I talked to Mal some more and found out that it was a group decision to turn to me, and he assured me that I wouldn't need to worry about money, and, most importantly, that I had to leave at 5pm on that day.

I wrote Ian a long note, explaining that I absolutely had to leave before I could say goodbye to him, that he better be happy for me and that I'd call him as soon as I get to a telephone. Six hours later I was on the plane to America that was taking off already. The flight was supposed to take 12 hours, and I finally found myself at the Los Angeles airport at 9pm of the same day.

Mal had told me that there's gonna be a driver waiting for me and so he was, standing outside the airport and holding a card with my name. I haven't seen George in a week, I thought to myself as I sat in a car taking me to the hotel that The Beatles were staying in. I kept looking out the window the whole time - California was beautiful.

Finally, we reached the hotel and I went inside; I was told to look for the Presidential Suite.

I knocked on the door and waited for about 30 seconds before I saw Ringo standing before me. He looked ever so slightly confused for a second, but then greeted me with a wide smile.
"'ello, girl!" he stepped aside to let me in.

I immediately saw two men slumped down on a sofa in front of T.V. in the middle of this enormously huge and fancy room. George and Paul both looked at me at the same time and both mirrored my big grin. Ringo took my suitcase and set it aside while George sprung on his feet and captured me in an embrace. Then Mal walked in from another door.

"Oh, hello, Joanne! How was the trip? When did you get here? You can tell me all about it while we walk to the conference room where your first job assignment is waiting," his eyes were sparkling.

"Hey, that ain't fair at all," George protested and hooked an arm around my shoulders. "I think we can all agree that she's more needed here," he winked at me.

"Don't start it, you can have 'er in an hour." Mal took me by the arm and gently pulled me out of George's reach, then looked me up and down. "Yeah, that'll do," he commented on my peachy sleeveless a-line dress and a matching ribbon in my jaw-length honey blonde hair.

About 40 minutes later Brian Epstein told me that I was free to go. I left the people in the conference room to discuss the further matters of Beatles' tour and realised that I wasn't entirely sure how to get back to the suite. The hotel was huge, probably the biggest building I've ever been to. Anyhow, I decided to go left.

"Joanne?" I heard a familiar voice call my name just after I started to walk.

I turned around and saw John standing 10 feet away from me. I suddenly remembered the last time I saw him and I simply smiled.

"I thought it was you," John said eyeing me narrowly. "You look nice. You should stick to this feminine look," he joked, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Thank you, John," I replied. "Say, are you going back to the suite by any chance?"

"Don't tell me you're lost," he raised his eyebrows genuinely surprised. "I'd expect more from you. It's this way," he pointed his thumb behind him. "Straight, left, lifts. You'll find yer way from there."

"Oh, right," I muttered as he began to walk in the direction I was headed a minute ago. He stopped five inches from me for a very brief moment and looked me in the eyes as if wanting to say something, but didn't and walked away, whistling to himself. I still couldn't decided whether I liked him or not as I made my way back to the suite.

When I opened the door I saw George standing on the other side, his hand held up and reaching for the doorknob.

"Ah," he smiled with a hint of surprise. "I was about to go looking for you."

His words made me feel light-headed.

"Why?" I asked.

"I wanted to show you something," George took my hand in his and led me out the door and back to the lifts.

He pushed the toppermost button once we were in and we waited.

"I didn't get the chance to tell you how beautiful you look," George dragged the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, smiling at me.

He was standing before me with his hands buried in his pockets. Suddenly I felt very small and fragile, even though George was maybe only 4 inches taller than me. I blushed ever so slightly and thanked him.

The lift stopped and we walked into a short dimly lit corridor with only one door in the end of it. He stopped when we reached that door and looked at me.

"It might be chilly out there."

He took off his jacket and slipped it around my shoulders. My nose was almost touching his neck as he did so. Then he pushed the door open and let me through. We were on the rooftop of the hotel and under the infinite starry sky.

"Can you believe we actually had to land atop here in a helicopter to avoid all those fans?" He chuckled huskily.

I looked at him and smiled. Suddenly, looking at his handsome profile while he watched the stars, I felt a strong urge to kiss him. I realised that I enjoyed talking to and being with George more than anything in the world. I glanced down at his hand that was quasi-waiting to hold mine, and so I turned my hand to meet George's palm with mine, entwining our fingers together. I could see a big smile spread across his face. Then he turned to me and snaked his free arm around my waist pulling me closer to him.

"You know I like you, Joanne, don't you?" He whispered, brushing his lips against mine. "A lot," he added quietly and kissed me; then kissed me again, longer and deeper, and I kissed him back.