If You Believe (George Harrison/Beatles FanFic)

Chapter 3

Annie and Donna decided to dig into the 2 bags of mail and sort it by names. Each took a stack and the piles began to grow across Annie's credenza, Donna's credenza, and across their desks.

"Um...ah, Donna? Do you have a stack of George's mail?" Annie questioned, holding several in her hand. Her face was twisted in confusion.

"Yeah. You want it?"

Annie stood at Donna's desk, her brow furrowed as she flipped the envelopes back and forth in her hand.

Donna looked up nonchalantly. "I'm getting bombed out by fan mail. Most of his shit is fan mail I think."

"Fan mail?" A flash of pure fear jetted across Annie's face and her stomach growled at her.

"Yeah. You can tell because they are in pink envelopes and smell like Chantilly perfume."

Annie held up an envelope for Donna to read. It was addressed to "George Harrison". "This George is our George?"

Donna frowned. "Annie girl. Where have you been? Anyone at home?"

"Well, I'll be damned," Annie said, flipping the envelope over and over.

"You didn't know?"

Annie shook her head. "Everything was so hush-hush around here, I didn't know anything."

"The whole story is in 'Billboard'. It's the best kept un-secret in the business," Donna nodded, leaning against her desk. "He started a record label under EMI to release his records. The whole lot of them from here, including Ringo and possibly John are going on a month tour in a week and then going to unveil the record company in December."

Annie became lock-jawed, then began hyperventilating. "How could I be so stupid? The British accent. Funny thing, but for about 15 seconds, I thought I recognized that Liverpudlian swagger in his voice. Then there's the hair and beard. All the secrecy. Jesus Christ. But I can't work for an ex-Beatle. They aren't human to me. They're like aliens. They DO NOT put their pants on one leg at a time like the rest of us. If I have to face him, I'll throw up."

"Annie, Annie. Calm down. Calm down. I have a suggestion. Every time you talk to him, imagine him in Bugs Bunny boxer shorts, sittin' around with a cold brew, hair all wild, beard unkept, a cig hanging off his lip. Maybe even wearing a wife beater. A total loser."

Annie stared at the ceiling and pondered for a minute. "Nope. Can't do it. I need to find a new job."

"Please don't leave me," Donna begged. "I'm in it for all the free shit we'll get from the reps. And if that Terry takes over, I'll have to leave. She's got free rental space between her ears."

Annie suddenly burst out laughing. "Maybe. A little room at the top?"

"C'mon Annie. You can handle this. You're a professional."

"Thanks, Donna," she said sincerely. "I'm gonna go think about this."

Annie went into her office and slammed the door, immediately calling Jet. "What the fuck, Jet? Why didn't you tell me who I'd be working for? Whose goddam side are you on?"

"Calm down Annie," Jet said in her usual clipped tone.

"Don't you think a handy piece of information would be that 'oh, Annie? By the way, George Harrison is your boss' and I would have told you not until pigs fly in hell, and we could have avoided all this."

"He's just a guy, Annie. Like all the rest of them."

"No. He's not. Not to me. I saw them on Ed Sullivan and announced to my parents that I was going to marry him. Do you know how embarrassing that is?"