The 50th Anniversary of the release of "St. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" album by the Beatles got me thinking about my stories of the red bandana. So here is part four of the trilogy. (ala Douglas Adams) It would be helpful to have knowledge of the other three, "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," "In My Life" and "She's Leaving Home." The standard disclaimers apply, Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys. Sure wish they were. There is also a little real life added for interest. I promise to finish my other tale, just needed to test the water with something short and sweet.

Steve rifled through the albums one handed, looking for something to take his mind off the pain. He found his battered copy of Sgt. Pepper and awkwardly put it on the turntable. Dropping back to the couch, he carefully shielded his damaged shoulder. He let the intriguing melodies of the groundbreaking album distract him while he waited for the pain killers to kick in.

Yesterday had started off in an ordinary way, but turned ugly in a hurry. A footrace, tumble and dislocated shoulder were his reward for the dutiful execution of his duty. It didn't matter that it was only a dislocation with a few bone chips, it hurt plenty. Add to it the inconvenience of being trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey for the foreseeable future and Steve had plenty of reasons to be unhappy.

He continually shifted his position, with eyes closed, waiting for relief. It didn't come until after he'd flipped the LP to side two. The soothing sitar of "Within You Without You" and the pain meds hit at the same moment. He drifted serenely along with the music until his temporary bliss was shattered by several loud knocks on his front door.

Who the hell? He thought as he pried himself from the comfort of the sofa.

The knocking persisted until he swung the door open revealing a cheerful Jeannie Stone on the landing.

"You look terrible!" she chirped as she breezed by him. A full sack of groceries filled her arms. Steve wasn't even aware that she had returned to San Francisco for the summer.

"Thanks, um, what are you doing here?"

"Mike figured as much." Jeannie replied cryptically peering into the empty refrigerator. "He knew you wouldn't have anything in the house to eat." She turned to see Steve shamble into the kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"Making dinner." Jeannie continued to load the fridge.

With a huff, Steve dropped onto a kitchen chair. "You know I am capable of dialing the phone. I was gonna get takeout."

"Sure you were." She slammed the door of the fridge and picked up the prescription bottle from the counter. "You know you are supposed to take these with food. When was the last time you ate?"

He thought hard about the question. "Breakfast."

"Today?"

Steve attempted a one shoulder shrug.

"Just like I thought. Men." she added under her breath as she rooted in the cabinet for a skillet.

The final piano cord sounded from "A Day in the Life" and Steve got up to switch the record, knowing he wasn't going to win a battle with any Stone today. He double stacked the White Album on the turntable so he wouldn't have to go back to it for a while and returned to the kitchen. Jeannie was just putting the finishing touches on an omelet.

He sat down as she placed the plate in front of him, adding a glass of milk on the side. "Eat."

"Yes Ma'am," he replied sarcastically as she sat in the chair opposite his.

Jeannie smiled and winked.

"When did you get back?" he asked between mouthfuls. The fact that he could speak was an accomplishment. He had no idea he was so hungry.

"Two days ago, didn't Mike tell you?"

"No."

"Wait till I get ahold of him."

Steve finished the eggs and downed the milk in one. "Thanks you, I guess I was hungry. You know you didn't need to do this."

"Yeah, I know, but hey what are friends for." She picked up the plate and glass, putting it in the sink and turning on the water. She opened the drawer and looked for a dish towel. "You got any clean towels?"

Steve turned and looked at the heaping basket sitting against the wall. He had intended to do laundry last night. He sighed, guess that isn't gonna happen.

Jeannie followed his line of sight and spied the basket. Before he could say anything, she turned off the water and scooped up the overdlowing container with the box of soap powder perched on top.

"Jeannie you are NOT going to do my laundry. It's …it's just not right. No way man."

"And how do you intend to stop me, Inspector Keller? Where's the washer?"

"I don't think I'm gonna say, besides this is embarrassing."

"Jeez, I've been doing Mike's laundry for years, get over it."

"Down stairs to the left, and please keep any commentary on my clothes to yourself. I'd like to keep some of my dignity."

"You got it babe," she said with a laugh as she made her way to the door.

Steve shook his head and returned to the living room, so much for his right to privacy. Since the Stones had entered the picture, his life had become inescapably intertwined with Mike and his headstrong daughter. He might as well just roll with it.

00000

Jeannie lugged the basket down the stairs and emptied it on the counter by the washer, separating light and dark clothes. There were at least two loads. She dumped the light load into the washer and added the soap, slamming the lid of the washer home. She turned to head backs upstairs and noticed a plastic bag hooked on the bottom of the basket.