I Don't Want to Spoil the Party

Think for Yourself

"Rise and shine, boys!!" Brian Epstein called energetically, poking his head in through the newly opened door of the Beatles' shared suite. "We've got quite the busy day ahead of us!"

When no one answered, the manager heaved a sigh and proceeded to enter into the suite's lavishly styled sitting room, taking care to close the door behind him. Knowing his way about the place by this point in time, he crossed the large room toward where he understood the bedrooms to be. There were two of them he'd initially understood when he'd booked the place. As was the case the majority of the time, such inadequate sleeping space would often lead to the sharing of bedrooms, something he highly favored and even promoted when he could. Bonding during downtime in his opinion, even when forced, was the key to a successful band.

Stepping into a minor hallway, Brian was suddenly faced with three doorways. The one closest to him in vicinity was opened slightly ajar, helping him to uncover within it, a bathroom-like atmosphere. Of course, the obvious assumption to make would be that the remaining doors were the gateways to the bedrooms of his band. Both doors were closed still to the manager's dismay, sealing his beliefs that the lazy lads still had yet to awaken. Brian sighed again. He was forever keeping these boys on their toes. He approached the closest of the two mystery doors with a bit of haste and proceeded to knock sternly and rapidly three times. Approaching the other shortly after, he did the same. "Wake up!" he called sharply, loud enough for all to hear, "We've a photo shoot in less than two hours!"

More silence greeted his ears.

"I'm not above bloody breaking into yer bedrooms!" Eppy threatened, his irritation only continuing to grow, "I know you can hear me!!"

Another instance of silence flooded his ears before it was suddenly eaten up by Lennon's sleep-clogged voice through the door. "You'd like a glimpse into our bedrooms, wouldn't yer, y'bleedin' fairy!"

Brian rolled his eyes. Typical Lennon. Blessed with the gift of derisory mockery even first thing in the morning. "What I'd like, would be highly illegal in most parts of the world, Lennon," he retorted through gritted teeth.

There was only a moment's pause before the rhythm guitarist filled it, as he would. "Sounds vulgar, Eppy. Downright naughty," he suggestively teased back, "Some of the best things are left to imagination, y'know." There was an additional string of amused laughter that sounded like it was coming from Paul.

Under pronounced concentration, Brian could almost see Lennon's leering face as he'd stare down his nose at him. Those eyes of his, holding him captive as though he were the only other person in the world. He fought back an enticing shiver and allowed for professionalism to overtake him once more as the realization that he was growing quite frustrated with the younger lad reasserted itself. With another roll of the eyes, he laid an insistent hand against the smooth form of the wooden door as though to transfer through it, all his disapproving feelings on the unraveling matter, "John—" he sternly began.

"Oh come off it, Eppy..." John calmly relayed through the barrier. It was clear that he wasn't blind to the tone Brian had chosen to use, "No need to get yer bloomers twisted up yer arse at this hour."

"I'm about to do more than that, Lennon!" Eppy growled back.

"Please, spare me kind sir," John could be heard quipping in response.

"Just chivy it along, will you, boys?!" Eppy exasperatedly responded after a moment more. He turned away from Lennon and McCartney's door, taking the time to address the other door as well. "That goes for all of you!!" he emphasized, "George, Ringo, I know you can hear me! I'll be back for you all in forty-five minutes!! Make sure you've washed up and eaten by then."