Get It Straight, Or Say Good Night

LA- Whiskey A No No

"It's a fucking setup" John groaned to himself as the patrol car was swamped, mobbed by a legion of fans and posse of hungry media. He couldn't really not go in, seeing as the crowd had already seen his mug through the drawn up windows of the police car.

John groaned when he spotted that George and Ringo were being lifted, up and over the huge crowd. He baulked when Neil opened the car door, no way in hell was he being lifted like a piece of slaughtered meat. "I'll elbow my way Neil. Where's Brian anyway? he should be here sorting this mess"

"No idea, I haven't seen him since this morning" Neil had to yell to make himself heard, the frenzy was fever pitch as the anticipation of the third Beatle making an appearance, neared.

The 'private event' had obviously been broadcast to the whole shiny tinselly town, John elbowed his way, none too politely, through the throng.

It seemed to take George and Ringo twenty minutes to get from the door to the table, even without having to walk through the crush of people that hovered wanting a piece of them. The whole of Hollywood paparazzi had descended and the vultures wanted any small snippet of conversation or picture of the three.

"Where's Paul" Was screamed on repeat and John yelled back just as loudly. "I don't fucking know" Even though he did.

McFaker was probably awake playing footsies with Lou as John battled the crowd, but that was another problem entirely.

Finally, a roped off table appeared and John fell into the seat beside George. "What a load of tripe, this lot is"

"Where's someone with a drink then? I'm parched" Richy tapped the table with a coaster, annoyed that having sat at least half an hour they were no closer to being presented with a drink, not even water. "I feel like a monkey at the zoo" He rolled his eyes and yelled at the press 'naff off" They were all straining and leaning over the rope that cordoned the boys off from the throng by inches not feet.

If she ain't here in ten I'm off..... Finally, booze" John snatched the first scotch off the waiters tray and sculled it down "Keep them coming buddy"

She arrived with her entourage well after midnight. Jayne Mansfield, the one star the Beatles wanted to meet. She came to the Whisky A Go Go straight from her starring role in "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes" at the Melodyland Theater.

"Hello boys" The sultry voice was heard over the din, they looked up from the bottom of their whisky glasses in unison.

Jayne Mansfield shimmered in sequins, the crowd had parted to reveal the blonde bombshell in all her glory. Instantly standing, as was the etiquette Brian had instilled in them, John, George and Ringo stood a little gape mouthed as the voluptuous Miss Mansfield easily pulled off the 'perfumed steamroller' move and steamrolled herself through the boys to wedge herself tightly between George and John.

It was a total set-up by Jayne, a bona fide Sixties' sex symbol, to have pictures taken with the Beatles. What was thirty photographers swelled quickly towards seventy and the crowd of media bustled and pushed and yelled constantly for their attention.

John and George were just trying to grin and bear it and Richy, without the full attention on him by Miss Mansfield, raised an eyebrow and proceeded to watch the show. Jayne slipping her hands up and down both George and John's legs, fingers dancing intimately close to their groins.

Sitting there for hours, stifled conversation and unwanted attention focused on them George was getting narky and pissed drunk. Snarling and blunt, not caring for politeness anymore, he wound up tighter as the minutes slowly ticked by.

"Where's the drinks then!!?? Gee you would think someone would sort something –"

"Hey you there. Yeah you" One of the photographers was pointing at George, yelling again. "Which one are you?"

George pointed at himself and snapped back "My names George, you wanker" George toyed with the contents of his glass swirling an eddy of water that should really be ice, around and around.

"Smile, I want a picture for the Post" the photographer prodded, leaning over the cordon, snapping and snapping his flash again and again to get the perfect shot. As bottles of long overdue liquor arrived George threw the melted contents of the glass at the pest.

The photo would end up being of the water coming out of the glass and soaking - accidentally - an actress, Mamie Van Doren, who just happened to be passing.

"Sorry Mamie, luv" A contrite George offered. She waved it off, for it would be a great story to tell when the night was over.

"Well done George that will be in the newspaper tomorrow for sure" Richy grumbled "Brian will be peeved"

"Stuff Brian, I'm sick of all the sucking up to the press" George snarled back "Come on Lennon, let's go"

"Oh can't you stay a little longer, Johnnn" Jayne smiled and pouted to distraction, nails raking his skin. "Or maybe we could take the party back to my place...."

"Ummm maybe next time Jayne" George grinned then his smile dropped as the fingers that were on his knee were suddenly on Johns chin turning his face so Jayne could snog him heavily. "Ahmmmm" George attempted to interrupt.

Jayne dropped her gaze to Johns lap and swirled her fingers lowered again, knowing exactly what she was wanting.

John was quite happy for the blondes attention, she was a movie star of acclaim and he had always fancied her and Bardot and now she was here, touching him, distracting him, wanting him. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

"I'll take Miss Mansfield home. You two head back"

"Is that wise John?" George said pointedly pissed now for an entirely different reason altogether.

"I'll drop her off no problem alrigh' " John countered and stood, not about to listen to George and his gripes with his business.

Neil had Jayne and John to the fire escape in a matter of minutes....

"He's an idiot" George turned to Ringo but found himself looking up to discover his mate being lifted back up and over the crowd to return to the front doors to leave "Oh for fucks-"

George was off.... carried like a lump of carpet on the backs of many to escape.