Yes It Is Stories: A Comedy of Errors
Yes It Is Stories
Title: A Comedy of Errors
Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovely_rita_mm
Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue
Rating: R for language, sex, & implied drug use.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and much to the real Maggie’s disappointment, is a complete work of fiction.
Dearest readers!!! We come bearing another promised installment of the Maggie Sue series. You have all been so wonderful in your comments and reminders (thank you!) and I promise we have been hard at work drafting the story arc for you. But that will certainly take some time, sooooo.....
We have another little one shot for you that takes place in the year or so between "Yes it is" & "Tomorrow Never Knows" (that's the title of the sequel) that will hopefully help tide you over until the sequel is done. Actually, we have a couple more of these planned. :)
So, dearest readers, turn off your mind, relax and join Maggie Sue on another one of her Beatle adventures.....
Previous updates located HERE!
A Comedy of Errors
August 1966, directly following the events of "Lennon/McCartney"
Maggie watched NYC pass by the window of her taxi. It was so exciting to be back. The city meant so much to her and she felt like she was seeing it as she’d never really seen it before. Her NYC was in 2006 - but this…this was NYC in 1966. She felt like a person out of time, detached almost - passively observing as the scientist she was. Except that now this was her world. She’d made her choice to stay in 1966 after she’d managed to travel backwards in time and somehow end up engaged to a Beatle. The whole thing sounded like bad fanfiction and yet, oddly, it worked. And while she knew she was wrecking all sorts of havoc with the timeline, she also knew that John was the love of her life. They wouldn’t have been happy apart.
So here she was, back in the US for the first time since she’d moved both to 1966 and to England to be with John. She’d attended the Beatle’s Shea Stadium concert and by sheer, unbelievable coincidence, had ended up seated next to the future Linda McCartney. Or maybe it was fate, Maggie thought to herself. Maybe it’s a sign that she wasn’t making a horrible mistake by being here. Maybe Linda and she were meant to meet, and meant to become friends. Maybe she could save Linda from cancer and maybe their friendship could help hold John and Paul together. Too many maybes.
Now Maggie was on the way to John’s hotel. John hadn’t yet been told that she was coming - she’d wanted to surprise him. Brian had already arranged for her things to be taken to the hotel so she wouldn’t have to haul them all the way to the show, and then back to the hotel. She’d also insisted on taking a cab by herself, turning down a hired car. She didn’t want to attract attention, and besides, this was her city - she knew her way around! Maggie was just grateful it was pre-internet - it was much easier to blend in without some internet site reporting her every move, or paparazzi on every corner. She was sure no one would recognize her.
“Hey, Miss, where do you want me to drop you?” The cab driver interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Smiling at him, Maggie gave him the address of the hotel, telling him the front door was fine.
“We've been dropping passengers off there all night,” he said, shaking his head. “The Beatles are staying there, and they all think they’re going to get in somehow. Is that what you’re up to?”
Maggie gave him a coy smile, but stayed silent. If only he knew. She laughed along with the cabbie, at how ridiculous that was, before sneaking a glance at the ruby engagement ring on her right hand.
The cab pulled up to front of the hotel, the outside of which was swarming with throngs of screaming teenage girls. Maggie watched with wide eyes as girls fainted and shrieked; she would have to make her way through them to get to the front door.
As she got out of the cab, Maggie couldn’t help but feel slightly stunned. She knew what Beatlemania was and how crazy their fans were, but books and movies had not prepared her for this. Maggie turned back towards the direction of the cab, intent on asking him to take her to a pay phone where she could try to get a hold of Brian, but the cab was already gone. Not that she could blame the cab driver. The screams were enough to drive anyone away.
Maggie suddenly felt very alone and suddenly realized she might have some trouble getting to John. With no luggage, no escort, and no British accent, she really didn’t look that much different from any of the other female fans in attendance. She might have been a few years older, but with her hair back, she looked young for her age and could have easily been mistaken for one of them.
With a deep breath, Maggie pushed her way through the crowd of girls and into the lobby. Boldly, she walked up the counter where she was greeted by a harried-looking desk clerk.
“Can I help you?” the clerk asked, obviously annoyed by the entire situation.
“Yes, I need to check into my room.” Maggie responded, nicely, with a smile on her face. This guy could be a jerk, she didn’t care, she was going to be seeing her John very shortly.
Hopefully.
The clerk’s eyebrows raised and he took her in fully; no luggage, and a girl checking into a hotel alone, in 1966? “I bet you do,” he responded sneeringly, “And I supposed you’d like a room on the same floor as the Beatles, too.”
“Well, no,” Maggie said slowly, having a bad feeling that there was no way the clerk would believe what she was about to say, “I’m in the same suite as the Beatles - they’re expecting me.” She forced herself to be polite to the sneering clerk, even if it felt forced. If this was what she had to do though to see John, she would do it.
“I’m sure they are, Miss.” As the clerk began to turn away, Maggie grabbed at his arm.
“Can you at least look in your reservations to see if my name is there? It’s Margaret Susan….” . She was pleading - she wanted to see John so badly that she wasn’t above begging at this point.
“I’m sure it won’t be, Miss,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. All night he had been dealing with the same type of girl, and all night he'd had to fend them off, explaining to each and every one of them that they were getting no further. He didn’t understand what the attraction was. The objects of their affection were simply four boys with long hair. “Look, you’re clearly a fan trying to get a peep at the band, just like the rest of them out there. You don’t even have any luggage.”
“But it was sent ahead for me from the airport!” Maggie said, getting exasperated now.
“Right, why would you do that?” He was growing tired of this game and he was going to call security on her soon.
“Because I went to The Beatles’ concert.” Maggie knew what her story sounded like. The truth even sounded crazy to her own ears. There was nothing else she could say that would make this any better though.
“Aha. Ok, so let me get this straight, you just flew in from…”
“England.” As the words came out of her mouth, Maggie winced. The man was now giving her a condescending look as he leaned back against the counter, smirking at her.
“England, right. You, with your American accent, flew in from England, had your luggage sent to the hotel, went to The Beatles’ concert, and now are here to check into your room, which you are sharing with the Beatles.”
“Look,” Maggie said with a sigh. “If you could just call up Brian Epstein - I’m his guest and he’s expecting me.” The anger was boiling under her skin. She was irritated that this man was keeping her from John, and she was even more irritated with that fact that he thought her to be nothing more than a foolish child.
“I’ve seen the guests Mr. Epstein gets and I don’t think you’re his type, girlie.” This man was losing all remnants of politeness and fast. “Now, please leave, or I will call security on you and have you escorted off the premises.”
At that moment, Maggie lost it. Before she could stop herself, she grabbed at the clerk’s tie with her left hand and pulled his startled form half way over the counter. Then she waved her right hand under his nose and said, “Look you small-minded, male-chauvinist idiot, I’m John Lennon’s fiance, Brian Epstein flew me out from England to surprise him, and you’d better get me up to my room before I make a real scene.”
The clerk blinked at her, the red glint from the ruby shiny before his eyes. The woman before him breathed harshly, the hand holding his tie shaking. Gently, he removed her left hand from his tie, staring pointedly at her right hand. “A ruby ring on the wrong hand?” he commented. “What, Mr. Lennon couldn’t afford a diamond?” He pushed her away slightly, looking at her with disgust as he straightened his tie. He did have to admit that this was one of the crazier fans that he had met tonight, what with her clear delusions of grandeur. “Besides, John Lennon isn’t engaged, it’d be all over the papers wouldn’t it?”
Reaching for the phone, he began to call security. Before he touched the receiver, and before Maggie could retort that John and she hadn’t officially announced their engagement yet, a loud commotion erupted behind them. The screaming increased by several decibels as the Beatles themselves were swept into the hotel.
As soon as Maggie laid eyes on John, all thoughts of punching the clerk in his smug nose (which might have been her next step) disappeared and Maggie started yelling and waving at John, desperate to get his attention. Of course, with the noise and crowd levels, John didn’t see or hear her and as quick as they arrived, the Beatles were gone.
Maggie, realizing that any shred of credibility that she wasn’t just a random fan had just evaporated, slowly turned to the desk clerk who, with a knowing sneer, beckoned a bellhop over. “Please escort Mrs. Lennon outside with the rest of the fans, where she belongs. If she tries to get in again, have her arrested for trespassing.” Maggie, not wanting to end up in jail (what if her fake documents didn’t hold up to that kind of scrutiny?) resignedly walked off with the bellhop, determined to formulate another plan.
The bellhop had taken her out a side door, probably afraid that as he let one crazy out, he’d accidentally let 10 more in. He was about to turn away when Maggie had an idea. She grabbed his arm and said, “I’ll give $100 right now if you give me your uniform and go home for the rest of the day.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paul stared at John’s closed door in frustration. He’d been knocking steadily for five minutes now, and he knew that John wasn’t far enough gone to not hear him. In short, John was just being, well, John.
“Look John,” Paul yelled with a final bang. “I know you’re in there, so you can just stop pretending that you’re not sitting in your room all alone, getting pissed and mooning over a girl! I’m coming in.” When there was no response, Paul took that as his cue. Cracking open the door he peered carefully inside. Seconds later, a glass shattered above him, the shards crashing over his head, along with the brandy that had been in it. Quickly, Paul pulled the door shut, trying to avoid any further damage.
“Now look, you’ve got to stop this, John! I’ve something important to tell you!” Paul snarled through the crack in the door. He hated when John decided to wallow in one of his difficult moods.
After a few moments of silence, Paul took that as an invitation to enter the dark room. “There, that’s bet-“ Paul suddenly dove for the floor, as another glass sailed by, grazing the top of his shoulder.
“Look, you stupid wanker, you’d better stop breaking all your glasses or there will be none left for Maggie to use when she gets here!” Paul yelled.
The lights came bursting on, and Paul, momentarily blinded by them, peered from around the bed he’d taken cover behind. He saw John standing by the light switch with a third glass in his hand.
“What did you say?” John breathed, barely daring to hope. He lowered the glass slightly, and squinted his eyes at Paul, as if to help him decipher real meaning of the words Paul had just said.
Paul took the time to stand gracefully up, dust himself off, check his hair in the mirror, and look at John out of the corner of his eyes. “Oh, so now you want to listen to me instead of taking my head off with a bloody glass.”
In a flash, John covered the ground between them and was inches from Paul’s face, “Don’t play with me, Macca, I’m not in the mood. I’ve been trying to ring Maggie up and I’m getting no answer.”
“That’s because she’s probably out with Mick,” Paul teased. John’s arm raised once more as he threatened to hurl another glass at Paul. Quickly, Paul stuck his hands in the air, taking a step back and trying not to laugh. “I’m only joking! It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, mate…. she’s here!”
John lowered his glass again, and a confused look came on his face. “What do you mean she’s here?”
“Just what I said! Brian flew her out here to finish the tour with us and she’s just watched the show, and she should be arriving at the hotel any minute now!”
It sank in slowly for him. Paul watched as the realization fell over his friend’s features, his eyes lighting up, which was something he hadn’t seen since this miserable tour had begun. Suddenly John grabbed Paul by the cheeks and kissed him full on the lips. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” John whooped. He released a very shocked Paul and ran out of the room.
Blinking, Paul stared at the now wide open door. “John, wait!” He knew he should have probably approached this differently, already knowing John’s tendencies towards the extreme, but it was too late now. “You can’t go chasing after her; you’d get torn to pieces by the fans. Mal’s just gone down to meet her in the lobby and bring her up.”
John stopped short. Giving a quick glance to his watch, he debated whether to ignore Paul or not. The lad had a point, but this was also Maggie they were talking about. He was going to give it thirty minutes and then he would be down there himself.
Without a word, John headed back to his room where he proceeded to pace excitedly. Paul only rolled his eyes, and settled in on the couch.
John was so predictable. While he was happy for John, and he and Maggie had an understanding now, he just couldn’t understand John’s need to always be with her. Paul would be mortified if he had his old lady on tour with him! Thankfully, Maggie seemed to understand what the boundary lines in The Beatles were, and never crossed them. Though she often pushed them. At least pushed more than Paul was comfortable with.
She’d been downright docile about staying home from the tour though. Brian had pretty much had to force her to come out for the rest of this tour, and frankly, Paul was actually glad she was coming. John was barely tolerable to be around and he was making an already miserable tour worse. Why couldn’t he just relax and enjoy the birds like they used to? George was married and he wasn’t all puritanical on tour, and John hadn’t been when he was with Cyn either. No one was married on tour! No one! He’d never expected this sort of behavior from John of all people.
Paul looked over at John who was currently rubbing his hands together with almost a manic glee of anticipation. Paul shook his head and thought to himself, “Be that dependant on a bird? No thank you!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mal walked up to the counter of the desk in the hotel lobby. The clerk had been leaning on the counter, seemingly bored now that the excitement of the Beatles arrival was done. He straightened up, however, recognizing Mal as part of The Beatles’ entourage. Mal was, after all, hard to forget.
“Can I help you, Sir?” he asked, beaming an ingratiating smile up at the much taller man.
“Yes, I’m here to pick up one of Mr. Lennon’s personal guests, and her luggage.” Mal informed him genially.
“Her luggage sir?” The clerk asked, his smile faltering. This was not going to end well.
“Yes, she just flew in from England and wanted to take in the show before coming to the hotel, so she sent her luggage on ahead.”
The clerk swallowed. “Her name, Sir?” His smile was gone at this point, and panic was starting to grow in its place. Darting his eyes back and forth in the lobby he began desperately searching for said woman, hoping that she wasn’t who he feared she would be.
“Margaret Susan...” Stopping in the middle of his sentence, Mal looked over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the clerk was searching for. “Are you all right?”
The clerk’s mouth was opening and closing wordlessly as he realized what he had done. Mal bent lower to peer closer at him and waved a hand in front of his eyes “Hullo?” he asked, “Has Maggie Sue been here?”
A cold sweat broke over the man’s face and while he knew there was a desk between him and the roadie, he also knew that it wouldn’t be enough distance to protect him once he admitted to Mal that he had had Mr. Lennon’s fiancé forcibly ejected from the hotel. Taking a deep breath, he tried to gain the courage to face his end and with a rush, spilled out the story of what had happened. Mal grew taller and loomed larger over him with every word.
“YOU DID WHAT????!!!!” Mal thundered at him, drawing every eye in the lobby as he momentarily drowned out the shrieking girls outside.
Cowering behind the desk, the clerk swallowed. “I’ll find her. I’ll bring her back.”
“YOU’D BETTER!” Mal bellowed at him, “OR I’LL NOT ONLY HAVE YOUR JOB, BUT YOUR ARSE TOO!”
Twitching, the clerk started to move but then stopped, as if he was going to ask Mal a question.
“GO!” Mal boomed, and the clerk ran off grabbing a bellhop on the way to help him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie strode boldly down the hallway of the 12th floor of the hotel trying to act like she belonged there. Well, the truth was she did belong there, if only that arrogant clerk could have gotten over himself and looked up her name! But still, she knew that her lame disguise wouldn’t hold up under much scrutiny. To begin with, the Bell Hop she’d bribed for his uniform was about four inches taller than her and much bigger, so she was swimming in the uniform, and constantly tripping on the baggy trouser legs. And the Beatle Wig (barely covering the wisps of her long hair that kept slipping out of it) and fake mustache she’d purchased outside at the corner drugstore weren’t that convincing either. Still, she had managed to make it this far… which was actually a lot further then she thought she would.
If only she could figure out what floor the Boys were on! She was getting very tired, since she’d huffed and puffed her way up 12 flights of stairs in order to avoid the elevators during her search. Knowing her luck they’d be near the top floor of the hotel!
Leaning against the wall, Maggie sighed. Clearly they were not on this floor. There was no media room for them to answer asinine questions over and over again to reporters, no loud music, no permeating smell of pot, and no parties filled with groupies spilling over into the hallway. Definitely the wrong floor.
Shaking her head, she thought to herself how crazy and pointless this whole thing was. Having finally caught her breath, Maggie turned, intent on leaving. Before she got more than a few steps, a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Hey, you there!” Maggie froze, trying to decide if she should run for it... “Hey, could you give me a hand with this?” Turning slowly, Maggie swallowed. She didn’t know if it was done in relief or fear. Another bellhop stood before her, overloaded with so much luggage he couldn’t really see. He motioned towards a massive vase of flowers on the floor that had apparently just fallen off his luggage cart. Maggie, staying as silent as possible, obligingly picked up the vase and followed him towards the elevators. Silently she prayed that they were going up, not down, and that she could get away with not talking to the other bellhop.
As they walked into the elevator, Maggie peered through the fronds of the enormous flower arrangement and saw him press the button for floor number 24. A wide smile spread across her lips. Up it was! Relaxing slightly, Maggie pulled her head back, peering at the arrangement before her. She smiled, smelling its sweet fragrance. As she was basked in the aroma, content with the knowledge that she might actually get away with her facade, she idly noticed the card. It wasn’t anything special, nothing more than a standard little complimentary card that was stuck with most arrangements. The name on the card however, was what caught her eye.
Miss Margaret Susan
Maggie blinked. Could it be??? Were things finally going her way? Was she actually delivering flowers addressed to HERSELF to HER own room? This was fantastic! This was wonderful, this was-
“Hey! Are you new?” asked the other bellhop, peering at her around the luggage on his cart. Maggie had to force herself not to laugh as she continued to stare at the bellhop who was bogged down with what she realized was her luggage. There was a lot of it. She really needed to pack less. Looking closer at her as she tried to hide behind her flowers he frowned, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Maggie smiled nervously at him and was about to attempt a masculine sounding reply when the elevator doors opened again and in strode her nemesis.
The desk clerk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John’s pacing was growing more agitated when Mal finally opened the door to the room. Rushing forward and expecting Maggie’s smile to greet him, John was disappointed only to find Mal.
Paul walked by, listening to Mal try to explain what had happened. Knowing John though, it wasn’t going to cut it. In desperation, Paul started looking for cover in case John started throwing glasses again.
“Bollocks to this, I’m going to go find her.” John declared, once he’d heard Mal’s story.
“John - the fans are all over the lobby. They’ll tear you apart. They look like they want blood,” Mal protested. “It sounds like the gates of hell down there.”
For a second Paul thought John was going to give in to the reality of the situation. John’s shoulders had sagged as he began to walk back and forth again and Paul was certain that the storm had passed. Or at least they were in the eye of it. Standing from his crouched position behind the sofa, Paul looked around. He wanted a drink, but there weren’t any glasses left. His eyes settled on the bottle of rum however, and he had just decided that he would settle for a swig out of it, when John suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“I’m going to go find her.”
“John…” Paul started, but it was too late - John was out the door already.
With a groan, Paul rushed passed Mal, chasing after his friend. “Where are you going, you wanker? And wait for me; someone’s got to keep you out of trouble.” Paul jumped into the elevator that John had raced into, barely clearing the closing doors. Turning, Paul narrowed his eyes. “You realize they’re going to eat us alive down there.”
“Don’t worry, son,” John grinned at him, and jabbed a few buttons. “I’ve got a plan.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
As the elevator closed and started to move, they heard a faint ding signaling that another elevator had just stopped at their floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie breathed a sigh of relief as the desk clerk got off their elevator one floor after he’d gotten onto it. He’d barely looked at her - he’d seemed completely pre-occupied and was still obviously looking for someone. Maggie wondered, from the frantic look on his face, if it was for herself. She wasn’t inclined to make his search any easier, however. Not after the way he treated her. Fortunately, the other bellhop hadn’t taken up his interrogation of her again, and seemed content to keep quiet for the remainder of their ride. The elevator signaled its arrival at the 24th floor with a faint ding.
She followed the bellhop a short way down the hall to a door on the left. The bellhop, still laden with her luggage, gestured for her to knock on a door, which was immediately opened by Mal. She was so happy to see him that she nearly kissed him. Until she remembered she was still dressed like a man.
Mal motioned the bellhop with the luggage towards John’s room. Maggie entered and set the vase down on the table.
“Flowers, eh?” he looked at the card attached to the vase. “And from the hotel, no less. I dunno if that will make it up to poor Maggie. You tell your boss it’s going to take a lot more then that to make things right!”
Maggie pulled off her mustache and wig, shook her hair out, and said, “I don’t know, Mal. I think they are kind of pretty.”
Mal looked shocked for a moment while he processed this new information. Then, laughing, he swooped down, picked her up, and twirled her around. “Don’t ever do that to us again! I thought John was going to kill me!”
Maggie was giggling with glee, she was so happy to be there and so close to John! “It wasn’t my fault - that miserable clerk had me escorted out of the hotel!” As Mal set her down, Maggie began searching the room for her fiance. “Where is John?” She peered into the bedroom, where the other bellhop, who had overheard everything, was still standing with the luggage and a shocked look on his face. She waggled her fingers at him, feeling impish and pleased with herself. She’d managed to get into The Beatles’ room in 1966… quite a feat!
Still beaming from her moment of gloating, she turned to look at Mal. His smile however, had fallen. “Well, you kind of, er, that is to say, he just left… to look for you…”
“WHAT!?” Maggie cried. Without a second though, she tore the door of the suite open and looked frantically up and down the hallway. “Where did he go?” she demanded.
“Downstairs I think. To the lobby? Look, maybe you should just wait here until he gets back….” But his advice fell on deaf ears. Maggie was already jogging down the hall, tripping on her too long uniform trousers, with her long hair hanging down her back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“No.” Paul said flatly. “I’m not going.”
“Come on. Quit acting like a girl!” John goaded.
Paul looked at John pointedly, and then down at his own attire.
“Oh, right,” John said, clearly enjoying this. “I’d forgotten.”
“Look, I just don’t see why I have to wear a maid’s uniform is all. It’s not going to fool anyone,” Paul whined, plucking at his apron. The thing wasn’t even flattering.
John chuckled at his friend’s distress. Reaching out, he patted Paul on the cheek, “That long hair, those pouty lips, and most importantly, those mile-long eyelashes… I’m surprised anyone thinks you are a man, Macca.”
“I haven’t gotten any complaints from the birds on this tour,” Paul grumbled.
“Besides,” John continued, holding up a hand to forestall any further argument, “There was only one bellhop uniform in this cupboard, and no one forced you to come along.”
“Fine.” Paul sighed and looked resigned. If anyone found out he could just say that he was drunk. God, he wished he were drunk. Why did John have to break all the glasses?
John cracked the door of the 14th floor broom cupboard they had changed in, and, seeing the coast was clear, he and Paul walked out into the hallway. “Hey!” a voice called from behind them. It was the desk clerk from downstairs.
He eyed John and Paul suspiciously, not recognizing either of them. John had run out of his room in such a hurry, he still had his glasses on - which he hardly ever wore in public. Banking on John’s disguise, and not really wanting to show himself off in this get-up, Paul stepped behind John.
“What were you two doing in that closet?”
“Oh, nothing, Sir,” John said, in his best American accent, which was, quite frankly terrible. “Me and …Paulina were just polishing my, er, the broomstick handle .” He couldn’t resist winking. Paul jabbed him in the back, feeling on a minor sense of satisfaction at the small grunt of pain that came out of John’s mouth. “You don’t want to lose your grip on the handle when you’re sweeping the floor with it, you know.”
‘Paulina’ choked a bit, as John’s face twitched again.
The clerk eyed them both suspiciously, clearly convinced that they had been fooling around.
“Well, the hotel simply won’t stand for this kind of behavior, and if I catch you again, I will report you.” The clerk looked like he wanted to report them now, but clearly he was impatient to be on his way. He seemed like he was looking for something - or someone. It had bloody well better be Maggie, John thought.
“Oh, we would never,” John swore. “We polished that broomstick down to a nub,” he added solemnly. Paul choked again. Slightly mollified, but too panicked to find Maggie Sue to really care, the clerk sent Paul to go clean a room down the hall, and John downstairs to get some luggage.
The clerk forced himself to stay and watch that the maid and the bellhop went where he directed them, before rushing off. After all, standards were important. If you let them go, all hell could break lose.
Forced to separate under the clerk’s watchful eye, John headed down the stairs.
He walked boldly through the crowd of girls that had managed to force their way into the lobby, grinning with glee at not being recognized. He felt a bit invincible. He had never believed that Clark Kent could fool anyone by wearing glasses - but now he wondered if Superman had been on to something. However, this was short-lived. When John reached the other side of the pack of girls safely, he managed to trip over a bag on the floor, causing his glasses to slip. A young girl bent down to pick them up and handed them to him.
“Thanks, luv.” The words were out before he could stop himself.
Bad idea. Apparently, he’d forgotten that it wasn’t only his face that was recognizable.
The girl took one look at his face without the glasses, and realizing this bellhop had a Liverpool accent, she shrieked and lunged for him, causing all the girls behind him to do the same.
John felt like he was back in A Hard Day’s Night - he took off running, with the pack of them chasing him. Rounding a corner, John managed to dart into a broom cupboard, and close it before any of the girls had seen where he had gone. He heard the shrieks and screams go past his hiding place.
He shuddered. The sound of the gates of hell, indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie made it onto the first floor via the stairs without being stopped, though she was utterly exhausted. She slumped back against a door, trying to catch her breath, only to have it fall open. What could only have been yet another disaster turned into something more as the surprised desk clerk caught her, breaking her fall.
Maggie’s eyes widened as she and the clerk locked eyes. They stared at each other in bewilderment for a minute, until Maggie came to her senses. She was not going to be kicked out of this hotel again - not until she had found her fiance.
Scrambling out of his arms, Maggie bolted, racing down the hall towards the lobby with the clerk hot on her tail.
“Stop her!” The clerk yelled at anyone that would listen, giving Maggie the much-needed incentive to just run faster.
Sweat broke out on her forehead as she frantically searched her mind for something to get her out of this situation. There had to be some logical way to do this. She knew she could outsmart everyone here, if only she was allowed a moment to think. Unfortunately, in the solution she was creating in her head, the one she was sure would keep her out of the custody of the clerk, she had forgotten one minor detail.
As she rounded the corner, a pack of screaming teenage girls came running towards her.
The fear of getting trampled overwhelmed her and on instinct alone, Maggie flattened herself against the wall and hoped for the best. The girls, focused on their prey, took no notice of her, however, and just ran right by. They would slow up the clerk for a moment, but Maggie knew she didn’t have much time. Looking around for the nearest escape, Maggie spied a nearby broom closet. Without thinking, she dove inside.
The screaming faded away as Maggie was engulfed in the darkness of the closet. She had to smile a little, despite the situation. After all, the clerk now had over a dozen, screaming, teenage girls to deal with.
A noise from behind her interrupted her thoughts.
“Who’s there?” she demanded as she whirled around bringing her hands up in a karate stance. Not that she knew any karate, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Silence greeted her but after a minute…
“Maggie?”
A shiver of recognition (oh, that accent) and joy ran from the top of Maggie’s head to her fingertips and toes, and she literally flung herself into the direction of that voice and started peppering John with kisses, giggling madly.
After a stunned second John wrapped his arms around her tightly, and proceeded to let her know just how pleased he was to see her too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You know, in all the times I imagined having you show up suddenly on the tour, this is NOT what I pictured.” John mused while running his fingers through Maggie’s long, dark hair as they sat snuggling on the floor of the broom cupboard. Neither of them had any idea how long they’d been in there, nor did they care; it was just so nice to be together again. It had been far too long.
“Oh really? What was different in your imagination?” Maggie asked, nuzzling his neck.
John kissed the top of her head and whispered, twitching his nose at her, “Midgets, there were more midgets involved.”
Maggie burst into a fit of giggles yet again, which led to some playful wrestling and tickling, which led to kissing, which very nearly led to other things again, when Maggie, level-headed, broke away and said, “John, we really should go back. They’ve got to be worried about you.”
John sighed. “You’re right. I just… I dunno, I’m just tired of it all. I’m ready for a break, a change, anything. Mostly, I’m just tired of being away from you,” he mumbled into her hair, breathing her scent in deeply. “I just…I don’t want to tour anymore. I’m done. Beatle John wants to retire.”
Maggie was very quiet for a moment, considering her next words carefully. “Well, let’s just get through this tour, and we can talk some more about it. Maybe after it’s over you could explore other things, take a break from music for a bit.”
“Dick Lester did want me to help him out with his new movie. It might be a laugh.”
Maggie’s brain suddenly flashed to the future, remembering that it was that movie that started him wearing his famous round glasses. Iconic, one might call them. And here she was, snuggling in a broom closet with a living icon. It was all too much sometimes. It set her off giggling again. Yup, her life was like bad fanfiction, and she loved it.
John shook his head at her sudden giggling. Someday he’d figure her out, but not today. Thankfully he had years, decades even, to do that. “All right, luv, let’s see if we can sneak upstairs without running into that pack of birds.”
Reluctantly, they both got up, ready to brave their way back to the hotel room.
John opened the door first, peeking outside, hoping this was going to be a relatively painless task. Deciding that the coast was clear, he pulled Maggie Sue after him. “Come on, luv - we’d better stop on the 14th floor and make sure Paul isn’t trapped there, with some burly American man trying to get into his knickers.”
Maggie stopped. “What?”
“Didn’t I tell you Paul had a thing for dressing up like a lady?” John grinned. “It’s shameful, it is.”
As John tugged her after him, Maggie laughed and gave up trying to make any sense of the conversation. She’d get the story out of Paul later. After all, they had all the time in the world.
****************************
Authors' Note: Now that Maggie Sue & Mr. Lennon have found each other will they ever make it up to their room alive or will the fans tear them apart??? And more importantly WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO PAULIE IN DRAG???!!! Stay tuned to find out what happens next in the AMAZING AND TOTALLY BELEIVABLE TIME TRAVEL BEATLE ADVENTURES OF MAGGIE SUE, NASA SCIENTIST TIME TRAVELING ROCK STAR!!!!!111!
We've got another one-shot story for you nearly complete, that should hopefully go up next week *crosses fingers*
And we'd like to thank you guys for suggesting this. We never would have written up a follow on story of Maggie & John "reuniting" on tour if not for your suggestions, so please keep 'em coming!
This was fun! YAY!
Continue to "BFF"
Want your own bound and printed copy of Yes It Is (and associated short stories) and Tomorrow Never Knows? You can get them from Lulu.com. You can also download a .pdf from Lulu for FREE!!
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/lovely_rita_mm
Title: A Comedy of Errors
Authors: pennylane_fic, jenny_wren28 & lovely_rita_mm
Starring: The Beatles and Maggie Sue
Rating: R for language, sex, & implied drug use.
Disclaimer: We don’t own any of the Beatles, this obviously never happened, and much to the real Maggie’s disappointment, is a complete work of fiction.
Dearest readers!!! We come bearing another promised installment of the Maggie Sue series. You have all been so wonderful in your comments and reminders (thank you!) and I promise we have been hard at work drafting the story arc for you. But that will certainly take some time, sooooo.....
We have another little one shot for you that takes place in the year or so between "Yes it is" & "Tomorrow Never Knows" (that's the title of the sequel) that will hopefully help tide you over until the sequel is done. Actually, we have a couple more of these planned. :)
So, dearest readers, turn off your mind, relax and join Maggie Sue on another one of her Beatle adventures.....
Previous updates located HERE!
A Comedy of Errors
August 1966, directly following the events of "Lennon/McCartney"
Maggie watched NYC pass by the window of her taxi. It was so exciting to be back. The city meant so much to her and she felt like she was seeing it as she’d never really seen it before. Her NYC was in 2006 - but this…this was NYC in 1966. She felt like a person out of time, detached almost - passively observing as the scientist she was. Except that now this was her world. She’d made her choice to stay in 1966 after she’d managed to travel backwards in time and somehow end up engaged to a Beatle. The whole thing sounded like bad fanfiction and yet, oddly, it worked. And while she knew she was wrecking all sorts of havoc with the timeline, she also knew that John was the love of her life. They wouldn’t have been happy apart.
So here she was, back in the US for the first time since she’d moved both to 1966 and to England to be with John. She’d attended the Beatle’s Shea Stadium concert and by sheer, unbelievable coincidence, had ended up seated next to the future Linda McCartney. Or maybe it was fate, Maggie thought to herself. Maybe it’s a sign that she wasn’t making a horrible mistake by being here. Maybe Linda and she were meant to meet, and meant to become friends. Maybe she could save Linda from cancer and maybe their friendship could help hold John and Paul together. Too many maybes.
Now Maggie was on the way to John’s hotel. John hadn’t yet been told that she was coming - she’d wanted to surprise him. Brian had already arranged for her things to be taken to the hotel so she wouldn’t have to haul them all the way to the show, and then back to the hotel. She’d also insisted on taking a cab by herself, turning down a hired car. She didn’t want to attract attention, and besides, this was her city - she knew her way around! Maggie was just grateful it was pre-internet - it was much easier to blend in without some internet site reporting her every move, or paparazzi on every corner. She was sure no one would recognize her.
“Hey, Miss, where do you want me to drop you?” The cab driver interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Smiling at him, Maggie gave him the address of the hotel, telling him the front door was fine.
“We've been dropping passengers off there all night,” he said, shaking his head. “The Beatles are staying there, and they all think they’re going to get in somehow. Is that what you’re up to?”
Maggie gave him a coy smile, but stayed silent. If only he knew. She laughed along with the cabbie, at how ridiculous that was, before sneaking a glance at the ruby engagement ring on her right hand.
The cab pulled up to front of the hotel, the outside of which was swarming with throngs of screaming teenage girls. Maggie watched with wide eyes as girls fainted and shrieked; she would have to make her way through them to get to the front door.
As she got out of the cab, Maggie couldn’t help but feel slightly stunned. She knew what Beatlemania was and how crazy their fans were, but books and movies had not prepared her for this. Maggie turned back towards the direction of the cab, intent on asking him to take her to a pay phone where she could try to get a hold of Brian, but the cab was already gone. Not that she could blame the cab driver. The screams were enough to drive anyone away.
Maggie suddenly felt very alone and suddenly realized she might have some trouble getting to John. With no luggage, no escort, and no British accent, she really didn’t look that much different from any of the other female fans in attendance. She might have been a few years older, but with her hair back, she looked young for her age and could have easily been mistaken for one of them.
With a deep breath, Maggie pushed her way through the crowd of girls and into the lobby. Boldly, she walked up the counter where she was greeted by a harried-looking desk clerk.
“Can I help you?” the clerk asked, obviously annoyed by the entire situation.
“Yes, I need to check into my room.” Maggie responded, nicely, with a smile on her face. This guy could be a jerk, she didn’t care, she was going to be seeing her John very shortly.
Hopefully.
The clerk’s eyebrows raised and he took her in fully; no luggage, and a girl checking into a hotel alone, in 1966? “I bet you do,” he responded sneeringly, “And I supposed you’d like a room on the same floor as the Beatles, too.”
“Well, no,” Maggie said slowly, having a bad feeling that there was no way the clerk would believe what she was about to say, “I’m in the same suite as the Beatles - they’re expecting me.” She forced herself to be polite to the sneering clerk, even if it felt forced. If this was what she had to do though to see John, she would do it.
“I’m sure they are, Miss.” As the clerk began to turn away, Maggie grabbed at his arm.
“Can you at least look in your reservations to see if my name is there? It’s Margaret Susan….” . She was pleading - she wanted to see John so badly that she wasn’t above begging at this point.
“I’m sure it won’t be, Miss,” he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. All night he had been dealing with the same type of girl, and all night he'd had to fend them off, explaining to each and every one of them that they were getting no further. He didn’t understand what the attraction was. The objects of their affection were simply four boys with long hair. “Look, you’re clearly a fan trying to get a peep at the band, just like the rest of them out there. You don’t even have any luggage.”
“But it was sent ahead for me from the airport!” Maggie said, getting exasperated now.
“Right, why would you do that?” He was growing tired of this game and he was going to call security on her soon.
“Because I went to The Beatles’ concert.” Maggie knew what her story sounded like. The truth even sounded crazy to her own ears. There was nothing else she could say that would make this any better though.
“Aha. Ok, so let me get this straight, you just flew in from…”
“England.” As the words came out of her mouth, Maggie winced. The man was now giving her a condescending look as he leaned back against the counter, smirking at her.
“England, right. You, with your American accent, flew in from England, had your luggage sent to the hotel, went to The Beatles’ concert, and now are here to check into your room, which you are sharing with the Beatles.”
“Look,” Maggie said with a sigh. “If you could just call up Brian Epstein - I’m his guest and he’s expecting me.” The anger was boiling under her skin. She was irritated that this man was keeping her from John, and she was even more irritated with that fact that he thought her to be nothing more than a foolish child.
“I’ve seen the guests Mr. Epstein gets and I don’t think you’re his type, girlie.” This man was losing all remnants of politeness and fast. “Now, please leave, or I will call security on you and have you escorted off the premises.”
At that moment, Maggie lost it. Before she could stop herself, she grabbed at the clerk’s tie with her left hand and pulled his startled form half way over the counter. Then she waved her right hand under his nose and said, “Look you small-minded, male-chauvinist idiot, I’m John Lennon’s fiance, Brian Epstein flew me out from England to surprise him, and you’d better get me up to my room before I make a real scene.”
The clerk blinked at her, the red glint from the ruby shiny before his eyes. The woman before him breathed harshly, the hand holding his tie shaking. Gently, he removed her left hand from his tie, staring pointedly at her right hand. “A ruby ring on the wrong hand?” he commented. “What, Mr. Lennon couldn’t afford a diamond?” He pushed her away slightly, looking at her with disgust as he straightened his tie. He did have to admit that this was one of the crazier fans that he had met tonight, what with her clear delusions of grandeur. “Besides, John Lennon isn’t engaged, it’d be all over the papers wouldn’t it?”
Reaching for the phone, he began to call security. Before he touched the receiver, and before Maggie could retort that John and she hadn’t officially announced their engagement yet, a loud commotion erupted behind them. The screaming increased by several decibels as the Beatles themselves were swept into the hotel.
As soon as Maggie laid eyes on John, all thoughts of punching the clerk in his smug nose (which might have been her next step) disappeared and Maggie started yelling and waving at John, desperate to get his attention. Of course, with the noise and crowd levels, John didn’t see or hear her and as quick as they arrived, the Beatles were gone.
Maggie, realizing that any shred of credibility that she wasn’t just a random fan had just evaporated, slowly turned to the desk clerk who, with a knowing sneer, beckoned a bellhop over. “Please escort Mrs. Lennon outside with the rest of the fans, where she belongs. If she tries to get in again, have her arrested for trespassing.” Maggie, not wanting to end up in jail (what if her fake documents didn’t hold up to that kind of scrutiny?) resignedly walked off with the bellhop, determined to formulate another plan.
The bellhop had taken her out a side door, probably afraid that as he let one crazy out, he’d accidentally let 10 more in. He was about to turn away when Maggie had an idea. She grabbed his arm and said, “I’ll give $100 right now if you give me your uniform and go home for the rest of the day.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paul stared at John’s closed door in frustration. He’d been knocking steadily for five minutes now, and he knew that John wasn’t far enough gone to not hear him. In short, John was just being, well, John.
“Look John,” Paul yelled with a final bang. “I know you’re in there, so you can just stop pretending that you’re not sitting in your room all alone, getting pissed and mooning over a girl! I’m coming in.” When there was no response, Paul took that as his cue. Cracking open the door he peered carefully inside. Seconds later, a glass shattered above him, the shards crashing over his head, along with the brandy that had been in it. Quickly, Paul pulled the door shut, trying to avoid any further damage.
“Now look, you’ve got to stop this, John! I’ve something important to tell you!” Paul snarled through the crack in the door. He hated when John decided to wallow in one of his difficult moods.
After a few moments of silence, Paul took that as an invitation to enter the dark room. “There, that’s bet-“ Paul suddenly dove for the floor, as another glass sailed by, grazing the top of his shoulder.
“Look, you stupid wanker, you’d better stop breaking all your glasses or there will be none left for Maggie to use when she gets here!” Paul yelled.
The lights came bursting on, and Paul, momentarily blinded by them, peered from around the bed he’d taken cover behind. He saw John standing by the light switch with a third glass in his hand.
“What did you say?” John breathed, barely daring to hope. He lowered the glass slightly, and squinted his eyes at Paul, as if to help him decipher real meaning of the words Paul had just said.
Paul took the time to stand gracefully up, dust himself off, check his hair in the mirror, and look at John out of the corner of his eyes. “Oh, so now you want to listen to me instead of taking my head off with a bloody glass.”
In a flash, John covered the ground between them and was inches from Paul’s face, “Don’t play with me, Macca, I’m not in the mood. I’ve been trying to ring Maggie up and I’m getting no answer.”
“That’s because she’s probably out with Mick,” Paul teased. John’s arm raised once more as he threatened to hurl another glass at Paul. Quickly, Paul stuck his hands in the air, taking a step back and trying not to laugh. “I’m only joking! It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, mate…. she’s here!”
John lowered his glass again, and a confused look came on his face. “What do you mean she’s here?”
“Just what I said! Brian flew her out here to finish the tour with us and she’s just watched the show, and she should be arriving at the hotel any minute now!”
It sank in slowly for him. Paul watched as the realization fell over his friend’s features, his eyes lighting up, which was something he hadn’t seen since this miserable tour had begun. Suddenly John grabbed Paul by the cheeks and kissed him full on the lips. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” John whooped. He released a very shocked Paul and ran out of the room.
Blinking, Paul stared at the now wide open door. “John, wait!” He knew he should have probably approached this differently, already knowing John’s tendencies towards the extreme, but it was too late now. “You can’t go chasing after her; you’d get torn to pieces by the fans. Mal’s just gone down to meet her in the lobby and bring her up.”
John stopped short. Giving a quick glance to his watch, he debated whether to ignore Paul or not. The lad had a point, but this was also Maggie they were talking about. He was going to give it thirty minutes and then he would be down there himself.
Without a word, John headed back to his room where he proceeded to pace excitedly. Paul only rolled his eyes, and settled in on the couch.
John was so predictable. While he was happy for John, and he and Maggie had an understanding now, he just couldn’t understand John’s need to always be with her. Paul would be mortified if he had his old lady on tour with him! Thankfully, Maggie seemed to understand what the boundary lines in The Beatles were, and never crossed them. Though she often pushed them. At least pushed more than Paul was comfortable with.
She’d been downright docile about staying home from the tour though. Brian had pretty much had to force her to come out for the rest of this tour, and frankly, Paul was actually glad she was coming. John was barely tolerable to be around and he was making an already miserable tour worse. Why couldn’t he just relax and enjoy the birds like they used to? George was married and he wasn’t all puritanical on tour, and John hadn’t been when he was with Cyn either. No one was married on tour! No one! He’d never expected this sort of behavior from John of all people.
Paul looked over at John who was currently rubbing his hands together with almost a manic glee of anticipation. Paul shook his head and thought to himself, “Be that dependant on a bird? No thank you!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mal walked up to the counter of the desk in the hotel lobby. The clerk had been leaning on the counter, seemingly bored now that the excitement of the Beatles arrival was done. He straightened up, however, recognizing Mal as part of The Beatles’ entourage. Mal was, after all, hard to forget.
“Can I help you, Sir?” he asked, beaming an ingratiating smile up at the much taller man.
“Yes, I’m here to pick up one of Mr. Lennon’s personal guests, and her luggage.” Mal informed him genially.
“Her luggage sir?” The clerk asked, his smile faltering. This was not going to end well.
“Yes, she just flew in from England and wanted to take in the show before coming to the hotel, so she sent her luggage on ahead.”
The clerk swallowed. “Her name, Sir?” His smile was gone at this point, and panic was starting to grow in its place. Darting his eyes back and forth in the lobby he began desperately searching for said woman, hoping that she wasn’t who he feared she would be.
“Margaret Susan...” Stopping in the middle of his sentence, Mal looked over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the clerk was searching for. “Are you all right?”
The clerk’s mouth was opening and closing wordlessly as he realized what he had done. Mal bent lower to peer closer at him and waved a hand in front of his eyes “Hullo?” he asked, “Has Maggie Sue been here?”
A cold sweat broke over the man’s face and while he knew there was a desk between him and the roadie, he also knew that it wouldn’t be enough distance to protect him once he admitted to Mal that he had had Mr. Lennon’s fiancé forcibly ejected from the hotel. Taking a deep breath, he tried to gain the courage to face his end and with a rush, spilled out the story of what had happened. Mal grew taller and loomed larger over him with every word.
“YOU DID WHAT????!!!!” Mal thundered at him, drawing every eye in the lobby as he momentarily drowned out the shrieking girls outside.
Cowering behind the desk, the clerk swallowed. “I’ll find her. I’ll bring her back.”
“YOU’D BETTER!” Mal bellowed at him, “OR I’LL NOT ONLY HAVE YOUR JOB, BUT YOUR ARSE TOO!”
Twitching, the clerk started to move but then stopped, as if he was going to ask Mal a question.
“GO!” Mal boomed, and the clerk ran off grabbing a bellhop on the way to help him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie strode boldly down the hallway of the 12th floor of the hotel trying to act like she belonged there. Well, the truth was she did belong there, if only that arrogant clerk could have gotten over himself and looked up her name! But still, she knew that her lame disguise wouldn’t hold up under much scrutiny. To begin with, the Bell Hop she’d bribed for his uniform was about four inches taller than her and much bigger, so she was swimming in the uniform, and constantly tripping on the baggy trouser legs. And the Beatle Wig (barely covering the wisps of her long hair that kept slipping out of it) and fake mustache she’d purchased outside at the corner drugstore weren’t that convincing either. Still, she had managed to make it this far… which was actually a lot further then she thought she would.
If only she could figure out what floor the Boys were on! She was getting very tired, since she’d huffed and puffed her way up 12 flights of stairs in order to avoid the elevators during her search. Knowing her luck they’d be near the top floor of the hotel!
Leaning against the wall, Maggie sighed. Clearly they were not on this floor. There was no media room for them to answer asinine questions over and over again to reporters, no loud music, no permeating smell of pot, and no parties filled with groupies spilling over into the hallway. Definitely the wrong floor.
Shaking her head, she thought to herself how crazy and pointless this whole thing was. Having finally caught her breath, Maggie turned, intent on leaving. Before she got more than a few steps, a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Hey, you there!” Maggie froze, trying to decide if she should run for it... “Hey, could you give me a hand with this?” Turning slowly, Maggie swallowed. She didn’t know if it was done in relief or fear. Another bellhop stood before her, overloaded with so much luggage he couldn’t really see. He motioned towards a massive vase of flowers on the floor that had apparently just fallen off his luggage cart. Maggie, staying as silent as possible, obligingly picked up the vase and followed him towards the elevators. Silently she prayed that they were going up, not down, and that she could get away with not talking to the other bellhop.
As they walked into the elevator, Maggie peered through the fronds of the enormous flower arrangement and saw him press the button for floor number 24. A wide smile spread across her lips. Up it was! Relaxing slightly, Maggie pulled her head back, peering at the arrangement before her. She smiled, smelling its sweet fragrance. As she was basked in the aroma, content with the knowledge that she might actually get away with her facade, she idly noticed the card. It wasn’t anything special, nothing more than a standard little complimentary card that was stuck with most arrangements. The name on the card however, was what caught her eye.
Miss Margaret Susan
Maggie blinked. Could it be??? Were things finally going her way? Was she actually delivering flowers addressed to HERSELF to HER own room? This was fantastic! This was wonderful, this was-
“Hey! Are you new?” asked the other bellhop, peering at her around the luggage on his cart. Maggie had to force herself not to laugh as she continued to stare at the bellhop who was bogged down with what she realized was her luggage. There was a lot of it. She really needed to pack less. Looking closer at her as she tried to hide behind her flowers he frowned, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
Maggie smiled nervously at him and was about to attempt a masculine sounding reply when the elevator doors opened again and in strode her nemesis.
The desk clerk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John’s pacing was growing more agitated when Mal finally opened the door to the room. Rushing forward and expecting Maggie’s smile to greet him, John was disappointed only to find Mal.
Paul walked by, listening to Mal try to explain what had happened. Knowing John though, it wasn’t going to cut it. In desperation, Paul started looking for cover in case John started throwing glasses again.
“Bollocks to this, I’m going to go find her.” John declared, once he’d heard Mal’s story.
“John - the fans are all over the lobby. They’ll tear you apart. They look like they want blood,” Mal protested. “It sounds like the gates of hell down there.”
For a second Paul thought John was going to give in to the reality of the situation. John’s shoulders had sagged as he began to walk back and forth again and Paul was certain that the storm had passed. Or at least they were in the eye of it. Standing from his crouched position behind the sofa, Paul looked around. He wanted a drink, but there weren’t any glasses left. His eyes settled on the bottle of rum however, and he had just decided that he would settle for a swig out of it, when John suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“I’m going to go find her.”
“John…” Paul started, but it was too late - John was out the door already.
With a groan, Paul rushed passed Mal, chasing after his friend. “Where are you going, you wanker? And wait for me; someone’s got to keep you out of trouble.” Paul jumped into the elevator that John had raced into, barely clearing the closing doors. Turning, Paul narrowed his eyes. “You realize they’re going to eat us alive down there.”
“Don’t worry, son,” John grinned at him, and jabbed a few buttons. “I’ve got a plan.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
As the elevator closed and started to move, they heard a faint ding signaling that another elevator had just stopped at their floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie breathed a sigh of relief as the desk clerk got off their elevator one floor after he’d gotten onto it. He’d barely looked at her - he’d seemed completely pre-occupied and was still obviously looking for someone. Maggie wondered, from the frantic look on his face, if it was for herself. She wasn’t inclined to make his search any easier, however. Not after the way he treated her. Fortunately, the other bellhop hadn’t taken up his interrogation of her again, and seemed content to keep quiet for the remainder of their ride. The elevator signaled its arrival at the 24th floor with a faint ding.
She followed the bellhop a short way down the hall to a door on the left. The bellhop, still laden with her luggage, gestured for her to knock on a door, which was immediately opened by Mal. She was so happy to see him that she nearly kissed him. Until she remembered she was still dressed like a man.
Mal motioned the bellhop with the luggage towards John’s room. Maggie entered and set the vase down on the table.
“Flowers, eh?” he looked at the card attached to the vase. “And from the hotel, no less. I dunno if that will make it up to poor Maggie. You tell your boss it’s going to take a lot more then that to make things right!”
Maggie pulled off her mustache and wig, shook her hair out, and said, “I don’t know, Mal. I think they are kind of pretty.”
Mal looked shocked for a moment while he processed this new information. Then, laughing, he swooped down, picked her up, and twirled her around. “Don’t ever do that to us again! I thought John was going to kill me!”
Maggie was giggling with glee, she was so happy to be there and so close to John! “It wasn’t my fault - that miserable clerk had me escorted out of the hotel!” As Mal set her down, Maggie began searching the room for her fiance. “Where is John?” She peered into the bedroom, where the other bellhop, who had overheard everything, was still standing with the luggage and a shocked look on his face. She waggled her fingers at him, feeling impish and pleased with herself. She’d managed to get into The Beatles’ room in 1966… quite a feat!
Still beaming from her moment of gloating, she turned to look at Mal. His smile however, had fallen. “Well, you kind of, er, that is to say, he just left… to look for you…”
“WHAT!?” Maggie cried. Without a second though, she tore the door of the suite open and looked frantically up and down the hallway. “Where did he go?” she demanded.
“Downstairs I think. To the lobby? Look, maybe you should just wait here until he gets back….” But his advice fell on deaf ears. Maggie was already jogging down the hall, tripping on her too long uniform trousers, with her long hair hanging down her back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“No.” Paul said flatly. “I’m not going.”
“Come on. Quit acting like a girl!” John goaded.
Paul looked at John pointedly, and then down at his own attire.
“Oh, right,” John said, clearly enjoying this. “I’d forgotten.”
“Look, I just don’t see why I have to wear a maid’s uniform is all. It’s not going to fool anyone,” Paul whined, plucking at his apron. The thing wasn’t even flattering.
John chuckled at his friend’s distress. Reaching out, he patted Paul on the cheek, “That long hair, those pouty lips, and most importantly, those mile-long eyelashes… I’m surprised anyone thinks you are a man, Macca.”
“I haven’t gotten any complaints from the birds on this tour,” Paul grumbled.
“Besides,” John continued, holding up a hand to forestall any further argument, “There was only one bellhop uniform in this cupboard, and no one forced you to come along.”
“Fine.” Paul sighed and looked resigned. If anyone found out he could just say that he was drunk. God, he wished he were drunk. Why did John have to break all the glasses?
John cracked the door of the 14th floor broom cupboard they had changed in, and, seeing the coast was clear, he and Paul walked out into the hallway. “Hey!” a voice called from behind them. It was the desk clerk from downstairs.
He eyed John and Paul suspiciously, not recognizing either of them. John had run out of his room in such a hurry, he still had his glasses on - which he hardly ever wore in public. Banking on John’s disguise, and not really wanting to show himself off in this get-up, Paul stepped behind John.
“What were you two doing in that closet?”
“Oh, nothing, Sir,” John said, in his best American accent, which was, quite frankly terrible. “Me and …Paulina were just polishing my, er, the broomstick handle .” He couldn’t resist winking. Paul jabbed him in the back, feeling on a minor sense of satisfaction at the small grunt of pain that came out of John’s mouth. “You don’t want to lose your grip on the handle when you’re sweeping the floor with it, you know.”
‘Paulina’ choked a bit, as John’s face twitched again.
The clerk eyed them both suspiciously, clearly convinced that they had been fooling around.
“Well, the hotel simply won’t stand for this kind of behavior, and if I catch you again, I will report you.” The clerk looked like he wanted to report them now, but clearly he was impatient to be on his way. He seemed like he was looking for something - or someone. It had bloody well better be Maggie, John thought.
“Oh, we would never,” John swore. “We polished that broomstick down to a nub,” he added solemnly. Paul choked again. Slightly mollified, but too panicked to find Maggie Sue to really care, the clerk sent Paul to go clean a room down the hall, and John downstairs to get some luggage.
The clerk forced himself to stay and watch that the maid and the bellhop went where he directed them, before rushing off. After all, standards were important. If you let them go, all hell could break lose.
Forced to separate under the clerk’s watchful eye, John headed down the stairs.
He walked boldly through the crowd of girls that had managed to force their way into the lobby, grinning with glee at not being recognized. He felt a bit invincible. He had never believed that Clark Kent could fool anyone by wearing glasses - but now he wondered if Superman had been on to something. However, this was short-lived. When John reached the other side of the pack of girls safely, he managed to trip over a bag on the floor, causing his glasses to slip. A young girl bent down to pick them up and handed them to him.
“Thanks, luv.” The words were out before he could stop himself.
Bad idea. Apparently, he’d forgotten that it wasn’t only his face that was recognizable.
The girl took one look at his face without the glasses, and realizing this bellhop had a Liverpool accent, she shrieked and lunged for him, causing all the girls behind him to do the same.
John felt like he was back in A Hard Day’s Night - he took off running, with the pack of them chasing him. Rounding a corner, John managed to dart into a broom cupboard, and close it before any of the girls had seen where he had gone. He heard the shrieks and screams go past his hiding place.
He shuddered. The sound of the gates of hell, indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maggie made it onto the first floor via the stairs without being stopped, though she was utterly exhausted. She slumped back against a door, trying to catch her breath, only to have it fall open. What could only have been yet another disaster turned into something more as the surprised desk clerk caught her, breaking her fall.
Maggie’s eyes widened as she and the clerk locked eyes. They stared at each other in bewilderment for a minute, until Maggie came to her senses. She was not going to be kicked out of this hotel again - not until she had found her fiance.
Scrambling out of his arms, Maggie bolted, racing down the hall towards the lobby with the clerk hot on her tail.
“Stop her!” The clerk yelled at anyone that would listen, giving Maggie the much-needed incentive to just run faster.
Sweat broke out on her forehead as she frantically searched her mind for something to get her out of this situation. There had to be some logical way to do this. She knew she could outsmart everyone here, if only she was allowed a moment to think. Unfortunately, in the solution she was creating in her head, the one she was sure would keep her out of the custody of the clerk, she had forgotten one minor detail.
As she rounded the corner, a pack of screaming teenage girls came running towards her.
The fear of getting trampled overwhelmed her and on instinct alone, Maggie flattened herself against the wall and hoped for the best. The girls, focused on their prey, took no notice of her, however, and just ran right by. They would slow up the clerk for a moment, but Maggie knew she didn’t have much time. Looking around for the nearest escape, Maggie spied a nearby broom closet. Without thinking, she dove inside.
The screaming faded away as Maggie was engulfed in the darkness of the closet. She had to smile a little, despite the situation. After all, the clerk now had over a dozen, screaming, teenage girls to deal with.
A noise from behind her interrupted her thoughts.
“Who’s there?” she demanded as she whirled around bringing her hands up in a karate stance. Not that she knew any karate, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.
Silence greeted her but after a minute…
“Maggie?”
A shiver of recognition (oh, that accent) and joy ran from the top of Maggie’s head to her fingertips and toes, and she literally flung herself into the direction of that voice and started peppering John with kisses, giggling madly.
After a stunned second John wrapped his arms around her tightly, and proceeded to let her know just how pleased he was to see her too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You know, in all the times I imagined having you show up suddenly on the tour, this is NOT what I pictured.” John mused while running his fingers through Maggie’s long, dark hair as they sat snuggling on the floor of the broom cupboard. Neither of them had any idea how long they’d been in there, nor did they care; it was just so nice to be together again. It had been far too long.
“Oh really? What was different in your imagination?” Maggie asked, nuzzling his neck.
John kissed the top of her head and whispered, twitching his nose at her, “Midgets, there were more midgets involved.”
Maggie burst into a fit of giggles yet again, which led to some playful wrestling and tickling, which led to kissing, which very nearly led to other things again, when Maggie, level-headed, broke away and said, “John, we really should go back. They’ve got to be worried about you.”
John sighed. “You’re right. I just… I dunno, I’m just tired of it all. I’m ready for a break, a change, anything. Mostly, I’m just tired of being away from you,” he mumbled into her hair, breathing her scent in deeply. “I just…I don’t want to tour anymore. I’m done. Beatle John wants to retire.”
Maggie was very quiet for a moment, considering her next words carefully. “Well, let’s just get through this tour, and we can talk some more about it. Maybe after it’s over you could explore other things, take a break from music for a bit.”
“Dick Lester did want me to help him out with his new movie. It might be a laugh.”
Maggie’s brain suddenly flashed to the future, remembering that it was that movie that started him wearing his famous round glasses. Iconic, one might call them. And here she was, snuggling in a broom closet with a living icon. It was all too much sometimes. It set her off giggling again. Yup, her life was like bad fanfiction, and she loved it.
John shook his head at her sudden giggling. Someday he’d figure her out, but not today. Thankfully he had years, decades even, to do that. “All right, luv, let’s see if we can sneak upstairs without running into that pack of birds.”
Reluctantly, they both got up, ready to brave their way back to the hotel room.
John opened the door first, peeking outside, hoping this was going to be a relatively painless task. Deciding that the coast was clear, he pulled Maggie Sue after him. “Come on, luv - we’d better stop on the 14th floor and make sure Paul isn’t trapped there, with some burly American man trying to get into his knickers.”
Maggie stopped. “What?”
“Didn’t I tell you Paul had a thing for dressing up like a lady?” John grinned. “It’s shameful, it is.”
As John tugged her after him, Maggie laughed and gave up trying to make any sense of the conversation. She’d get the story out of Paul later. After all, they had all the time in the world.
****************************
Authors' Note: Now that Maggie Sue & Mr. Lennon have found each other will they ever make it up to their room alive or will the fans tear them apart??? And more importantly WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO PAULIE IN DRAG???!!! Stay tuned to find out what happens next in the AMAZING AND TOTALLY BELEIVABLE TIME TRAVEL BEATLE ADVENTURES OF MAGGIE SUE, NASA SCIENTIST TIME TRAVELING ROCK STAR!!!!!111!
We've got another one-shot story for you nearly complete, that should hopefully go up next week *crosses fingers*
And we'd like to thank you guys for suggesting this. We never would have written up a follow on story of Maggie & John "reuniting" on tour if not for your suggestions, so please keep 'em coming!
This was fun! YAY!
Continue to "BFF"
Want your own bound and printed copy of Yes It Is (and associated short stories) and Tomorrow Never Knows? You can get them from Lulu.com. You can also download a .pdf from Lulu for FREE!!
http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/lovely_rita_mm