I'm With the Beatles

Ask Me Why

The breeze that I felt coming from the speed of the boat soothed me, along with Paul's light touches. But I wasn't one-hundred percent calm. George was out on the water, battling against the waves and wind. John was probably being more harsh with him than he was with me.

"Paul, how's George doing?" I weakly asked.

Paul scanned out across the view behind me and chuckled.

"He's doing fine, love. But, I must say, ye were a real knockout out there!"

"Thanks..." I mumbled.

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George finally came back onto the boat. His dark brown hair was matted, and he wore a grin of accomplishment. As Mal pulled off his skis, George gazed over at me.

"Had fun, George?" I inquired.

"Yeah, I did. I managed not to fall in," he boasted.

"Lucky bloke," John butted in.

The horizon was swelling into an orange hue, telling us that night was just around the corner.

"We betta start getting back to the 'otel. It's getting late," Mal informed. He took control of the wheel and drove us to where we came from.

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Brian was standing on the docks, waving at us as Mal parked the boat. Paul guided me out, and we ran over to the manager.

"Listen, everyone! We've been invited to meet Cassius Clay at the gym tomorrow! So, ye need to get a full night's rest before we take on the challenge."

"Cassius Clay? You mean Muhammad Ali, right?" I questioned.

"Who?"

"Oh, never mind..."

I forgot that I was from the future for a second.

We all walked back into the hotel and I chose to get myself a cup of coffee. Paul assured me that I'd be alright, and went upstairs. Only George decided to stay and hang around with me.

"So," he started, "ye 'aven't told Paul about us, 'ave ye?"

"What do you mean? We're not in a relationship, George," I reminded him, pointing at us to clarify.

"Well, I was just wondering, so I'll take it as a no..."

I took a long sip of my caffeinated beverage, and sat on the same chair as last night. He plopped down on the other beside me.

"You take it right," I chimed.

"I know it must've been 'ard fer ye to 'old onto Paul afta what we shared last night."

I gave him an icy glare. He just innocently shrugged.

"I seem to know ye betta than he does," he simply spoke.

"It's none of your damn business what goes on between me and Paul, George."

"Would it be any botha to say that I've seen 'is old girlfriend flitting about?"

"Who, Jane? I already know she's been around here," I revealed.

"What about 'er telling me she plans on getting back with 'im?" he continued.

"George, I really don't care to hear about this. Paul loves me. I love Paul. Case closed!"

I chunked my cup in the trashcan and hurried upstairs, leaving George behind to muddle in his feelings. I took the stairs two at a time, surprised I didn't fall on my face. As I entered the room, Paul was just finishing having a chat with someone on the telephone. He hung up, glanced at me, and sighed.

"Who was that?"

"Ugh, Jane -"

"Jane, Jane, Jane! That's the word of the day! She's all I hear about! She's gonna make my life miserable," I cried, dramatically falling onto my pillow.

"Well, she asked me if I wanted to do something tomorrow night, but I told 'er it's ova fer good and that I'm in love with ye," he calmly informed.

"Paul, you do understand she's gonna try to rip us apart, then rip me to shreds, right?"

"Haha. She wouldn't 'arm a fly!"

"I guess you don't know how catty we women can be..."

The conversation ended on that note and we settled down to sleep.

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"I can't believe we're gonna see Cassius Clay!"

It was high noon, and we all entered the Fifth Street Gym where Clay trained for his matches.

"Ye betta watch out, Rings. He might just knock ye out good," John warned.

"Why would he knock me out? Yer the leader of the band!"

We all laughed at Ringo's reasoning, and were bombarded with photographers and reporters when we arrived. Cynthia and I ducked off into the corner with Mal.

"Hey, Beatles," Cassius greeted, giving each mop-top a ferocious handshake.

Flashbulbs erupted as he then led them into the ring. There, they played around and pretended to be in a fight of their own. George and Ringo were given the opportunity to be lifted at the same time! Soon, time was up, and Cassius had to get back to prepare for his big fight with Sonny Liston in a week.

"That was so much fun," Paul sang as he held me in a tight embrace.

"Yeah, he's even bigga up close," John described, holding his wife.

"Ah, that was nothing," Ringo blabbed.

"What do ye mean?" George wondered.

"I'm putting me money on Liston."

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"Everyone, everyone! How would ye all like to go and see Elvis' new movie?" Brian asked when we showed up back at the hotel.

"What's it called?" John questioned. He and I seemed to be the biggest Elvis fanatics the rest had ever seen.

"Fun in Acapulco!"

"Isn't that somewhere in Mexico?" Ringo remarked.

"It's just a movie, Ringo," George reiterated.

"Sounds like fun! I'm game," I shouted.

"Alright! Everyone go 'op back in the limo! We're gonna go to a movie," Brian cried.

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Once again, the Miami night was perfect. A calm gust of wind settled among us at the drive-in. George just had to sit next to me, chuckling whenever there really was no need to. Thirty minutes into the show, and I was already going crazy.

"Paul? Paul, is that you?"

We all turned our heads to the left to see a pale, young woman with fiery red hair. She was dressed to kill, and had a senile smirk stuck on her face.

Jane.