Somebody's Baby

Chapter 1: Prelude

WARNING: This story is more of a romantic drama than any of my other books. It doesn't contain a lot of crazy, detailed smut either (well, not right away, lol). So if you prefer a smut-heavy story, this might not be the book for you.

Enjoy 😊

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"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We have begun our descent into Heathrow. Please ensure your seat back is straight up and your seat belts are fastened."

I was teetering on the edge of sleep when I heard the pilot speak over the intercom. I yawned and looked at the smattering of raindrops on the window to my right, a serene setting, and my first view of England.

I exited the plane and headed toward the terminal. The scent of cigarettes filled the arrival gate. It didn't take long for me to hear a familiar voice calling my name.

"Eloise Leavitt as I live and breathe," said Carol in a dramatic tone, waving me over. I had rehearsed my greeting several times, but words failed me as soon as I saw my best friend in the flesh.

Carol was my closest friend. She had left our hometown of Dallas, Texas for England in early January, intending to stay long-term. She wanted to be near the Beatles full-time, a mission classified as a fool's errand by her parents. I was heartbroken at the thought of her being so far away, but I knew how much the band meant to her. I promised her I would visit as soon as I had the chance, and I was thankful that the time was now.

She looked exactly the same as she did back home. She was wearing a tan sweater and black pants, both complimenting her petite figure. Her medium-length brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Her eyes dark and rich, slightly sunken in an alluring way. The only thing different was the glow on her face and her genuine smile. I could tell she was much happier here.

"It's so good to see you, Carol," I replied, dropping my heavy purse to take her into my arms.

"I can't believe you're actually here! How was the flight?"

"Long. I'm ready for a drink- or a nap- or both."

Carol and I  headed toward the baggage claim. We waited until my burnt orange suitcase came around, then went outside to flag down a cab. I slung my luggage into the trunk and got into the backseat with Carol.

After a lively round of catch-up on the drive, we settled into Carol's haunt, which was a humble two-bed hotel flat off Kensington High Street. The building was a little shoddy, but I reveled in the architecture, as it was so different than what I was accustomed to back home.

The interior decor was minimal, though there were newspaper clippings and posters of The Beatles pasted all over the walls. It looked like an evidence board in a law enforcement office.

"Sorry, there isn't much room; it's all I could afford. I'm usually by myself, and don't need much space." Carol said as she plopped onto one of the twin beds.

"It's no problem. I love it."

"For twenty pounds a week, it's a proper bargain."

"Did it come with all the Beatles pictures?"

Carol threw a pillow at me. I dodged it, giggling. I placed my suitcase onto the bed and began fishing through its contents. Underneath the heap of clothing, shoes, and toiletries was a framed picture I had brought for Carol. I handed it to her.

"Elle! I can't believe you framed this," she said, brushing her fingers on the glass. It was a photograph of her and me at the Sam Houston Coliseum, taken by one of our friends right after we saw the Beatles in 1965. "Thank you," she said.