*Note: Any references to George Martin will either be said as "Martin" or "Big George".
1969--
I absentmindly toyed with the knob on the board. As I looked at my boys in their little studio I couldn't help but wonder if they ever thought about me. It had been so long since I'd been around them...I wondered if they even remembered who "Rita" was.
I doubt they would want anything to do with me anyway. Last they heard, I'd died in a car crash, chasing after the US Government, when the FEDS had taken my son from me. Heck, even I was surprised I lived through that.
As I watched John, Paul, George, and Ringo talking in the studio, curiousity over what they were talking about got to me. Then suddenly, it happened, John jumped on Paul and put him in a headlock. Then Ringo and George started trying to separate them. I turned to Mr. Martin. "Mr. Martin!"
Big George turned and saw what was going on and instantly turned up the sound in the studio. "I thought I said no fighting!" he snapped, the microphone making him sound louder than necessary.
John and Paul instantly broke apart. Paul looked up at the ceiling. "Yes God," he said in a serious tone, with his best American accent. The four of them then started giggling uncontrolably.
"That's not God, that's just Big George," John teased.
"Close enough it'n it?" Ringo asked. "We were just playin' sir. They were seein' if ya were payin' attention."
"I'm going out of the mixing room for a moment boys," Martin said. "When I get back, we'll pick up with Ringo's song."
Martin released the talk button on the mic and looked at me. "Keep 'em in line would ya?"
"I'll do my best sir," I replied, turning down the sound, so I couldn't hear them talking. When Martin left, I ran to the door and peeked out, then shut it again. Yoko had went off somewhere, so had Big George. I was left in the mixing room all alone...
I turned up the volume and evesdroped a little. To my complete and utter surprise, they were talking about me...
"You don't remember?...oh yeah, you wasn't part of us at the time were ya Ring?" Paul asked. "It was one of our final concerts at the Cavern, and Rita had never been in 'cause the owner thought she was a trouble maker. So, we snuck her in through the bathroom window."
"I happened to get an eyeful of 'er sisters knickers in the process," John bragged. "Not that it matters now that I'm happily married to the woman of my dreams."
Paul rolled his eyes at that comment. "John, before Yoko, every woman was the woman of your dreams."
"Was not," John retorted.
"Was too," Paul argued.
I pushed the talk button on the mic. "Boys, Big George may not be in here right now, but I still am. Need I remind you that childish bickering is a form of fighting?"
The four of them looked toward the window between the mixing room and studio for a moment. Their eyes seemed to cloud over with a memory. "Well, 'e started it," John said, pointing at Paul.
"Okay, children, I'm going to turn the sound down again," I lied. "You be on your best behavior."
I released the talk button and listened in somemore...
"She sounds just like 'er," John whispered.
"That's rediculous John," Ringo replied. "Rita died last year remember?"
"But the likeness is truly striking," Paul added, agreeing with John. "And the way she calls us 'children' the way Rita did."
They then got back on the topic of sneeking me into the Cavern again. Their recollection brought back some of my own semi-painful memories...
Early 1960's---
"No, Elvis could not beat up Big Popper," the other guy argued. "For one, Big Popper is dead."
"We're assuming he's still alive you dolt," I argued. "Johnny, 'elp me out 'ere."
"Big Popper would kick Elvis' arse," John said, raising his glass like a toast. "Rit would know, she studies forms of fighting."
"I also know what kind of objects you can hit people in the head with to render them unconcious," I said proudly. "Like say, John's beer mug would only knock you out for about five seconds if you were sober. But, you see the lamp on the bar? I know exactly how to hit someone with that thing to knock them out for at least an hour."
"Wouldn't be too hard," the guy replied. "Brass lamps are heavy things."
"Rita, just ignore 'im," Paul sighed. "It'n any use arguing with a drunk."
"Yer right," I sighed heavily. So, I got up and punched the guy in the face. His chair tumbled backwards and within a few seconds his loud snore carried up to table. "At least now 'e won' be arguin' with me."
"Damn it Rita," John snapped. "I thought I tol' ya not be doin' that?! If the owner comes over an' sees what ya've done, you'll be kicked out!"
"John luv...have ya forgotten who my step father is? Beleive me, he'll get me out of any trouble because I've got all sorts of info on 'im that could be his downfall." I glanced across the table at Pam, she got a wicked smile on her face. Both of us knew the info I spoke of.
"What information?" Loretta asked curiously.
"We can't tell ya," Pam replied. "Ya'd blab it all 'cross the country-side so you could make some'ead of yerself."
Loretta got a hurt expression on her face. Sure, Pam was drunk as usual, but she didn't have to tell the number one reason why no one liked our little half-sister. We always told Lori that one day her obession to be accepted would catch up with her, she was popular enough simply by being Matthew Mustard's only blood-related daughter.
"We tol' ya before Retta," Maggie Mae added. "You got it comin' for all you do to gain favortism."
Oh, yeah, Maggie Mae is my oldest half-sister that resides at Lime Street. She's a bit of a kelptic, makes a hobby of breaking into houses and robbing people.
"Sweet Loretta Mustard," Paul sung with a slight laugh. "Thought she was Rita, but she was a blabber mouth. All the girls around her say she got it coming...Johnny help me out."
"No," John scowled. "Now's not the time."
"Eh, Rita," George piped. "C'n I have a chat with ya for a moment?"
I nodded and gave Paul a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Hurry back," Paul smiled. "I love ya."
"I'll come back as soon as I want to," I teased. "And, I know you do."
That said, I followed George toward the bathrooms where I had snuck in earlier that night. Once George thought we had gone far enough, we stopped, turned to eachother, and shared a long kiss.
"You sounded wonderful tonight Georgie," I smiled. "Simply wonderful."
"Thank ya luv," George replied, with an even bigger smile. "Now, when are you going to leave Paul, I'm tired of playin' these games."
"I've tried several times already Georgie, but...anytime he thinks I'm heading toward that subject, he starts talking about something else. I don't think he wants to lose me."
"He doesn' already realize he has?"
"Apparently not...he has that hard-headed ego I also have to be careful with. There's nothing worse than a guy with an big ego that gets 'shot down'...so to speak," I explained. Truth be told, I just enjoyed toying with Paul's mind.
"Oh yeah...the Macca ego," George chuckled. "Rivaled only by that of Pete Best."
"That's Peter Best, mind you," I said with a fake scolding tone. "Also, in case you haven't noticed, Paul is madly in love with me. I know he's planning on asking me to marry him, I've seen the ring. I plan to break it off when he asks me...that way, he'll contribute it to my fear of commitment...not to me dating you."
"Yer not afraid to commit to me are ya luv?" George asked sweetly.
"You're smart enough to wait until we've both lived a little," I reminded, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "I love you George...when are you going to be finished with my song?"
"Ack," George laughed. "I can't seem t' get the words worked out, but I'll get to ya when I can."
We shared another long kiss then went back to the table. John had sort of a knowing look on his face, the one that looked like me was schemeing something. Paul, had an expression that resembled a puppy when it's master returned.
"Can I speak to ya as well Rita?" John slurred, he'd had at least seven drinks and was starting to get a little tipsy.
"Maybe later," I replied. "It's time to get out of here."
All of us piled out of the Cavern and went to out prospective rides. I, of course was riding with my sisters. John, Paul, and George lined up to tell me goodbye. Paul can first with his usual kiss and "I'll miss you", George gave me what looked like a innocent hug, but believe me, it wasn't. Lastly came John, he gave me a soft peck on the cheek and whispered in my ear, "I know what you and George were talking about."
I could feel my blood drain from my face. He wouoldn't dare tell Paul would he? I looked into John's eyes as if to beg him not to tell. His eyes seemed to reply "I promise not to tell." John smiled lightly then staggered to his ride.
