Chapter Five
Tonight, Tonight
Before I knew it, another day had begun. The morning sun streamed into my hotel room, and groggily I looked at the clock beside my bed. Ten o'clock! Oh no, I had already missed the best part of the day! I jumped out of bed, hastily stuck my hair into a ponytail, and pulled on pants and a short black shirt with a small flower embroidered on the right side near the neck.
Still rubbing my left eye to ease the pain of having put in a contact lens too quickly, I left the room and entered the main suite. I took with me two two LPs that I had brought with me to Boston, and one more than I had bought after having lunch with Cynthia and Patti. One was Beethoven's third symphony, one was a piano concerto by Haydn, and the last was the music to the ballet 'Swan Lake'. Finding the record player next to the couch, I put in 'Swan Lake' and sat down on the couch with a book on my lap.
I must have totally spaced out, because a half an hour later a hand all of a sudden appeared in front of my face, snapping its fingers.
"Aiiee!!!" I yelled, and looked up. There was George.
"Sorry, luv, had to wake you up, you were scaring me."
"So's this music!" commented John, rifling through my assortment of classical pieces, "haven't you got anything besides classical?"
"Have you ever even SEEN a ballet?"
"Do I need to?"
"John, you need to expand your horizon."
"Mine's expanded enough! Besides, I could say the same about you!"
"What?! I love rock music!"
"Really."
"Yes, really. I betcha I could sing every song you guys ever wrote or recorded!" I could, too.
"You bet me, hmm? Fine, then. If you can sing any song we ever wrote or recorded, then...well...then...you can have whatever you want from any of us." He gestured around the room to the Beatles.
"And if I can't?"
"Well, then, that's a nice concept. If you can't, darling, I suppose we'll have to take something of yours."
"Let's get one thing clear: this something is tangible, right?"
"Damn," said John, "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that." Patti, who had just entered the room, giggled.
"All right then, test me."
"Sing, 'To Know Her is to Love Her'."
"Sure. Please excuse me if I'm in the incorrect key, also if I change the words a bit so they make more sense." I cleared my throat. "To know, know, know him...is to love, love, love him. Just to see a smile makes my life worthwhile, yes just to know, know, know him...is to love, love, love him. And I do....and I do...and I do....etc.." I looked proudly up at him.
"Grr. Aha, here's one: 'That Means a Lot'."
"Fine, Johnny. Your friend say that your love don't mean a lot....but you know that your love is all you've go-o-o-o-ot! At times things are so fine...and at times they're not. But when she says she loves you: that means a lot."
I looked around the room. George was staring at me, dumbfounded. Paul was beaming, and Ringo looked suitably immpressed. Even John was at a loss for words.
"Whoa..." I thought to myself, "what just happened?"
"Penny, how the hell...you never...but...who taught you to sing like that?" John finally found his words.
"I dunno. I told you that I've ben in chorus for years."
"Penny, you've got a great voice!" I blushed.
"Thanks, John."
"No, really. Believe me, I wouldn't lie to you."
"I do. Of course I believe you. Well, sort of."
"Would I lie?"
"Do you want an answer?"
"Very funny."
"Thank you."
"You should try to get yourself produced."
"Oh, yeah, sure. By who?"
"Well, George Martin of course!" I gasped. Was it possible? "And you play guitar, too?"
"Well, yeah, but not that well."
"Sod that attitude, you can learn, can't you? Hell, this is a strange turn-out."
"Look, there is no way I'm going to sing in front of the Beatles' producer."
"Ah, come off it, he likes you! I know he does!"
"John, what would my parents say?"
"Are you going to tell them?"
"Well, shouldn't I?"
"No, probably not right now, anyway."
"I'll think about it."
"Will you?"
"Yes, of course. John, I couldn't really make it out there...least of all when you guys are ruling the world!"
"Is that all that's bothering you?"
"John, you're my idol, don't you see? I mean, yes of course you're my friend, I hope you are anyway, and I know you well, but isn't it obvious to you how popular and great you are?" As quickly as it had brightened, John's face turned dark.
*"No, I'm not great, Penny, and I hope that you never find that out for yourself." Stunned, I watched John get slowly to his feet and walk tiredly to the door. He closed it gently behind him and I heard him heading down the hall.
"Um...okay. Yeah." I said. "What just happened?" Paul looked worried.
"I don't know, luv, sometimes he gets like that. Usually he just goes and gets pissed, comes back, has a hangover and is all right. I don't t hink he knows his way around here, though. Who does?"
"I do," I said quietly. Everyone looked at me.
"Sergeant McCartney, reporting for duty, ma'am!" Said Paul officially, and saluted me. "Time to head out for duty!!!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" I saluted back, went to get my purse, and then left to follow John.