Ain't She Sweet

Chapter 1-Meet the Beatles

|September 18, 1964|

Angie

My life was a series of days that never seemed to have an end. I lived in a perpetual twilight in this home for abandoned children. Although I do admit it could be worse. I could live in Blackpool, where the children panhandle on the streets.

Being an orphan, well, sucked.

I've been one since I was about 5, 8 years of having no parents can really do a number on someone.

"No adoptions from here. But I've heard that Patrick got adopted from the boys' orphanage." A girl, a bit older than me, Poppy said to me as we sat together in the common room.

"A family is all we've been praying for." I murmured softly, picturing the ideal family I've always dreamt of inside my head.

A mother with light hair and a father that was tall and protective, one who wouldn't abandon me or my mother in our hour of need. I'm sure there were plenty children of my age who had it worse than me, but I've been lonely for so long.

It almost felt like I appeared on this earth all by myself, with no family I could ever return to.

Ringo

I blew smoke from my mouth in feathery tendrils, pulling the ciggie to my mouth once more for the sweet welcoming taste of nicotine.

I lowkey wished it was a joint I was lighting up instead, but Brian, our manager, couldn't know of my bad habit. So a ciggie would have to satiate my cravings for now, until I made it back to the flat where George and I could roll a fat one.

John lay sprawled out on the studio floor, his limbs entangled with the several cords that connected the guitars to the amps. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, switching and planning, like he always was.

"Ringo!" He suddenly said, causing the heads of both Paul and George to snap up to look at me in wonder.

"What, John?" I asked, sounding more irritated than I really was.

"I can see you jonesing for some grass. I know where ya can score some." John said with a devilish grin and I tossed some of my cigarette ashes at the bloke.

"Come off it, John." I barked back, not feeling up to banting with Lennon.

"Only if you do." He chided and Paul laughed out loud at John's sly remark, and George only cracked an almost unnoticeable smirk, as if he was going to chime in.

Brian came barreling in at that very moment, his face red and a rolled up newspaper in his hand, as he waved the print around wildly, I suddenly became anxious. Why did I feel that we did something wrong?

"Ah! Goodday Eppy!" John and Paul cheered, and Brian snarled at the two, unfolding the newspaper and reading the bolded title.

"Beatles Blaze with Bob! The audacity of you four!" Slamming down the newspaper with rage, Brian wasn't having it. I cringed at the sight of the photograph.

It was obvious that John and I had joints hanging out of our mouths, while Paul and George stumbled about with Bob Dylan. How could we refuse such a man of such caliber?