The Girl Who Became a Beatle

by Greg Taylor

  “I just want your autograph!” the girl wailed. “I already got Julian’s!”

  The girls who had been yelling outside my house and the ones who had jumped all over me outside the T.J. auditorium had been kind of faceless to me. But here I was, one-on-one with a wide-eyed fan, and I felt a sudden surge of affection for her. She looked so vulnerable. So young. Actually, she looked kind of like me when I was her age.

  “Ummmm, excuse me? Officers?” I said this as the guards were leading the girl away. They stopped and looked at me, still holding her firmly by the arms. “All she wants is an autograph.” The girl’s anguished expression was swept away by a huge smile of relief and triumph.

  “OK,” the taller of the two guards said reluctantly.

  The excitable girl, whose name was Emma, kept up a constant stream of chatter as I signed her vinyl copy of Meet the Caverns! “I-love-you-guys-I-can’t-wait-for-your-next-CD-but-you’re-my-real-inspiration-Regina-I-want-to-be-a-singer-songwriter-just-like-you.”

  Waving good-bye to Emma as the guards led the now-passive girl down the hall, I heard her words echo in my head. I-want-to-be-a-singer-songwriter-just-like-you.

  Yeah, I thought, watching Emma disappear behind the closing elevator doors at the end of the hall, I guess I do, too.

  3

  Julian was playing a song on his guitar as I approached his room. I had never heard the song before, so I stood at his door and listened. I wanted to hear it all the way through.

  The song was upbeat, with a catchy chorus. It was good. Julian hummed along, which led me to believe he didn’t have lyrics yet. So that’s what Julian wanted to do instead of going to the Black Eyed Peas concert. Work on some original material. When the music stopped, I knocked on the door.

  Julian looked genuinely surprised to see me. Maybe it was what I wore. I had changed into baggy pajama bottoms and a tank top.

  “To what do I owe this honor?” Julian asked coolly.

  Tired of his attitude, I said, “Cut it out,” and pushed past him and went into his room.

  “For all you know, I might have had someone in here with me,” Julian said provocatively. That hadn’t occurred to me for some reason. “The place is swarming with fans, after all.”

  “I know. I ran into one.” I took Julian’s guitar, sat on his bed, and strummed it. “I was listening outside your door. I like your song. New?”

  “Yeah. Well, I’ve been working on it for a while.”

  “No lyrics?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Maybe I could help you.”

  “That’s OK.” Julian said that fast and firm.

  “Why not? We’ve worked on songs together before.”

  I tensed after I said that. Julian and I had worked on a couple of songs together in my pre-wish world, but had we done that in this world?

  “That was a long time ago, Regina.”

  Whew. One slipup averted. I stayed put on Julian’s bed, working my way tentatively through his song, trying to remember the chords.

  “Why are you doing this?” Julian asked, a hard edge to his voice.

  “What? All I asked is if I could help with your song.”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Coming here in your PJs. All familiar-like. What’s going on? Why aren’t you with Bradley?”

  Good question, I suppose, from Julian’s POV. I put his guitar down gently, then walked to the balcony. Like my room, it overlooked the Strip. The House of Blues was right across the road. The place looked like it was built from hundreds of pieces of discarded wood and sheet metal and had exploded on the spot right there on Sunset Boulevard. It looked like an elegant scrap heap.

  My eyes wandered from the House of Blues to my and Julian’s and Lorna’s and Danny’s gigantic faces. They stared at me from the billboard, which was almost level with Julian’s tenth-floor balcony.

  Julian followed me outside. We both stood, silent, leaning against the railing and breathing in the scent of the night air. Down below, traffic moved restlessly along the Strip. Horns honked. People yelled and talked loudly as they waited to get into the House of Blues.

  In contrast to the noisy energy below were the mute, endless lights of L.A., which were visible from our tenth-floor vantage point. Like a gently twinkling carpet, the lights softly illuminated the night in all directions. Except on the horizon to the right of where we stood. There the lights ended abruptly.

  “So that’s the … Pacific Ocean over there, right?” I asked. “Where the lights suddenly stop?”

  “Well, yeah,” Julian replied, as though it was common knowledge.

  The Pacific was like a blank in the night. A large, mysterious expanse of black lurking beyond the lights of L.A. It was sort of like the unknown pressing up against the known. Rubbing shoulders with it, so to speak.

  “Julian, do you believe in alternate universes?” That’s what my strange, hyperdrive wish-come-true world felt like to me all of a sudden. As in, while I was experiencing this new life, I was still trudging through my normal life at the same time. In some other time zone altogether.

  “Never really thought about it,” Julian replied.

  “Do you think it’s possible, though?”

  Julian didn’t answer right away. Which was normal for him. Whenever you asked Julian a question, he tended to think about it first. Looked at it from all angles, you might say. He did that now, then said, “I think we’re such a speck in the grand scheme of things that I have a hard time getting all that excited about the big game on Friday nights.” I couldn’t help but smile. The answer was so Julian.

  “I have amnesia.”

  Whoa! That just popped out. I was as surprised as Julian when I said it. I hadn’t come to Julian’s room with any kind of game plan, after all. Hadn’t worked out what I was going to say. I guess my subconscious decided to take over. Whatever, it was out there now. Too late to turn back.

  “Come again?” Julian looked skeptical, to say the least.

  “Yesterday? When I wasn’t feeling so good? Before I called you? I went down to the Cavern to play some music.” I was riffing, of course. Improvising like a madgirl. “I fell down the steps and hit my head.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No.”

  “And, what … you have amnesia now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What can’t you remember?”

  “Anything! I mean, this morning? When you said it looked like I was seeing L.A. for the first time? It was the first time! I can’t remember being here before. Last night? When it looked like I was freaked out before the concert? I was freaked out! I can’t remember any of the concerts we’ve played in the past year!”

  Julian gave me an under-the-eyebrows kind of look. He was sizing me up. Trying to figure out if I was goofin’ on him.

  “I don’t remember us being together. I don’t remember us breaking up. I don’t remember meeting Bradley. I don’t remember anything since around the time we recorded our first album.”

  I said all that in a rush, desperately wanting to convince Julian that I was for real.

  “If you don’t remember us being together, Regina, how did you even know to say that just now?”

  “From a scrapbook a girl gave me at the concert last night. That and our Web site is my only source of info.”

  Julian stood on the balcony for what seemed an eternity, looking at me. This isn’t working! I thought. What am I gonna do now?

  But then the lights from the Strip, reflecting in Julian’s eyes, showed a very subtle change in his blue-green irises. He believed me. I could tell. Relief!

  “This is very weird, Regina.”

  “Tell me about it!” I exclaimed, following that with a strange little hiccup of a laugh.

  “You need to see a doctor. Right away.” I could see the concern in Julian’s eyes. That made me feel pretty good.

  “I know. But not this week, Julian. I can’t be going to doctors and shrinks or whoever you see when your mind’s go
ne blank on you. This is such a special week, you know?”

  Julian took a breath, then exhaled slowly. He leaned on the railing and looked off down the Strip with a frown. “Why are you telling me about this? Why not your dad?”

  “Dad’d take me back to Twin Oaks tonight if I told him. No ifs, ands, or buts.” Julian nodded. He knew that’s exactly what my dad would do. “I promise I’ll tell Dad as soon as we get back home next week.”

  “So what do you need from me? Besides sympathy?” Julian actually smiled at that moment. It was great to see that smile again.

  “I don’t know what’s going on, Julian. I know we’re in L.A. for the Grammys, of course. I got that from our Web site. But for starters, I don’t know why everyone’s so ticked off at me. You, I figure it’s because we broke up. But all this tension. It’s terrible. What’s goin’ on?”

  Julian turned suddenly and went back inside. What was he doing? I followed him to find out. Julian sat in the stuffed chair in front of the TV and indicated the sofa next to the chair. “Have a sofa, Regina.” I jumped over the back of it and sat cross-legged at the end near Julian.

  “Why’s everyone so ticked off at you?” he asked. I nodded. “For one thing, rumor has it that after our tour this year to promote the new album, Trey wants you to go solo.”

  “Get out. Seriously?”

  Julian nodded. “Let’s face it, we’re basically backup musicians to you at this point, but we’re making a lot more money than backup musicians. If you cut Lorna, Danny, and me loose, all Trey has to do is pay a one-time fee to studio musicians for your future recordings. That way you—and of course he—stand to make a lot more money.”

  “No way would I kick you all out of the band.” I was offended Julian would even consider such a thing.

  “Ahhh, but rumor also has it that you’re seriously considering staying here in L.A. after the Grammys. There’s really no reason for you to be in Twin Oaks anymore. It’d be a lot easier for you to go solo after our tour if you’ve already moved to L.A., right? Wouldn’t even have to look us in the eye to tell us we’ve been cut.”

  I was stunned to silence, hearing this. It wasn’t what I was expecting, that’s for sure. But it was just a warm-up to what came next.

  “Other than that, you’ve been a bit of a pain in the ass for quite a while now.”

  “What? I have? How?”

  “Lording over the recording sessions. The video shoots. Being a diva, basically.”

  “I’m not like that,” I protested. “I can’t imagine ever being like that.”

  “Neither could I. At first. But when everyone tells you how great you are, every day, over and over, I guess a person can change.”

  I stared blankly at the TV, which was playing some nature show. A lion was roaring at some of the “little people” of the jungle, letting them know who was boss.

  “Anything else you want to know?” Julian asked.

  There were lots of things, but I didn’t feel like getting into them just then. It was enough to learn about my diva-ness and possibly staying in L.A. and going solo. When I looked at Julian, a suspicious frown creased the area between his eyebrows.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You said that you can’t remember anything since we recorded our first CD.”

  “Around that time, yeah.”

  “So you don’t remember recording any of the songs for our second CD?”

  I tensed up, sensing a trap coming, but my brain felt all jumbled, and I couldn’t think straight enough to figure out what it might be. “Rrrright.”

  “I know you wrote all the songs for Something New after we recorded the first CD. Which means you can’t remember writing them, right? So how did you manage to sing those two new songs last night? You coulda listened to our first CD for the old stuff before you came to the concert, if you needed to brush up on them. But the new material … you didn’t know we were gonna play those songs until I suggested it. And yet you didn’t flub one line.”

  Oh, no, I thought. He’s got me there.

  “Well…,” I said, my mind racing, frantically searching for an acceptable explanation. After quickly discarding several, I grabbed one and went with it. “I guess music gets in your head so deep it’s hard to forget.”

  My reply struck me as being somehow lame and profound at the same time. I hoped Julian would buy the “profound” part.

  “OK, Regina,” he said, looking at me kind of sideways with one eye slightly closed, an expression he used from time to time to signal wariness. Or thoughtfulness. “I’ll do what I can to help you this week. But then you have to go see a doctor.”

  “Deal.”

  4

  As I padded back to my room, I felt much better about things. For one thing, I had seen the return of Julian’s smile. That was worth a ton, believe me. For another, my brief confab with Julian explained a lot.

  My bandmates were angry and uptight because they thought I was going to leave them behind in the dust. That, plus my diva-like attitude. But, really, me … a diva? I still couldn’t believe it.

  As for Dad, he was concerned that I wasn’t going back to Twin Oaks with him at the end of the week. Which would leave him all alone at 489 Lynn Drive.

  Both issues were easy to deal with. I would simply announce, before our recording session the following morning, that I did not intend to leave the band or stay in L.A.

  Tensions eased.

  Everyone relaxed.

  A fun week is had by all.

  I smiled and nodded to myself as I continued down the deserted hall. Passing the elevator, I was aware of the doors opening and a couple emerging into the hall. I casually glanced at them … then quickly looked away.

  That’s Fergie and will.i.am! I thought feverishly, my heart pounding at my first celebrity sighting since arriving in L.A. I knew I shouldn’t look back at them. After all, I was an international celebrity. Which meant I should be all cool-like, right? Still, I wasn’t Fergie or will.i.am.

  So I couldn’t help but take another look over my shoulder. The two superstars were walking off down the hall, talking. I almost called out to them to have a good concert—it was too early for them to have played at the House of Blues—but I held back. It was exciting enough just to see them up close like that.

  I shook my head at the wonder of it all. Then I grinned like a little kid. This is more like it. Definitely what a wish come true should feel like!

  After my sudden celebrity sighting, which had come right after my encouraging talk with Julian, I was so much more optimistic about the coming week. Arriving back at my room, I slid my key card through the slot.…

  And screamed.

  Actually, I’m getting ahead of myself. First, I opened the door. Then, I went into my room. Then, I fell backward onto my bed. Then, I screamed. And immediately sat up on the edge of the bed as my eyes zeroed in on a nearby stuffed chair.

  That’s because Bradley was lounging on it! “Hi, babe,” he said casually. “Scare you?”

  My mind felt strangely independent from the rest of me as it furiously tried to arrange a group of words into something resembling a reply. Not an easy thing to do under the circumstances, but still I was kind of disappointed with what my mind came up with.

  “How … how’d you get into my room?”

  Bradley held out his hands in a way that said, How do you think? I’m Bradley Sawyer! Then he stretched his arms high over his head, stood up from his chair, and cracked his neck with a quick back-and-forth movement of his head. “Had to do a ton of surfing on set today. Muscles are kinda stiff.” I nodded, but didn’t know what to say in return. But I sure knew what I was thinking.

  My god, what a good-looking man!

  Pictures simply didn’t do him justice. As he headed toward me, Adonis was the name that popped into my head. I’m serious. The blond hair. The chiseled chin. The way he moved, so assured and confident. As I thought of gods and the rest of us mortals, Bradley sat down next to me, gave me a warm
smile, and leaned in for a kiss.

  “No!” I shouted, leaping from the bed.

  Bradley looked at me like I was nuts. “What’s wrong?”

  Good question, actually. Who wouldn’t want to be kissed by this guy?

  “I, ah … I might still be contagious,” I explained.

  Bradley slid across the bed and got up on the other side in an attempt to put as much distance as possible between us.

  “Thanks, Regina. Very considerate.”

  “Yeah, the last thing I want to do is get you sick.”

  “Especially with the scene I have to do with Melissa tomorrow.”

  “What … you’ve got…”

  “A big beach-kissing scene.”

  “Tough job,” I said, feeling strangely jealous.

  “Somebody’s gotta do it.” Bradley gave me another one of his dazzling smiles. It was a smile to melt a girl right into her stocking slippers. His perfect teeth seemed to sparkle, like in one of those commercials where they digitally apply a twinkly gleam at the edge of a tooth.

  “So we’ll just have to … kiss another time,” I said.

  Would we? I wondered, already kind of regretting my retreat from Bradley’s attempted smooch. It had been such a shock, though, finding him in my room. Besides, I didn’t even know this guy! Which is why I had jumped up from the bed like that, of course. However, having had a few moments to get my bearings, I must admit I felt like I was already falling under the spell of Bradley Sawyer.

  “OK. Rain check,” Bradley said. “You do look kind of tired, Regina.”

  “I am. Sorry you came all this way.”

  Bradley frowned. “I could jog here from my house if I wanted.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right.” Store that info, I thought. You’ve been to Bradley’s house and apparently it’s pretty close by.

  “You are out of it, aren’t you, girl?”

  “Yeah. Between being sick and the time change and the Grammys. I’m flummoxed. That’s what I am. Flummoxed.”

  Bradley gave me another megawatt smile. “That’s what I love about you, Regina.”