The concert went fairly well. No explosions or nuclear bombs went off. The guys rushed back to their room, sweating buckets. They collected their things, and we all rushed out the doors, and made a break for the waiting limo. Girls screamed, and the police line broke. Girls surged forward, and we just ran like bats out of hell. We piled in, and the tires squealed as the driver hit the pedal to the floor. The driver pulled us into the busy city traffic, and away from the crowd. He slowed down to a more legal speed. One large sigh of relief was exhaled from all the passengers, including me.
"Woo. We made it!" Ringo breathed.
"Yea. Glad to get out of that with all me clothes!" George added.
"So, where are we going now?" I spoke slowly, catching my breath.
"To a restaurant. Dinner’s on us, luv." Paul said.
"Wow, that’s really nice." I commented.
"So how far are you on the article?" John asked. I blushed.
"I’m sifting’ through the tapes now. Y’all gave me a lot of article material. I could write a whole novel with that amount!" Silence followed for a minute. A Joe Turner song ran through my head. I tapped my foot along to the rhythm. Paul glanced at my feet, and laughed.
"What are you doin’ that fer luv?"
"I’ve got this cool blues song stuck in my head. Do you have a radio in this limousine?"
"Yes- want to turn it on?" Ringo replied. I nodded.
"Turn it to 1300 AM. That’s an awesome station." John had the driver blare the station I requested, and the black vehicle rocked with the beat of John Lee Hooker’s "Boom Boom". I closed my eyes, and bobbed my head slightly. And in no time at all, we had arrived at this restaurant. I didn’t want to get out of the limo, but Paul took my hand, and I followed them inside. We were seated immediately, and a waitress showed up to get a drink order.
"I’ll have a scotch and coke." John said.
"Same here." Ringo smiled at her.
"Rum and coke, please." Paul winked at me.
"Um, I’d like a scotch and coke." George said, making a funny face at me.
"I’d like a Grappa." The waitress nodded, and scurried off. The boys stared at me dumbly.
"Grappa?" John hissed.
"Someone’s a hard little miss." George added, eyeing me.
"Yea, well, you know. A blues chick like me knows her liquor." I grinned at Paul, who beamed back.
"We ‘ave somethin’ we’d like to ask you, luv." Ringo announced when the drinks had arrived.
"Oh? What’s that?" I took a gulp of the drink, and looked questioningly at him.
"Would ya like to join us on the last of our tour?" Paul finished. One main thought devoured my mind at this point: Holy fuck.
"Um, yea, sure. My boss will freak, but he’s an ass anyway." John snickered.
"Great. We only have two more dates in California left, but we have two days off after that." Paul told me.
"Cool. But I had this trip planned, to Chicago on those off days, so I’d . . ." I was cut off by John.
"No problem, luv. We’d fly you there, and accompany you, if you don’t mind?" the last part was mostly a question.
"Ah, hell. Why not?" They gave a cheer, and the plans were set.
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