Personal Preference (George Harrison)

Chapter Fifteen: You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'

The flight from San Francisco to New York City had been a long one, to say the least. Stella still refused to speak with me, which was hard to believe considering that I had done nothing to hurt her on an intentional level. Sure, the crowd had enjoyed our set and me, but that didn't mean that they had enjoyed Stella any less. Shortly before the plane was set to land, however, Brian and Derek called for a meeting with Stella and I, in the private closed off area in the back of the plane. I was nervous, but I kept my composure and headed to the back to speak with them, Stella following behind me unenthusiastically.

When we reached the back of the plane, Brian smiled and motioned for us to sit down. We did nonetheless and that's when he began to discuss the future of our act and began to ask us about how we planned to continue producing music and touring because he supposedly had a proposition for us. Word was... that George Martin the man who was responsible for all of the Beatles number one albums had decided to invest some of his spare time in the studio with us to help us with our first true album. I was ecstatic, that much was true. However, working with George Martin meant that Stella and I would consequently have to relocate to London whilst recording the album. That small detail bothered me, I didn't want to be away from Bob especially if we were still going to try to work things out between the two of us, and I didn't want Brian, Derek, or anyone on my management squad to find out that I was pregnant. I wanted to keep the baby a secret, hell, the Beatles didn't even know about the baby, and we had toured together.

Brian and Derek also proposed that since we would have an album coming out that we should plan a tour. Again, this bothered me. I didn't want to tour back to back like that. I wanted time off, time to recuperate, time to spend with my family and hopefully time to be a mother for a while. I didn't want to rush into touring again. However, Brian assured us that once the album was released we would only be doing a quick and easy tour of the United Kingdom, touring as the Beatles opening act again.

Before any decisions could be made the plane landed, and Stella ran as if there was a fire. I realized that she was still awfully angry with me, but she couldn't just jeopardize our livelihoods because she felt like it. I assured Brian and Derek that we, me and Stella both, would make a decision on the offer, and get back with him within a few days. However, I didn't know how well that would hold up if Stella was still pissed with me in the days to come.

Grabbing my luggage, I said goodbye to the boys and extended my gratitude for allowing Stella and me to be the opening act on their tour. Before I could step off the plane, however, I heard John mutter, "And, I thought she preferred the Stones."

I laughed to myself but didn't reply.

Riding back from JFK to the Chelsea was one of the longest rides of my life. Something told me that something bad was about to occur, but at the same time I felt at ease and as if Bob had been faithful and was going to welcome me with open arms. However, when I entered the lobby of the hotel, it seemed as if everyone began to hold their breath. I don't know if they had believed that I had left Bob, or if they were surprised to see me, nonetheless the reaction had me shell shocked. I didn't know how to conduct myself after that.

I stepped onto the elevator with a deep measured breath, all the while praying that everything would go well for me. That I would be satisfied with the way everything was. Stepping off onto my floor, I reached into my purse for my room key and retrieved it with no problem. Nothing could be heard from outside of the suite, so I slid the key into the door and twisted. I pushed the door open and entered without a second thought. However, the moaning coming from the bedroom, my bedroom, threw me into an angry spiral.

I knew that they'd be able to hear me, so I slammed the door and began to rant. "Don't you just love when you come home from a strenuous tour and find that your boyfriend has shacked up with the dirty whore from next door?" I asked rhetorically.

The moaning stopped abruptly and rustling could be heard. I heard a fumble and a fall to the wooden floor, however, the person rebounded quickly and got back on their feet. "Bobby, Sara, you can come out now, I won't bite," I said, walking over to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of wine. I opened it without hesitation and took a long gulp. Had I not gotten so caught up in the moment, I wouldn't have harmed my child. But, here I was gulping the white wine and drowning my sorrows, waiting for the two adulterers to come out of my bedroom.

Sitting down on the couch, I waited and waited for them to come out. Bob was the first to emerge from the bedroom, that wasn't the least bit surprising. "Well, well, well, would you look at who it is, my lovely boyfriend Bobby, didn't you know I was coming home today?" I ask.

Bob doesn't say anything, so I continue on, "You must have lost track of time with all the fucking you were doing, am I right?"

At that point, Sara emerges, I can't help but jump up from the couch to get in her face. I throw the half-full wine bottle at the wall beside of her and it bursts from the impact, slinging wine and glass shards everywhere. Sara is startled and it's easy to see. "Scared now, aren't we? Didn't I warn you before?" I continue. Incredibly pissed that no one wants to answer my questions or talk to me in the slightest.

"I'm sorry, Johanna," Sara starts, but I stop her before she can say more.

I scoff, "You're not sorry, you're a fucking home wrecker, I hope you're happy with the outcome of this and the fact that I'm going to have to raise an illegitimate child by myself, my child isn't going to have a father because Bob is a lowlife piece of shit that didn't know what he had when he had it."

I move into the bedroom with my suitcase, I roughly grab all of my stuff out of the dresser and chest drawers and shove them into my suitcase. I also slide all of my trinkets, jewelry, and my vinyl records into another suitcase I retrieved from the closet. I know it's Bob's but I'm taking it anyway.

"Good riddance," I say, as I lay my key to the room on the table by the door. "Hasta la vista," I add, as I move through the open door into the hallway. I slam the door behind me and catch the first elevator.

The stress on my body is immense and I nearly faint in the elevator, I cry until no more tears come, and finally I find myself on the street, bags in hand and nowhere to go.