Ok, if you're wondering how in the hell I'm updating so fast, the truth is that I have the first four chapters all final drafted (though my final draft IS my first draft, and even though that's horrible writing technique, I don't really give a damn) and saved on my computer. Then, I just put them on here when I feel like it, and I sit back and wait. It's so funny how you people just eat up the Beatles stories, and then the fics that actually belong in this section just get untouched. On one side, I'm complaining, on the other side I'm totally not.

Oh, God, I'm doing the dreaded double author's note. But really, this is a whole other subject in its entirety. John-fans, yes, I do care about your votes. Don't think I am not listening to them and taking them into consideration. The thing is, it would be SO HARD for me to write a love story between A.J. and John, simply because I don't like John as a person. I mean, how can I be writing 'I love you' and thinking 'I hate you'? It just doesn't work. So, I'm sorry for that. Also, I'm not going to make Paul out to be any sort of sex fiend or a jerk. I'm going to make him for what he really was (well, I guess is): a ladies' man with morals (haha Sweeneysbestfriend).

I'm tripling. I know, I know, I'm sorry. I just wanted to say one thing to FYI. I know EXACTLY where you are coming from. John, I will guarantee you, is NOT okay with this death thing. And if you'll remember, I was (still am) holding the poll on which boy A.J. will fall in love with. Did you get that? Oh, and this is a shorter chapter mostly featuring Paul. So here we go, chapter three!

Doctor Robert was nowhere in the Cavern Club, nor was he outside of it. I was starting to get a little bit worried, to tell you the truth. The sooner we could find Pop, the sooner I could get back home. I wonder what it was he wanted from me.

"He's a nowhere man!" John shouted from behind me. He was just consulting the bartender, and now he was shooting frustrated looks in every direction. On one hand, I was relieved that he was looking so hard for him, while the other guys were just lazing around. On the other, hand, why did he want me out of here so badly? He was acting as though I had personally wronged him, which I sort of had, but he had asked for it! And it was in his favor, anyways, so why was he so mad? This meant he could save himself from being shot to death. You would think he would at least be a little more grateful.

John strode swiftly over to where I was sitting in between Ringo and Paul at the bar, pointing at me. "He's YOUR grandfather, you should know where he is!"

I rolled my eyes openly, and the boys chuckled. "Yeah, stupid, I do know where he is. I have Grandfather Radar, did I forget to tell you?" Then I sighed, swinging my legs against the barstool. "And why do you have to blame everything on me? I didn't tell him to ask for you to bring me back to this hell hole." I was starting to regret having told the guys that Doctor Robert was my grandpa; it was seriously more trouble than it had to be.

"You better watch your mouth, little girl," John threatened, shaking his head menacingly.

"Aye," Paul chuckled, leaning his arms against the bar, "John's been known to make a swing at a few birds." John's face darkened, and he punched Paul in the arm. Paul just laughed and pushed him back playfully, making John mutter something under his breath and stalk away. Once he was gone, Paul cradled his arm and rubbed the spot where John had hit him, wincing lightly. "Damn," he mumbled, shaking his head.

I looked at Ringo, who just laughed and shrugged. "Oh, it's a love/hate relationship with those two. They love to hate each other." I thought it funny that he was saying this of Lennon/McCartney, one of the greatest song writing duos in history.

Just as he was saying this, the tall, black haired woman with the raspy voice sauntered over to Paul, falling onto his lap with a giggle.

"Oh, Paulie, will a kiss make it better?" She leaned down and kissed his arm, looking up at him through her eyelashes. That was sickening. Girls look like damn fools when they did that, just like the throwing their head back to laugh thing. No one naturally did that!

I snorted at her ridiculousness, and she looked over at me. She sized me up, and for the first time I glanced down at what I was wearing. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't wearing the same shorts and a tank top I was wearing when I had met the Beatles, but I was wearing something much more era-appropriate: a shortish leather skirt, a sleeveless dark red shirt tucked into it, and tall leather boots. I had no idea where these clothes came from, but I thought I looked quite Liverpool-chic. Apparently the girl in the slinky black dress didn't think so.

"Who are you?" the girl asked blatantly, leaning forward to peer at me and still on Paul's lap. I wanted to smack this bitch.

I opened my mouth to retort something nasty, but probably seeing my expression, Paul cut in. "Rita, this is A.J., A.J., this is the lovely Rita." Lovely? More like revolting. This was the girl that song was about? You have GOT to be kidding me.

"A.J.? That's such a foul name!" She laughed shrilly, looking at Paul for back-up. He looked quite uncomfortable.

"You think? Well, then maybe it should be your name, if it suits you so much." I sneered, making Ringo snort into his beer. Paul widened his eyes behind Rita's back, mouthing, 'Be nice!'

Rita's mouth dropped open, and I could tell she was searching for something clever to say back to me. I raised my eyebrows. "Would you please close your mouth? I wouldn't say anything, but your breath smells like rotting road kill."

She gasped, snapping her jaw closed. Beside me, Ringo's shoulders shook with laughter, and even Paul was fighting a smile. "Paul!" she whined, bouncing on his lap. "Make her go away!"

Paul frowned at the dim-witted girl. "Why would I do that?" he asked, confused.

Rita pouted for a moment, then slid off Paul's lap. "Fine. Then it's me, or her." She put her hands on her hips, twisting her mouth defiantly. What a dumbass.

Paul looked from her, to me, and then back again. "Her," he said simply, taking a calm sip of beer. She stared blankly at him, until it finally caught on that that was all he had to say.

"Well, fine, then. I'll just leave." She didn't move a muscle, still staring at Paul. He turned away from her, nodding towards the bartender for another drink.

He turned around again with his drink, and looked surprised when he saw she was still standing there. "You're still here? I thought you were leaving."

Rita looked close to tears. "You're such an asshole, Paul McCartney!"

WHAT?! Now she had crossed a line. I loved the Beatles themselves just as much as I loved their music. Paul was not, in fact, an asshole. That would be John. "Um, 'lovely' Rita? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that he wants you gone. And calling him an asshole is not going to change his mind." I waggled my fingers at the foolish girl. "So buh-bye."

Rita stomped her foot, then spun on her heel and bolted out of the club. Paul chuckled appreciatively at my smirk. "Nice one. I've been trying to get rid of that crazy bird for a few weeks now."

I gave him a skeptical look. "Really. And you were doing that by introducing her to people as Lovely Rita and making a song with her name, right?"

Paul looked muddled again. "A song? I wasn't aware of this." Oops, I forgot, that one didn't come til Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band! "That's not a bad idea. I'll talk to John about it, though. He's much better with names than I am. They always seem to get madder at me…." He trailed off, muttering about some girl who had beat him with a pool stick.

I had to be really careful of what I said from now on. Even the slightest thing could throw them off course by now. I took a deep breath, then turned to Ringo, who was staring out into the crowd with a light grin on his face. I followed his gaze, seeing George sprinting as best he could through the mob of people, frequently looking over his shoulder.

"What's he running from?" I asked Ringo, leaning in and whispering in his ear. He jumped a little bit, then looked down at me and chuckled light-heartedly.

"Ah, Georgie's got an admirer." He nodded to a slightly eccentrically dressed woman, probably in her early twenties, who was scanning the crowd, completely ignoring the odd looks that the rest of the people were giving her. "She's been after him for a while now."

"What's her name?" Names had always been important to me. In my mind, your name said a lot about you. For instance, I would never go near a person named Spike…or Jim Bob.

"Pam," Ringo whispered as she came closer, "but everybody around here calls her Polythene Pam. She eats the stuff." I raised one eyebrow at her as she came nearer, probably going to ask Ringo if he had seen George, but she backed off when she saw my foreboding gesture.

Ringo chortled beside me. "You're a mean little girl, aren't you?"

Why did they keep calling me that? Not mean, because I knew well enough that that was true. But I wasn't a little girl! I was eighteen freaking years old!

"I'm not little," I grumbled, crossing my arms. He scoffed, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm not!"

He took another sip of his beer, shaking his head. "Yeah, and you're stubborn, too."

Grrr, if he didn't watch it, I was going to go Brittney Spears on his ass. And by that didn't mean shave my hair off, because that was old. Brittney is kind of a bad-ass. "Please." I waved him off with my hand.

"Well, you're no more than 5'2'', maybe ninety pounds, and you think you're some immovable force." He chuckled again, making me even angrier.

"For your information, I am exactly ninety-seven pounds, and I'm working on it." I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling insecure. I looked away from him, searching the sea of people again for George and Pam.

Ringo sighed, reaching over and turning my face with two finger tips. "A.J., stop worrying. I was only kidding," he said gently, tapping the tip of my nose with his finger.

Why was it that he just seemed so much…older than me? Like I was some silly little girl or something. He wasn't THAT much older than me…three or four years if I remembered correctly. It certainly wasn't that he LOOKED so much older. I mean, everybody is tall compared to me, but Ringo had to be at a maximum 5'8'', when all the other Beatles were around 5'11''. If I wanted a good comeback, I would have said something about HIM not worrying about it, but I couldn't be malicious to Ringo Starr. He was just the kind of person that you COULDN'T be mean to.

"If it's able to be taken the wrong way, don't say it. That's my motto. Unless you INTEND for it to be taken the wrong way. Then by all means, go ahead." I refocused my dark blue eyes back on his light ones, trying to act like I wasn't self-conscious still.

He laughed lightly, but he didn't seem to be buying it. Maybe that's what I liked so much about him; you could say whatever you wanted, and he wouldn't say anything, but we could both know in silence that it was a load of crap.

It was when Ringo turned around to order another beer that I saw her. She was roughly a year old, bare-foot, with wild, curly brown hair and a face full of freckles. She waddled through the throng of people, her scarlet lips wide open and loud giggles issuing from them. Women stopped and awwwwwed as she passed, but no one made any move to stop her. Apparently I was the only one who saw all the potential danger that she was in, so I leapt from my stool and rescued her.

"Well, hello, there," I chirped in my little kid voice as I scooped her up. The girl looked up at me, and I found that she had narrow, navy blue eyes. Very familiar eyes…. "What's your name?"

"Jeanie," she squeaked, widening her eyes as I sat back down next to Ringo. She spoke in a light Irish accent, and I wasn't sure how well she could speak.

"Well, hi, Jeanie," Ringo said kindly, leaning in and waving at her. "My name's Ringo. Ringo Starr. I play-"

"I know who you are," Jeanie interrupted. We looked down at her in surprise, and she blushed a little bit. I guess she was a little bit older than one. She was just really small for her age. "You play for the Beatles. You're the new drummer."

I loved how the little girl wasn't asking this, just stating it, as though it was a plain fact. She looked at me. "What's your name?"

I hesitated. If I started telling people who I was, would it affect anything back in the future? Wait…. "My name's A.J."

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied. "I like that name. I know a boy named Alan Jr., but we call him A.J. I like it for a girl." That was…weird. Normally people gave me all kinds of looks until I explained that it was Anna Jean.

It should have been obvious to me right there, but it took me until Ringo asked who and where her mother was. "I'm hiding," Jeanie giggled. "She doesn't ever come in here, and that's why I came in."

Ringo and I exchanged a look. "Why no-"

"JEANIE?! JEANIE FITZPATRICK YOU GET YOUR SCRAWNY ARSE OVER HERE!"

The people nearest to the door turned to look, laughing as they saw the woman who had just shouted. She was no bigger than me, but I could tell even from here how fiery she was. She marched over to us, making her daughter shrink.

"Uh-oh. Mam's found me," Jeanie whimpered, hiding her face in my shoulder. Ringo's laugh boomed around us.

"Jean Margret, you can never scare me like that again! It is nearly three in the morning, and you should not be running around like this! Do you know what could happen?" She snatched the girl off my lap. Looking up at me for the first time, then faltering. "Do I know you?"

No, but you will, I thought fervently, begging her to look me straight in the eye. It was so strange seeing her like this, maybe a year or two older than myself, with my mother as a baby in her hands. But I didn't understand two things; my mother's maiden was Ryan, because Doctor Robert was her father, and speaking of the Doc, where was Pop?

Soooo, where is the good Doctor, and why did he abandon A.J. with the Beatles? I know why, but the only way you're going to find out is if you review!!! But I think the most important question is…why haven't YOU voted on my poll yet. And yes, I mean YOU (unless, of course, you've already voted…then I don't mean YOU). So, you've had your daily dose of Beatles drama, but if it's some Beatles funny you're craving, check out I Me Mine, a collaboration with Flippzy-gurl and Sweeneysbestfriend. Had to throw that in there because I maybe might have used a character from their story (Polythene Pam) and I have to give credit where credit is due. THANKS!!!!