I Wouldn't Change a Thing

10: Banquet

"Wow..." I squeaked as I approached him.

"Wow is right..." Paul tittered nervously as he approached me.

"Well, now that we're all wowed out!" John piped up as he came between us. "When are we leaving for this thing!?"

Paul casually checked his watch, "It shouldn't be too long now..."

"Is Cynthia coming?" I asked John.

"Couldn't make it," he replied with an unaffected shrug.

"And Jane's still off shooting her movie," Paul affirmed with a slight grin.

"Will you boys behave tonight?" I tested sternly.

John chortled, "It'll be hard when you're wearing that dress..."

"John!" I nudged him lightly in annoyance.

"Uh, Gail, could I speak to you for a moment..?" Paul requested as he briefly shot daggers at John.

As the butterflies in my stomach gave me no rest, I smiled anxiously at him. "Sure, Paul..."

***

Paul swiftly pulled me aside to an empty room with a mirror. He turned to me, staring intently.

"You know, I'm really happy you're here with me, Gail. I know things have been kind of weird lately, but there's just something about you that makes me lose all my wits..."

"Ditto," I uttered softly as I glanced to the side.

Just then, the door flew open and Brian stuck his head out urgently.

"Alright, boys! Ten minutes to showtime! I hope you all are ready!" he glimpsed quickly my way. "Oh, Gail, you look nice!" he added pleasantly.

Paul beamed assertively at me, then took one last look in the mirror. Suddenly, I felt his hand in mine. And I was on top of the world.

***

Brian drove Paul, John and me to our destination in the center of London. George and Pattie reserved a private car for themselves while Ringo opted to stay home with Maureen and the baby. As soon as we entered the venue, John made his presence known straightaway. Looking around, he made a sour face at all the haughty rich snobs who were in attendance.

"Bloody hell! I hate being among the snoots..." he grumbled as he adjusted his tie.

"Hey now, don't you start fussing about! We're very fortunate to be at this high-status event right now, so bloody act like it!" Brian snarled under his breath.

"Good evening, sir. Are you Brian Epstein, manager of the Beatles?" a distinguished-looking man, who looked to be about 30, inquired.

Grinning sheepishly, Brian looked up and shook his hand. "Why...yes, yes I am."

The older man then linked arms with Brian, leading him in the other direction. Paul and John exchanged a knowing look, sneering at each other.

"Looks like 'ol Eppy's got his hands full, eh Johnny?" Paul guffawed.

"Sure does look that way, don't it Macca?" John laughed along with him.

All of a sudden, an attractive young gentleman came sauntering up to me. "Excuse me, boys. Would you two mind too terribly if I borrowed this striking young lady to buy her a drink?"