A day passed. Despite the annoying, screeching women grouped together outside the hotel who wouldn't go away, the day was far less hectic than Elizabeth thought it would be. She cleaned a few rooms, brought some towels and food to people who asked for it, twiddled her thumbs. That was the usual. And the best part was, there had been no sign of the Beatles. She was content with them there, so long as they didn't screw anything up or cause mischief. She didn't know why she'd be suspicious of them. But then again, all young men were untrustworthy brutes. She didn't see much of Rachael until they both met up to go home. "Where have you been the whole time? I didn't even see you during lunch..." Liz began as they managed to get a taxi. But she stopped short in her speech. Her eyes suddenly narrowed, and she looked at Rachael suspiciously. "You went looking for them didn't you?"

Rachael clasped her hands behind her back in the most innocent looking fashion, and flashed a sheepish little smile. "Oh, me? Psh, come on Liz. You really think I would waste my time looking for them? They're probably trapped up in their suite so they won't get mauled by girls," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Liz wasn't easily fooled by the terrible act her friend had just put up, and simply shook her head.

"Yeah, right. Whatever you say, honey," she said with a tiny half smile, chuckling to herself. It was such an immature thing to do, especially since Rachael was twenty-four years old. She had a job to do. They weren't very comfortable financially. They had better things to do than chase some British boys around. That was child's play. Soon, they were back at the flat. Liz rushed into the bathroom to make sure she got in a quick shower before Rachael spent her usually thirty minutes in there. She washed off, dressed in a simple white nightgown, and settled on watching television.

And so begins the day where everything changed.

Liz woke to someone shaking her violently, and her eyes shot open in an instant. Her first notion was that there was a murderer in the place, so she quickly threw the unknown arms off of her. Vision blurred, eyes half closed, she instinctively slapped her hand across the stranger's cheek. A loud squeak emitted from this alleged murderer, and Liz immediately blushed from embarrassment as she realized who it was.

"Liz, what the hell was that for?" Rachael whined. Now, as Liz's vision cleared, she could see clearly Rachael hovering over her, rubbing her right cheek and pouting. She was already dressed for work. Liz sat up, and rubbed her eyes tiredly as she looked around. She was lying on the couch, the new was on, and it seemed brighter than usual outside. "Anyway, um, yeah. It's eight thirty, you've got twenty minutes before we leave," she said passively.

"WHAT?!" Liz exclaimed, pushing past Rachael in an instant and dashing into the bathroom. This didn't make any sense. She never fell asleep watching TV. She never slept in. It was always seven. Always. Well, the shower was inevitably quick, and that gave her just enough time to straighten her hair and such. It didn't look as good as it usually did, but she was running short on time. She rushed out of the bathroom, and grabbing Rachael by the wrist, she yanked her outside. Once they grabbed a taxi they were off. This day didn't feel right. Liz couldn't ignore that fact as they drove along again. She was worried that if they were late two days in a row they might get fired or something. Everything had gone wrong so far. And it never went wrong. It had been going right since their first day on the job. She decided to place the blame on the Beatles. Their arrival had just screwed everything up and she was not at all pleased. The hotel was still surrounded by tons of girls, though a bit less this time. Now it seemed that there was more paparazzi. It didn't matter to Lizzy, as long as they didn't bother her. They nearly sprinted into the hotel, and the clocked in just in time. It was a miracle, but they did it. It made Lizzy feel a little bit better about the whole morning problem, but she felt uneasy and upset.

As Rachael left to attend to her duties, today it was Liz's job to attend to all the suites that day. Which was fine. That meant less rooms she had to look over. People could be so high maintenance, you know. It was no more than thirty minutes before she received her first order of the day. The man running the front desk handed her a slip of paper with a list of meals written on it. It looked like everything on the breakfast and brunch menu. "They ordered all of this?" she thought to herself, but with a simple nod she took the paper and went down a hallway to where the kitchen was. She delivered the orders to the chef, and as he prepared all the meals, she watched him with curiosity. She had always wondered how cooks...well, how they cook. She was never that good. Cake was about all she could do. It took quite a bit of time to prepare all the dishes, at least an hour. But soon, everything was set on a trolley (it barely all fit on one).

Checking the room number that was scribbled on the paper, she lugged the cart of food towards the elevator. The room was on the highest floor, the fourteenth story to be exact. "Geez, there must be about twenty people in there," she muttered to herself as the lift carried her to the very top of the hotel. She headed down the hall, but another maid caught her eye. She knew who it was straight away. "Rachael! What are you doing here?" she demanded, and the startled maid turned around to face her friend. "

It's a long story, Liz. Well-" Rachael began, but she stopped short. Heaving a sigh, she shrugged. "Whatever. You caught me. It's not like you can do anything about it. But anyway. What're you doing here?" she replied, her eyes drifting over to the trolley of food. "Whoa. Is that all for one room?"

"I guess so. Weird, huh? Come on. You may as well come with me, since you're up here," Liz replied with a shrug, beckoning for Rachael to follow her as she continued down the hall. Soon, they reached the designated room. Room 1414. Elizabeth gave a few small taps on the door, can called out in a sweet and friendly voice, "Room service!" There was a brief silence. But the brief silence turned into a long silence. Liz exchanged a quick glance with Rachael, before knocking again, a bit louder this time. The second time seemed to do the trick. There was low chatter that could be heard from inside the room, and a few footsteps. And finally, the door was opened a crack. A single, dark eye peeked out. The man then proceeded to fling the door open the whole way. He was thin, very thin. He could probably pass through a needle he was so skinny. He could really use all this food, by the looks of him. He had high cheekbones, thick eyebrows, dark brown moptop hair, and eyes to match. He was smoking a cigarette, and dressed in a formal, yet somewhat casual suit.

"Oh 'ello," he said, and paused as he caught sight of the cart filled with all the food. "Oh, is that all the food I ordered? Would you mind bringing it in for me?" he asked in a thick Scouse accent, and without waiting for an answer, he turned around and headed back into the room. Lizzy was about to pull the cart in when Rachael grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her violently.

"Do you know who that was? That was George Harrison! Oh my gosh. I can't breathe. Why didn't you tell me you were bringing them food?" she whispered to her, doing her best to contain her squeals. Liz rolled her eyes, and pushed Rachael away from her. "Well, I didn't know this was their room. And anyway, you need to relax. They're just human beings. Act cool, all right?" she warned her friend, who like a child, put a finger to her lips and shut herself up with a bright smile. With that, Elizabeth pulled the cart into the large suite, Rachael trailing a few paced behind her. The suite was bigger than their flat back home, with a wide, spacey living room connected to a nice little kitchen. A hallway led to a few bedrooms and the bathroom. This George Harrison fellow sat on the wide sofa in the living room, and motioned for Liz to bring the cart over there. Sitting with him were four other men. One had girly eyebrows and puppy dog eyes. One had a big nose and pretty blue eyes. One had auburn-brown hair and a sneering expression. And the other had slicked, neatly combed hair and a very posh appearance. The latter two seemed to be engaged in an argument as Liz entered the room.

"Well, Brian, you're the manager. What are we gonna do, hm?"

"I told you Lennon, I don't know yet. This is your fault anyway. Why'd you have to go running your mouth in front of the newsman? All you've done this year is cause trouble."

"Well it was you who scheduled the whole press conference in the first place!"

Elizabeth looked rather uncomfortable having walked in on an apparent argument, and blushed a bit as she cleared her throat to grab their attention. "Your meals, gentleman?" she offered them the cart with a plastered smile. But suddenly she became aware that the two who'd been arguing, this Brian and Lennon, were looking at her as if she were an angel. The longer haired chap stood up and confronted Liz, much to her resentment, and circled her a few times.

Then, with a crooked smirk, he looked back at Brian, and said, "How about this one then?"