~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
"Yeah, welcome to 98 Degrees! I'm Justin Jeffre," said the one with blonde hair.
"I'm Drew Lachey."
"Nick Lachey."
"I'm Jeff Timmons."
"You can call me Paul," Paul said.
"Okay, Paul. Where are you staying? How soon can we practice together? We're due back in the studio next week, is that okay for you?" Nick asked excitedly.
"That's fine. yes, don't worry. I'm not busy at all. And I'm ready to practice whenever you are," Paul said.
"What else can you play?" Drew asked.
"I can play all the Beatles' songs. And a lot of early rock and roll. I really don't listen to today's music, but when I saw you guys, I knew it was finally my chance," Paul said truthfully.
"Um...I can start whenever you want. I am living in a small hotel room."
"You can move into our suite. Our record company is expecting some progress. I'll be in touch tomorrow. Um...can you dance?" Jeff asked, speaking up.
"But of course!" Paul answered, wondering just what kind of dancing he was referring to.
"Okay. Well, how much do you have to move?" Justin asked.
"This is enough for me. I don't live with much."
"Okay. Well, we'll take you to the suite then," Nick said, gathering his things.
"So, how old are you?" Drew asked.
"I'm 26."
"I'm 24, Justin's 27, Nick is 26,and Jeff is 27." Paul sighed. He was going to have to remember all of this. And for a brief second, his friends, the one's he'd spent so many hours......days.....years with were forgotten. Opportunity had come knocking.
"So, you can play all the Beatles songs, huh?" Justin asked.
"Yeah, they are my favorite," Paul said.
"Yeah, I like them too," Nick said. "So, where are you from?"
"Um...London," Paul lied.
"Oh, London, I love it there," Drew said.
"Guys, this could be the beginning of something big," Nick said as they proceeded to walk out of the building, "something really big. No longer will we be second behind the Backstreet Fags and *NSUCK!" They walked out of the building, and a rush of harsh, cold air beat against them. A long black, limousine pulled up to take them to their suite.
"We'll be moving into an apartment soon. It's a block down from the studio,"Drew said. Paul nodded.
About 10 minutes later, they pulled up in front of a ritzy hotel. The four led Paul up to the ninth floor.
Justin led them into the room. It was very large. It had an adjoining room, a kitchen-like room, and a large bathroom. Not to mention a huge television. Paul smiled. Fame does have it's advantages. Justin went to the refrigerator and pulled out a few beers.
"This calls for a celebration."
"Uh-oh," Paul thought. "I'm going to be completely smashed." But he didn't mind. The idea sounded absolutely fabulous.
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
"Come on, guys, we can't leave him like this! He'll never want to stay! Come on, we have to let him go!"
"Mmmmmmmmmm. MMMMMMMMMMM!!!!"
"See? He agrees!"
"But.....I don't want him to get away. he's got so much talent. He'd be such an asset."
"MMM!!! MMMMMM, mmmmmm, MMMMMMM, mmmmmMMMMMmmm!"
"But he's not going to want to play if you keep him gagged in the back of a damned truck!"
"MMMMHHHMMMMMM!!" Lars walked back and ungagged him.
"Good God, what the 'ELL are you doing?! And where in the 'ell are we?" John asked, gasping for air.
"To the theatre. We're going to practice. James thinks you're real ace material, John. he wants you to be part of the magic. I personally think you could've done this a NICER WAY!!!" Lars yelled.
"Aw, shut your damned mouth, we're almost there." John swallowed, trying to get the nasty taste out of his mouth.
"What in the God's name did you gag me with?" He demanded.
"A sock," Lars answered.
"Good Lord..."John began, trailing off.
"What? It wasn't dirty. It was Kirk's." John's eyes slowly moved to where Kirk was sitting. He smiled and waved.
"Can you untie me or something? I fell like a piece of roadkill!!"
"That's RiGodDamnDiculous!!! But, yeah, Lars, untie him, if you promise to listen to us play. And if you try to run away, you'll be back in the ropes, got it, LENNON?" Jason said. John didn't like Jason, and it took him a while to realize Jason had used his last name.
"I told you, my last name is Winston."
"Oops. That was a delayed reaction," Kirk said, smirking.
"Leave him alone." Well, John knew he at least had one friend. Lars seemed to be on his side.
Shortly after, they arrived at the theatre. The guards were surprised to see them, but James assured them that it was just and early sound check. The drove into the back of it. Then, James stopped and lead everyone to the stage. One of the guards flipped the lights on a little brighter.
"Now, John, we want you to listen to this. Please....maybe we didn't treat you nicely, but we just want you to sit and listen, so do that much for us, won't you?" He wrinkled his eyebrow, and sighed.
"Fine, go."
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
"Ashley! I am SO glad to see you! You have no idea!" George said. They were walking down the streets of New York. The man had even donated a case when he saw that Ashley was there. "How did you get such connections?"
"I go there a lot. Especially when I am down or in a depressed mood. They are really great." They walked down the walk.
"So, are you going to just pop in whenever I'm in trouble or in a tough spot?" George asked hopefully,
"Well, that would be cheating! You have to do some of it yourself! I can't do it all! But, I'm always watching you. And I want to make you a deal you CAN'T refuse. Say yes," Ashley said.
"Well...what is it?" George asked.
"I'll give you saxophone lessons. I can play! I can! I'll teach you how! Come on, what better thing could happen to you...you could be taught to play the best musical instrument on the planet...by an Angel! Pleeeeeaaaaasssseeee?!?!" Ashley begged. George was amused.
"I don't think I have ever seen an angel so persistent!" He laughed.
"You've never seen an angel before....And you DEFINITELY have never seen a Demonic Angel. I'm naughty." She raised an eyebrow and laughed. "I've got to go....You have to sign out to come down, and I'm almost past curfew. Find yourself a place to stay for the night...go back to the hotel...I don't think any of the others will need that room as much as you! Go!" She winked, and then she was gone.
@@@
Ringo sighed, sitting down on a cardboard box. He hadn't meant to anger
Lucy. She's the only help he's got. Well, except Ashley, but he hadn't seen
her yet. Ringo decided he didn't want to have to pay for a motel room, so he
found a little corner of the alley and snuggled down with his guitar, his
back to the alley to protect it from the rain. He pulled it out of its case,
the crystal body shimmering even in the darkness. Ringo sighed. It was so
beautiful...he didn't deserve it. Hell, he can't even play it. John was
right. It was just going to collect dust. Ringo forlornly plucked the
strings. At least it was in tune. He formed a chord with his fingers, not
even knowing if it was an actual chord, and plucked the strings.
To his utter astonishment, it came out as the perfect beginning chord to
"Yesterday." Ringo's mouth dropped open, then he tried playing the rest. He
played it perfectly. As the last strains faded away, he looked up to the
sky.
"Hey Lucy," He whispered. "Thanks."
@@@@
George stared at the space Ashley had just occupied, mouth hanging open. An
angel was going to teach him the saxophone. An ANGEL. George sat down on the
front steps of the music shop, trying to take this all in. They were now in
the year 2000. They were all separated, but watched over by two guardian
angels. One gave Ringo a celestial guitar, and now was offering to teach him
to play the saxophone. He shook his mop topped head and stood up wearily,
lugging the heavy saxophone with him. With a sigh, George headed back
towards the hotel room.
When he arrived, he found John was gone. This was of no surprise, but George
had somehow been wishing that someone would be there. He wanted to talk to
someone. He wished Ashley would suddenly blink in, but he knew it was past
her curfew. He sighed wearily, stretched out on the bed, and fell fast
asleep.
@@@@
Lucy
blinked in to the room, flopping into the chair with a big sigh. She glanced over at
Ashley.
@@@@
Ringo was so completely lost in his guitar playing that when he finished and
heard clapping, he jumped up in sheer terror.
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
"Come on! There's an old lady...she's going down!"
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
"Look at him, Ashley, Look at how he is!!! I am SO proud!!" Lucy was saying, looking down at the crystal ball.
~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~
George awoke at 9 o'clock in the morning. He looked up at the pasty white ceiling. He closed his eyes and stretched his sore muscles. Then he reopened his eyes.
@@@@@
John woke up to someone tapping him on the shoulder.
@@@@
Ringo awoke with the unpleasant feeling he was being watched. He sat up with
a start, almost falling off the wooden coffee table he had slept on. Clint
had fallen asleep in a nearby chair; Sam was perched precariously on the
edge of the couch. They were in Clint's apartment, since it was the closest
to their manager's house and they didn't feel like going anywhere else.
Ringo looked warily around the room, trying to find the source of his
discomfort. He turned a full 180 to find Candy perched backwards on a chair,
looking at him with her bright green eyes.
@@@@
Paul woke up at ten o'clock, his head pounding like a sledgehammer. With a
loud groan, he stumbled from his bed, tripping over Drew who lay
spread-eagle on the floor. Paul held his breath, but Drew just grumbled and
rolled over. Paul breathed a sigh of relief, then cringed as the sound of
his breath went rattling through his head. Paul held his head as he
staggered to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning towards the shower.
To his surprise, he found Nick splayed out on the tiled floor in front of
the shower.
~~**~~**~~**~~
Ashley had left George to experiment on his own for about an hour. She had "business to take care of." She TRIED to teach him how to play a "concert Bb scale, and a concert F." He was lost. Oh, he was SO completely lost. She tried to explain a concert pitch.
"Oh, great! We've put him to sleep."
"Ah, he's just had a stressful night, JAMES!" Lars accused loudly. John
smiled.
"Well how else would we get him to come? Could we miss out on an opportunity
like this? I don't think so!"
"Boys, do you always fight?" A feminine voice asked.
"Hey, Luce. What brings you here?"
"Ah, just thought I'd come to see how y'all were doing." John lifted his
head up lazily, then saw her.
"LUCY!" Lars lifted an eyebrow.
"You know 'em, Luce?" Lucy looked at John.
"Yea, he's an old friend of mine." The four guys on stage shrugged, then
started tuning their instruments, giving Lucy a chance to talk to John. She
walked over to him, smiling a crooked little grin behind her Oakleys. He
sprung to his feet and gave her a big hug. Stunned, she flopped down next to
him in a theater seat.
"Well, hello there!" Lucy laughed.
"Boy, am I glad to see you! These guys just kidnaped me!"
"I know." She said, tipping her sunglasses back over her hair.
"I thought you were my guardian angel." He tossed at her with a slight hint
of disappointment in his voice.
"I am," she replied plainly.
"Well, where the hell were you when they tossed me in the back of that
truck??" Lucy looked at him in annoyance.
"I was helping out a certain drummer that happened to be feeling a bit down.
Maybe you know him?" John's face softened.
"How is poor ol Ring? Oh, I feel awful!" Lucy put her hand on his shoulder.
"He's fine. By the time I was finished with him, you were already in the
truck, so there wasn't much I could do. You can't rely on me one-hundred
percent, y'know. Angels are busy gals." John nodded solemnly. Lucy rose,
patting him on the back.
"All right then! You ok?" John nodded slowly. "I'll be off then. It's past
my curfew. I got special permission to see you after curfew, but I can't be
long." Lucy walked up the aisle with long strides of her booted feet, almost
gliding without making a sound. John waved goodbye as she left the theater.
"Hey, John! You wanna play?" Jason called from the stage, holding the cherry
red Strat. John shrugged, hauling himself up from his seat. With one last
glance towards the theater doors, he walked up to the stage.
"What?"
"Ringo just figured out the guitar."
"Oh, that's my boy!" Lucy cried happily, jumping up to look into the crystal
ball just as Ringo said 'thank you'.
"Wonder why he's thanking me. You gave him the guitar."
"Well, he's your responsibility. I think that's so sweet!" Lucy
laughed and patted her on the back. She took the crystal ball from Ashley's
hands, sitting down in her beanbag to watch Ringo play.
"I have no money, this guitar's all I have and you'll have to pry it from my
dead cold fingers if you're ever going to even TOUCH it!" He blurted out
loudly and nervously to the motley bunch standing before him. They just
laughed.
"Woah, there, guy. Relax! We just wanted to hear you play!" A tall, thin man
of about twenty stated, laughing. He had spiky black hair and was dressed in
black leather. To his left stood a rather short girl with fuscia hair who
was dressed similarly. A younger man, maybe 17, stood to his right. He had
blonde hair and had a constant look of nervousness about him. Ringo stared
at them, clutching his guitar determinately. The short girl stepped forward,
holding out her hand.
"The name's Candy. And you are�?" Ringo gingerly shook her hand.
"Uh...Richard. Richard...uh...just Richard." The others laughed.
"Ok, then...Richard. Can we call you Rich?" The girl asked, smiling
slightly. Ringo nodded. The young boy stepped up.
"That's a nice guitar you've got there. You can play like the masters!" He
said in a think NYC accent.
"Hey...y'know, we do need a lead guitarist for our band..Candy here's our
bassist and singer, I'm Clint, I play drums, and Sam here," Clint said,
jerking his head towards the young boy. "He plays rhythm. At the moment, he
plays lead, but he's a bit too young and inexperienced." At this, Sam
blushed. "We could really use a guy like you, Rich. Are you with us?" Clint
held out his hand. Ringo smiled, taking it. This was it! His lucky chance!
"Sure."
"I get the old lady!"
"No! ME!"
"The old bag is MINE!"
"You're not in this...go away."
"She's mine."
"You're TOO YOUNG! GO AWAY!"
"I am NOT too YOUNG! Let me have the old lady!"
"Someone better take her before she's gone!"
"Alright, we all get the old lady....1.....2.....3!"
"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
"SCORE!" Once again, all five of the members of 98 Degrees had successfully spit on top of an unsuspecting pedestrian's head.
"Wow.....that was amazing," Paul said, sitting back. He was on his seventh beer, and so smashed that he couldn't see straight. He figured that he ought to quit after this one. He was getting tired anyway.
"Man...I ain't had this much fun in years. Er....maybe I have....but that is really beside the point," Nick said, falling back onto a bed. "Jessica doesn't let me drink. She's under-aged, you know. But what Jessi doesn't know, won't hurt her," he said. Drew laughed. They were all so unbelievably giddy, it was hardly imaginable. But who was going to say anything? They were 98 Degrees, on of the most celebrated artists in the pop world today...or at least the liked to believe it. Hey, they were on the cover of Teen People. right?
"Man....maybe we can get on the cover of Rolling Stone now. Have we ever been on there before?" Justin asked.
"I-I don't remember," Jeff said, doing a little jig. Paul decided to get up and jig, too.
"Hey guys, did you know that I am really one of the Beatles?" He asked.
"You look like that one guy from the Beatles...what's his name...Ringo Starr?" Justin said.
"Nah, nah. He looks like Lennon! He looks so much like Lennon that it isn't funny. Lennon could be his brother! Wait... is Lennon your brother? Isn't he dead?" Jeff said.
"Nah, e's not dead. But...I don't look like Ringo!"
"I KNOW WHO YOU LOOK LIKE!!!!" Drew burst out.
"Who?"
"Captain Kangarooooooooo!"
"No, dumb ass! He looks like Paul McCartney!" Nick said. He was by far the most sober. He'd only had five beers.
"Yeah!!! That's my real name!! James Paul McCartney!!"
"Wow.....Paul McCartney is OLD. He's like...80, isn't he?" Jeff said.
"He's 58! That's not old!" Nick said.
"Wow...I'm ooooooooldddddd. I could go bang the old lady and it would be very legal..." Paul said, not really sure of what he was saying.
"Eeeeeewwwwwwwww!!!!!!" Justin said.
"That's nasty," Nick said.
"Guys, I'm going to bed now, " Paul said, suddenly feeling very sleepy. He walked into the room he was staying in and collapsed on the bed.
"But...I don' t know any of your songs!" John protested.
"That's okay. We'll teach you!" James said. John sighed and got up, not wanting to be put back in the back of the truck.
"Okay, this is A minor...." James proceeded to show him the chords to some song John had never heard of. He caught on quickly, and started playing.
"Yeah! That's right!!"
"Of course it's right, you nit," John thought. He couldn't help but let his mind wander as he thought about the other four. What was George doing? How was Ringo and his guitar? Did Paul find what he was looking for? He stopped when the song ended, listened briefly to what the band had to say, and then broke into the song again. He loved improvising without thinking about it. That was the level he was at now. He could start in a song, knowing the key, of course, and then just go off. John really enjoyed improvising. And, he knew that he could use that as a tool to impress them, so he did. And it worked. He smiled to himself. This was too easy. He could get used to this. He really could.
"Hey, man, you really do got a lot of talent. Come on, we are going to turn in for the night. You can stay with us......will you join the band?" James asked. John sighed, and closed his eyes, thinking about what he might have at stake. But if Lucy was watching over him...it would be okay.
"Well, Rich, welcome to the band. Our name is Sporadic. Candy over there is a freakin' genius," Clint was saying. They had moved out of the alleyway into a small garage. "She thought of the name. Anyway, we play a lot of clubs, hoping to one day get signed. We have a manager, Don Parker. He has been busy, and he thinks that he might have gotten us a contract...possibly. But with you....definitely!" Ringo was so excited. He'd found what he was looking for.
"Well, you know, I have always been looking for a chance. Maybe I've found it." Sam took "Rich" aside and taught him the chords to two of their songs, "Sting me," and, "I'm Okay." Ringo had no clue what he was talking about. But he nodded his head and offered a meek smile. He said the chords over and over again in his head, hoping maybe if he was lucky he could hit them all.
"1, 2, 1,2,3,4!!" They started into the song, and, despite Ringo's lack of self confidence, he played every chord right with precision. He sighed, silently praising Lucy. Then, he silently praised Ashley for giving him the guitar. Then, he praised God for sending him such nice angels. When the song got finished, the band stood back, amazed. Ringo really liked being in the front for a change. He was always in the back with the drums, but he felt so free in the front.
Candy had a thin, whiney voice, but she could do so much with it, and if that was what music sounded like today, then she was very good at it. Clint played steady rhythm, adding different licks and improvs through out the whole thing. Ringo didn't even try to improvise. He just played his chords. But he knew he'd have to soon. He'd have to put in a solo somewhere.
"Man......we've been looking for you for YEARS!!" Clint said. "Why aren't you signed to a record label? Damn, you're good!" Ringo just smiled and shrugged.
"I don't know. I really never thought I was that good," he said truthfully.
"Bull shit! You are spectacular! Tomorrow....we have to get a hold of Don. He's got to come see you! So, we better not party tonight, guys...we better just go to bed." Clint was obviously the leader of the group. Ringo had no objections. He was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyelids open. He'd waken up in 1968, and he'd go to bed in the year 2000.
"Shut your mouth! I am trying to read!" Ashley mumbled. Lucy payed no attention.
"He has found a place...well, with scary looking people, but they are going to treat him nicely. I just know they are. And John....he looks happy, finally. I can't believe they kidnaped him! But he's turning in for the night. And, oh! Ringo looks so ADORABLE when he's asleep!"
"Lucy! SHUT UP! And isn't it my turn?" Ashley grumbled, looking up from her book.
"No! Just let me look a little longer! Please....just a little longer?" Lucy whined.
"I just want to check up on Paul and George!" Lucy sighed and handed Ashley the ball. George appeared on the ball. He was asleep on top of the covers in the hotel room. All the lights were still on, and his saxophone was on the bed next to him.
"Awwwwww," Ashley said quietly. She had faith in him. Then Paul showed up.
"Oh dear Lord," Ashley said, rolling her eyes. "Lucy, come look at this." Lucy got up and came over.
"Oh my God.....Paul is passed out!" She said. Ashley laughed softly.
"I can't wait to see
"Hey, he's yours, not mine," Lucy said, holding her hands up.
"Look at them.....they are all passed out too. I never imagined the boys from 98 degrees drunk. Needless to say, this just makes my evening even cheerier!"
"AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" he yelled. He wasn't ready for that one. "ASHLEY!!"
"Oops," she giggled. "Didn't mean to scare you!" She was floating above him in a pair of light blue pajamas with teddy bears.
"I love your outfit. It's so...form fitting,"George joked. Ashley stuck her tongue out and floated down to the floor.
"Well, are you ready?" she asked.
"Ready?"
"For your lesson! I brought my saxophone!!!" She produced a golden saxophone.
"Ahhhh, this is my Yamaha. I love this thing. It produces such a deep and lovely sound!" she blew a few notes in it. George just stared at her. She laughed and threw something at him.
"What is this?" he asked.
"That's a reed. You don't think you were just going to blow into the mouth piece and produce a sound, do you? that's why they call a sax a woodwind, dear. Now, take the reed and put it in your mouth. Keep it there for a while, and then I'll show you how to put it on your sax." She smiled. George sighed and looked at it. It was just a thin piece of wood. He didn't know how that would influence a saxophone to make any sound, but he did as he was told anyway.
"Good, now, align the reed with the tip of the mouth piece. No, no, honey, like this. Right, now tighten the ligature. That's the thing with the little screws...right- not too tight!" George sighed again. How was he EVER going to learn how to play this thing? It was already so complicated!
"John...John...JOHN!!!" John decided not to move. He heard the person sigh
impatiently, then leave for a moment. A minute later, he heard someone
return. Silence; John started to worry. Suddenly, someone assaulted him with
a frying pan over the head.
"AAAAAH! WHAT IN 'ELL...!" John fell off his bed, landing on the floor with
an unhealthy thud. He rubbed his eyes, then peered into Lucy's chocolate
brown eyes.
"Oh, it's you." He grumbled, standing up slowly.
"Oh, is that the thanks I get for being a guardian angel? If you don't need
me, I'll go tell Ashley and we'll just dump you somewhere�" She threatened,
hands on her hips. John's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
"I didn't mean it! Honest! Don't leave me!!" He groveled at Lucy's feet. She
smiled smugly.
"That's better." Lucy said, helping him up off the floor. She moved off into
the next room. John got up and tried to remember where he was. Oh, yea. The
hotel room.
John climbed over a pile of old newspapers, making his way to the kitchen,
holding his head. Inside, Lars, James, Jason, and Kirk were sitting down to
a meal of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. John's mouth watered as he listened to
the bacon sizzling in the pan that Lucy had assaulted him with a few moments
ago. He sat down at an empty place at the table; luckily, it was the
farthest away from Jason. Lucy was expertly flipping pancakes with a
long-handled spatula. With a flick of her wrist, she sent one sailing
through the air that landed perfectly centered on John's empty plate. He
stared at it, open mouthed, then stared at Lucy, then back at the pancake.
Lucy smiled, pouring fresh batter on the griddle.
"Oh, don't look so surprised. Eat up! Big day, boys! You're meeting the
manager!" John ate greedily, a new pancake flying to his plate with bull's
eye precision as soon as he finished the last one. He gobbled down as much
as he could eat, then sat back with a contented sigh. Lars got up, stacking
his dishes in the sink.
"Lucy, you are a Godsend," he said, giving her a little peck n the cheek.
The others agreed, stacking their dishes and leaving to collect their
instruments. John stayed behind for a minute. He stacked his dishes, then
moved to stand behind Lucy.
"Do they know about�well, that you're a�oh, you know!" He whispered into her
ear.
She looked up at him. "No, they don't. And they don't need to know," she
replied, pointing the spatula at him menacingly. John put on a look of fake
horror.
"Oh, my GOD! It's the Angel of spatulas! Heaven help us! She'll kill us
all!" He cried like an idiot. Lucy put her hands on her hips.
"You learn a lot as an angel. I could easily behead you with this, if I
wanted to." She threatened. John gulped, holding his neck.
"Mornin', sunshine." She said quietly, not taking her eyes off him. This
unsettled Ringo a little bit.
"Uh�good morning�what time is it?"
"'Bout eight thirty. Coffee?"
"I prefer tea, but coffee would be just fine."
"Yea, you English guys drink tea all the time, huh?" She said, turning
towards the kitchen. Ringo replied without thinking.
"Yup. John and Paul like it too, but George isn't that fond of it." She
nodded slowly, chewing on her lip with a dubious expression on her face.
Ringo stared at her for a moment, then realized his terrible slip up.
"Uh, no, I mean�that is�I�"
"I knew it. You are Ringo Starr." Candy said matter-of-factly. Ringo
stuttered, trying to cover his tracks.
"No! I'm just�uh�a friend! I'm�uh�Ringo's cousin! Yea!" He said, praying
that she would believe him.
She cocked one eyebrow. "A cousin that looks the same, has the same name,
and the same blue eyes? C'mon, I wasn't born yesterday."
"Blue eyes are very common in my family! And Richard was my grandfather,
Ringo's too! We were both named after him because he had such a big effect
on our whole family." Ringo lied up and down, twisting desperately to get
out of this uncomfortable situation.
"How're you such good friends with John, Paul and George, then? C'mon,
Ringo!"
"My name is Rich, and I know the Beatles so well because I often visited my
cousin - we were very close - and he would either have them with him or he
would talk about them. I know almost everything about the Beatles." Candy
looked at him long and hard. Then, with a sigh of defeat, she hauled herself
up and went to pour him a cup of coffee. Ringo sighed, glad that was over
with. He fell back in his chair, thinking grimly that he would have to be on
the alert so he didn't slip up again�
'Hmmm�' Paul thought to himself. 'I think I'll take a bath�' Paul turned to
the bath, which was luckily in a separate room than the shower. He closed
the door but didn't bother to lock it, turning on the hot water. He stripped
down, slipping in the hot bubble bath, feeling better already.
After his bath, Paul felt much better. He wrapped himself in a white fluffy
towel, singing "She's A Woman" loudly. Suddenly, he heard a girlish giggle
behind him. He whipped around, almost losing his towel. He caught it just
before it fell to the ground.
"Whoo! Good thing I caught that, eh?" He asked her.
"Well, good for whom?" Ashley replied naughtily. Paul just blushed.
"Can you just leave for a bit until I get dressed? Please?" Paul asked,
opening the door for her. Ashley didn't move, crossing her arms over her red
tube top.
"Aww, do I have to?" Ashley pouted, giving Paul the puppy dog eyes. Paul
sighed.
"Yes."
"Oh, fine." With a snap of her fingers, Ashley disappeared. Paul shut and
locked the door, even though he knew it wouldn't keep Ashley out if she
wanted to come in. Paul inspected his clothes, sniffing them gingerly. They
reeked with beer. Paul wrinkled his nose, gathering his clothes up in a ball
and leaving the bathroom. He was careful to avoid the various young men
strewn about the floor as he threw his clothes in the hotel laundry basket.
Paul quietly approached Nick, who was still passed out near the shower, and
who seemed to be the closest to his size. He shook his prone band mate
gently.
"Nick�Nick�Nick!" Nick groaned, sitting up slowly and rubbing the back of
his head.
"The floor isn't as comfortable as I thought it was�" He said groggily. Then
he noticed Paul standing there in only a towel. "Something wrong?" Paul
blushed.
"I�uh�need some clothes�could I borrow some of yours?" Nick nodded, then got
up slowly and stiffly. He staggered out of the bathroom, leaning heavily on
Paul's shoulder. They went over to his suitcase, and Nick pulled out a ball
of clothes, handing them to Paul. Paul helped him over to the bed, and Nick
promptly fell back asleep. Paul smiled, then returned to the bathroom.
Paul lay out the clothes on the floor, inspecting them carefully. He pulled
on a pair of soft silk boxers with hearts all over them, feeling slightly
silly. He then pulled on a pair of incredibly baggy black jeans. Paul looked
at them in astonishment; they wouldn't stay up without a belt! Paul found a
belt in the pile of clothes; the belt buckle had a silver 98 inscribed in
it. Paul cinched the jeans around his waist as tight as he could in an
attempt to keep them up. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to see
if that looked right. He laughed hysterically, seeing that it looked like he
had legs like the Michelin Man. Maybe Nick wasn't as close to his size as he
thought. Still chuckling, he pulled on the white shirt that Nick had given
him. It had long sleeves and a collar, buttoned in the front. Paul threw it
on over the jeans, buttoning it up and tucking it in. He then pulled on the
large black jacket that came down to the middle of his thighs. Looking
himself over in the mirror, he burst out laughing again. Just then, Ashley
popped in.
"Oh, cute, Paul!" She joked, tugging at his jacket.
"I don't think these are the right size�"
"No, that's right. Hang on�" She straightened his collar, unbuttoning the
first two buttons.
"Are you joking? These pants are huge!" Paul cried incredulously, pulling at
his jeans.
"It's 2000, Paul. Styles have changed."
"No kidding�"
"There! All ready!" Ashley stepped back to survey her work. Paul was the
very image of a boyband member. Well, except for the scowl.
"I feel like a bum. Can't I at least button my shirt up?" He pleaded,
reaching for the buttons.
"No!" Ashley cried, batting his hands away. "Girls like to see a bit of
chest. Leave it."
Paul stared into the mirror, looking himself up and down. This was going to
be interesting.
"A concert pitch is a pitch that every instrument is familiar with. It is, however, a different pitch, depending on what type of instrument you have. An alto sax is an E flat instrument. There for, your concert B flat pitch is a G, and your concert F pitch is a D. understand?" George had a headache just remembering. But then she got more complicated.
"There really aren't many E flat instruments. There's the Alto sax and the Bari sax, and that's all I can think of off the top of my head. Then there is the concert pitch instruments, like Flutes and Tubas. B flat instruments include Trumpets, Clarinets, and Soprano and tenor saxes. Then there are F instruments, which would be like the French horn and the melophone. Understand?" George rolled his eyes and blew a note in the saxophone. It was an open note, which he had learned was a C# ***C sharp***.
"All open notes on saxophones are C#. All the fingerings on all the saxophones are the same. The only thing that is different is the type of Saxophone and what concert pitch it is. Understand?" George was really beginning to hate his alphabet.
~~**~~**index**~~**~~