In Spite Of All The Danger
"Morgan, this is insane!!"
"What's your point?"
"My point IS, you're obsessed!" Gretchen said pointedly, slim hands on her hips. Morgan frowned.
"A little obsession never hurt no one." Morgan replied pointedly. "Besides, it's the Beatles! Now, c'mon…"
"I don't like this…this is your craziest idea yet! Sneaking around backstage won't impress your Ringo any!" Morgan didn't reply, for she was already down the dark hallway. "Morgan!" Gretchen whined, running after her.
"Quiet! D'you want them to hear us??" Morgan hissed.
The two girls were backstage at the Ed Sullivan Show, trying to catch a glimpse of the all-too-rare teenage idols of their day: The Beatles. Gretchen and Morgan had swapped their dresses for two costume-shop police uniforms, able to slip past the police lines by passing for two cadets. Now, their plan seemed to be paying off. Or maybe not…
"GOTCHA!" A gruff voice proclaimed triumphantly. Gretchen squealed, and Morgan took off in the opposite direction. She could just hear the conversation:
"Where's the other girl?"
"I don't know what you mean, sir."
"Come on, out with it!"
"I'm the only one, sir." Gretchen stated calmly.
"Oh, come on…back outside. Go home and watch them on the telly."
Good old Gretchen. Morgan smiled to herself as she raced down the hall. She knew she could count on Gretchen to not give her away. This loyalty would not come without a price; she knew she would have to find Gretchen's favorite Beatle, John, to pay her back. Offering bail would be a plus, too.
"I think she went this way…" Morgan ducked into a dark doorway, flattening herself against the wall until the two officers passed. With a sigh of relief, she forged ahead, searching desperately for the dressing room of the Fab Four. Time was running out, she knew. She had to find her boys, and fast. Quickening her steps, she returned to the large hallway, creeping in the shadows. Again voices came from around the corner, and Morgan looked around frantically for somewhere to run. All she saw was a small hallway. She ducked in quickly, backing into the shadows. Four large policemen passed, and Morgan held her breath, praying she wouldn't be found. Suddenly, a sweaty hand snaked around her neck, covering her mouth, another around her waist, pinning her to the body of whomever it was that held her. She squealed, but a voice hissed for her to shut up. She stood there, breathless, frightened, and trying to figure out who the hell it was that had found her.
"Are you going to scream?" Morgan shook her head. "Good." The voice sounded oh, so familiar, but she just couldn't put her finger on it.
"Now, I'm going to take my hand away. If you scream, that'll give both of us away, and I don't think you want that, because they're looking everywhere for you." She shook her head again and the hands slipped away. She whipped around angrily, ready to pounce on whoever it was that was treating her so roughly. "Who are you?" She demanded loudly…too loudly. The person slapped his hand over her mouth and held her to him again as a group of policemen stopped to investigate. Morgan held her breath, and she could tell he (whoever 'he' was) was holding his breath, too. The policemen moved on, and the man sighed in relief. Morgan glanced at his hand. On the last two fingers were held two very familiar looking rings…
Oh…my…GOD… She breathed in sharply.
"Figured it out, have you?" Morgan nodded vehemently. "Are you SURE you won't scream?" His hands slipped away again, and Morgan swayed.
"No, not really…" Ringo caught her before she fell face-down on the floor.
"You alright now, luv?" He asked, sounding somewhat concerned, but mostly annoyed.
"Yea, I'm just going to take a nap on the floor now," She retorted. He stood her up, and Morgan managed to keep upright in the presence of her biggest crush. Oh my god, she thought to herself, Ringo was holding me in his arms…
Morgan shook her head to clear it, remembering her mission for Gretchen and their present situation. "Say, are you for real? Or am I just hallucinating?" Ringo thought for a minute.
"You're just hallucinating."
"That's a pity, cause I have a friend that is a HUGE fan of your friend, my friend." Ringo laughed.
"Is that so? I'll tell my friend I have a new friend that has a friend that'd like to meet my friend, meaning the friend I would be talking to about your friend, my friend." He rattled off in one breath. She laughed out loud.
"You do that."
"Which friend shall I tell he has a friend of a friend he needs to meet?"
"Your friend, my friend, John Lennon."
"Oh, that friend, my friend?"
"Yup." Morgan's head was starting to hurt. "Is there any chance I can meet him? For my friend?"
"Uh…I'm afraid not, my friend." Morgan looked crestfallen.
"Why not??"
"I'm…sort of…on the run." He said, shifting slightly, looking nervous.
"Why?"
"Long story."
"I'll scream…! Unless…" Morgan thought for a minute. "You get me something of John's. And I need proof."
"Why you little…" Morgan took a deep breath, preparing to scream. Ringo slapped his hand over her mouth a third time. "Ok, ok, you blackmailing little gnat!" Ringo sighed. "I'll go nab one of his shirts. The others'll be down at the canteen. One of 'is shirts has a J.L. embroidered on the cuff. Will that suffice, Your Majesty?" He asked sarcastically. She smiled, removing his hand.
"Thanks, Ringo. This would mean the world to her."
"Who, your friend, my friend?"
"Sure enough, my friendly friend."
Ringo laughed quietly, then brushed past Morgan to look carefully down the hall. With one quick peek to see if she was still watching him, he zipped off down the hall.
Ringo was gone for what seemed like hours to Morgan, and she waited impatiently, tapping her policeman-style boot impatiently, fiddling with the big brass buttons and the uncomfortable bobby hat. "Where IS he? I hope he didn't run off…"
Suddenly, a voice hissed for her to back in to the little hall. Morgan took a quick step back, allowing Ringo to dart back in. He tossed a smelly, sweaty shirt at her. She caught it, holding it at arm's length and wrinkling her nose.
"Eww! If this weren't John's, I'd be seriously grossed out. Nasty. You guys sweat a LOT," She stated pointedly. Ringo just sighed.
"Look, I got you what you wanted. Now…you have to help me."
Morgan cocked one eyebrow. "Oh I do, do I?"
"Yea, or I'll scream." Ringo threatened, waggling a finger in her face.
Morgan giggled. "Ok, shoot."
"Well, Miss Policeman," he said, looking my outfit up and down. "I need a police escort to my car. Can you play the part, cadet?" He asked, lowering his voice to sound all serious-like.
She snapped to salute. "Right away sir, Mr. Ringo Starr sir."
"Thanks, cadet." He looked at her doubtfully. "Just how old are you?"
Morgan sniffed, drawing herself up to her full 5 feet, 6 inches. "I'm eighteen," she replied, allowing a little whine to seep in.
"And your friend?"
"Seventeen." What is this, twenty questions? Morgan thought to herself.
"What's your name?"
"Morgan, sir." she said, still saluting.
"Ok, Morgan, you can stop now. At ease, or some crap like that. I must say, this is one of the craziest things I've ever seen to see the Beatles, and believe you me, I've seen plenty. Listen, do you know the way out of here?"
Morgan thought for a moment, retracing the path in her mind. "Yea…yea. We came in through the window out back. That's the easy part. Then there's the gauntlet of fans, all of whom are looking for you, and police lines, all of whom are looking for me." Ringo rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"I can take care of the policemen; that's no problem. My car is parked out back, so there shouldn't be too many fans…hopefully…"
"Hopefully?" Morgan didn't like the sound of that.
"Well, you never know, with types like you around." He said, looking me up and down.
Morgan took a deep bow. "At your service, Morgan Freedman, obsessive fan extroardinaire."
Ringo laughed. "You're a real strange one, y'know?"
"Yea, I do, actually." Morgan chanced a quick peek down the hallway, and, seeing no one, motioned for Ringo to follow, tucking Gretchen's sacred shirt into her uniform coat.
As they tiptoed down the hallway, they could hear voices in adjoining hallways; half looking for Morgan, half for Ringo. "Say, don't you have a show to do?"
"Nah, not for a little while. They'll live if I skip for a few hours."
They finally came to the tiny window Gretchen and Morgan had crawled through to get in. Ringo stared at it, open-mouthed. "Like HELL I'm going to fit through THERE!" He exclaimed, folding his arms over his chest.
"Oh, come on, Ringo. Just try. This is our only way out." Morgan prodded, crawling up on a cardboard box to the windowsill. Ringo watched with interest.
"I can't believe you fit through there!" He said, watching Morgan hoist herself through the window. She turned around, offering her hand.
"Come on, Ringo! Just try!" She hissed urgently. Ringo sighed.
"Only for you, my friend," He said, climbing up on the box. He squeezed through ever so slowly, but with Morgan yanking on his arms, he eventually wiggled his way through. They sat for a moment, catching their breath. Suddenly, they heard about a thousand high-pitched screams. Ringo looked at Morgan.
"Now, my friend, I suggest we run."
The two sprinted as fast as they could for a black Cadillac parked only about a hundred feet away, but for Ringo and Morgan, it might have well have been a mile. At one point, Morgan tripped, and Ringo caught hold of her hand, pulling her into the safety of the large black car. They quickly locked all the doors as the crowd set upon the car. Ringo pulled out his keys, Morgan sitting nervously in the front seat next to him.
"Does this always happen?" Morgan asked incredulously. She felt she already knew the answer.
"You'd better believe it. You should know, Miss Obsessive fan extroardinaire." Morgan laughed nervously as he started the car, driving slowly through the mass of screaming girls. He smiled, waving, and half the girls visibly swooned.
"They like you, huh?" Morgan asked teasingly.
"Oh, yea, I'm the hottest one of the group, didn't you know?" Ringo replied jokingly as they finally got away from the crowd.
"Well…" Morgan stopped herself, blushing. "Hey! There's Gretchen!" A rather forlorn looking policewoman was sitting on the curb, chin in her hands.
"Is that your friend, my friend?"
"But of course, my friend. Gretchen!!" Morgan yelled out the window. Gretchen's head snapped up, and, seeing the huge car with her friend, curiously stood up and came running over. Morgan opened the door and Gretchen dove in as they sped off.
"Oh…my…GOD!" Gretchen squealed when she saw who was driving the car. "Oh my GOOOD!"
"Is that all she can say?" Ringo asked, half-serious. Morgan laughed.
"Gretchen, meet my friend, Ringo Starr."
"Oh my GOD!!!" Gretchen stuttered again as she shook his offered hand over the seat.
"Oh, Gretchen," Morgan pulled out the shirt, tossing it into the backseat. "A Christmas present from your very own Johnny Lennon."
Gretchen stared at the shirt, eyes like dinner plates. "Oh my god…" she whispered. She held it up to her nose, inhaling deeply with her eyes closed. Ringo waited for her to pass out from the stench.
"Morgan, you are the BEST! Oh my GOOOOD!!!" She squealed, practically levitating.
"Say, are you two busy, by any chance?"
"Uhm...noo...why?" Morgan asked, a little suspicious.
"Only, I don't like eating alone much...I was just wondering if you two might like to join me for lunch." He asked, looking a bit sheepish, turning down a small side street.
"YES!!" They both yelled.
"Woah…ok!" He said, holding up his hands. "You got me!"
"But…I can't!!" Gretchen whined.
Morgan whipped around in her seat. "WHAT???"
"My mom! She'd never let me!" Gretchen said, clutching the shirt. Morgan's face fell.
"Aww, Gret!" Morgan took her hands.
"Thank you, Mr. Starr, for the offer…and the shirt…" She added bashfully. Ringo smiled.
"No problem, luv."
They dropped off a very unhappy Gretchen at her apartment, hugging John's shirt like no tomorrow. She waved wildly as they drove off, Morgan waving out the window.
"So, Miss Morgan, would *you* care to join me for lunch?"
"But of course, my friend!" Morgan replied excitedly. Then she looked down at her outfit. "Uhm…could we make it dinner, perhaps?" She asked hopefully. "I need more time to get ready."
Ringo looked dubious for a moment, and Morgan was mortified that he might say no.
"Well…" He answered slowly. "I suppose I could try to get away…could you be ready by eight?"
"Yes!" Morgan replied, thrilled to the extreme.
Ringo pulled up outside her apartment flat, opening the car door for her. "See you again soon, my friend," He said, smiling. Morgan snapped to salute.
"Right-o sir, Mr. Ringo sir!" She said, laughing. Ringo laughed, getting back into the car. Just as she reached her door, she heard him shout.
"Dress nicely, my friend! I have big plans!" With that, he sped off, tires squealing, before Morgan could shout a reply.
Pondering this last statement, Morgan sat on the front stairs for about an hour, not able to believe her luck. With a sigh, she stood up, afraid her mother might worry. She climbed the five flights of stairs to the apartment she shared with her mother and her sister. No one knew where her father was, and according to her mother, it was better that way. He left when Morgan was five, and her sister, Cassie, was just two weeks. Unlike most single mothers, Morgan's mother did extremely well on her own. The family of three was incredibly close, through thick and thin. Morgan wouldn't have it any other way.
Maybe the best thing about living in a family of three girls was common interests: all three were hopelessly obsessed with the Beatles. Even 39 year old mom (who rarely acted her age) and thirteen year old Cassie found them irresistible. Mrs. Freedman was an incurable Paul fanatic, while little Cassie found George more to her liking. Good thing, too; none of them had to share!
Morgan opened the door to the flat with her own key, running through the door shouting. Mrs. Freedman came running from the bedroom (today was her day off) with Cassie.
"This had better be good, Morgan! You're interrupting the Beatles on Ed Sullivan!"
"They're on??" Morgan cried, running to the bedroom. "It can wait!"
The three piled into Mrs. Freedman's double bed, cuddling together under the covers. Mrs. Freedman kept squealing in a very un-adult fashion whenever Paul came on the small black-and-white screen, making Morgan and Cassie laugh hysterically at their mom's teenish behavior. Then it was Cassie's turn to squeal when George played the guitar solo for Till There Was You, doing his cute little dance. Then, as I Wanna Hold Your Hand started, the camera moved up over the other three, centering on Ringo. Now it was Morgan's turn to squeal, much to the amusement of her sibling and mother. The show closed, much to their disappointment, and Mrs. Freedman got up sluggishly to switch off the telly. Cassie started jumping up and down on the bed excitedly.
"Oh my god, did you SEE George!" She flopped down on her back, hands over her heart, staring at the ceiling. Mrs. Freedman laughed, then sat back down on the bed.
"Well, I think Paul is the cutest!" She proclaimed. With that, her two daughters set upon her with pillows, proclaiming their love for George and Ringo.
"Ok, ok!" Mrs. Freedman laughed, protecting herself with her hands. "They're ALL really cute!"
The three lay on the bed, worn out, staring at the ceiling dreamily.
"Morgan dear, did you ever see them at the studio?" Her mom asked expectantly.
"Oh my GOD, I almost forgot!!" She squealed for the fiftieth time that day, sitting up excitedly. "You guys are NOT going to believe this!!"
"What? What???" Her mother and sister cried, sitting up and listening intently.
"I…have a date." Morgan said, waiting for the response. Mrs. Freedman and Cassie looked confused.
"So? You have a boyfriend. That's no surprise."
Oh, yea; Sam. She'd forgotten about him. Ah well, he wouldn't mind, considering. "It's not with Sam."
Her mother and sister gasped. "You're two-timing Sam??"
Morgan laughed. "I think he'll understand."
"Well?? Who is it?? You're killing me!" Cassie proclaimed, flopping around on the bed like a dying fish.
"Ringo. Ringo Starr." Mrs. Freedman cocked one eyebrow.
"Oh, ha ha. Very funny. Now, who is it really?"
"Mom!! I'm serious!!" Morgan whined.
"Oh, stop it! It's not funny, getting your old mother's hopes up like that!"
"I'm not kidding! Just you wait! He'll be here at eight tonight!" Cassie stared at her, wide-eyed.
"You mean it?" She breathed. Morgan nodded vehemently. "How'd you meet him, then?"
Morgan relayed her entire story, from dressing up like a policeman to get into the studio to meeting Ringo in the dark hallway. Throughout the entire story, her mother and sister stared at her, jaws on the floor. When she finished, neither talked. Morgan wiggled excitedly. "Well? What do you think??"
Her mother shook her head. "I don't believe it! I just don't believe it! Oh my goodness!"
"My sister…has a DATE…with RINGO…" Cassie stuttered.
"Well, if mom'll let me…?" Morgan gave her mother the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster. Her mother looked doubtful.
"Well, I don't know, dear…you do have chores to do…wash the dishes, clean your room…" She said.
"MOTHER!!" Morgan yelped, throwing a pillow at her.
"All right, all right! I was just kidding! Of course you can go!" Mrs. Freedman gave her daughter a big hug. "I still don't believe you, but I guess we'll see at eight tonight, hmm?" Morgan sighed deeply.
"Oh, mom!"
They had a celebratory lunch at a fish and chips restaurant around the corner; they didn't eat there often because Mrs. Freedman didn't approve of greasy food, but this was a special occasion. After lunch, they went on a major shopping spree for Morgan's date with the drummer of the Beatles, scrounging through every fine clothing boutique they could find. They bought about five new outfits for Morgan, then went home to decide which she would wear.
Morgan came out of her bedroom for the fiftieth time, wearing a different outfit. She twirled around for her mother and sister. "Well? How about this one?"
Mrs. Freedman looked at it scrupulously. "I don't know; the neck's a bit low, I think…"
Morgan critiqued herself in the mirror. "Oh, it's not *that* low…want to knock him off his feet, non?" She said in a fake French accent. Cassie giggled, and her mother shot her a disapproving look. Cassie slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Well, I suppose, but maybe with the white skirt…?"
Morgan ran back into her room, changing into the white miniskirt. She came out one last time, twirling around again. Her mother and sister started clapping.
"Oh, honey, that's perfect! That's it! If that doesn't win Ringo's heart, I don't know WHAT will!" Her mother raved.
"Ya think so?" Morgan asked, smoothing down the skirt. She was wearing a white faux suede miniskirt, an oversized, baby-blue sweater that nicely complimented her stormy blue eyes, tall white go-go boots, and her long brown hair was gathered in a high bun on her head. She twirled around again, feeling utterly wonderful; her mother and sister both agreed this was the best outfit of the trillions she had tried on.
A couple hours passed; it was now around seven, and Morgan was feeling terribly nervous.
"What if I spill ketchup on him? Eek! What if I spill ketchup on ME?? Ugh! What if I'm not dressed up enough???" She shrieked, running around the apartment like a chicken without a head.
"Morgan, relax!!" Her sister cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. "Get a hold of yourself!" Cassie's baby blue eyes peered into Morgan's deep brown, and Morgan relaxed somewhat.
"You're telling me to relax?? You're not the one going on a date with RINGO!!" She whimpered.
"Come on, let's go fix your hair and put on your makeup."
Morgan hated to admit it, but her little sis was perfect at putting on makeup; she put it on Morgan better than Morgan put it on herself. Her mother fixed her frazzled hair, combing it gently like she used to do when Morgan was a little girl. She pulled it up into a perfectly shaped bun, pinning it together with a few bobby pins and two silver chopsticks. Cassie carefully painted Morgan's eyes with a stunning shade of baby blue, teasing her eyelashes until her eyes looked bright and shining. She gently patted a bit of rouge on Morgan's high cheekbones, then smoothed on a thin coat of pink lipstick. Her sister and mother stepped back, letting Morgan have a good look at herself. She looked five years older, very grown up and beautiful. Her mother let her borrow a tiny silver heart on a chain, which hung delicately above her collarbone. Morgan heaved a sigh, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. Her mother gave her a hug.
"Dear, you look lovely. I'm sure Ringo will think so, too." She sniffed, then pretended to burst into tears. "My little baby's growing up!" Morgan laughed, feeling better. She sure hoped her mother was right.
Eight o'clock rolled around, then passed by. It was now eight fifteen, but Ringo still didn't show. Morgan paced the apartment feverishly, chewing her perfectly painted nails. Her sister walked by and expertly smacked her hand out of her mouth to get her to leave her nails alone. "Where IS he?" She wailed, feeling like she was going to cry. As soon as she said that, there was a knock at the door. "Omigod, it's HIM! Oh, I can't do this!!"
Morgan raced to her room, flinging herself on the bed. She lay there silently, listening to the conversation outside.
"Why, hello, Mr. Starr! To what to we owe this honor?"
"Uhm…I'm here to see Morgan?" He sounded unsure, as if he were afraid he had the wrong apartment. She heard her mother whisper something, but she couldn't make out the words.
"Oh…" She heard Ringo say. "Why is that?" More whispering. "Oh, really?" Now he sounded amused, chuckling. "May I see her?"
"But of course. This way, please." Morgan cursed her mother silently. She couldn't do this! She would embarrass her own daughter in front of Ringo Starr! THE Ringo Starr!
Her door creaked open a little, and she heard soft footsteps enter. She kept her face planted in the pillow, thankful now that she had spent a little more money for smudge-proof makeup. The bedsprings creaked softly as someone sat at the edge of her bed. "Morgan?" She tried to reply, but couldn't force herself to lift her head. Ringo laughed softly. "Look, luv, it's not that bad…" He stroked her hair gently, and she shivered at his touch. Sitting up slowly, she turned to him. Ringo moved over slightly to let her sit next to him.
"Oh, Ringo, I'm so sorry! You must think me to be one of those silly girls that faint whenever you're near!" Ringo laughed.
"Not at all, my friend. Most of them aren't this beautiful."
Morgan blushed deeply. "You don't look so bad yourself, my friend." He wore a black suit with a white collared shirt underneath. He wasn't wearing a tie, so the restaurant must not be terribly dressy, Morgan decided. He stood up, bowing gallantly and offering his hand.
"Will Madame grace me with her presence at dinner this fine evening?" He asked, peeking up hopefully. Morgan laughed, feeling much better, and lay her hand gently on his.
"But of course, my friend."
Ringo pulled her up and they left Morgan's room, said goodnight to her mother and sister, and left the apartment.
Once outside, Ringo quickly pulled out a large black scarf, wrapping it around the bottom half of his face. Morgan smiled. "Dr. Zhivago, I presume?"
Ringo's laugh was muffled, but he took a deep bow. "But of course, my friend."
He opened the car door for Morgan, but she got in the opposite side, smiling. Ringo laughed at his mistake. He had opened the driver's side door for her. "Curse these American cars! They're built backwards!"
Ringo peeled off his scarf, tossing it lightly onto Morgan's lap. Starting the car, they drove off to the restaurant Ringo had in mind.
"So, my friend, where are we going?" Morgan queried.
"Ah, only the finest for my friend!" Ringo replied unhelpfully. Morgan rolled her eyes.
"Thanks."