"Finally!" John exclaimed, as I walked into the Cavern. "What took you so long?"

"The bus was running late," I told him.

"Hey, come on, I wanna introduce ya to some people," he dictated grabbing my hand and guiding me backstage.

"Cindi," he began, looping his arm around me, "this is me best friend, Paul, our drummer, Pete, and our lead guitarist, George."

I shook hands with them as John quoted their names— George and I exchanged winks.

"And this is me dolly, Cindi," he added, squeezing my shoulder.

"Pete, do you have an extra set of drumsticks?" someone asked, making his way over to us.

"Sure, I'll fetch ‘em for ya," Pete offered, giving me a flirtatious grin and scurrying away.

"Thanks, Mate," the bloke relied.

"Ringo," John prompted, "this is Cindi. Cindi, Ringo."

Dreamily, I took his hand. He has the most gorgeous, friendly, smile. And this adorable beard! Oh and his nose! It was so big and cute! And who could forget his eyes? Those big, baby-blue eyes— hey! Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Those beautiful eyes had that same look as my eyes had! He like me, too! No. Wait. You don't like him. You like John. Your Johnny. Forget all about that hot-hunk-of-man who's staring adoringly at you.

"Here are the drumsticks, Ring,"Pete said suddenly.

"Huh?" He muttered. "Oh, yeah, thanks."

"Now take care of ‘em," Pete warned, "And I mean it. They're me only extra pair."

"Alright, I will," Ringo promised, impatiently snatching the drumsticks.

Pete winked at me.

"Okay, come on," John ordered gruffly, glaring at Pete and Ringo angrily.

"Show time," came a voice form behind me.

I turned to see a hansom man.

"Yeah, alright, Brian," Paul acquiesced.

"You'll watch over Cindi, aye?" John appointed, grabbing my shoulders and steering me over to Brian.

"Sure," Brian affirmed, pulling me to his side by my wrist. "Now get out there and make some music!"

John gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

"Good luck," I whispered, giving him a thumbs up.

He flashed me one of his heart-melting smiles. That look made me go weak at the knees.

"They're good lads," Brian commented. I look up at him. "Especially that Johnny of yours."

I smiled, beaming with pride.

"He talks about you all the time," Brian told me.

Heat began crawling up my neck and turning my face and ears a flattering shade of red. And still, it was good to know that even if I couldn't be with John all the time, he thought of me as often as I did of him.

"Yup," he confided. "He's got it bad for you."

"I've got a business proposition for ya," Ringo bargained, popping his head in between Brian and me. I flinched, startled, "I'll take Cindi here off your hands for free."

Brian laughed. "S'long as John doesn't find out."

Ringo "locked his mouth", placed his imaginary key in my palm, and wrapped my fingers around it.

"Be back here by 12:30— that's when they finish their set," Brian instructed. "And I mean it, John had better not find out if you wanna live to see 23."

Ringo saluted. Then, linking arms with me, he escorted me away.

"...And this is Rory," Ringo finished. I bashfully shook Rory's hand. I was always shy around people I didn't know well— including Ringo.

"Richie!" Someone called from across the room. Ringo looked up.

"I'll be back in two seconds," he promised, giving me a pat on the shoulder.

I nodded.

He looked back at me one last time and then disappeared.

"So," Rory said.

I shifted my eyes away from the crowd and looked up at him.

"Hey— hey wait a minute," he observed, stepping back and examining me for a moment. "You know... your ears are crooked!"

"Crooked!" I shrieked, "They are not!"

He and his friends snickered.

I delicately touched my ears— just to make sure. "My ears are perfect just the way they are... Aren't they?"

Rory and his mates burst into hysterical laughter and stumbled away.

I ground my teeth together and clinched my fists. I was over come with feelings of humiliation and anger. I was far to used to fitting into my surroundings and having friends to stick up for me. Now I was along. All I wanted was John.

"Back!" Ringo hollered, jogging toward me. Okay, or he could work.

"Hey!" I greeted, smiling warmly.

He examined my face for a moment before saying, "Rory give you a hard time?"

I nearly opened my mouth to speak, but then closed it and nodded. "Well, yeah, kind of."

"Don't take it personally. He's just a little cheesed off ‘cause his bird dumped him," He assured, giving me a half-hug.

I smiled and gave a small nod. Then added meekly, "Are my ears crooked?"

He looked a bit confused, but, surrendering to my wishes, cocked his head and darted his curious eyes from my right ear to my left.

"Um... no."

I sighed, wishing I could believe him.

"Come on," he laughed. "I'll buy you a fizzy."

"Okay," Ringo inferred, still bright red. "Now it's your turn."

"Okay," I echoed, wiping away the tears of laughter that were trickling down my checks. "My most embarrassing moment..."

A devilish smile washed across his face. It's current cherry colour was beginning to town down a bit.

I shyly spilled my most embarrassing moment, surprising myself at how open I was being.

Ringo was finally able to control his laughter, "Okay, now, what's your dream for the future?"

I bit my lower lip, reluctantly accepting the responsibly or sharing my secrete first. "After I graduate from collate, I want to get married, settle down, may have a few kids" I confined. "And I want to— this is going to sound daft— become a hair stylist."

"This may sound thick," he admitted, "But I've always wanted to open a line of hair salons!"

"That's great!" I giggled, "Can I work for you?"

"Sure," he answered, laughing.

"Goody!" I squealed, clasping my hand together. "I love doing hair and nails and what not."

Ringo gently took my hand,"Wow! Your nails are long."

I chuckled. "It's a girl thing."

"Ohmigosh!" he wailed, rotating my wrist so he could see my watch. "It's 12:39!"

"Yikes!" I shrieked, jumping to my feet and glancing nervelessly around. That's when I saw him, violently making his way towards us. John was defiantly mad.

I took a deep breath and bravely stepped forward. I wasn't ready to face him, but it was now or never— I couldn't put it off.

Surprisingly, he just took my hand and dragged me away without a word. And though he was obviously angry, he was gentle with me.

"John," I whispered hoarsly. I was disappointed at how pitiful and helpless I sounded.

He turned to face me. I could see the hurt and confusion in his soft brown eyes. My world came crashing down and it felt like a thousand knives where piercing my heart. I looked down at my feet, unable to look at his face.

He finally broke the silence. "I thought you cared about me." I glanced up at him just long enough to see the tears glistening in his eyes. That's when I began to cry. What had I done?

"I— I do," I pleaded. "I'm sorry."

He searched my eyes and blinked away the misty haze glazed over his own. "I was him holding your hand."

"John, I... John," I sputtered, "We— we didn't do anything."

"I wish I could believe you," he choked.

"Wait!" I sobbed, tugging at his arm. "He bought me a drink and we talked. That was all. I promise."

His expression softened. He trusted me. He forgave me.