Chapter 8
California had
been wonderful so far. The four weeks of shooting had gone by quickly, and
everything was wonderful and rosy. Charlotte and Denny had been joined at the
hip for the entire time, and she had grown close to his brother Brian.
She had been
reading about Brian in many American magazines. She was introduced to him at a
beach bonfire party, in Malibu. She was dying to meet the man behind the
beautiful falsetto voice, which sang of surf, sun, lost loves, and hopes and
dreams, and to perhaps be inspired by his wisdom, which he seemed to so
obviously possess, since he had written every single original Beach Boys song
to date.
But she quickly
discovered he wasn’t a man at all. Although he was already 22, he had the face
of a child. A bit pudgy, tall and awkward, Brian exuded self-consciousness from
the second you met him. But he was so mysterious, Charlotte had to talk to him.
And that she did. Brian and Charlotte sat by the shore chatting about The
Beatles (he was more than impressed that she was a close personal friend of
theirs), music, his girlfriend Marilyn, and Dennis. He was truly charming, but
she couldn’t help but wonder what was under the adorable exterior. She gave him
her California and London numbers and addresses, and promised to keep in touch.
The day after
the last day of shooting, Charlotte had absolutely nothing to do. It was a
wonderful feeling. She got the mail from the front hallway, and a suspicious
envelope came into sight. The return address was none other than G. Harrison.
It read:
Charlotte,
Hello dear! Yes, I got
your address too, and your shoe size, as I have access to this ever so vital
information. We’re playing Los Angeles on the 15th of April, so I’ve
reserved you as many seats as I could squeeze out of the stingy bastards. Just
tell the people at the ticket booth your name. You’re also on the backstage
guest list, and of course you must come back to the hotel. I miss you
Charlotte, I’d love to have a chat.
Charlotte very
much wanted to see George, but Paul would be there. She eventually made her
decision, and picked up the phone.
“Hey Denny,
wanna go to a Beatles concert?”
She couldn’t
believe it. George had tracked her down-again. She had to go, she desperately
wanted to see her friends, and even wanted to try to reconcile with Paul.
It was a
steaming hot night. A long line of young girls anxiously waited outside the
venue. Charlotte, dressed in a strapless pink dress that went just above her
slender knees, her tan deep, her hair longer and flowing, her pedicured feet
clad in wedge heels. Denny had on white pants, and a black and blue pinstripe
button down shirt. He looked even more handsome than usual. They made their way to one of the rather
burly doormen, and just as Charlotte gave her name, a brunette girl screamed
“ITS DENNIS WILSON! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
The two ran
inside, and were lead to the backstage area. There were security men everywhere.
“Why are we
going backstage?” Denny’s brows furrowed
“To see the
boys” Charlotte didn’t see any big fuss about it.
“Okay…..”
She knocked on
their dressing room, and the door was flung open by John.
“Char!” He
hugged her. Denny’s eyes widened, but he quickly regained his cool attitude.
“John! You look
wonderful.” She looked to make sure Paul wasn’t near. He wasn’t.
“Boys, this is
Dennis Wilson”
“The drummer for
the beach boys?” She heard Paul ask. He came out of the bathroom, a towel
around his neck, and waist, his hair still wet.
“Hi, I’m a huge
fan. M’name’s Paul.” He smiled at Charlotte
“Likewise.”
“You guys dating
or something?”
“Yes” Denny said
before Charlotte could get a word out of her mouth
“She’s a
fantastic girl. You take good care of her, or you’ll have to answer to us” Paul
and the boys flexed their non-existent biceps. Charlotte and Paul smiled and
nodded at each other knowingly.
