Ain't She Sweet

11

"Remind me again why I have to dress nice? It's only Ringo's after all." I sighed, flattening out the skirt of my softly, laced, black dress.

"Would you rather show up in pants and bra?" George nudged me with a wink. "Cos' I don't think any of the lads would be complaining then."

I shrugged. "But you're not exactly dressed up."

Both of us glanced down to observe his simple jeans and shirt. He stared at me with an offhanded attitude, whereas I folded my arms stubbornly; expect that the lady must always make the effort.

"Look I'm sorry pet." He placed an arm to my bare shoulder. "I jus' wanna show you off I guess."

"George I'm not even-"

"I know, I know." He chuckled. "But still."

"Oh, come on then." I took his hand with a giggle. "It would have been nice if you'd told me about this earlier though, y'know?"

"Well I was gonna tell ya' yesterday at the picnic, but you were still hyped about staying at McCartney's." He chuckled. "I couldn't exactly follow up that glamorous news with 'oh yeah, and then we're off to Ringo's tomorrow', ay!"

"Poor Ringo." I shook my head with a smile as I knocked on the door of the house we stood beside, only to then be greeted genially by Ringo himself, who presented us with a warming smile as he invited us inside.

"'Ello there me lady. Nice of you to drop by." He chuckled, kissing my hand courteously as he took my jacket to hang, George however was already dashing off for the kitchen.

"Not even a hello?" Ringo called after him with a chuckle.

"Hello on George's behalf." I smiled at him.

"Well now. Don't you look lovely this evening." Ringo beamed.

"Well, thanks." I chuckled neurotically, as I felt my cheeks descend an obnoxious crimson. "As do you."

"Haha." He laughed lightly. "Why so flustered?"

"I- I'm not used to flattery." I stuttered, scratching my temple anxiously.

"Surprising." He raised his eyebrows. "I'd have thought for someone of such charm, you'd receive complements like you would taxes."

"Wow. How very...um, poetic of you?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Sure is a mystery to me why the lad hasn't released any hits yet, y'know?" John intruded upon the welcome, patting Ringo's back patronisingly.

"It's tough to write something worthy enough when you're constantly overshadowed by the Lennon-McCartney phenomenon." Ringo replied sourly, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

"Or to write anything in your case, ay Starkey?" John nudged him in the ribs.

Ringo was dismissive of these remarks, his face placid as it seemed John had ruined the moment, and placing a freshly lit cig between his lips, offered me one.

"I don't smoke." I refused, gritting my teeth as the fumes of thick smoke escaped his lips.

"I'll take one mate." John's agile fingers swiped a tab from the packet before Ringo could revoke them.

"I wasn't offering to you." He took a deep sigh, before then strolling away from us both completely, sending me a deflated wave on his way.