The next morning, I awoke to a note that had been placed on my nightstand. On that note, surprise surprise, was another, smaller note. I painstakingly rose out of my bed to look at what the first note said.

"Sandra,

I decided to go down and see if you got your reply from Martha yet. Well, you did, so read away. It may help distract you from everything that's going on, anyway.

George."

I smiled to myself as I read it. Leave it to George to go and do something like that. I was glad Martha wrote me back; it gave me a sense that some things were still alright. I put George's little note aside and went to open the envelope to Martha's. I started to read:

"Hey Sandra!

I'm so happy for you that you're having such a good time in The Bahamas! You are one lucky girl, you know that? So…what did you do when those Beatles started smoking on the flight? Did you join? Oh, who am I kidding, of course not! I was only kidding with you, ya know. And it's funny, I always pictured John as possibly being annoying, but now that you've confirmed it, I can definitely see it. I hope I hear more from your adventures, and maybe you'll see me…I can try to infiltrate the film crew! Have more fun!

Love,

Martha."

I smiles at Martha's usual quirky ways, but frowned a bit at the fact that she didn't know what was happening yet. Yes, I was having some sort of fun, but as I thought of poor Jake in the next room in a disguise and Alexander the murderer on the set, my mood darkened. I tried to think of something that would get me through the morning as I started to get ready to go. Pictures flooded through my mind and they finally settled on one thing…I didn't know why, but the big dark eyes of George Harrison flitted across my head. Maybe it was because of the note for Martha's letter, but it did and I didn't know for sure. His last words to me last night went through too…about wanted to tell me something, and then going on with how I shouldn't be with Jake…somehow it made me feel stranger. As I dressed myself and fixed my hair, I tried to drift away from those thoughts and onto thoughts of shooting my photos today.

When I was all ready, I thought it a good idea to go down to the boys' room and check on them, including Jake. Well—mostly Jake, but a little bit of George too. Damn it, there I go about George again! I was going to need a long nap…or a warm bath…or something. Just to rest my mind. I made my way down the hall again and knocked on the door. George, of all people, answered the door, obviously just finished dressing; his hair as still a messy mop atop his head.

"Well, good morning Sandra," he said sleepily, which was one of the cutest things I'd ever seen. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"I thought I'd come by," I said. "Thanks for getting me Martha's letter, by the way. It was a nice thing to wake up to."

"Not a problem," said George. "You can come in if you want."

"Sure," I said. George held the door open for me and I walked inside. I saw that the main room was empty. "Where's everyone?"

"They all went downstairs for breakfast," said George, sitting on the couch. "Come on, I don't bite."

"Even Jake?" I asked, taking a seat. It seemed like I had said the wrong thing, because George's face turned stony.

"Yeah, he was in disguise though," he said. "He'll be fine. I hope you're not getting too close to him…it's risky."

"Of course I'm not," I said. "Why are you so worried about that?"

"I just don't want to see you hurt," said George. "I'm fond of you, ya know."

"I'm rather fond of you too, George," I said.

"Well, of course you are," said George with a smile. "I'm George bloody Harrison for Crist's sake! If you're not fond of me, there may be something wrong!"

I laughed. "George, it's not just because you're a Beatle," I said. "Granted, it does have a lot to do with it, but I just think you're an all-around good guy."

"Is that so?" said George.

"Well—yeah," I said. George raised an eyebrow, and it made me double think on what I had just said…was it a good thing? It was probably just George being George again. He had a special knack for making me feel nervous when I really didn't need to feel that way. "If I didn't think you were a good guy, I wouldn't be here talking to you."

"Oh, well that's good, you're not one of those two-faced birds," said George. "That makes me feel better. Not that I felt bad in the first place, that is."

"Well, I'd hope you never felt bad about me," I said. "I mean—I don't think everyone has a stable opinion of me all the time, but—well—you know."

"I think you need speech coaching," said George. "You stutter too much…it's kind of cute though."

I made to say something, but I wasn't sure, so what came out of my mouth was a series of grunts and squeaks. I blushed a bit as I sat back in the couch. "Do you—want to go down to breakfast?" I finally asked.

George laughed a little. "Sure Sandra," said George. "I think the others are still down there, we can go and meet them." I tried to get off of the couch, but the cushion was too soft, and I fell back in again. George laughed and reached his hand out to me when he got up with ease. "Well?" he asked, gesturing to me.

"Ah," I said, holding back a blush as I took George's hand. It was large, and warm too. I felt the roughness of his fingertips that got there from his guitar playing. He swiftly pulled me up off of the couch and to my feet. I caught myself right before I was about to fall over right on top of him—that would have been very awkward. "Thanks," I muttered bashfully.

"Don't mention it," said George. I noticed that he was still holding my hand. We both kind of looked down at our locked hands for a second, and then looked back up at each other, both glowing red.

"Ah, yeah, let's…let's go," I said, swiftly taking my hand away. Why was my heart beating so fast?

"Good idea," said George. We both walked out the door, no longer hand in hand, and down to where everyone else was out eating breakfast downstairs. We got downstairs to the dining room to see everyone we were counting on seeing sitting and eating.

"Hey, look who it is finally!" called John with a mouthful of food. "Hey guys! What were you doing all alone?"

"Shove it, John," said George, taking a seat. I took a seat between him and the disguised Jake. "I just didn't want to leave so early with you."

"Whatever you say," said John. "How are you, Sandra?"

"Not bad," I said. "Hey, Jake—uh—Donny, you good?"

"Been better," said Jake glumly. "Man, this fake beard is way too itchy…"

"Just deal with it," I said. "Did we tell Brian and Richard yet?"

"Not yet," said Paul. "We figured we'd do it when they came over here…you know, save time to think of an explanation."

"I said to just give them the one he told us," said Ringo. "They wouldn't listen."

"We don't wanna scare him!" said Paul. "And besides, maybe Jake doesn't wanna reveal himself."

"Guys, I already told you that you could tell them," said Jake, looking aggravated. "It really doesn't matter if we can trust them and they can help."

"I actually think I do remember that," said Maureen. "It's okay Ritchie, you can give him the real story, you're not going crazy."

"You see, I told you!" said Ringo with an accusing tone.

"Okay Rings, don't get your pants in a knot," said Paul. "So when're we gonna tell them?"

"Don't look now, but I think they're coming over now," said George. Sure enough, Briand and Richard where on their way.

"Morning boys…and ladies," said Richard, giving a nod of acknowledgment to me and Maureen. "And…oh, who are you?" All eyes turned to Jake, who went paper white. Everyone else was searching for something to say.

"Well…hey there Eppy, can you and Richard come to somewhere secluded so we can talk about this?" asked John awkwardly.

"Oh, what is this now Lennon?" Brian moaned.

"You'll see," said John, shooting up off his chair swiftly, dragging his three other bandmates, me, Maureen, Jake, Brian, and Richard with him. Once we were safely around the corner where no one would hear what was going on, John started to think. "So…what should I say here…" he contemplated. "Sandra? You have something?"

All eyes turned to me, who was currently enjoying being quiet about everything for the time being. I shot John a dirty look and started to figure out what to say. "Well…uh…you know…the new kid?"

"Yes…well—no—but you get the idea," said Brian. "What about him?"

"Well…how do I put this…" I said, twirling a lock of my already curly hair while Jake stood in the corner looking terrified and nervous. "Basically…he's kind of in our version of the witness protection program…or so to speak."

"What the devil are you talking about?" asked Brian.

"Oh man…let me figure out how to say this…" I said. I felt s bead of sweat trickle down my forehead as I just stood there in silence, thinking of a delicate way to word the situation, which was virtually impossible anyway. "Let me piece it out for you—his name is Jake, and basically he was caught in the middle of some murders…of his bandmates…" Jake's face grew somber. "…and the guy who killed them tried to kill him too, and he's hiding out here."

"I think this was in the paper!" said Richard. "About the triple murder in The Bahamas. You must be the lucky guy who got away, son."

"Not too lucky," said Jake. "The guy who killed my band is actually on this set."

Brian grew pale. "Oh no…why was it?"

"Alexander something," said Jake. "I think they said he was the co-producer of the film?" "What, Alexander?" asked Richard. "Look guys, I know he's not the most pleasant man in the world, but I seriously doubt he'd kill anybody."

"Well, that's where you're wrong!" Jake suddenly snapped, ghost white under his black wig and false beard. "That…man, if you can call him one, came into the restaurant where I worked the other day after these guys left, acted all mean, and followed me home, where he killed my Goddamned band! I'm telling you, it was him, I'm never gonna forget it!"

"Well, if this is true," said Brian, who looked on the very edge of passing out. "What are you doing in the very hotel he is staying and all ready to go on set with the boys?"

"Well…" said George. "We sort of nicked some stuff from the costume tent off the set, ya know, to keep him incognito."

"We also gave him a fake name," said Ringo. "Donny Brown."

"Oh my…" said Brian, putting his face in his hands. "Well boys, I think you've really done it this time…"

"What do you mean?" asked Paul.

"No idea," said Brian.

"Well, what do you say Eppy, can we keep him, can we, can we?" asked John as if he was a small child staring at a puppy in a pet shop window.

Brian looked at John, trying to keep stony faced, but his eyes looked as stressed as ever. "If you must Lennon," he said. "But how do we know for sure that it was Alexander who did this?"

"Because I saw him dammit!" said Jake.

"Maybe you can ask him some questions about the news article," I suggested. "Depending on his reaction, you can see. I for one believe Jake though."

"I don't see a reason not to," said Richard. "The boy knows what he saw."

"Thank you," breathed Jake. "Just…don't forget to call me Donny…I guess…"

"Oh, fine," said Brian. "Sandra, we'll do what you suggested. But I'm still not sure." I could see that Jake was looking rather bothered that Brian wasn't believing him about Alexander.

"Let's just drop it for now," said Maureen. "I think we should get to the set and start things up. Just…I think we should try to keep Jake as far away from Alexander as possible, just in case."

"Good idea," said Richard. "Come on everybody, the taxies are out front again. Sandra, come with me and Brian today."

"Yes sir," I said. I saw George looking slightly dejected as Richard told me that, and I wondered why. I knew it was cliché to think so, but how in the world could the great George Harrison see anything in me? We walked over from our corner to the front of the hotel again and we filed into our separate taxies.

"I'll see you on set," said George. Jake gave me a sad look too, but I didn't know if it was feelings for me or what he was going through. Either way, it was unsettling.

"Same here," I said. We smiled at each other as we sat down in out taxies. Brian took the front passenger seat and Richard and I sat in the back. "What a week it's been," I moaned, taking the time to stretch my neck and lean back.

"I would agree," said Richard. The taxi took off. "So do you believe Jake's story?"

"Yes, I do, in fact," I said. "I don't see a reason not to, like you said, and I have to admit I think and have always thought Alexander is a bad egg."

"Yes, he is rather grumpy," said Brian. "But I really don't think he's a killer."

"But for now we have to be careful," I said. "Just in case he is a killer, the killer, we have to be on our toes and watch out. We have to keep Jake disguised, call him by his pseudonym, and keep him the hell away from Alexander. Jake's word is really the only thing we have to go on right now until we can get more proof."

"You know Sandra, you really think beyond your years," said Richard. "You are exactly right."

"Oh…uh…thank you sir," I said, losing all poise of speech at that moment. I knew I had more of a sense of maturity, especially more of that than the boys most of the time, but hearing it from someone like Richard humbled me greatly.

"Not a problem," said Richard.

"And what happens if Alexander is the killer?" asked Brian.

"I guess we get the cops or something," I said, shrugging. "It's the only logical explanation…I mean…why would we go after him ourselves if he's that dangerous?"

"Yes, good thinking Sandra," said Richard. The taxi kept on driving until it got to the beach again. Today would be some reshoots of beach scenes. I wondered to myself what Jake's reaction would be when we finally got to the set. I really hoped he was able to keep his cool.