Chapter 8
Guess who we saw in the hallway? If you guessed Ringo, you were correct! Just my luck, of course, since I didn't know what to say to him.. And it's not like Paul can even save me this time! He didn't know what the hell was going on! To be honest, I didn't either. I acted like I understood this completely, but the boys don't know the real reason I just fell to pieces. The real reason is because I hate when I can't understand things. It's just irritating, y'know?
Pushing me gingerly in front of him, Paul took a large step back. At first, I just stood there and gazed up at Ringo. His eyes were the clearest blue I had ever seen, and I just loved it. Jeez, calm down, JoAnna. You can't have Paul and Ringo. Sometimes, I had to seriously remind myself of that. Or else I would end up with all of the Beatles. Ah! What is this fucking Beatlemania doing to my brain? I just wasn't myself anymore. Losing myself was exciting!
After clearing his throat, Ringo brushed his hair back with his left hand. "Is there something you guys need?" he asked. Both of us turned around to gape at Paul. He was just standing there with his hands behind his back, humming the tune to I Saw Her Standing There. Ah, Paulie, always humming your own songs, aren't ya? I blew him a kiss briefly, and then focused my attention once more on the incredibly short male figure in front of me. He was beginning to get impatient.
I nodded weakly. "Well, you see..." I had to make this sound like I was completely and utterly innocent. "Your wife, Charlotte, kinda had an affair with John." That was a fine way to put it, wasn't it? He would never have to know that she only went to John because I had told her horrible things about him. Unless, of course, Paul ratted me out, but I don't think he would do that. If he did, he should expect a swift kick in the balls. Just a warning for any guy that decides to fuck me over. I don't take that shit.
Neither of the boys said anything. Paul increased the volume of his humming, and Ringo watched the ground with a blank expression. There was a tiny bit of sadness in his eyes, but there was something else, too. I couldn't quite put my finger on it... Was it happiness? Of finally being free? I couldn't honestly say that I blamed him too much, but still. That just didn't seem like the type of thing he would do! I had always imagined him as being the sweet one; the one that held the group together. Now, I'm beginning to have second thoughts. About all of them.
Finally, after a long and awkward silence, Ringo shrugged. "Oh well," he sighed. "What are ya gonna do? It's up to her what she does with her life, not me." He shuffled uncomfortably for a second or two. Then, he refused to make eye contact with either of us. "Is that it, then? It's been lovely chatting with you." He turned on his heel and stormed away, down the long, dark hallway. I wasn't sure where he was going. It certainly wasn't to his bedroom..
With puppy-dog eyes, I stared up at Paul. "Paulie, where's he going?" I asked in my most pathetic voice. Hopefully these eyes still had as much effect on people now as they did when I was 10. People couldn't get enough of the large puppy eyes when I was a child. Now I was an adult, though, and sometimes, when adults did things that kids do, they end up seeming dull as dishwater. I didn't want to be one of those adults. Not in front of Paul McCartney.
Paul raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch. "Before you didn't give a shit about Ringo, and now you're worried about him, are you?" He wheezed out a laugh. "You never fail to amaze me, Jo. That's just another thing I love about you." As he continued back into the room, he mocked me by blowing me a kiss. It was so sexy when he did it! I probably looked like a potato when I did it. Honestly. I wasn't a very good-looking young lady. Not at all.
I hated it, though, when Paul got all sassy like that. Paul McSassypants. It just wasn't working for me. Normally, everything he did was simply amazing. But when he got cocky and sassy like that? I just wanted to throw him into a brick wall! And if that didn't work, I'd get a fucking truck over that man! Just joking! I swear I would never hurt my precious boyfriend. Yes, he was my boyfriend; no one could deny it now. Not even journalists. They could tell by the way we were always caught snuggling outside, and how we were almost never seperated.
Feeling lonely and a bit afraid in the dark hall, I scampered back into the hotel room I was now sharing with the boys. As always, George greeted me from the couch in between crunches. Not wanting to be rude to one of my idols, I pecked him on the cheek. His whole entire face turned a dark pink, and he furiously studied the ground. I let out a laugh that sounded like wind chimes. Oh, wow. Did I always laugh like that? It sounded beautiful!
"Oh, George," I sang, grabbing the hand that wasn't holding a taco, "will you ever stop being shy? It's quite a turn on, actually." I winked at him, giving him yet another kiss on the cheek, and then ran into Paul's bedroom. I had to make this up to him, and I knew just the way. And, oh boy, would he love it! It was a fact that he would; he was such a little slut. That's something I loved about him, while we're naming stuff like that.
But when I saw him, I realized that he was asleep. Feeling suddenly protective over him, I covered him up with a blanket, and tucked a pillow under his head. I loved the way he looked when he was asleep. Just wanting to be a part of such perfection, I climbed into bed next to him, and leaned my head against his chest. Within minutes, I was dreaming of Paul McCartney, me, and what our kids would look like in the future.
