*Pattie's P.O.V.*
I have never seen Gwen so put down. She wasn't sad, but she sure was ticked off. I heard her grumbling about all sorts of things, like how Eileen should trust her friends over a bunch of boys she hardly knew, even if they were famous. I was about to say something about how two of them had saved her life already, but decided not to. That would just get me yelled at, and I wouldn't be able to do with that. In the middle of her angry mutters, she suddenly froze. She got a dangerous gleam in her brown eyes and smirked. Uh-oh, I knew that gleam. It always meant that she had a tricky and possibly stupid idea up her sleeve. Okay Pattie, I thought to myself. If she approaches you, just back away slowly...

"You know what Pattie?" asked Gwen, with the same sugar-coated voice as Jerri Dunn, which surprised me.

"What?" I asked cautiously, my voice shaking. I stood my ground, waiting for Gwen Stanley's next bright idea.

"Wait here," said Gwen again. She sneakily slipped off in the direction of the makeup and costume department. Oh boy, whatever this was, I didn't like it. She soon came running back carrying a vast array of items that were either brightly coloured or tacky in some other way. Before I had any time to open my mouth, Gwen threw a bright red wig at me with a six-inch high beehive and a pair of neon orange horn-rimmed studded glasses.

"What do you want me to do with all this?" I half asked-half yelled.

"Put it on!" said Gwen to me like I was a little child. "We're going to sneak into the hotel without Eileen knowing it's us, and we'll spy on her and the boys to make sure nothing bad happens!"

"Gwen, that's ridiculous!" I yelled back. "There's no way this'll fool her!" I held up the ugly wig. "And we'll look like fools! What are you wearing anyway?"

"This," said Gwen with a smile. She held up a ratty kaki trenchcoat, a shaggy brown beard and moustache combo, a flappy old hat, and a pair of round glasses. "I'll be a man, and you'll be my wife. We are on holiday from Ireland and are checking into the hotel."

"Gwen Stanley, you are bloody mad!" I shouted. "This doesn't look Irish at all! How the hell are we going to pull this off?"

"With a little luck, lassie!" said Gwen in a horrible Irish accent.

"'Lassie's' Scottish," I mumbled as I shoved the wig on my head. This was going to be a long and interesting day.

*Eileen's P.O.V.*

"Come 'ed," said John as he helped me out of the limo. I was careful not to slip on the wet street. It had rained a bit on our way to the hotel.

"Thanks," I said. John tried to help me more, but Paul shoved his way in and he grabbed my hand instead. John looked extremely annoyed.

"So," said Paul, unmoved by John. "How do you like the movie business?"

I shrugged. I forgot that we were still in the middle of shooting a movie. "It's okay, I guess," I said. "I haven't really done much yet."

"You will in time," said Paul. He leaned in closer, as if to tell me a secret. "Don't forget, this is my first movie too." I giggled. I always got giggly around Paul. I guess I really did like him a lot.

Soon, all six of us, including me, the boys, and Brian, were in the lobby. Up at the counter, I saw a very strange couple starting to check out a room.

*Gwen's P.O.V.*
"Pattie, I don't understand what you don't like about this plan!" I said to Pattie for the millionth time, exasperated. "This is flawless!"

"Yeah, if you call some of my blonde hair still poking out of my red wig 'flawless'!" Pattie snapped back.

I slapped my forehead. "I told you, if the guy notices, say that they're highlights!" When was this girl going to stop her bloody complaining? I was getting very irritated by now.

"Gwen, your beard's slipping," said Pattie through gritted teeth.

I fixed my beard and said to her, "Now Pattie, my name's not Gwen right now!"

"Right," said Pattie, who looked about ready to explode. I couldn't imagine why, I was being very patient with her.

"What is it?" I asked.

Pattie sighed. "Galloway," she near-growled.

"And what's your pet name for me?"

"Gally," said a now embarrassed Pattie.

"Good!" I said. "And what's your name?"

"Piper," said Pattie, shuddering a little at the name. Why? I thought it was a very pretty name.

"Where are we from and why are we here?" I asked.

Pattie took a deep breath. "We are a newlywed married couple from Ireland, and we wanted to go to Liverpool for our honeymoon because of all the seashore views. Is that enough information or do I need to go into why we want the bloody seashore views?"

"Oh, that's enough," I said. "Let's go!"

*Eileen's P.O.V.*
The strange couple approached the counter. The woman had impossibly red hair with a huge beehive and large orange glasses, and the man had a long brown beard. "Funny people that come around there, eh?" said Ringo.

"No wonder you come around here, Ringo," said John.

"Guys, shush, I want to hear what they say, it could be good," said an amused George. We were quiet, and the couple started to talk.

"Hello good sir!" said the man cheerily in an accent somewhere between English and Mexican. "I and my lovely wife Piper are here on our honeymoon from Ireland, and we want a very nice room, right by the ocean!"

The man at the counter seemed very amused. "Ireland, eh?" he asked. "You're accent seems very exotic."

"His mother's Spanish," cut in the woman quickly, in a better accent. "Poor man can't get rid of that part of it. Isn't that right dear Gally?" The woman had a terribly plastered-on smile. Something about that couple looked strangely familiar. But what? I looked closer, then it hit me.

"Oh lord," I groaned.

"What's wrong?" asked John.

"That's Gwen and Pattie up there," I said, suddenly with a stomachache.

"But isn't Pattie blonde?" cut in George, who seemed to perk up at the mention of Pattie's name.

"And isn't Gwen a girl?" asked Ringo.

"And I wouldn't think they're married," said Paul, who was enjoying every minute of this.

"Of course they're not!" I yelled suddenly. "They're putting on this charade! You saw how badly they wanted to come! They're gonna spy on me! Oh when I get my hands on them..."

"Don't get too vicious love," said John. "They just want to make sure yer safe."

"They don't have to!" I yelled, stomping my foot on the ground. "I made it clear!"

"Eileen, relax," said Ringo. "How do you know it's them?"

"Because Gwen's the only person twisted enough to pull this episode off," I said flatly.

"Ah," said Ringo.
We checked in after Gwen and Pattie got to their room. John, Paul, Brian, and I proceeded to the room while George and Ringo went back to my old hotel room to bring my luggage back here.

"So, Mr. Epstein," I said to Brian. "How long do you think I'll be staying here?"

Brian shrugged. "I can't say. I guess until the shooter gets caught. And you can just call me Brian."

"Oh," I said. "Okay." When we got to the room, I was shocked. I was expecting a normal sized hotel room, like the one that Gwen, Pattie, and I were staying at during the movie, before this while episode. But what I saw was a huge space, with five bedrooms, a gigantic living area, a kitchen, a dining room, and two luxurious bathrooms. All of the room was decorated quite elegantly, from the curtains to the furniture.

"Wow," I breathed.

"Yeah, it's a bit posh," said Paul.

"But we're used to it!" said John.

Brian turned to speak. "Now boys, I want to make something absolutely clear," he said, looking Paul and John firmly in the eye. "I don't want any funny business with the girl while she's here. She's here so you can protect her, not so you can take advantage of her being female. Do you understand me?"

The boys sighed in mock disappointment. "Yes, Brian," they drawled in unison. Then John broke in with a, "What if-" but was cut up abruptly by Brian.

"No 'what ifs' Lennon," said Brian. "Now, I'm going to be in and out of here during this time. I don't want to find that Miss Carter is carrying a John Lennon junior!"

I turned very red at this statement. Boy was I lucky he didn't say Paul McCartney junior...not that it would come to that anyway.

"Thank you very much, Brian," I said once I had regained control of my emotions. "I wish I could do something for you."

"You don't need to, Miss Carter," he said. "Just try and enjoy yourself."

"And that can't be too hard, love," said Paul, winking at me. I turned red again.

"McCartney!" said Brian warningly.

"Aw, come on Eppy, I was just having a bit of fun with the bird!" said Paul.

"My turn next!" said John excitedly, jumping up and down and clapping. "It looks like fun!"

"Are you sure you're okay with this," muttered Brian to me.

"Yeah, I'll manage," I said.

Brian gave me one last apologetic look as he walked out the door, leaving me alone with John and Paul, who seemed to have calmed down considerably. "So," I said. "Where are George and Ringo?"

"Getting yer luggage," said John.

"Still!" I said in disbelief. What else were they doing?

"Well, yeah," said Paul. "They just take their time." As if by cue, George and Ringo burst through the door, both carrying my suitcase, which really didn't seem that heavy to me, but when the plopped it down on the floor, both of them were huffing and puffing.

"Good lord Eileen," said Ringo, clutching his side. "What do you put in there?"

"Clothes," I said sheepishly.

"Just clothes?" said an exhausted George.

"Well, shampoos and things of that nature," I said.

"Makeup?" asked Ringo, who was still massaging his side.

"Not really, I don't like makeup," I said.

"Wow, I think you're a first," said Paul, putting his arm around me.

"What's wrong with a girl not liking makeup?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing," said John. "Unless they're really ugly."

"Don't talk that way about yourself, John," said George. "It's bad for your self-esteem." The whole room burst into laughter. I did too, John made a funny face in between offended and trying not to laugh. It was comical.

"So," said Ringo. "Those were your friends out there in that fancy getup, were they?"

"Yes," I growled.

"Wait..." said George. "You're friends with Pattie, right?"

I nodded.
George got a sort of dreamy look across his face. "Yes..." he said.

"Well, I'm glad you're happy they're here," I said. "They need to learn the meaning of 'I can take care of myself'."

"But we're taking care of you," said Paul. That shut me up. Before I knew it, we were on the set of the picture just finishing the movie up. We were shooting the final scene, the final concert, when the boys finally get to play. I was part of the "audience" along with Gwen and Pattie. I didn't say anything about then trying to spy on my yet. I'd wait till I saw them at the hotel again. When we finally got to say something other than screams, Gwen looked me square in the face.

"So," she said stiffly. "Enjoying the boys?"

I shrugged. "They're not too bad," I said. "Have I missed anything that's happened with you two?"

Gwen got a look across her face. "Oh, it's pretty big, but I can't let you know just yet." Oh Gwen, I thought. You think you're being so sneaky.

"Oh, Pat," I said. "George asked about you!" Well, he did, and I needed to put on a happy mood. It worked-Pattie's face lit up immediately.

"Really?" she said.

I nodded vigorously. We were interrupted, however, by some loud arguing.

"-still don't know what to name the bloody picture!" shouted Dick, sounding annoyed.

"Didn't we already have a name?" asked John.

"'Beatlemainia'," said Dick. "I told you I wanted to change it! It's stupid!"

"What did you want to change it to, Dick?" said a cameraman.

"Anything!" said Dick. "Anything but what we have already!"

I noticed that only three of The Beatles were present, John, Paul, and George. The fourth, Ringo, was just now catching up to them, and crashed down in his chair. "Ay, Eileen," he said when he saw me. I gave him a nod.

"And where were you?" snapped Dick at Ringo, making him jump. If he were a cat, he would have been all frizzed up.

"I was just draggin' behind," said Ringo. "It's been a hard day's night..."

"A what, Ringo?" asked John, amused.

"A hard day's night," said Ringo.

"That's rubbish!" said George.

"Yeah," said Paul. "Doesn't make any sense."

"Wow Ringo, you really must be tired," said John.

"Very," I said.

Dick, however, seemed to be deep in thought. "A hard day's night..." he muttered. " A hard day's-I got it!" he suddenly shouted, making everyone jump.

"Got what, Dick," asked Gwen.

"The movie title!" said Dick triumphantly. "Ringo, you're a genius! 'A Hard Day's Night'! That's what we'll call the picture!"

"But it's rubbish!" said John. "Makes no sense at all, that does!"

"Yes it does!" said Dick, looking like a six-year-old who had found a new bike under his Christmas tree. "You four lads work so hard during the day, and when you're finally done, it's already night! Oh, this is gonna be big, I know it!" He was about to walk off when he stopped. "By the way, John, Paul, you two are going to need to write a title track to the pic-I mean—'A Hard Day's Night'." Then he was off.

"Wow," said Ringo, looking quite pleased with himself. "That was a first."

"At what?" I asked.

"Doing something important," said Ringo.

"How are we going to write a song that fast?" asked Paul.

"I don't know," said John, "But George'll defiantly be no help at all." He looked over at George, who was busy in a staring contest with Pattie. As I looked from them to Paul, I wished so much that I could do the same with him.