CHAPTER ONE

 

I was bored.  I was in this record presentation/press conference/cocktail for the new boy band, called The Boys. (Seriously!). 

 

I’m an article writer for “Pentagram” music magazine.  When I started working in the magazine, sixteen years ago, that was 1989, the music scene was different.  I specialized in rock bands, but with the fascination nowadays with Bubblegum Pop if I wanted to stay in a job I loved, I had to interview boy bands, and teenage divas.

 

I missed the days when rock and roll music was about the music and not about the image.  Songs like “Nowhere Man”, “I’m a Loser”, songs with lyrics.  With the past examples I gave, anyone can see I’m a big Beatles fan.  I love their music, but I also admired them as performers.  Without intending it they changed the face of rock and roll forever.  As George Harrison once said jokingly in an interview, The Beatles were the first boy band…The Spice Boys.  I guess George was Quiet Spice, Ringo was Funny Spice, Paul was Cute Spice and John was Scary Spice or Hot Spice.

 

‘Another boy band’, I thought and sighed, ‘This is not what  boy bands should be.’

 

They just sing and dance badly, and they don’t play their own instruments. And as if that wasn’t enough, none of them had an interesting personality.

 

Well, at least while I was there, I’ll have some free wine and the little sandwich-like thingies they were serving.

 

“Hi,”, said a voice behind me while I was sipping my wine.

 

“Hello there.”, I said turning around to face one of the guys in the band.

 

“I’m Ebonyface.”, he said putting his hand out waiting for me to shake his hand.

 

‘Ebonyface?’, I thought, ‘What kind of name is that?’

 

“Nice to meet you Ebonyface.”, I said shaking his hand trying not to laugh.

 

“Have you heard our new record?”

 

“Actually no.  I don’t usually write articles about Hip Hop.  I’m more of a rock journalist.”

 

“Oh.”, he said, “Well you know this record has a lot of flava.”

 

He said that doing a little dance step and then giggling.

 

“Yes. I guess it does.”, I said trying to sound excited.

 

I had to get away from this guy.

 

“Would you excuse me?,” I said, “I have to go to the rest room.”

 

“Sure thing babe.”

 

Babe? I just rolled my eyes and grimaced when I turned around to walk to the rest room.

 

When I entered it was heaven!  It was empty and the sound outside was buffered.

 

I checked myself in the mirror.  I didn’t look too bad with my knee length black leather jacket, my white T-Shirt, my blue jeans, and my brown knee high boots.  I walked closer to the mirror to check my hair and my makeup.  My black shoulder length hair was in place, my make up too.  Just when I was about to distance myself from the mirror, I heard girls screaming and men laughing. 

 

I went to the bathroom door and opened it.  All I heard was chatter.  I closed the door again and walked to the mirror. I heard the screaming and the laughing again.  I climbed up to get closer to the mirror, when I touched it, the mirror wasn’t solid! It was of this sort of liquid substance.  I put my hand inside and it went into the mirror!

 

‘Too much wine.’, I thought.

 

I put my hand in again, the same thing, then one of my legs, the same thing.  Until I entered completely through the mirror.

 

The next thing I remember I  was beneath a lot of towels- dirty towels.  I could hear some women talking excitedly.

 

“Aren’t we lucky to be cleaning their suite?”, one of them said.

 

“Oh yes! I’m not going to wash these towels!”

 

Yuck!, I thought, “These guys must be something big, for making such a big fuss about their dirty towels.

 

“Wait until I tell the other girls, I have a dirty towel used by the Beatles!.”, she giggled.

 

‘What?!’, I thought, ‘The Beatles?’

 

I tried to take a peek through the towels.  I was at a hotel hallway.  How would I escape?

 

I heard some footsteps and quickly hid.

 

“Where is that reporter that’s supposed to accompany us during our tour?”, a man with a British accent asked.

 

“Don’t worry Brian, maybe he’s having trouble with all the security.”, the other British man answered.

 

‘Brian Epstein! That’s my escape.’, I thought, ‘I will be the reporter they are waiting for.’

 

After I heard the footsteps leaving, I peeked again through the towels. Good! Nobody in sight! I climbed out of the laundry cart. As I turned around I bumped into a man.

 

“In a hurry luv?”, the deep voice asked.

 

I stepped back to see who it was.  Ringo!  He looked so young! He had this beautiful, warm smile, and those beautiful blue puppy eyes.

 

“Um, yes.”

 

“You must be the reporter we’re expecting.”, he said looking at me thoroughly, “Brian! The reporter’s ‘ere!”

 

“Good!”, Brian said walking towards me, “A girl?”

 

“And what’s wrong with me being a girl?”, I  asked defiantly.

 

“Nothing, nothing at all.”, Paul said walking down the hall towards me, John and George following him.

 

“I think having a girl accompanying us in the tour will cause a lot of trouble.”, Brian suggested.

 

“Oh come on Eppy”, John said hugging me, and making his best schoolboy impression continued, “Can we keep her? We promise to clean up after her, and feed her, and bathe her ...”

 

When John hugged me I just felt a surge of electricity run through my body.  I had to be careful with him.  He always had been my favorite Beatle, and I knew that I could easily fall in love with him.  The last thing I needed was to have another heartbreak in my life.

 

Brian stared at all of us for a moment.

 

“Oh, all right.”, Brian laughed, “What’s your name?”

 

“Alice Patterson.”