Chapter 13

 

 

 

1964 ended with a bang. The Stones were due to tour the US for 12 straight days, which included a performance on the Ed Sullivan Show, in November. Brian insisted that Charlotte, having just completed the Spring line of Chanel cosmetics ad campaign, must accompany him. Since the Stones loved her wit and personality that could be the ultimate girly girl one minute, and one of the boys the next, and the band was so big they could afford for the members to have one guest on tour, it wasn’t a problem. At Ed Sullivan, Charlotte, watching in the audience, was recognized by a fan, which led to some of her hair being ripped out, and her brand new 3 carat Emerald ring set in white gold, a present from Brian, to be ripped off of her finger while being passed around the angry mob before the boys had even taken the stage.

 

Andrew Loog Oldham, the band’s flamboyant manager, was told by a stage hand that a girl with an all access pass around her neck was getting beat up in the audience, and, knowing immediately that it was Charlotte, had her rescued. She ended up with a fat lip, badly bruised cheekbone, and broken wrist. She was carried backstage, sobbing only about how her precious ring, a symbol of Brian’s love for her, had been robbed, and how upset he’d be. He ran to her side, giving her ice, while the rest of the band freaked out about their beloved Charlotte being hurt. Brian vowed from that day on, that no Stones fan would even have the chance to see Charlotte from afar, and neither would the paparazzi, which was in full force around the Stones by now, for as long as he had a breath in his body.

 

After much fuss, the Stones played for the show, and rushed her back to the hotel in Manhattan. Brian had a doctor come to the suite, where a cast from her thumb to her elbow was put on, and pain pills were prescribed. She promptly fell asleep, only to awake that evening, with a small velvet box, a note and a pink rose on the pillow next to her. The note read:

 

                        To my lovely baby, may nothing ever hurt her again.  Hope this helps take

The pain away. For you to wear on your wedding finger, as a promise 

 from me to you. See you tonight after the show,

 

                                                Love Brian

 

In the box was a 4-carat emerald set in platinum. Charlotte wondered just exactly what the ‘promise’ was. But she was in too much pain to think about it for long. Brian returned late that night with the boys, and headed straight to bed.

 

“Darling? Are you awake?” She heard a husky British voice ask.

 

“Mmmmm. Yes, Mick’s loud laugh woke me.” She smiled

           

“Oh my poor sweetheart, look at your face. That must kill.”

 

“Yea, oh well I’ll live.”

 

“I’m sending you home tomorrow morning, you need your rest. I called some of your friends to come look after you.”

 

“I’ll be okay, I just need to stay in bed for a few days. Then back to the club.”

 

“Oh, I can talk to Alexis for you.”

 

“No, I want to do this. I’ve got a band together and an executive from Decca is coming to check us out next week.”

 

“I told you I can always have Andrew sign you, you’d be an instant star”

 

“ I want to earn it myself.”

 

 

Charlotte spent the next week in bed, getting ready for the big gig. Her new band was called The Count Five, and their new hit, a mod inspired ditty called “Psychotic Reaction” was written by Charlotte the month before, after a night out with Keith, who was actually more like a brother to her by now.

 

While in bed, watching a bit of television, she heard a knock at the door. She hauled herself out of bed, hair a mess, cheek black and blue, in her most comfy, and consequently most ratty, pajamas, and answered the door. It was none other than John Lennon, with a large basket, dressed in jeans, a blue button down shirt, and his Beatle boots. His hair was getting a bit shaggy, with his bangs hanging down over his eyes.

 

“Charlotte! I can’t believe what happened to you. Those fuckin’ crazy birds beatin’ you up. What’s the world commin’ to?”

 

“John! God I look awful!”

 

“Oh stop, you always look beautiiiiiiiiiful.” He smirked.

 

“ Oh your such a flirt. Come on in. What is that gorgeous basket?”

 

“Filled to the brim with your favorite foods. I nearly got mauled buying stuff for it.”

 

“Oh John you shouldn’t have”

 

“You deserve it kid. I’ll be at your big gig tomorrow night, with Paul, in disguises of course. Is that walking cock going to be there?”

 

“John! Don’t say that about Brian, he's not like that anymore.”

 

“Suuure.”

 

“Just because you don’t like him…”

“Oh, I luv im’, he's fantastic, just not for you.”

 

“Funny thing, Keith Moon calls him the ‘fucking blond asshole’.”

 

“Hahaha he never seizes to entertain me.”

 

 

 

That Christmas was spent at Brian’s flat, with him insisting on Charlotte waking up at 6am. He brought her downstairs, and had her open her gifts from him, which included many new cashmere sweaters and a cashmere coat from Yves St. Laurent that he knew she adored, and a tiny box.

 

She opened it, expecting it to be jewelry, when she saw a pair of keys, on a musical note keychain.

 

            “Keys? To your flat?” She asked.

           

            “No, silly girl, you already have keys to here. Go look out the front door.” He took her by the hand and opened the front door.

 

There, in the driveway, was a brand new 1965 Jaguar XJ12 Coupe, British racing green, with a big pink bow around it.

 

            “Merry Christmas my dear, now you just need to learn to drive” Brian smiled.