Personal Preference (George Harrison)

Chapter Two: Simple Twist of Fate

As much as I didn't want to admit it, I needed the tour with the Beatles. Funds were not low by any means, but touring with the Beatles was the obvious choice to get our name out there. Sure, many people already knew about Stella and I and a lot of people recognized me from pictures with my longtime boyfriend, Bob Dylan. Our love life was the news of tabloids before we even got relatively romantic with each other, and since confirming our relationship we've never been truly left alone. Stella and I return to the hotel after the Ed Sullivan show, and I retire to mine and Bob's room, the room we share that is. Bob and I had first reserved conjoining rooms at the Chelsea, but after a while, we economized and retired to one room.

Stella continued to rant as we rode the elevators to our floors. Poor Stella had not known that I had been ignoring her the entire time until we arrived at her floor, she sighed and stepped off the elevator with a "Whatever, Jo.". Arriving at my own floor, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that I'd be able to see Bob in a matter of seconds. Rummaging through my purse, I grabbed the room key and slid it into the door. I twist and push the door open and I am instantly welcomed by the smell of home. Never in a million years had I thought that I'd be living in a hotel that I would call home, but here I was, a liberated twenty year old with my life ahead of me. Through the suite, I could hear the familiar sound of an acoustic guitar, and I knew that Bob was, in fact, at home.

This wasn't surprising to me, throughout our years being friends and our months of dating, I had found that Bob was beyond loyal to me and surprisingly on my part I had been loyal to him. I loved him in every sense of the word, and I wasn't afraid to admit it. I tiptoed towards the bedroom, trying not to startle him or pull him out of his musical trance. I loved when he played even though I may not have told him that. I prop myself up inside the door frame, and a small smile grows up my face as he continues to strum, not even noticing me in the slightest. "I'm home," I say softly.

Bob looks up at me with a knowing smile, "I heard you come in."

I smile with a quick giggle, "I was trying to be inconspicuous."

"You never are," Bob says, getting up from his spot at the foot of the bed. He walks over to the door, plants a kiss to my cheek and moves into the living area of the suite. The television set is on and playing mine and Stella's performance from the Ed Sullivan show. I sit down on the sofa and watch as Bob watches the rerun of our performance, intently. He mutters and I wait for him to follow it up with another statement, but he doesn't. "Huh?" I start.

"You covered it like the Animals," He answers, and somehow I know that he's mad at me.

I shake my head, "You know I can't sing like you." I sigh, deeply, before looking back at him. He seems oddly calm for a split second, but then our eyes connect and instead of seeing anger behind his eyes, I see hurt, "Bobby, I didn't mean anything by it."

He intently searches my eyes for the truth, I can tell. "Besides, I would never do you that way,"

I realize he'll never admit that he was wrong about his assumption, but something tells me that he knows that he is. "I'm ridiculous, my fault." Another thing about Bob is, he'll never say sorry. It doesn't bother me most of the time, but this time it resonates with me. The tables are turned, and now I am hurt. I get up from the sofa moving in the direction of the kitchen when the phone rings. I go to answer it, but Bob has already picked it up. "Hello?" I can hear him say.

"This is Bob, why?" I hear him question.

I want to hear the person on the other end, but it's quite impossible. I see Bob look towards the kitchen, and I motion to myself. He nods and holds the phone out in my direction. I rush to his side, grabbing the phone out of hands. I place the phone over my chest muting out conversation from the caller on the other end. "Who is it?" I ask, Bob. He shakes his head, he doesn't know. "Sounds like John Lennon," He adds.

"Hello?" I greet the speaker on the other end, exactly in the same way Bob had before.

"Is this Johanna?" The speaker asks, and I'm somewhat shell shocked for a moment. The voice is unmistakable, I had heard him speak in interviews time and time again, it's none other than John Lennon leader of the Beatles and prick extraordinaire.

"May I ask who's speaking?" I ask, nonchalantly.

"John fucking Lennon," He replies, shortly.

"This is she," I laugh.

"Cunning move on the Sullivan show, I must say it sounds like something I'd say had I not been a member of the Beatles," John starts. "However, I just wanted to welcome you, personally, to our tour." He continues.

"Thank you, I appreciate it-" Before I can say anything else, though, John interrupts me.

"Let's not get off on the wrong foot, toots, just watch what you say on national television from now on, got it?" He's seething, I can't very much blame him, though. I did, kind of, insult his band on a television show that gets millions of views for every broadcast.

"You got it, Mr. Lennon." I laugh.

"Good, I'll be seeing you and your darling sister, Stella, tomorrow morning." He clarifies, and I roll my eyes.

"Yes, of course, we'll see you there." I finish, and I hang up on him before he can continue to use his condescending tone on me any longer.

Bob looks at me in pure confusion. I shake my head before beginning to explain to him the situation I'm about to endure. Bob seems happy that Stella and I have been given such a great opportunity, however, something seems off about him. I can't put my finger on it, but I can sense it.