Road to Nowhere

Chapter Three

"You'd say that Danny Love was responsible for your career?" Wes asked, sipping some coffee.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. If I hadn't gone to his parties, we'd never become friends."

"Wow. So, you've gotten the job at Vogue. You're in New York City. What happens next?"

"A few years go by, I'm still at the magazine, doing photo shoots and writing articles for this and that, getting by pretty well. Danny's working for Capital Records, Marian's trying to be a teacher- all's well."

"That's it?" Wes asked, clearly very curious.

"Well, everything changed around the end of '63, early '64..."

(Flashback to NYC, November, 1963.)

"What's going on here, Eva? I mean, really, you need to invest in a grammar checker or something," Cassandra sighs. Cassandra Canavan,my boss at the magazine, seems to make it her mission to dislike everything I do.

"Cass, c'mon, it's one or two mistakes. Jerry said it'd be fine to publish once we fix those. It'll go out in the December issue," I sigh. 

"Well, I don't see why we'll need another article and spread about fall fashion," Cass says. She's pretty fiery, and from Boston- which means she's got that old Irish temper. I shouldn't joke though, since I'm half Irish. Anyway.

"What will you have me do, then?" 

"Harry called this morning, said something about doing a spread on some British band. You heard of 'em?"

"What're they called?" I chucked.

"The Beatles," Cass said dryly, without any amusement. "They'll never hit it big over here. But, the Brits and teens seem to think they're fabulous, so we'll see."

"I think I've heard the name," I replied. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Harry thinks you should so a story and spread about them. Hop on the bandwagon, I guess. They've had a bunch of hits, and there's talk of them coming to America soon. We'd better be prepared, have a story that the public wants before it knows it wants it. Got it?"

"I guess," I shrugged, confused. "How am I going to write about them and take their pictures if they're in England?"

"Ah, you've finally asked a crucial question. You've got a seat on the noon plane tomorrow. Have a nice trip."

The next day, I arrived in London with serious jetlag. I was exhausted, hungry, achey, exhausted, and already questioning what the hell I was doing in England. A cab and driver met me at the airport to take me to some hotel or other. 

I honestly don't remember where I went, I was so tired.

According to Cass, I wasn't scheduled to meet these Beatles until the next day, so I took that valuable time to do some serious work (also known as sleeping). 

In the morning, I woke up to the very annoying alarm clock the hotel had kindly provided. After getting dressed, eating breakfast, and having a failed attempt to adjust to the time difference, I made my way to the hotel lobby to meet by driver. Along the way, I was stopped by a few guests at the hotel, asking me to sign a napkin or something and making sure that I really was Eva Haney, writer and photographer. I still wasn't used to all the attention, don't know if I ever will be.

Anyway, my driver (who told me to call him Gus) took me to some regular old meeting place. I thought we'd be going to a studio.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Can't go anywhere too public, ma'am, the girls will come chasing the lads," Gus replied. I had no idea how to respond.

In a few moments, we arrived at what looked like a hotel, but one that wasn't as nice as the one I was staying in. Gus opened my door for me, and walked me into the lobby. I told the front desk who I was, and they told me to go to the fifteenth floor, room 1577.

I did as they instructed. 

Up on the fifteenth floor, I made my way to room 1577. All of a sudden, I was nervous. I was rarely nervous before meeting someone I was about to interview or photograph. Strange...

I knocked a few times, and in a minute or so, the door flew open.

"Eva? Eva Haney?" asked a man, clearly not American.

"That's me," I replied with a smile.

"Brian Epstein," the man replied, shaking my hand. "I'm the lads' manager. Ready to meet the Beatles?"