Chapter Nine

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay, people. I know you want me to update and everything, but geez! I say on my page that I am on hiatus, working on my ACTUAL novel and not just fanfiction. I'm trying to branch out and do some stuff that could get published and put in bookstores. While it is fun to write about the Beatles or the Monkees or any of the other characters I have posted about, I do have other characters that are my own that also need my attention. So don't worry. I will add more to my stories when I have time and I'm not in deep Writers' Block. If you really want to see more chapters, send me comments giving me ideas, please. It's a lot more helpful than "ADD MORE OR I WILL COME AFTER YOU WITH A CHAINSAW!" Thanks, people.

"John, I am going to kill you!" I shouted as I wrestled to get off the couch. I felt stupid and like a turtle. I stopped struggling for a minute. "Could you help me get up?" I asked meekly.

"Why should I?" John smirked. "You're so much more vulnerable this way."

"John Lennon," Paul scolded, "you let Quinn up right now!"

"Yes, mother," John rolled his eyes, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the couch. "Just having a little fun."

"Yeah, well, have a different kind of 'little fun,'" Ringo snorted. "We're starving over here and what do you do? You torture Quinn. What's that for being a friend?"

"Oh yeah!" John laughed, putting his hand on his forehead. "Breakfast! I totally forgot!" A door on the far side of the room opened and George emerged. He yawned, stretching his arms up to the ceiling.

"Good morning, all," he mumbled sleepily. His eyes wandered over to me. "Good morning, Quinn," he smiled. "Sleep well?"

"Wonderfully, thank you," I blushed.

"Good. And how do you like your room?" he asked. "I got back late last night and didn't have a chance to ask you."

Wow! He's being talkative this morning! What a change from last night…

"Oh, I like it fine," I grinned. "This hotel is better than some of the houses I've lived in!" George chuckled and stretched again.

"So, what's for breakfast?" he said, eyeing the kitchen table hungrily.

"Bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, cornflakes," Paul shrugged. "The usual."

"Sounds delicious," George licked his lips. His eyes turned to me again. "Can I help you into your seat, Quinn?" He walked to the large table and pulled out a chair. I followed him and sat down.

"Thanks," I smiled. George grinned that same quirky smile and sat down next to me, helping himself to some cornflakes right off the bat.

"You seem in high spirits this morning," John chortled quietly, throwing a look at George. George returned the look with one of warning. They stared at each other for a moment before George broke the gaze and continued shoveling cornflakes into his mouth.

"I am in high spirits," he mumbled politely. "Maybe that's why it seems like it."

"No need to get fussy," John protested, holding up his hands (one of which had a strip of bacon in it). "I was just pointing out that you're in a better mood than you were in last night." George ignored John and took a link of sausage from the plate.

"So," I bit my lip, breaking the silence, "what's on tap for today? What's everyone doing?"

The boys all looked at each other thoughtfully before looking back at me. They continued eating their breakfast.

"We'll figure it out," Paul shrugged. "I think John said something about taking you shopping to get you some new clothes."

"That's right," John grinned. "Since you didn't even have a proper nightie, I figured you might need some other clothes too."

"You figured right," I smirked under my breath.

"And while we're out we can get you some nice undies too."

"JOHN!" Paul and Ringo yelled together, swatting the offending band mate.

"What?" he complained. "You were all thinking it! And you know it!"