Carnival of Light || Paul McCartney/Beatles

20. His Warm Honey Voice

Carnival of Light (Part 2)

20.

It took me a good twenty minutes of stumbling through palm trees and other foliage before I eventually popped out on the Beverly Hills Hotel's terrace with leaves in my hair and a rip in my dress, which was soaking wet on one side after I unwittingly got caught in a sprinkler.

The Polo Lounge was completely empty at ten o'clock in the morning aside from two people drinking coffee, one of whom was Mia Farrow. She was wearing a red suede A line mini-dress and pink-tinted heart shaped sunglasses, which she pushed up on her head when she saw me staggering out of the bushes like a maniac.

"Are you alright there?" Mia stood from her table, frowning as she watched me pick a leaf out of my hair.

"Yes of course," I plastered on a smile even though I felt as if I was in a daze. I hadn't slept and I'd been riding a roller coaster of hurtling emotions for hours on end.

"Do you want to sit down?" Mia offered.

"Oh, no, I should get going," I insisted.

"You look a bit faint," Mia pressed. "It's Beatrix, isn't it? Please sit down a moment."

I felt a bit faint so I nodded and sank into the chair she offered me. I looked at her companion, a bearded chap wearing an Indian-style tunic and a garland of marigolds around his neck.

"I'll get some water," he offered, standing. 

"I don't want to intrude," I insisted, but he was already calling for a waiter.

I picked another leaf out of my hair as Mia sat across from me, watching me with concern.

"Are you staying at the hotel?" I asked, hoping to distract her from what a mess I looked. "I've never stayed myself but I do come to the bar quite often for drinks."

"Frank's staying here at the minute," Mia said. "I came to see him."

"Frank?" I frowned.

"My husband," Mia explained, and when I showed no sign of recognition, she added. "Frank Sinatra."

My eyebrows rose. "Your husband is Frank Sinatra?"

"Yes," she laughed uneasily. "That's funny you don't know. I'm about as famous for being married to him as I am for Peyton Place."

"That one slipped me by I'm afraid," I forced a smile.

"He was in a terrible mood," she confided. "One of the Beatles was staying in the bungalow the hotel usually keeps free for Frank. They wouldn't kick him out or move him to another room, and there's all this press everywhere trying to catch a glimpse of him. Frank was furious." 

"Ah," I said, and Mia eyed me curiously, looking like she might say something when her bearded friend with the flowers returned with some water for me.

"Thank you so much," I shot him an appreciative look. "And how do you do. I'm Beatrix."

"Jerry," he replied, frowning. "What were you doing in the bushes?"

"Jerry and I only just met," Mia jumped in before I could think of a reasonable lie. "He's a transcendental meditation guru. He studied with Maharishi in India."

"I see," I groped for some polite small talk. "Do Maharishi's gurus often stay at this hotel?"

"Actually, I had an appointment with one of the Beatles this morning," Jerry explained. "Paul McCartnry was staying here, but I guess something came up and he's gone now."

"What a shame," I sipped my water — I suppose I was the something that came up.

"Not really," Jerry smiled. "I met Mia while I was waiting for him and she's decided to take the three day TM course, so it looks like fate was guiding me to her all along."