"Eva," George said quietly as brought his hands up to cup my face. My eyes were closed, and for an instant, I just wanted to be there with George, just the two of us, nothing else around us.
But then, there was a knock at the door, and I immediately thought of Danny.
"Uh," I stammered, "I'll get that..."
I quickly looked in the mirror to make sure I looked...normal. Granted, I was blushing slightly, but everything else looked like nothing had happened. I took a deep breath and opened the door to the suite.
"Oh, Paul!" I said, eyes widening.
"'Ello," Paul said, leaning against the doorway with a cigarette in his mouth. "John's not letting us watch anything else on the telly, figured you'd accommodate an old pal."
Paul craned his neck a little bit to look past me, but I didn't dare turn around. Paul raised one eyebrow.
"You two just listening to music, then?"
"Yup." I was trying to play it cool.
"Hmm. Mind if I join?" Paul said, still leaning against the doorframe.
"Sure," I said, probably a little too quickly. Paul smiled slightly and then entered the room, sitting down on the chair near George.
I returned and sat in the second chair, across from Paul. Paul was absentmindedly listening to the radio and examining his cigarette. George and I, on the other hand, were totally on edge. At least, I was embarrassed, guilty...a whole flood of emotions. And I didn't really want Paul finding out what had happened prior to his entrance.
"So," Paul began as an ad started on the radio, "how're your significant others? Remind me what it's like."
"Oh, you're not with Jane anymore?" I asked. Paul shook his head. George cleared his throat.
"I guess it's all fine," George said, lighting a cigarette.
"All good here," I said. I didn't really want to disclose to Paul that I'd started having doubts about my relationship with Danny, especially since I'd just told George. Look where that got me.
Exactly. Look where talking about my problems with Danny got me- seated between two of my friends, one of whom I'd just danced with and kissed. Were my perceived issues with Danny just one-sided? Clearly Danny had been suspicious of my friendship with the Beatles for ages, but was I now just jumping to conclusions only because of the kiss with George?
Anyway, the filming continued and the movie was made. The boys didn't like it as much as 'A Hard Day's Night', but I thought they were getting boatloads of money, so why did it matter? Throughout the filming, my relationship with George became more tense. I felt awkward, especially when others were around; I kept wondering if they knew what had happened. George reassured me he hadn't told anyone; he couldn't, since if someone found out, then the whole thing with Pattie would blow-up.
I guess during that time I sort of distanced myself from the boys a bit; maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I felt uncomfortable- what else was I going to do, act like nothing had happened?
I ended up returning to Danny earlier than I'd expected; I decided I'd just write what I could about the film and end it with a 'you'll just have to go see it' line.
The problem was, once I got back to Danny, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't happy with him. He loved me more than I loved him. Not to mention, I felt extremely guilty about the George incident.
Stupidly, I decided to confess everything to Danny.
(June, 1997. Paris.)
"I told Danny about the...incident with George," I sighed, taking a puff on my cigarette. "I needed to clear my conscience. Really, with George it was a one-time thing. There was definitely some awkwardness between us for a while, but I think once Danny and I broke up and I explained I just needed some time to myself, he understood."
"So the rumors were true?" Wes asked.
"Partially," I said. "None of them had been true up until that point. What happened with George and I never made it into the papers; we were the only ones that knew, besides Danny. He didn't want the world to know, either."
"So how did the breakup go?"
"How do any breakups go? It wasn't pleasant, I can tell you that," I laughed. The crew chuckled, too. "Danny felt like he'd been right all along, he'd seen it coming, it was all my fault. I'd tried explaining that he wasn't right all along, since this was the only time that anything romantic had ever happened between me and one of the guys. He didn't believe me."
"You moved out a few days later," Wes said, handing me another newspaper clipping about the breakup.
"How could I stay? There's no way we were going to stay together; Danny couldn't forgive me, and I don't blame him. It was my fault; I wasn't thinking, and I hurt him. Our friendship pretty much ended, after that. There was no going back."
"You took all the blame?"
"Danny had done nothing but cared about me," I nodded. "I was the one that wasn't as invested in the relationship, as time went on. I was the one that kissed somebody else. Sure, I wasn't entirely to blame, I know that- there were things Danny had done that I didn't like, like his constant paranoia about the boys and me. But I know it was mostly me in the wrong."
Wes nodded.
"The rest of 1965, there were less reports of you with the Beatles; not as many photos or articles in the paparazzi sheets. Was the situation with George the reason you distanced yourself?"
"Partially," I nodded. "They were all getting a little more into drugs, too, and that wasn't my scene. I preferred booze." I smiled, and Wes and the crew laughed.
"We know," Wes smiled. "It came out in the seventies that you had an alcohol problem; when did that start?"
"Uh," I thought for a moment, "probably near the end of '65. I struggled with it for a long time; it got better near the late seventies, but then John died and I kind of slipped back a little."
"Did the drinking affect your relationships?"
"With the Beatles? I'd say so. But I'm not sure if they really noticed, since they were caught up in drugs. Maybe by '67, I'd say, things were escalating with me."
"How so?" Wes asked, leaning forward.
(November, 1966. London.)
The boys were in the studio, working on their latest album. In October, I'd arrived in London from New York; I'd been sent to photograph the Beatles in the studio.
Things with George had long been solved- there wasn't anymore tension, but we definitely were closer in some ways. I hadn't seen any of them in quite some time; I wasn't as close with John and Ringo as I used to be, but they'd gotten married and were spending time with their families. George was spending time with Pattie, and Paul was always going between girlfriends. At the moment, it was still Jane, but I'd heard a rumor about another girl.
It was one o'clock in the afternoon, and the Beatles were downstairs in the studio, presumably having lunch. Meanwhile, I was upstairs in a little lounge with the door closed. How was I spending my time? Well, for starters, I was had the company of a bottle of gin and some tonic water. At the moment, that was all I needed.
I barely heard the knock at the door.
"Eva?" said a voice. John entered the room, or at least, a blurry version of John came in. "Are you drunk?" he asked after seeing the gin and, well, me in a less-than-sober state.
"What?"
"Are you drunk?"
"I'm fine, go play your guitar or something," I blurted. John snickered.
"It's one o'clock," John said. "I didn't think the party started until two."
"Come on," I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I just wanted to sit here for a bit. Alone."
John sat down in a chair opposite me. (I think he did.)
"What're you doing?"
"Sitting," John said, lighting a cigarette.
"Why?"
"I didn't want to stand."
I didn't say anything. What felt like twenty minutes of silence to me was probably only a minute or so to John.
"Since when have you carried a bottle of gin with you during the day?" John asked.
"Why does it matter?"
"No reason," John shrugged, "but I'm not sure how you're going to photograph us if you're so out of it. It would make for some blurry pictures."
"It's art," I laughed. John looked at his watch.
"Maybe it's time to go home. Where are you staying?"
"Uh..."
"Alright. Wait here, will ya?"
I suppose John left. I proceeded to crawl over to the sofa and lay down on my side.