temporary fix || george harrison

61%

BRIAN KEPT me cooped up in that nameless hotel room for 4 days straight, as the boys had endless engagements nowadays as they rose to superstardom. And apparently had all refused to take up an audience with me.

Not that I'd blamed them at all for it. I was an unwelcome suprise.

They'd booked the Ed Sullivan show, they were to make their grand American arrival in just a few short days, Brian dutifully reported. The Beatles' posh manager was the only source of entertainment I'd had these days, seeing as it was virtually verboten for me to leave my room.

Eppy had provided me with virtually everything I could ever hope to need or want, new threads, books, even a bloody LP player to play the boy's new single.

To be quite honest I had missed the fashions of this time, and 1964 was the sweet spot of when mod fashion was starting to hit the racks. I sported a pale green shift dress with a twirling leaf design that hit a few inches above my knees with pink stockings to match.

I really had it made like bloody cat in the afternoon sun, yet the one thing I needed, was avoiding me like the plague.

I was grateful for being attended to like this, being as I didn't deserve it whatsoever. I'd like to think that my pampering was due to any regard on George's end but I know better than to succumb to wishful thinking like that.

Brian did me the favor of having high tea with me every day, the only source of entertainment besides the Telly, that I was permitted. Eppy had been prattling off about the boys' tailors, how expensive transporting their gear was, and the rising expense of their accommodations as they travelled.

I nodded politely, not particularly wanting to contribute to the conversation but the sound of another human voice was all that was separating me from complete madness.

"And George suggested that you... come along. To America. To see the show. He thought it only fair that you watch them succeed as you'd been there from at the very start." Brian added quickly to whatever he'd been saying previously, at last successfully drawing my attention from my tortured mind.

It was pathetic for me to admit to myself that my heart had done somersaults out of equal parts excitement and anxiety - all because George had finally acknowledged me. 

Brian looked at me pointedly with tight lips and a look in his eyes that told me that he wasn't even sure how he felt about this proposition. As if he were still debating the merits of it himself.

A few seconds lagged on before I gathered the words to speak.

"So I'm to join the American tour? At George's request?" I asked incredulously, not deigning to hide my shock.

Brian nodded, his expression still unreadable as he attempted to smile at me.

"I'm having a young lady gather some traveling bits and bobs for you, enough to last their American tour. I know you arrived with... limited possessions."

A short laugh that was nearly hysterical bubbled out from the back of my throat, and I couldn't tell what the hell I was feeling. Relieved, panicked, or anxious as hell.

The moment of George & I's reckoning was upon me at last, and there was little use in deflecting it.

                                       __

Two days later, and enough vomit to clog the loo, it was time to depart for the airport for long-awaited American tour.

To say that I was nervous was the understatement of the millennia. I was utterly and completely terrified of what the next few months waited for me and George. I couldn't possibly envision a reconciliation with the frigid reception I received.