We flew off to Cincinnati on the same night, after the concert. When we reached the hotel it was already well past 1am. George, Ringo and I sat around in the living room in their suite for about half an hour. George wanted me to stay the night in the bedroom with him instead of Ringo, who gladly agreed to take my separate bedroom instead, but I told him I had some paperwork to do before I go to sleep and left after saying goodnight.
I went to my room and sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking about all that's been happening lately. It was beginning to seem slightly too much by now. I sprawled out on the bed on my belly and reached for the telephone that was on the nightstand. I dialed the number and waited for Ian to pick up.
"Hello?" I heard his voice.
"Ian, it's me! How are you?"
"Hey, Jo!" he sounded somewhat surprised but pleased nevertheless. "I'm well, thanks. But tell me, how's the tour going?"
"It's all fun, I don't even have that much work. I'm really enjoying it," I quickly gave him a short answer. "Listen, Ian, I think I might be needing your advice...well, more of an opinion."
"Hm?" Was his response.
"I'm kind of uh, dating George, and I..."
"Who?" Ian cut me off in the middle of the sentence.
"George Harrison of The Beatles, you dimwit! Thing is, I'm starting to feel like we're rushing things too much," I continued, completely ignoring his protests against being called a dimwit. "I mean, I met him less than two weeks ago. I'm not the kind of girl who sleeps with a guy after knowing him for a week, and I don't want him or anyone else to think otherwise," I finished peevishly.
"D'you love him?" Ian asked bluntly.
"I, uh. I don't think it's love. From neither side. We really like each other though, you know."
"Hm," Ian paused to think. "Well, I don't see anything wrong with this. I mean, if he digs you, you dig him... It's a gas, don't worry about it," he simply suggested.
"You really think so?" I asked biting the inside of my cheeks.
"Yeah, why not?" Knowing Ian, what he really meant was "have fun while you got the chance".
We talked some more and I finally went to bed. I began to doze off while thinking about George and that I probably shouldn't have plunged into this relationship so quickly after all. But he's a beatle, and who could resist that? Then I remembered what happened between me and John a few hours ago, or rather what didn't happen. I remembered the sight of his eyes and the music in the room. I could almost, almost hear it. The tender sounds were flowing in through the window; I was standing in the middle of a dark room and crying. I walked out through the door into the hallway and the music was getting louder and louder. I reached the front door and stepped outside. I felt cool wooden porch floors under my bare feet. There was a man sitting on a hanging bench, slowly swinging back and forth, and watching the dance of flame of an old wax candle. Elvis was on the radio. I sat down beside him and only then saw that it was John. I felt a big hot tear roll down my cheek, but he replaced it with a kiss. He stood up and gently pulled me into his arms, starting to slowly spin around. "Please, don't stop loving me, darling, you'll always be mine alone," he sang into my ear along with Elvis. Then I woke up.
I joined John's silence during breakfast. Mostly because I had that weird feeling that you get after a very vivid dream, and it made me feel more confused than the night before. However, no wonder, no one but George noticed that I was being unusually quiet. When the two of us were walking along the hotel corridors back to the suite, he asked what was wrong.
"Nothing," I said, mostly because I didn't know what other answer could there be.
"Listen, I really like you, Joanne," he stopped and turned to face me. "I don't want to scare you away by being too straightforward, but I know this might be a lot to handle for you right now. So," he scratched the back of his head, shuffling from one foot to another and looking at me gently. "If you think that we shouldn't be dating, just say the word, and I will...try to understand," he emitted a short dry chuckle. "Otherwise I might as well take you out on a real date."
That was what I liked about George the most. Besides his smile and voice, and talent, and sense of humor. He was incredibly sensitive to those around him, he truly had a gift. And in that moment I realised that George would never do anything to hurt me on purpose.
I hugged him and felt his warm arms capture me in a tight embrace, and it made me feel safe, like I was home. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, barely containing the smile on my face. George looked at me grinning widely, then suddenly picked me up from the ground, threw me over his shoulder and began to run towards the lifts as I laughed uncontrollably.
George carried me all the way to the suite, then put me down on the sofa and sat down next to me, still smiling widely.
"Did you know you have the greenest eyes I've ever seen," he asked brushing the hair away from my face.
I fluttered my lashes flirtatiously as I cupped his face with my hands looking into his eyes.
"You, mr Harrison," I said and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Promised to teach me," another kiss. "To play Raunchy," one more kiss. "Don't think I forgot!"
George sprung on his feet and brought a guitar from one of the bedrooms, then sat down next to me again. He was showing me the chords and strumming techniques when John and Paul entered the room. Paul joked about how I'm rapidly becoming an extra beatle for emergency cases, but John silently made his way across the living room and went to the bathroom without even looking at us. He was always in a bad mood, to some extent, so I didn't give much thought to it. Especially since last night's dream had already lost all its effect on me.