I'm With the Beatles

Save the Last Dance for Me

"Hey, I got him first," the girl pouted, holding him back from me with her bracelet-covered arms.

"Maybe I don't want to dance with him! Maybe I want to 'dance' with you," I snapped, putting emphasis on the last 'dance'.

Paul knew exactly what I was describing and pulled away from the leech. "No, Lizzie!"

"Ew, I don't dance with other girls," she cried, flipping her long hair across her shoulders.

I started to crack my knuckles and took off my shoes. Paul inquired that I not make a fool of myself through the look on his face.

"Come on, Miss Priss. Show me what you got," I challenged, motioning her to punch first.

"Elizabeth, nark it now," he slightly growled.

"Don't worry, I'll get back to you later," I mentioned, pointing in his direction, but not taking my eyes away from hers.

"You can have him, then," she mumbled with fear in her voice. Her shaky body rushed out of the building.

"Damn, I really wanted a go at her," I moaned, slipping my feet back into my boots. I soon felt Paul's hand grasp my arm and tug me back over to the table.

"What the hell was that?" he snarled in a whisper. I almost felt like crying with the way he stared me down.

"You know how I feel about you and then you go and let some girl put her hands all over you! What would a heart-broken, psycho girl do then? I would've beat the ever-living crap outta her!"

His face melted a bit with a slight smile.

"You were jealous!"

I crossed my arms across my chest, "No, I was trying to protect you from the little skunk!"

"Out of pure jealously."

I mocked what he said and looked down at my now scuffed boots. His hand lifted up my face to look at him again.

"Ye are so beautiful when you're jealous. If only we weren't in the public eye right now..."

"Why?"

He traced the tip of his thumb across my chin, "Ye don't know how badly I want to kiss ye."

I couldn't help but show him a seductive smile. He pursed his lips, trying not to laugh.

"Do ye understand how close we got kicked out of here? That was Lady Ormsby-Gore's daughter!"

"Oh, crap! Really?"

"She was rather dim standing next to ye, though. No amount of money can make her look as good as ye do." he laughed.

"Now you're just pulling my leg."

"Nope."

I slightly smiled and tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. The adrenaline finally withdrawed from my body and I just kept my butt glued to the chair. They finally stopped dancing and were now talking to the various dignitaries that were getting ready to leave. I picked at my nails, waiting for the cue to depart.

"Ye stupid nit!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin when John shouted at the top of his lungs. A crowd of people encircled the musicians as they were trying to free themselves. I stood up, trying to look over the gathering masses.

"Who the bloody hell do ye think ye are?"

The crowd's tight bond was broken as John and Ringo plodded outside. George followed suit, just as confused as I was. I caught a glimpse of Paul as he was searching for me. He waved for me to accompany him and I obeyed. Mal followed all of us out into the night.

"What happened, guys?" I jousted, hoping that no one was seriously injured.

"Some bloody animal cut off a piece of Ringo's hair!" John cried with anguish. He was shaking his head in fury.

"Yeah!" Ringo backed up. "Look at me hair now! Do ye understand the time that is put into me hair?"

I laughed in spite of myself. George joined me, then everyone else did. Murray the K finally fell out of the doors after a long thirty minutes.

"What the hell, men? I looked like a complete idiot in there! Especially when you all weren't in there anymore!"

"Well, sorry. But if me hair is gonna be cut, then it's over!" Ringo answered while combing his fingers through his russet  mop-top.

"Yes, so Murray, ye need to tell Brian to never subject us to an occasion like that ever again! I mean, they act as if we aren't even human! Bloody animals!" John quipped, still moving his head back and forth.

"Men, men! Brian had called me earlier and told me that we need to go back to New York City on the dot! I've already called the Shoreham and a car of all our belongings is already back at the Plaza Hotel. They had scheduled two more concerts at Carnegie Hall: one at seventy-forty five and the other at eleven-fifteen. Let's get going," Murray blasted against the cold air.

The four pouted and stomped, tiredly, into the car. Mal and I exchanged bewildered glances and piled in after them. Murray got up front again and we were off to the train!

"I'm getting so fed up of this dragstuff! I can't wait to get off of this stupid train," John groaned as the wheels on the track went round and round.

Paul and I just held each others' hands and observed another poker game. I could tell that it was nearing the end, because Ringo's bag of jellybeans was dwidling down to the crumbs.

"Ick! Another licorice jelly baby," Ringo grimaced in pure dissatisfaction. He spit the blackened liquid upon the train wall.

"That's disgusting, Ringo," I quietly informed, laying my head slowly upon Paul's shoulder.

"Whatcha gonna do? Beat me into a bloody pulp like you wanted to do to that poor bird?"

"She wasn't poor," George reminded Ringo's slip-up.

"No, I happen to love you too much, Ringo," I yawned. Ringo's eyes lightened up and he nodded in triumph as he placed his hands behind his head.

"As a brother..." John recollected.

"I guess I missed a gossip session," Paul blurted out.

"So did I, apparently," I yawned again.