ME: AHHHHHHH!

MY SIS: Why the hell are you screaming?

ME: MY FANFICTION STORY GOT OVER 50 REVIEWS!

MY SIS: That's…God, Catie, that's stupid.

ME (crestfallen): What? Why?

MY SIS: It's not like writing those stories are ever going to get you anywhere!

ME: Hey, Lizzy?

MY SIS: Yeah?

ME: Go fall down a well.

The above conversation did not actually take place. This is what WOULD have happened if I should have told her, throw in a few swears. Note, I did not tell her what the story was about, seeing as she would have laughed at me like there was no tomorrow; she thinks I'm a throwback tree-hugging hippie that needs to get a life and turn on B96. That's coming from the disappointment of the family, mind you. ANYWAYS! Thank you guys soooo much for all the wonderful reviews! They're what are making me update so fast. That, and I had a sick day the other day so I had NOTHING to do (except for homework, but who wants to do that?). So, we last left off after John storms out of the house, Ringo thinks A.J. has a crush on George, and we find out about A.J.'s date with Chuck. I know I didn't really get into that, so here is A.J.'s date with Chuck…AKA chapter nine!

I needed a ride. I don't know why I didn't think of this before. When Chuck asked me out…I was just so excited! I have to admit I didn't really think about the small details, such as actually getting there. Of course, the only one in the house that happened to have a car was John, and wasn't really even his, though I don't know and don't wanna know where he got it. I had no choice but to ask him to drive me, though God knows I would rather die.

I tip-toed out of my room (okay, so it's Ringo's room. Happy? But I seem to have taken a permanent residence there, so it might as well be mine.) and peeked around the door jamb into the living room. I was right; John was in there, strumming away on his guitar as usual. I didn't keep going into the room, because it looked to me like he was in a bad mood. The first thing I learned when I came to Liverpool was that when John had the face on, plus he was playing his guitar and trying out notes, he had entered Song-Mode. He didn't leave Song-Mode until the one he was working on was finished.

It turned out that it was a good thing that I hadn't continued into the room, because just then he started to sing. I have to say, considering all his low points (which can get very, very low), when John is playing his music, it's almost as though he is a different person. This is probably because the most raw, real side of him comes out when he writes lyrics, but who knows. It could be an act. All's I know is that he can be quite magical when he plays, and it almost makes you forgive him for everything else he's done to you. Almost.

"I call your name, but you're not there," he began softly. "Was I to blame for being unfair?"

The lyrics gave me the chills. It was song I knew… "I Call Your Name", if I was not mistaken. The way he sang them now, however, was bit different than the fast pace of how the song would eventually turn out.

"Oh, I can't sleep at night since you've been gone. I never weep at night…I can't go on!" He strummed a little bit, his eyes closed the entire time. "Don't you know that I can't take it. I don't know who can. I'm not going to make it…I'm not that kind of man."

I prayed fiercely that this wasn't for the person that I thought it was for. Even as I did so, though, the lyrics made it more and more apparent. "Oh, I can't sleep at night, but just the same. I never weep at night, I call your name." Be bit his lip, staring off into space. "Don't you know I can't take it, I don't know who can. I'm not going to make it…I'm not that kind of man. Oh, I can't sleep at night, but just the same. I never weep at night, I call your name. I call your name. I call your name. I call your name."

He finished the song with a weak fade out, his voice trembling. Do you ever have that feeling…the one where you're about to see something you REALLY don't want to see, but you can't look away? Like seeing your mom cry, or watching an old person fall down. You want to help, but you're paralyzed with this…with this emotion. This feeling. Hell if I know what it is.

John started to rub vigorously at his eyes, then buried his whole face in his hands. I wanted to come into the room, put a comforting arm around him, tell him everything was going to be okay…even though it wasn't. I finally willed up the energy to move, knocking brightly on the door as though I had not witnessed this whole event.

"John?" I chirped. He jumped three feet, hands coming back down to rest on his guitar. His cheeks were pinker than normal, but other than that there was no sign that he had been crying, so I assumed he hadn't been. The soft, distant expression he had on his face was gone now. Instead, his features were hardened, already hostile, like just the sound of my voice could make him mad. I had already dug myself into a rut, in other words.

"What?" he barked, watching me with narrowed eyes. I took a deep breath, trying to remember what Paul had said about him only being mean because he was heartbroken.

"Would you…would you do me a favor?" This had always been my style; beat around the bush until the person guessed what you wanted. That was you didn't have to actually say it out loud, therefore making it THEIR idea. Yes, I was quite brilliant, thank you very much.

John hesitated. "Erm…what kind of favor?"

"Well, you know how I have that date tonight…"

"The one you won't shut up about? Nope, never heard of such a thing."

He continued to stare at me as I scuffed my toes on beat-up hardwood floors. "Chuck doesn't have a car so he can't pick me up."

"Walk."

"The club he wants to go to is too far."

"Then don't go."

"Well, I thought someone else could drive me."

"That's good. Then why are you pestering me about it?"

"Um."

"Um?"

"Yes, um."

He sort of smiled, shaking his head and looking down at his guitar. "I know what you're hinting at. No, I will not give you a ride."

"What? C'mon! Please? You can…" I searched for a suitable excuse that would make him take me. "…bring Cynthia! I bet she'd love to go. I heard it's a cool place."

I watched him with hopeful eyes, but he kept staring at his guitar. The light humor was suddenly gone from his eyes, and they were hardened again. "Me and Cynthia are taking a break."

"Oh." Stupid, stupid, stupid! You're supposed to get everything check with George before you say stuff to him! Didn't we already establish this rule? "Please, can you just-"

"I'll take you." John and I both looked over toward the kitchen at the same time. "I'll take you," Paul repeated, "but John would have to lend me the car first."

I looked back to John, hopeful again, and he reluctantly nodded. "YAY!" I smiled toothily at John, then ran back into the room where I was getting ready, calling over my shoulder, "Thanks, Paul!"

I came back out fifteen minutes later, dressed for clubbing in the 60s. We had gotten me a few things the second day I was there, so I had a few outfits to choose from. I hopped in the car that was parked out front and glanced at Paul in the driver's seat. "Okay, let's go!"

It was only then that I noticed them. I did one of those slow, dramatic head turns that people are always doing in movies, and turned to the backseat to face them. "What the hell?"

George and Ringo winced. "Well, if Paulie gets to go I don't see why we don't," George said defensively. "It is awfully nice of us to give you a ride, isn't it?" He smiled evilly.

Ringo started giggling. "Aw, c'mon, A.J.! It'll be a blast! You, me, George, Paul…and Chuck." The other two started laughing along with him. Poor Chuck.

They chatted happily the entire car ride, and I glared out the window at the stupid, stinking Liverpudlian rain. Yay, this was so much fun.

The rain was pouring now, drumming little songs on the roof of the car. We pulled up in front of the club with a screech. Can I just make a little note? Paul is NOT the best driver in the world. I knew that any way I had it, I was going to get soaked. I might as well just make a run for it.

Sure enough, I ran across the sidewalk as quickly as I could and STILL got drenched. I shook out my curly hair as I walked into the smoke filled bar area. No matter what Chuck had said, these places were all alike to me. Loud music, slutty girls, lots of alcohol, and smoke galore. That was about it.

"A.J.!" I heard somebody call from across the dance floor. I began picking my way through, seeing Chuck's hulking frame on the other side. He smiled when he saw me moving closer, showing off his uncharacteristically white and straight smile. "Hey, short stuff," he boomed as soon as he saw me. I could already tell that he had been drinking.

"Hey. What's going on?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Not much. Here, let me go buy you a drink." Before I could do as much as nod, he was off. Instead of having to pick his way over, however, people parted like the Red Sea. It was actually quite entertaining. I looked around, found an empty chair, and sat down. I picked up my purse and pulled out a compact mirror, checking my make-up. I started to reapply, and before I knew it Chuck was back.

"Thanks." I took whatever it was that he had gotten from me and took a blind sip, even though I didn't really drink. I almost spit it back up. Instead, I just smiled and sat it down on the floor beside me. Won't be picking that up again, I thought.

He downed his entire beer in one gulp, then looked at me. "You wanna dance, right?" I smiled, pretending he had read my mind.

"Yeah. C'mon." He let me take his hand and lead him onto the heavily populated dance floor. It was at least five times hotter here, and I felt disgusting because I was already wet. As we danced to the fast-paced music, we began to chat, and I got the impression that he wasn't very bright. First off, when I had mentioned that I wasn't from around here, he nodded and said that he thought he had been to the part of England my accent was from. And here's me thinking that Chicago was in America.

Something suddenly caught Chuck's eye, and his attention was temporarily diverted. Then he looked back at me. "Why are They here?"

I glanced behind me, following his gaze to the bar, and saw who he was talking about. Ringo, Paul, and George were leaning against the bar top, a flock of birds surrounding them. They were laughing and sipping beers. Bastards! They weren't allowed to be here! They were practically on my date with me! I continued to look at them, thinking homicidal thoughts, when Ringo looked up. He smiled goofily at me, giving me a thumbs up. Grrrrr.

"Well…it's a long story. Basically, they gave me a ride here and APPARENTLY they wouldn't leave." I grumbled under my breath. "But I guess they're my ride home."

His face contorted a bit, trying out different emotions. Finally it settled on amused. "Yeah, I figured you wouldn't want to come to my place after. With…well, you know."

Whaaaaat? I most certainly did NOT know! "What are you talking about?"

He rolled his eyes. "Please. Those guys have more girls in and out of that house than God himself. There were these girls…ugh, what were their names…something like Cora and Lidia. Anyways, crazy birds, really nuts. Wonder what happened to them."

What the fuck was he talking about? He had this weird haze to his eyes, like he didn't know what he was talking about either. "Okay…"

Just then, a girl tackled Chuck from behind. "Chuckie!" she screeched, wrapping her arms around him. Um, excuse me, but BITCH PLEASE! Chuck may have been the suckiest date I had ever had, but he was still my date! "Let's dance!"

Chuck turned around and wrapped his arms around her. I kinda just stood there, feeling that horrible feeling of rejection seeping into my skin. Just then, I saw a flash of brown hair next to me. Paul reached up, tapping on Chuck's shoulder.

"Hi, Chuckie, is it? I've been watching from over there, and I really don't like the way you've been treating my friend A.J., here."

Mortified, I nudged him in the ribs. "Paulie…" I hissed under my breath. He held up his pointer finger, and then moved it up to jab Chuck in the chest. He looked quite annoyed, and the girl he was with was batting her eyelashes at Paul. Stupid whore.

"Listen, bud, I was just talking with a friend, here. You can move along back to your butt buddies, alright."

And then, out of the blue, Ringo and George were there. "C'mon. Let's just go," George whispered to me. Ringo looked on with narrowed eyes. I gulped. Uh-oh. You didn't get Ringo angry. You just didn't.

"Yeah, just go," Chuck mocked, shoving Paul back a little bit. Paul looked down shaking his head, then grabbed me gently by the arm.

"I'm not doing this," he announced, then turned around and began toting me away. I struggled with his grasp, but I was too small to throw him off.

"Now you're taking the bird? Aw, c'mon Paulie! I thought we were mates." Paul kept trudging through the crowd, rage seeping off of him. Where was John when you needed him? "Hey, A.J.? You wanna come out next week. Without your precious Beatles this time."

I halted where I stood, most people in the club staring at us by now because of the commotion. I looked up at Paul, who, like Chuck, was waiting for my answer. Since I was still beyond pissed that they had toted me of like that, I turned around and called to him, "Sure. Pick me up this time."

Paul looked down at me, shaking his head slowly. I could tell I had chosen wrong, but who the fuck cared what he thought? Paul backtracked, marching straight up to Chuck.

"I swear to God, Chuck. You break her heart, I break your neck."

That was probably a good time to leave, because Chuck looked like he was ready to haul off and deck Paul one in his pretty face. I hurriedly grabbed Paul's hand and led him outside, where it was still raining. Did that mean something?

The whole entire car ride home, I sat with my face pressed up against the window, listening to the three boys berate Chuck and tell me how worthless he was. And though I knew I should have stood up for him, I kept my eyes focused out the window, and secret smile creeping onto my face. Sure, I was still enraged beyond belief. Sure, it might have been the suckiest date ever. But it didn't matter. The boys were verbally abusing Chuck for me. Paul almost got into a fight for me. The Beatles were actually starting to care about me. Me. And for once, I just wanted to take that one little point and be happy. For me.

Um, can I just say something real quick? Go Paul. I don't care what you guys say, that was a badass move. But what else does that prove? Maybe that though A.J. is a bitch, the boys like her. How can that be possible. Well…I don't think she's as ferocious as she thinks she is. Almost like a cute little puppy trying to be mean. It just doesn't work out in the little guy's favor. It's almost too adorable. I guess same goes for A.J. But anyways, this chapter brought us sad John (can you guess who the song was about in the way that I put it in here?), protective Paul, and a horrible date with Chuck. Of course, A.J. had to accept a second date with the jerk in a moment of pure defiance. I really shouldn't complain, and neither should you, because it really does serve a greater purpose in the end. OH! And I hope you guys caught my little mention there about 'Cora and Lidia'…similar to Cory and Linda maybe? Just a little tribute to one of my very favorite stories, I Me Mine, which is written by two of the most amazing girls on this site, Flippzy-gurl and Sweeneysbestfriend. Just so you know, those names might make another appearance in my story. And…wow, I think that's it! Okay, thanks so much for reading and all, so now we all know what's next. No? Seriously? You don't know? Am I seriously gonna have to tell you? REVIEW!