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Chapter 34: I'm Happy Just to Dance With You

Sasha's POV

February 7, 1964

Today was the day. We were boarding a plane at Heathrow to be whisked away to the so called "British Invasion". The American public was waiting for us on the other side of the Atlantic. I was especially excited for this trip. This was a great homecoming for me. My songs have been doing so well in the country and pop charts in the US. I hadn't been back to the states since I visited my mom after the Hamburg disaster. She wasn't going to be able to see me during this trip because we were going to be so busy, but our US tour in the fall would be the right time to reunite with mother. She assured me last night over the phone that she would be tuned in to the Ed Sullivan show in a couple of nights to see me make my American television debut. Brian had set it up so I could be on the first half of the show, and the boys could close out the show. I could hardly handle the excitement and nervousness.

George was sat next to me on the eight hour plane journey to New York. I had my head resting on his shoulder. He was reading the in-flight magazine.

"Sasha, did you know I could buy cologne on the plane?" He asked as he read over a cologne advertisement.

I chuckled. This was my first overseas flight with George. He had visited his sister in Illinois back in September, but I was too busy with my next album to join him and his two brothers. I thought back to the flight to New York when I took John to meet my mom. We were so in love back then. I thought that nothing was ever going to get in between us. Who would have thought that five years later I would be sitting next to George of all people, and he would be sitting next to his wife, who wasn't me. It's not at all how I expected my life turn out when I thought about the future back then. John and I had continued to be friends since Brian forced us to. I was actually starting to get comfortable around him again. Maybe it was a good thing for us to be friends.

The captain's beep sounded, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could put your seats in the upright positions and lock the tray tables in front of you, we will be beginning our descent to New York City shortly. Thank you for flying Pan American."

I sat up and looked out the window. I didn't realize how much I missed America until I saw the vast New York City skyline staring back at me. I was home.

That night, in the hotel, I sat on the couch in between Paul and George. Ringo sat in the chair next to Paul, and John was in and out of the room with Cynthia. Maureen had come to America with us, but she was already in bed from jet lag. The boys and I were trying to stay awake, so we could get used to the five hour time difference faster. Two men were filming the boys for a documentary they were producing. Brian was in and out of the room with the publicists and radio announcers. They had rented out a whole floor for us at the Plaza Hotel, but not surprisingly, we had all ended up in the same room.

"I'm tired because I've been up for days," George said to the camera that was filming part of a documentary.

Ringo began to say that we would all go out later.

"I really don't feel like going out," George said to me.

I rubbed his back, "Are you alright?"

"I'm kind of feeling under the weather right now," George said standing up and walking into the bedroom that we shared.

"What's wrong with Harrison?" John asked when he had left the room. I noticed that Cynthia wasn't with him. Maybe she had gone to bed.

"He said he wasn't feeling well," I explained.

Paul looked at me in shock, "He can't feel bad. We have a photo shoot, Ed Sullivan, and I think we're doing something with some radio host or something tomorrow."

"Well, maybe he just needs sleep. He hasn't slept in two days," Ringo explained.

I sighed, "Well, I'm gonna go check and see if he needs anything. I'll be right back."

I walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. George was lying in bed in the dim light of the lamp with his hands on his forehead.

"George, are you okay?"

"No, me head and throat are killing me," he told me quietly.

"Hang on, I'll get some aspirin and water," I said leaving the room.

"Hey, she's back," Paul said smiling as I walked back into the living room area.

"I'm just getting George some medicine and water."

"Is he sick?" John and Paul asked in unison.

I giggled, "His head and throat hurt."

"His throat! He has to sing back up," Paul said freaking out.

"Paul, relax. He'll probably be better by morning," I told him, "Be right back."

After I nursed George for a few moments, I decided to go back to the main room to try and stay up a bit longer. Brian had gone to bed, and all that was left was Paul, John, Ringo, and the brothers that were filming the documentary.

I noticed that John had sat down where George had been sitting earlier, and he had his guitar with him. He had his sunglasses on for some reason. It reminded me of Stuart. I wish he could be here with us.

"Sasha," John said my name, "Why don't you join us for some music?"

I sat in between him and Paul, "What song are you thinking?"

"How about one of yours?" He smiled at me.

I nodded and John began playing the chords to a song we had written together when we were teenagers. After that song was finished, he played more of the old ones that we had written that didn't make it on to any albums. Two hours had passed, and Ringo had gone to bed. The filming brothers had gone to their room as well. It was just me, John, and Paul, just like old times.

"I can't believe I remembered the words to all of those," I giggled as we finished another song.

John set down his guitar in the chair next to the couch. He had replaced his sunglasses with his regular glasses instead. My opinion still stood about his Buddy Holly glasses. I loved them on him.

John leaned back resting his arm on the back of the couch, "Those were days. Do you still have those tapes we recorded at me and Stu's place?"

"I do somewhere," I lied. Truth was, I knew exactly where the tapes were. They were in one of the boxes labeled 'John' in the attic of my dad's house in Liverpool.

John started telling a funny story from our days in Stu's flat. That was probably the first time John was making me laugh in over four years.

Paul yawned loudly over our laughing, "I think it's time for bed. We have to be up early tomorrow."

I sighed, "I think Paul's right. Goodnight John."

I stood up next to Paul and followed him out of the room.

"Sasha," John's voice made me stop in my tracks and turn to face him, "Goodnight."

I smiled at him before I left the room.

When I was almost to my door, Paul yawned again, "Goodnight sis. John still loves you, you know."

"Paul," I warned. I didn't want to get into this.

He smirked, "I just wanted to know if you noticed the way he's been looking at you all night. He still loves you."

I rolled my eyes and walked into my room. Paul didn't think that I didn't know that already.

February 9, 1964

Ed Sullivan had been a blast. After the show, we were all invited to the Peppermint Lounge. Ringo and Maureen were dancing up a storm on the dance floor. Paul was throwing back drinks and flirting with ladies, even though he had a girlfriend, who also happened to be one of my best friends. John and Cynthia were chatting as he threw back a lot of drinks. George was slouched next to me. He was very ill, and I could tell that he didn't feel like being here. He had managed to do great on the show tonight because of all the meds the doctor had given him beforehand. He had a nasty case of the flu and strep throat. Brian had made it clear that there would be absolutely no kissing each other. He didn't want me to get sick as well.

"George," he looked at me, "If you want to go back to the hotel. I can call you a cab."

"Actually," Cynthia spoke up from across the table, "I'm heading in for the night. I can go back with him."

"Okay," I said, "Is that okay George?"

He nodded and stood from the table after giving me a kiss on the cheek and bidding me goodnight and an "I love you". I watched as he left the club with Cynthia. I hadn't really met her until this trip. She seemed nice, but for some reason I had no intention of becoming her friend. I wonder if she knew about me and John. I drank the last bit of the martini I was working on.

"Can I get you another drink?" John yelled from across the table.

I knew he was getting close to being drunk, but I was allowed to have a little fun, wasn't I?

"Sure," I said.

Moments later, he brought a few shots of something back to the table. We took turns taking shots and laughing at stories and John's humor.

"Wanna dance?" John slurred.

"What about your wife?" I giggled.

John dramatically rolled his eyes, "She doesn't like to dance."

He stood from the table and took my hand. When we got on the dance floor, we began dancing close to each other. It reminded me of those crazy nights in Liverpool when we would go out dancing and drinking. We would stumble home in the early morning hours and make love until the sun came up.

John grabbed my waist to pull me closer, forcing me out of my memories.

"Naughty," I heard a Liverpool accent behind me. It was Maureen, "You're dancing with John?"

I laughed, "I'm just having a little fun."

"Don't have too much fun," She winked at me before Ringo pulled her away for another dance to a new song.

I knew that dancing drunk with John was bad idea. I didn't want it to end, but I knew I had to cut it short before something scandalous happened.

"John," I yelled over the music, "I think we should go back to the hotel now."

"You read my mind."

I cringed at his naughty smirk.

Back at the hotel, John stumbled behind me on the way to our floor. We climbed into the elevator. When the doors closed, he pressed me against the wall.

His lips connected with my neck, "You look so beautiful tonight, mama."

I shuddered as his old nickname for me slipped from his lips. I gently pushed him off of me, and walked to my room when elevator doors opened. As I fell asleep next to George, I couldn't get John's voice and touch out of my mind.