Part III


Walking artwork from Liverpool


I felt as if my eyelids were two thick curtains of lead. I felt myself stir after what had seemed a long, restless nightmare. All the while, a warm hand touched my forehead.

- Shhh. There, there, luv. It’s all right.

Making an extra effort to lift my ultra heavy eyelids, I thought I heard myself ask where I was, but I had only thought it. There was someone sitting in front of me while I lay on a bed, a very plush bed. The lights were dim. All I could think of was getting ready for school. My entire body was aching badly, and it must have showed on my face, as the man in front of me spoke in an almost fatherly tone of voice. – Easy, sweetheart. Easy…- He was British.

I began to focus on him. Slowly, I began to see his actual features as my eyes adjusted. Only this time, I managed to see past the shock. It was that face, that beautiful face that looked like a creation by El Bosco. That… Beatle.

I sat up like I had been touched with a cattle prod. He raised his hands up and gently touched my shoulders. –Easy, pet, easy… Shhh…- Gently, he pushed me back down. –You poor thing, you must be aching all over…

Just then, the door opened, and I flinched. Seeing my reaction, The Bosco Painting stood up and urged the people coming into the room to do so quietly. –She’s not half-bloody scared, lads. Be gentle, hey?

- We know Paulie…- that was one of them too. He was also that Mr. Lennon. The stork-man! The one Jesse had told me was named John.

- We know, we saw her before you, we did. She was in a right state, wasn’t she, George?

I insulted myself in silence for not having recognized them before. In came that George fellow, the one I had supposedly liked when on TV. He looked at me and smiled that toothy smile I had seen on the TV as he slowly stepped toward me. –Hey, you! How’s tha’ for a nice warm bed, then, hey?-

- George, you stay away from her… - Paul spoke, sounding, like I had thought, like a cooing dove. –You got flu, man.

Just then I sneezed, good, long and hard. Oh, shit, I have a flu, I thought, as George smiled and laughed. –I don’t think that’s a problem, Paul. Apparently, so does she.

Just then, the fourth Beatle came in accompanied by Mr. Epstein and a couple other cops.

- Well, well! – Mr. Epstein smiled. –Glad to see you’re feeling better now!

- Cor, poor little thing! How old is she?- The final Beatle spoke. I immediately identified him as Ringo, the one my sister liked best. It was hard not to recognize him.

- One of the cops shrugged. –We have no clue. But we’ll find out.

The cop pulled up a chair and sat by my side, asking George to move away.

- Very well, then. – He pulled out a notepad. –Are you feeling better?

I nodded assent. It was then when I realized I was still unable to speak; I had no clue whether this was as a result of the shock from the rape or if it was due to the new shock: I was lying in a bed inside the Beatles’ hotel suite.

- Ok, and what’s your name?

I stared at the cop with huge eyes, unable to put my own name into words.

Paul walked over to me. – C’mon, luv. You can do it! - And a smile that could have melted the ice caps made me shudder. But nothing; not a peep left my lips. I felt angry, frustrated and tired, but most of all I was worried for my sister; She was probably scared to death herself. So I put out an extra effort.

- Jje… Je… -

- Shhh! What’s that?

- Je… Jess.. Jesse… Jesse..

- That’s your name? Jesse is your name?

I shook my head in denial. –Jesse... Jesse Mc.. McCorm… McCormick…Jesse McCormick. –I was finally able to articulate.

-That’s a luvely name! - Paul smiled.

Once again, I shook my head. –N... No… Not me…- The words slowly seemed to come out, easier each time… -I… I’m not Jesse… I’m Rita.

The cop looked puzzled. –Who’s Jesse, then?

- M… My sister…- I reached out for the cop, seeing that my tongue had finally untied itself. –P… Please notify my sister…

- Well, - Paul stood up and joined the other three Beatles plus Mr. Epstein who stood by the door. –Rita’s also a luvely name.

- Oh, so YOU’RE the McCormick kid! You’ve been missing, sweetheart! - The cop smiled warmly.

- M… Missing? - I sneered.

The cop nodded as Mr. Epstein and the boys from the band walked over.

- You have been sleeping for two days, now. – Mr. Epstein spoke gently. –Your sister must have filed a missing report the night you went astray…

- The night many, many young souls went astray…- John began, making Ringo giggle.

Paul nudged him. –Shurrup, Lennon…-

- God, poor Jess… - I looked down. –She must be terrified…- I looked up into the cop’s eyes. –We got separated at that madness… I swear, I didn’t want to go, but she.. she… ah… ahh.. ATCHOO!!!- And another sneeze. Mr. Epstein handed me his handkerchief. I thanked him and reached for it, still not quite registering that I was using a twenty sterling pound silk handkerchief that belonged to the manager of the Beatles to wipe my nose.

- I’m sorry…- I continued, sniffing a little. – She wanted so bad to come and see the Bea…- I looked up at them as they all grinned and waved somewhat awkwardly. -...tles… And she asked me to come along… After the Ed Sullivan show… Has it really been two days, officer?

- Just day and a half, really…- George sat by the bed again, visibly turning the charm on. –So, ‘ello there, Rita, I’m George…- He stretched his hand out. With a smile, I reached out and shook it with a smile. – And you do know the rest of the traveling people… Scallywags, the lot of them…

I frowned. –Scallywhats?

- Never mind him, luv, he’s full of crap. - Ringo spoke, pulling George up by the shoulder pads of his jacket, and also reaching out to salute. –I’m Ringo, luv. Nice to see a decent face around here, for a change…

- Yeah, he’s all tired from looking at his ugly mug in the mirror every day. - John laughed.

- Sod off! - Ringo laughed back.

John made a phony voice of sorts. –Face it, son: You’re a bloomin’ ugly little sod, you are. Isn’t he, Paul?

Paul grinned, almost embarrassed, as he nibbled on his right thumbnail.

- You make no comment, pretty boy! - Ringo pointed at Paul. –I’ll mangle yer face.

- But I said nothing! – Paul exclaimed raising his arms to the sides.

- Yeh, you best say nothing, Macca…- John retorted. –We don’t wanna harm our precious widdle Wingo, would we, now?

- You mangle him, Ring! - George laughed. – What’s the difference? He’s already an ugly little bugger, anyway.

- YOU may be ugly, son…- Paul pointed at George with a giggle. –Speak for yerself… I’m "the cute one", remember?

The three other Beatles stared at Paul, who had obviously realized his blasphemy and ran as the others chased him in hot pursuit and laughter.

I laughed at the whole scene as the cop called my sister, telling her about all that had happened. For some reason, the rape, or what could have been a rape, was the last thing I thought about.

- You’ll have to excuse my boys. – Mr. Epstein laughed. - They do have certain behavior patterns that not even the best of finishing schools could possibly polish. They’re boy scouts, deep down…

A loud shriek that sounded more or less like a loud, laughing GERROFF ME! interrupted Mr. Epstein, who turned his head sharply as the screaming and laughter of the room next-door was mixed with something that could have easily been a window or a falling flower pot. Boy scouts indeed.

- Excuse me… - He said and stormed out of the room.

- Very well, miss McCormick, your sister’s on her way here. - The cop advised me with a smile. I’ll tell security downstairs to let her in; or I’ll go downstairs and wait for her myself.

- You didn’t tell her I was inside the Beatle suite, did you? She’ll go mental!- The cop smiled. – No, naturally not. But the moment she arrives and sees the barricade of female fans holding banners that read "I love you Paul", or "Be Mine, Ringo", I’m guessing she’ll make ends meet.

In the background, I could hear Brian telling the band off, somewhat softly. The moment Brian left them, the giggles continued, as they all went back inside the room. They all looked messy, and Paul’s hair was especially disheveled.

- So, feeling better, then? - John smiled at me between pants and gasps.

- You got the color back, at least. - George laughed as he covered Paul’s head with a pillow case. –There, luv, so you won’t scare Rita with yer pretty face.

I couldn’t help releasing loud laughs as Paul violently took the pillowcase off from his head and mockingly tried to suffocate George. And that was the quiet Beatle! –God, my sister is gonna have a fit when she gets here…

- She’s not gonna go spare on us, is she? – John suddenly seemed scared.

I smiled at him. – Probably. But don’t worry… John. - I was relieved to remember his name. – You’re not her favorite.

- Oh, that’s all right, then. Whose hair will she be ripping out, then?

I signaled over to my right with my eyes. –Ringo.

The drummer looked helplessly funny as he took his finger to his chest, as if asking "who, me?"

- You’re knee deep in crap, then, son.- John patronized Ringo. – Next thing you’ll know he’ll be climbing up the bleedin’ walls, running from a shrieking girl, that’s what’ll happen.

- Well, - Ringo sat next to me. –If she’s anywhere near as luvely as her sister, then it’s gear…

I frowned. –Gear?

Paul nodded from the edge of the bed. –Yeh, Fab. Smashing, great…

- Oh..- I felt myself blush as a smile escaped my lips. –Thanks.

- Don’t mention it, luv.

- So then…- Paul finally approached, almost making me shiver. – Ringo’s you sister’s… Who’s yours?

- Mine?- I wasn’t following, especially when he had just sit down a couple of inches away from my hand, making the compass in my brain run completely amok.

George reached into a closet and brought out what looked like a suitcase. –Yeah, you know, I luv John, I luv George…- He turned to me, smiling. –You do luv George, hey?

- Who’s your favorite, err…- Ringo pointed around, not quite wanting to say the word.

- Beatle? - I finished for him as he nodded happily. -I can’t really say, boys…- I smiled regretfully. –I wasn’t a fan until I saw you on Ed Sullivan.

- You Never!- John laughed out loud.

- Huh?

- We were never ON him, you dirty little bird!

I somehow didn’t follow this Liverpudlian sense of humor, but just seeing the others laugh like lunatics from another planet was enough to make me giggle. Paul for one, had the funniest sounding laughter, a loud and persistent giggle that matched his angelic schoolboy looks. George would belt out, and gasp for air, making it obvious that he had even more teeth than what it was already obvious, while Ringo, great drummer he was, slapped his hands against his thighs, or clapped as he laughed. They all proceeded to make dirty jokes on how hard it was once they were on Ed Sullivan. It took me a while to figure out what they meant. It was through this berage of giggling Beatles that the police officer walked into the room, followed by my sister Jesse, who for a short while didn’t seem to notice her Gods of Rock and Roll, and went straight to the bed to hug me, shedding tears.

- Rita!! Rita!! Where had you been, girl!! I was so, so sick with worry!- She cried out holding my face between her hands. –I was told about the attack, sweetie… I feel so bad, I should have never..

-Hey Jess, it’s ok! I’m fine! – I smiled. –The attacker didn’t get to…- I blushed, suddenly remembering I was surrounded by males… Males with a sick, sexual sense of humor. –You know…

- Oh, God… He didn’t hurt you, did he?

- Naa, just shook her up a bit… Strong girl. She’s Fab, she is...- Paul approached, catching his breath after the incessant laughter.

Jesse turned her head and stared at Paul, suddenly frozen over. –P... P…

- Paul…- The handsome bassist exclaimed stretching his hand out. –I believe it’s Paul.

Jesse stood up, suddenly realizing where she was as she shook Paul’s hand. She looked around her. There were Beatles thrown on the floor, Beatles on the couch and Beatles over a small settee, as if someone had rolled them and thrown them around like dice. It wasn’t until Jess caught sight of Ringo panting with laughter on the floor, that she began to sob. –Oh, God… Oh, God…

- Yeh, that’s Ringo… -Paul giggled, scratching his lower lip with a thumb.

- ‘Ello! - Ringo lifted his arm, but never stood up, igniting another outburst of unconfined laughter.

- Come on, now, boys! Stop acting up, and pack your things! - Mr. Epstein stepped into the room, and with a pleasant smile he walked over to Jesse. –Hello, I take it you’re Rita’s sister. I’m Brian Epstein, the band’s manager.

- I know, I know! - Jesse finally reacted with a huge smile as she shook Mr. Epstein’s hand. –I know all there is to know about The Beatles, sir…

- Yeh? Bet you don’t know what color underwear I’m wearing! - John blurted, and once again everyone exploded.

- John!- Mr. Epstein turned to John with an almost angered look on his face.

- Oh, God… I’m sorry Eppy!!- John laughed as he stood up to salute my sister. –‘Ello, then. - His Beatle fringe was covered in sweat after all the laughs. –I’m John, and who may you be?

- I’m Jess…- She finally regained enough composure to speak like a decent person and shake John’s hand.

- Yeh, and that crap king there is our beloved George… ¡Hey, mate! Cum ‘ead and say ‘ello!

George straightened his jacket up and walked to Jess. –I’m George. –he shook her hand. –And you’ve seen Ringo there on the floor…

- Get him while he’s lying down…- John offered, and mild giggles began one more time.

Paul walked up to her. –Yeah, you go get him, right there! Go on, get him while he’s hot!

More giggles.

- Go on, then!- John finished. -It won’t be THAT hard, your virtue is safe.

Once again, phallic humor from Liverpool.

- Hey, bollocks, mate! I ‘eard tha’! - Ringo shouted, standing up. His face was all red with laughter, and one had to admit that, despite the fact that he was far from physically attractive, there was something too endearing about his smile.

- Oh, for the love of God, boys! Will you get packing? - Mr. Epstein cut in almost exasperated. –The train for Washington will leave without us!

- Aw, Eppy, live a little! - John, mouthy as always, retorted. – There will always be another train!

- Not if we want to get there in time for the press conference, Lennon.

- Awww…- John sneered. –Spoil sport… Nice meeting ya, then. –He smiled at Jess, and then turned to me. –Well, luv, me neck and me shoulders are in dire need of a massage now, so I hope you really enjoyed yer stay here. – He smiled. –And don’t you go running by yerself through dark black alleys again, luv, ya hear?- He mockingly told me off, imitating a granny.

- Thanks, John. It was great meeting you. - I smiled.

George picked up the empty suitcase and walked away to another room, waving a shy but happy good-bye. –You take care, you! - He shouted.

Paul stood beside me the whole while. Ringo, aware that he had his very own fan in the room, finally took the time to talk to her. Just as I amused myself staring at my sister while she desperately controlled her shakes, Paul kneeled in front of me, and took my hand. Suddenly, I had the shakes myself. He was gorgeous, better than the image I had seen on TV. His eyes, though brown from a distance, seemed sort of hazel and gray once up close. His skin was indeed whiter than any skin I’d ever seen, and strands of long, shiny black hair framed the perfect contours of a gorgeous face.

-Will you be all right, then? - He seemed concerned enough to send my mind soaring.

- Yes… Yes I’m fine. - I managed to smile back. –Thanks for taking the time and having me here.

- Our pleasure, luv. – He said, smiling that adorable boyish grin. –We’re just happy to see you’re doing ok.- He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a pen. It was then when I remembered: He was a lefty.

- Ok, give us your home number. We can give you a ring…

- I’d like that! Make it diamonds! - I joked.

Paul frowned at first, but then understood my silly little joke and grinned. –I mean, I’ll call ya when we are back in New York, before we head back to London, you know... to see how you are doing, all right?

I somehow sensed this Adonis from heaven would never go through with that, especially since he had gotten ready to jot down the number on his right hand. No sooner would they be gone, he would forget about it and wash his hands next time he entered the lavatory. Besides, what interest could he probably have in me? Me! Me and my long pale legs, my freckled face... I was only a dumb seventeen year old art student, who had actually now missed two days of school. So, what the hell, I gave him our number. What was there to lose?

-Fine, then. –He smiled as he put his pen away. – You take good care, then, hey luv? - He kissed my cheek intensely, winked his eye at me, and left after saying good-bye to my sister. I reeled and lay back down.

Mr. Epstein then approached me, bearing a huge warm smile, as I stood up. I was a bit embarrassed at first, as I saw myself wearing only a white long sleeve shirt. In a frame of a few instant seconds, I assumed that while I had been out of it, the doctor had managed to remove what little clothing had been left after the attack in order to thoroughly examine my body. Naturally, no one in there had any size four girl garments for me, so I was probably given the shirt of one of the people in there: Could have very well been a Beatle shirt, although it didn’t really matter to me. I was just plain embarrassed. Jess had brought me clothes, so I was to be out of there with my sister in a few minutes.

- Well, then... – Mr. Epstein offered with that same warm smile. – I am hoping you’ll do fine, Miss McCormick?

I smiled, still self conscious of the fact that bending over the slightest bit could prove fatally embarrassing. –I can’t think of any way to thank you, Mr. Epstein...

- Brian.- He continued smiling.- Anyway, I don’t want to sound wicked, or anything, but I was hoping to have a word with both you and your sister about this... incident... If, of course, it’s all right with you.

I bit my lower lip; at that precise moment I could hardly remember the incident itself. Jess, who had finally let go off poor Ringo, turned to Brian with a huge smile. –Yes, of course!

Brian sighed and looked at the floor, as if collecting the courage to speak.

- Well, - He began. –The police have already seen to this matter; your attacker is currently being held in a police department, so this whole mess is now over. However, I would greatly, greatly appreciate it if you do not discuss this incident with anybody...- He looked at me, seeing I looked puzzled. –It would not do at all with the boys; they’re good lads, really. Bad publicity would give anybody looking to pick a fight with us an excuse to trigger off a scandal. The band was not in the least involved in the attack, but you know the press; they’ll look for something, every time. They live of gossip. We have bookings all over the place and we need to preserve the image of the boys intact for as long as we can. Can we count on your discretion, Miss McCormick?

For some reason, it suddenly seemed as if the language I was hearing was any other than English. I sneered, not quite capable of understanding what he had meant. I directed a helpless look over to Jess, hoping her law school knowledge would help me out a bit to provide a decent reply.

She simply turned to me and gave me a long look, before turning to Brian one more time. –Sure, Brian. We understand. But my sister here almost got raped; She may need some sort of professional help. Maybe we could settle on an arrangement...

She stopped the moment Brian’s smile dissolved into a mild sneer as he reached for a checkbook in his coat pocket.

- No, no! That’s not what I meant! - She smiled again. –I was hoping that maybe you could help us find a therapist of sorts, you know... Someone who could be trusted with this whole mess and who is inside your circle... That way, my sister would have someone to talk to and keep the Beatle rep safe, you know what I mean?

- Oh, yes! - He once again smiled and put his check book back in his jacket.

Jess would really become a great lawyer.

I stared at them for a while as they exchanged data and numbers of different people. Suddenly, everything seemed to run in slow motion. I felt dizzy, tired and sacred as the images of the attack returned into my mind. It had been as if my brain had blocked it out for a while. Just while I was able to regain speech. Then the whole Beatle thing made it temporarily stand aside; But now it was clear as day. Unable to control myself, I began sobbing. I made a conscious effort to try and stop, but something seemed to have full control over me; or none, rather. I exploded in loud sobs and I felt every part of my body suddenly trembling, every bruise stinging.

Jess ran to me just before I hit the floor once again, only this time I was not unconscious; I just felt terrified. She and Brian helped me back on the bed as my cries got louder and louder by the second. A long, thin man with warm caring eyes peeked into the room, followed by an even larger man with thick brown seeing glasses. Both seemed legitimately concerned, as the "Beatle guest" was apparently losing it.

- Brian, mate, is she all right?- The thin one spoke as he slowly approached the bed side.

- Yes, Neil. Go on, you and Mal get the boys ready...

- They’re already in the hallway, with their bags.- the one with glasses spoke softly. I had assumed from context that this huge gentle giant was Mal Evans. - George threw up, however..

Brian suddenly turned, and the thought of a Beatle throwing up was so appalling in my mind that I felt the sobs and screams slowly diminish as I stared, wide-eyed, at Mal.

- What do you mean, he threw up?- Brian spoke, slightly tilting his head down.

Neil fidgeted. -The poor geezer laughed too hard, Eppy... Apparently, laughter, strong analgesics and a hangover don’t go well with each other...

A hangover? Now we had a drinking and vomiting Beatle.

- ...but he’s fine now.- He smiled. –He’s out there joking with the others.

A self conscious Brian Epstein suddenly turned to me. –You WILL keep that which you just heard to yourself as well, won’t you?

My reaction could not have been more spontaneous. I could feel my eyes were puffy from crying, but a smile surfaced nonetheless.

- Yes, Brian...- I nodded. –Mum’s the word...

He grinned a friendly grin. –You better now?

- Yes.

He stood up and shook hands with my sister. –Well, I’ll be in touch with the two of you. I will have arrangements made for you to stay another night in this hotel, so as to give your sister some more rest and also to avoid any more bad publicity.

Jess smiled, and was about to say yes, when I stood up once again.

- No, Jess, I’d really like to go home...- I pleaded. –Please...

Jess sighed; Her Beatle-dream was cut, but she knew that her kid sis was a priority at the time, so she turned to Brian.

- We will just leave later, Mr. Epstein; I believe Rita is already looking forward to going home. But we appreciate the gesture. We will cause no trouble, I promise.

Brian smiled, visibly relieved at not having to pay an extra night in such accommodations. –Very well, then. - He shook hands with her one more time. - It was a great pleasure to meet you...- He turned to me, charmingly smiling. -...Both of you. I wish circumstances could have been different, but it was still very, very nice to meet you both...

He turned and walked to the exit. I had to ask... I just had to.

- Brian!

He turned and raised his eyebrows. –Yes?

I hesitated for a few seconds, cleaning the sweat in my hands on the shirt.

- This shirt... I.., you, err.. want it back?

He laughed out loud; His laughter was totally different form that of the Beatles; Loud, long and manly. –You keep it, dear!

- Whose is it?- I fidgeted with the lower edge.

- You mean, whose WAS it?- He tilted his head down and looked up at me with a somewhat mischievous grin. –It was Paul’s. He literally took it off when the others couldn’t stop eyeing you as you lay on the bed...

- OH, GOD!!- I covered my face, feeling blood flush into my cheeks.

- Don’t worry. –He nodded. –Nobody saw anything. The doctor had you covered with the blankets up to your shoulders. It wasn’t until the other three began to tease each other on who would be the first to peek under the sheets that Paul had a go at them for being such... ahem...well, then... He took his shirt off and gave it to the doctor, and then ushered the other three out of the room so the doctor could fit you in it. - He smiled and shook his head. - That McCartney is a true gentleman, you know...

McCartney! That was true. I remembered the McCartney-McCormick thing when Jess and I saw the Ed Sullivan show.

Having spoken, he waved a very diplomatic farewell, and walked out of the room, leaving my sister and I alone in the room. It took a few minutes of solid silence before both Jess and I screamed and jumped. The fear had dissipated.

Once I got home, our minds were still reeling. Jess was insane because she had met The Beatles, HER Beatles… But all I could think about was a pair of sad, hazel-Brown eyes.

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