasses and pocketing them inside his jacket.

I stood up and stretched, then gasped, "Ooh! Anna!"

"Eh?" both John and Paul asked.

I dashed over to Neil, who was wide awake as he helped Brian collect some papers they'd been looking at earlier that evening, and said, "Neil! What's the phone number of the place we're staying at?"

"Laurie, that's a hell of a thing to ask me at a time like this," Neil replied, stuffing the papers haphazardly into his briefcase.

"Please, it's important; I want to give it to my mother when I call her in case she wants to get a hold of me," I lied, "and if you're not around or you're busy when I make the call, I-"

"All right, all right," Neil said, dropping the case onto the floor and searching his pocket for his wallet. He pulled a white business card out of it and handed it to me. "The number's on the back," he explained, returning to his business of packing the case up. "Give that back to me as soon as you have it copied down."

"Okay; thanks, Neil," I said, dashing back to my seat and rummaging around in my purse to find any shred of paper. All I found was a Wrigley's wrapper still wrapped around an ancient piece of spearmint gum that had been in my purse since about the same time the spring semester at Rosary had ended. Well, it would have to do for now.

I scribbled down the phone number on the wrapper, then dashed into the coach section, where Anna and her mother were putting on their suit coats. "Anna!" I shouted, pushing past the other rising passengers, "I have something for you!"

She frowned, craning her neck to see above the other passengers. "What is it?" she said, looking at the tiny gum wrapper I was waving around in my hand.

At last we managed to fight our way close enough towards each other. "This is the number for the house we're staying at," I said quietly. "Call us, and you can come visit us; I could use a little company."

"Really?" she squeaked, pocketing the wrapper quickly, like I'd given her a check for a million dollars. "Cool!"

"Okay; I gotta run!" I said, shoving my way back towards first class, where everyone was ready to leave.

As I collected my purse from my seat, I reached for Paul's arm and kissed his cheek quickly. "Good morning," I said in a cheery British accent, linking arms with him.

"You mean 'good night,'" he yawned. "I'm going back to bed as soon as we get to the house; I'm knackered."

I happened to glance back at the coach section to see how Anna was faring, and who should be standing right behind us with a surprised look but little Miss Careena Gale! Her shock was obviously due to the fact that I had kissed Paul and he and I were linked arm-in-arm.

"Hey!" she said, frowning. "Who are you?"

I tried to ignore the question as we headed for the exit at that moment, and she had to step back into the coach section. However, I heard her say to a tall brunette lady, "Mom! That must have been Paul McCartney's girlfriend Jane Asher…she's sneaking with him on tour; she was in disguise, with that blonde wig and all…I wonder what she's going with them for…"

I burst into laughter as Paul broke away from me (we didn't need anyone else thinking that we were a couple, now, did we?) before leaving the plane to see the masses of fans that had showed up at the airport to see the Beatles arrive. I had absolutely no resemblance to Jane Asher whatsoever; why this girl thought that I was her, I will never know!

The airport was the usual deal: screaming hysterical fans, a walk through the terminal to two awaiting limousines. Oh, that's right, I thought. There's no one else here with us this time; all the other acts are coming out here tomorrow on a separate flight, I thought as the Beatles, Neil, and I all piled into one of the limos, leaving Brian and the rest of the touring party with the other car.

We arrived at the house on Curson Terrace in the Hollywood Hills just as the sun was starting to peek over the eastern horizon, making the house we were going to spend the next few days in look even more fabulous-as if it wasn't cool enough on its own! It was a gorgeous two-story deal, complete with palm trees everywhere, and even an in-ground swimming pool in the back!

Paul was still dragging as we got out of the limousine, but the sudden realization of the surroundings I was now in set me into motion, and I was the first one in the house after Neil unlocked the door. "Wow!" I gasped as he flipped the light switch for the hallway. "Pretty nice digs, I must say…"

Paul and I ended up as roommates again, sharing a bedroom that overlooked the patio area from the second floor. We had a full bed with a brass headboard, gorgeous dark cherrywood furniture, and an antique Tiffany lamp at the writing desk in the corner. Man, this stuff was even nicer than the furniture in my own home!

Paul snapped the drapes shut, blocking out the emerging daylight, and then fell face-first into the pillows at the head of the bed. "That's it; I'm done for the day," he said, reaching underneath the pillow and pulling it against his cheek as he turned his head to the side. It didn't look like he was even going to bother changing out of his clothes or taking his shoes off; he was out cold after I changed into my nightgown and washed up in five minutes in the bathroom. Out of sheer exhaustion, I fell into bed next to him and dozed off about twenty minutes later.

We didn't sleep very late that morning, only until about eleven or so. Paul got up and opened the blinds around that time, letting the warm sunshine fill the room.

"Mmmmph," I muttered, grabbing his pillow and burying my face in it, keeping the blinding light away from my eyes. "What did you do that for?"

"Time to get up, luv," he said cheerfully, looking out the window at the patio below. Wow; a few hours of sleep did him a world of good! "Would you be interested in going swimming in the pool? It looks like that's what the others have in mind for today."

"Sure," I yawned, taking the pillow from my face and stretching my arms. Paul was by the writing desk, fiddling with the clock radio next to the Tiffany lamp. He turned the tuning dial slowly, listening to various snatches of talk and music before settling on a station that was playing the Del-Vikings' "Come Go With Me." For some reason unbeknownst to me, he let out a roar of laughter and clapped his hands once, murmuring, "Dear me!"

"Huh?" I asked, sitting up in bed.

As he opened up his suitcase and searched for his bathing suit, he said, "This song…John doesn't know the words to it…"

"Yeah? So?" I said, getting out of bed and noticing how I looked like a total wreck in the mirror on the dresser.

He found his swimsuit at the bottom of the suitcase after pulling out tons of other clothes (and I thought I traveled heavy!), then explained, "This is the song that John was singing the day that he and I first met each other at a church fete in Liverpool. He was up on stage singing it with his group The Quarrymen, and he was making up the words as he went along… like, 'Oh, I love ya, dar-lin', come and go with me… come, come down to the pen-i-ten-tiary…'"

I laughed. "Oh, sure, and you laugh at Claire and her 'some the monkeys' line in 'Michelle,'" I remarked as he drummed out a beat on the dresser with his toothbrush. "Hypocrite!"

He kind of laughed, never really giving me a reply before disappearing into the bathroom to wash up. While he was in there, I searched my suitcase for my black swimsuit-the more flattering piece of swimwear I'd packed (the other one, a powder-blue one, was an old one that I brought with just in case I made it to the beach and got all sandy and messy). Finding it, I changed out of my nightgown and into the black number, then searched for my sunglasses in my purse.

Paul emerged from the bathroom wearing his dark blue swimsuit and a towel from the bathroom draped over his shoulders. "Well, I'm ready," he said, putting his bathroom kit back into his suitcase. "I'm assuming you're ready to go as well?"

I nodded, finding one of my hair ribbons and tying my hair into a ponytail just so it wouldn't stick to my face when it got wet in the pool. "Yep, as soon as I get this thing tied," I said, double-knotting the ribbon tightly so it wouldn't fall out. "Okay…I'm ready to go."

"Gear," he remarked, reaching around the doorway of the bathroom and getting a towel for me as well. "Let's fly, chickie…"

When we opened the sliding glass doors that led to the patio area, I noticed that everyone else that was staying with us in the house that week was already outside, soaking up the glorious bright rays of California sunshine. Brian was lounging on one of the deck chairs that surrounded the area, and the other three Beatles were splashing around in the pool, having one hell of a water fight that was absolutely flooding the patio surface with chlorinated water. I stepped to the side and stayed close to the wall of the house as they ended their fight.

Ringo looked over at Paul and me, then remarked, "Well, if it isn't Mr. and Mrs. McCartney…it's about time you two got up."

"Yeah, yeah, chatter on, Ritchie, chatter on," Paul said, tossing his towel onto one of the vacant deck chairs. "You're going to get a pounding from me!"

He ran for the pool and jumped straight in, creating a huge splash that doused the others in water. I giggled as he swung his arm across the surface of the water, starting the second round of the water battle. This was like the California-summertime version of the snowball fight at my house back last January; they were like kids again, trying to dunk each other and win the battle.

After a wall of water that George had splashed hit John in the face and he recovered, he caught sight of me chuckling at their hijinx from my safe confines behind the deck chairs near the wall. "Hey!" he shouted. "Ya think it's so funny, eh? You've got about five seconds to start running, Miss Donaldson! Come 'ead, lads!"

Suddenly the four of them were leaping out of the pool and speeding towards me. "Aaaagh!" I screeched, dashing away from them and trying to move as quickly as I could through the assembly of deck chairs, but to no avail. They caught up to me when I got trapped in the corner where two walls of the building came together. John and Paul were running at me from the right, George was right ahead of me, and Ringo was covering me from the left.

"No!" I screamed, laughing hysterically as John and Paul each grabbed one of my arms and George and Ringo got a hold of my legs. "Come on! Put me down! The joke's over!"

"No joke, luv," Paul said as they weaved in and out of the maze of chairs, carrying me towards the pool.

"Come on! I'm sorry!" I said, unable to stop giggling.

"It's too late for apologies," George said as we arrived at the edge of the pool; I was swinging parallel with the edge of the pool. "The damage is done, and now you're in trouble!"

"You'd better stop that snickering and hold your breath," Paul laughed, leaning forward slightly as not to strain his back as he initiated a swinging motion with my arms. "Ready, lads?"

They all leaned forward like he did, still hanging onto my limbs, and began swinging me so far back and forth that if they let me go, I probably would've flown through the air and hit the glass doors on the house! In unison they counted off, "One…two…three!" and, on the third count, let me go.

I soared about six feet forward and about five feet above the surface of the pool before gravity got the better of me and I splashed back-first into the water. I sank almost to the bottom of the five-foot depth in the pool, pushing off behind me with my hands and kicking for the surface in a glittering cloud of bubbles so I could escape the deafness of being underwater. Thank god I knew how to swim; I personally would've killed them if I didn't know how and they threw me into a depth of water that was almost my height!

My head bobbed above the waterline and I treaded water, taking a deep breath of air. "You jerks!" I cried, still unable to stop laughing despite being flung into the water.

Paul jumped back into the pool, followed by John. "Serves you right…acting all high and mighty," Paul said, swimming next to me.

"I thought you said that you were just kidding when you said last time that you plastered Cynthia with snowballs while on vacation," I said, pushing a few wet strands of hair away from the side of my face-that hair ribbon hadn't done me much good.

"Maybe I was…and maybe I wasn't," Paul laughed, flicking little droplets of water at me with his fingertips. "Ha-ha-ha on you!"

We goofed around in the pool for about another hour or so before Neil appeared in the doorway. "Laurie! Telephone call!…I think it's your sister."

"My sister?" I repeated, paddling over to the ladder. That didn't sound good-my mother would usually be the one to make the phone calls to me.

"Thank you, Neil," I said, wrapping a towel around my waist and pattering into the house, where the phone just inside the doorway was off the hook. "Hello?"

"Laurie! Hi!" I heard Anna's familiar voice say.

"Oh…it's only you," I sighed.

"Hmph! Well, hello to you too," she laughed. "What was that for?"

"I thought you were Claire; I thought something was wrong at home," I explained.

"Oh, okay…so, did you find out if I can come visit you guys?"

"Well, not yet. Let me go find Brian and ask him."

I set the phone down and raced back out to the patio to find Brian. He was still sitting in the same spot he'd been at all day, just sort of staring at the sparse clouds in the sky.

"Brian?"

"Oh…what, Laurie?" he said, snapping out of his trance.

"I was wondering if my friend Anna could come and visit everyone here sometime this week…maybe Friday when nothing's going on," I asked, crossing my arms. "Maybe just for the evening or something-"

Brian nodded. "It's no trouble, Laurie. There's going to be lots of people coming and going over the next couple of days; one more won't be a hassle."

"Okay; thank you so much," I thanked him, then hurried back to the phone where Anna was still waiting for me.

"So?" she said after I said hello again.

"How does Friday evening sound to you?" I said, grinning.

"Not bad at all," Anna laughed. "What's the address of the place?"

I recited the address to her, and she took it down on a scrap of paper near her. "Okay…what time?"

"Maybe six or so?" I said, not really sure about what time those "other guests" would be arriving. "Brian mentioned something about other people coming over to the house as well…it should be pretty interesting to see who shows up…after all, we are in Hollywood."

"Don't I know it!"

That was pretty much the extent of anything important discussed in our conversation that day. So the plan was set: Anna would be there at 6:30 on Friday night to pay a visit. But before that, we had to make our flight to Seattle for two concerts…and a few other interesting events, as I would find out the next day!

Continue to Chapter Nineteen

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