Yeah Yeah Yeah (Beatles/Paul McCartney)

20. Today's Another Day

June 1966
Rome / New York City / London / Hong Kong

Alice

The summer of '66 was jam-packed with good music. In London, every record player at every party blasted The Stones, the Yardbirds, and Lovin' Spoonful. In New York City, the taxi radios blared The Mamas & The Papas, Simon & Garfunkel, and The Chiffons.

Did I mention that the Beatles also released a single around that time? It was a catchy little tune, I suppose, if you're into that sort of thing. But to me, it sounded as if Paul had scribbled down the lyrics during a short taxi ride and decided it could be a hit. It, too, was everywhere.

But I wasn't paying too much attention to 'Paperback Writer' because I had places to be. The summer of '66 was also one of back-to-back round-the-world trips. I used it as an excuse to get Paul out of my mind, with the help of the many good-looking fellows that I encountered along the way. Did it work? Maybe. Did it end up the way I anticipated? That depends on who you ask.

London - Rome
The shorter flights were usually a drag. There was never enough time to get into the groove of things. There was rarely any drama. It was all take-off, drinks, a hurried meal, and then landing. Where was the glamor in that?

"Fun night, Dutch?" Teagan murmured as she stepped behind me to retrieve a teacup and saucer.

"A-OK, Teags," I replied with a knowing smile. She knew as well as anyone that I'd never kiss and tell.

I'd been insanely late for the flight and surely would get a bollocking by the central office whenever I was on the ground long enough for them to find me. I blamed it on a dishy Australian I'd met the night before at Sibylla's. Bobby? Jimmy? Sammy? Certainly something along those lines.

"Well, welcome back to the land of the living," Tegan murmured as she bumped my shoulder with hers good-naturedly. "Good to have you back."

It was true; ever since the disastrous day at Cavendish Avenue, I'd been the life of the never-ending party. I was the first to suggest going out and the last to go home. Nevermind that the only way I could sleep for longer than a few hours was with pills. Everyone else I knew was surviving on Dexamyl to keep up, so was this any worse?

A bell chimed, and I peeked through the curtain. The light above Mr. Ricci's seat was lit, meaning that he'd be wanting an espresso right about then. I quickly prepared it and, with a pleasantly neutral smile on my face, walked into the cabin.

Istanbul - Beirut
Lindsay, the new stewardess on our route, claimed that she'd slept with a Beach Boy during a layover in Chicago.

"Which one was it?" Teagan asked in a low voice that we'd all perfected so we could freely chat without being overheard by the passengers. If any one of them had opened the curtain, they would have only seen four women preparing meals with professional smiles on their faces.

"Mike," Linsday replied. "You know, the one with the low voice."

"Oh, him," I murmured, busying myself with the roses that still insisted on wilting as soon as we reached cruising altitude.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lindsay asked, sounding mildly affronted.

"Nothing, nothing," I replied breezily, not really sure she was telling the truth anyway. She'd recently boasted about sleeping with three other celebrities, one of whom I knew for a fact was gay.

"Where are we going out tonight?" I asked to change the subject. We debated back and forth between two popular clubs until we finally decided on one. It was another late night, another marvelous bloke I'd never see again.