Beatles in a Beetle

Model Behaviour

I own the Beatles!  And I always lie!  (Figure that conundrum out and I will give you candy.  Not really.  But then again, I always lie . . . .)

A/N:  A new chapter!  I've got another fic coming once this one's done, too!  (Teaser:  it's going to be called "The Escape of the Nerk Twins.")  Thanks so much to all my reviewers -- your feedback makes this possible!  On FanFiction:  singertobe, omgringo, Macca's Little Teddy Bear, and the Mysterious Guest; on WattPad:  InmylifeIloveLennon.  Special shout-out to Macca40 for giving me the idea for this installment!

A/N II:  Shoot!  I left out the first paragraph of this chapter at first!  All is well now though . . . .

“Boys, this is Mary Johnson,” said Brian as he led the Beatles to a young woman on the far side of the room.  “You’ll have to introduce yourselves; I have to sign a reimbursement agreement with a certain rental car business owner.”  He gave John a parting frown, to which John responded with a Cheshire cat grin.

"Hello," said Mary Johnson elegantly. She held out a pale, long-fingered hand. "I'm quite a fan of yours."

Paul shook her hand dazedly. "Paul McCh- McAr—you know what, forget it. Doesn't matter anyroad."

She laughed, a sound like wind-chimes and birds on a spring day. "A pleasure."

"But you already knew his name, didn't you? Being a fan and all," Ringo pointed out.

Mary Johnson smiled, her perfect white teeth lighting up the room, or so it seemed to Paul. His eyelids drooped slightly.

George looked rather alarmed at his friend's behaviour. Ringo seemed slightly bewildered. John was hiding his mouth behind his hand, trying to stop himself from laughing.

"How can I help you?" asked Paul, miserably failing at suavity. Instead, he sounded like an overexcited teenager, finally plucking up the courage to talk to the popular girl whose locker was across the hall.

Mary Johnson laughed. "You see, I'm an aspiring model –" she started.

Paul interrupted her. "I can see that; you're beautiful," he murmured, then added hastily. "Sorry, sorry, keep going."

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything about the London entertainment business," she asked, leaning a little closer to Paul. He stared at her high cheekbones, red lips, and shimmering eyes.

John stuck his hand between their faces and snapped his fingers. Paul blinked, and Mary Johnson turned to look at John, affronted.

"Anybody home?" asked John.

"What are you doing here, John?" asked Paul dazedly.

George and Ringo exchanged an incredulous glance.

"Er . . . he's been here the whole time, Paul," said George.

"Really?" asked Paul. "I hadn't noticed."

Ringo buried his face in his hands. "You're making a fool of yourself, Paul," he muttered, but Paul seemed unable – or unwilling – to hear him.

"My dear," said Paul, taking Mary Johnson's hand in his own, "May I help you with this advice?" He knelt and kissed her hand. She smiled triumphantly.

George looked at John worriedly.

John grinned and gave George an everything's-under-control double thumbs-up. Then the rhythm guitarist yelled, "Heel!" and grabbed the back of Paul's jacket, hauling him away from Mary Johnson.

The model looked shocked. "What are you doing?" she asked. John scrunched up his face in contempt at her.

"You've disrupted the training programme! You might've set him back for weeks!" yelled John in mock furor.

"Training programme? I'm afraid I don't understand," said Mary Johnson.

"I don't either," added Ringo.

"You can't just keep any old tiger as a pet! You have to train them," said John.

"Tiger?" asked Mary Johnson and Ringo simultaneously.

"Yeah," said John. "See?"

Paul shook his head a little to get rid of the fuzziness that was currently hanging over his brain. He couldn't do this if he were staring at Mary Johnson, so he decided to focus on George instead. He growled at the lead guitarist. The reporter from the Evening Star frowned, seeing that Paul's hair seemed to be askew.

George looked distinctly unimpressed. "That it?"

"I'm training him to be calm, not aggressive," said John. "Watch this, though!"

John plopped down on the dressing room floor and scratched Paul behind his ears. Paul sat down next to him and made the requisite purring noises.

Mary Johnson snuck out of the dressing room, but no one seemed to notice.

"She gone?" asked John after a second.

"All clear," replied George. "You can get up now."

John and Paul leapt up.

"Thanks, mate," said Paul. He reached up and pretended to scratch the back of his neck; in fact, he was straightening his wig.

"Anytime," replied John with a cheeky wink.

A/N:  Time is running out!  Post a review below to help John McClane, Inspector Clouseau, and Ferris Bueller join forces to save the Beatles from an army of miniature poodles!  Every little bit of support counts :0)