I'm With the Beatles

This Boy

"Love, wake up!"

I freed my eyelids of their bond and squinted to see Paul gazing longingly at me. He himself appeared to fall asleep at any second. I pushed my weary body up from the seat.

"I would rather stay in here," I expressed with a short yawn.

My arms twined around his trunk and I leaned into him, smiling against his warm coat. He only gave a chuckle and swiftly hugged me back.

"I'm going inside. If ye want to join, you're more than welcome to."

He carefully shimmied out of my grasp and left to follow the others. I moaned against the leather and sat up, rubbing the sleep away. Mal appeared in the window.

"You better be glad that you didn't scare me!" I chimed, tapping at his complexion.

"Get out of the limo, little one. I'm not risking ye being taken and then Paul killing me," he roared, amused.

"I would, but I'd bump my pretty, little chin again!"

He stood in his spot for at least a minute, checking the area around us. Then, he exhaled upon the glass. His thick fingers created a smiley face to tempt me.

"Do ye want me to carry ye, then?"

My mouth broke into a smirk and I held out my limp arms. He shook his head to my response and pulled the door open. Hooking his limbs under mine, he heaved me across his right shoulder. He glided, with ease, to the hotel entrance.

"Do ye ever eat?" he grilled, basically complaining that I wasn't much of a challenge to handle as he would've liked.

I giggled over his smart remark as he pushed the room door back. Paul had just finished up in the bathroom with the other three primping in the mirror.

"We only have ten minutes to get ready. If ye want to, ye can stay here," he acknowledged.

I just showed him a cold-blooded stare. His first reaction was that of calmness, but once he realized that I wasn't playing around, his expression turned blank. He cleared his throat.

"Sorry, love. Of course you'll be coming with us!"

A feeling of gratitude crossed my face. He quickly heaved a sigh of relief and took my hand. Poor Ringo was sifting through his mane, searching for anymore bald spots that he didn't know about. John patted Ringo's head in reassurance and tightened his black tie. George led the way out of the door and I attempted to put an ecstatic jolt in my step. Once again, we all were running back to the limousine. Or was it more like dragging our feet?

The darkness enveloped our vision as we fled inside the car. I had to constantly remind myself that I wasn't in the hotel room. With every pothole that the tires struck, the further that I slipped down in my seat. The smell of the vehicle was nauseating, especially when the odor of cigarette smoke would rise from the guys' suits. I wished that they never had picked up the nasty habit. I mean, I didn't really recognize the stench whenever Paul and I would share an adoring kiss or embrace; it only made itself clear in the tight enclosure that we were in at the time being. The four just chatted about what to expect at the Headliner Club and the Improvisation Coffee House. I hid a pesky yawn.

"...We don't have to spend all of the time at the club," John suggested, waving his arms around.

"It will be a gear hooley at the Improv," Ringo agreed. John exposed a wide smile to his drummer buddy.

"I guess you're right..." Paul gave in. It seemed as if he cared more about getting sleep than anything else.

The Headliner Club appeared full to the brim on the outside. The glass windows exposed every single person that attended the big bash. I felt a little uneasy with the thought of pushing my way around just to have a good time. The group wasn't bothered at all. Ringo hopped up and down in his seat, clapping his hands.