Go away, George

Chapter 16

Wrenching the door open, a gust of chilly air hit my face and made me shiver. I breathed out shakily and tottered down the drive in my mega heels, peering cautiously at the taxi in front of me. They must've rang and then got back in the car due to the harsh wind. I climbed onto the leather back seat, allowing the clammy air to warm me up slightly.

"Caitlin?" A dark skinned man in a shirt and dress trousers asked, glancing at me from the front seat.

"Mhm." I mumbled.

The man gripped the steering wheel, started the ignition and began driving to our destination. I was slightly nervous at first, but once I'd clipped my seatbelt on and sat back a bit, I was just bored. Staring out of the window became the only source of entertainment; whether it be watching stray animals linger by trash cans or see a man chasing his lost hat down the road. Eventually I was in area's I couldn't name and the houses just looked... different.

"We're nearly here, miss." The man suddenly spoke, causing me to jump a little.

"Oh, erm, thanks." I stuttered and shuffled in my seat. How long had it been? Thirty minutes? An hour?

As the car slowed to a halt I gazed out of the window at a small restaurant. It was painted glossy black with a brightly lit sign reading "Smithson's". It looked very fancy, with posh people littered around by the entrance. Definitely expensive.

"Thank you... driver?" I questioned more than said before quickly opening the door and stepping out into the fresh air.

"'Ello, sweetheart." I heard a familiar voice say from behind. Spinning on my heel I came face to face (more like face to neck as he was very tall) with Ringo. He was wearing a fitted grey suit and a mint green tie, his hair perfectly combed. He was holding a cigarette in his ring-adorned fingers and he smiled sweetly at me.

"You look absolutely stunning." He complimented, looking me up and down before gripping my hand and pulling me inside.

We made our way through the quaint restaurant to a small glass table, a dainty white vase balanced in the middle of it with a single pink rose peeking out. There were also two small menus alligned perfectly on the glass surface. Ringo stepped forward and pulled my chair out for me, gesturing me to sit down. Blushing, I hastily sat on the plush seat and ran my index finger over the menu before picking it up.

Scanning through the options which all sounded equally delicious, I was taken aback at the prices. Six pounds for a mug of coffee? And I thought Starbucks was expensive...

"Sir, ma'am." The waitress greeted as she nodded her head in our direction. "Could I take your order?"

She was wearing a stereo-typical maid outfit; a short black dress with puffy sleeves and a white frilled apron, her short brown hair in a bun and her black stiletto's fastened tightly to her feet. I glanced at her name tag that read 'Ava'.

"I'll have the steak and runner beans with mashed potato and thick gravy, please." Ringo ordered, reading off the menu. The lady scribbled it down on a tiny notebook before turning to me.

"The Caesar salad with a cheese and onion bake please."

"Okay then, your meals will be here as soon as possible. Have a great day." She recited, probably from memory, and strutted off.

"So how's life back in London then?" Ringo asked, flinging his cigarette into a nearby ash tray.

"Absolutely rubbish." I grumbled almost at once. "It's okay, but it's really boring. No Jagger parties."

Ringo let out a laugh. "Jagger parties are essential for a happy life."

"I know." I said. "So Ringo-"