The Girl Who Became a Beatle

by Greg Taylor

  “Now how about one with Regina and me and your two great-looking kids?” Bradley suggested. The daughter was beside herself with glee. Her brother tried to act cool, but I could tell he was pretty excited, too. After the mother took a couple of pictures, Bradley said, “OK, that’ll be fifty dollars.”

  The mother’s mouth literally fell open in shock. “Just kidding!” Bradley said. The mother responded with an embarrassed little you-got-me-there! laugh, then said, “Thanks so much.”

  “Our pleasure,” Bradley said. He was really good at this part of being famous, that’s for sure.

  “I watch your show every Thursday!” the girl said as the foursome walked away.

  “Excellent!” Bradley replied.

  The boy didn’t say anything, but he was still staring at me as he and his family disappeared around the nearby mausoleum.

  Bradley took my hand then and led me away from Fay Wray’s grave. “Gotta be nice to the fans. Even when you don’t feel like it. One of the golden rules of being a celebrity.”

  “Looked to me like you felt like it,” I said, giving him a playful nudge with my hip.

  “Please. That’s the last thing I felt like doing back there.”

  “Really?” I said, genuinely surprised. “You’re a pretty good actor, then.”

  Like he had done in my hotel room that first night, Bradley held out his hands in a way that said, Hey, I’m Bradley Sawyer!

  * * *

  Bradley owned a beautiful black ’65 Corvette Sting Ray convertible, which he confided had cost him an obscene amount of money. As he drove the car up into the Hollywood Hills—with the top down—I lounged in the passenger seat, squinting happily up into the sun. What an absolutely incredible place L.A. was turning out to be. It made living where the temperature could sometimes plunge to minus ten degrees seem downright barbaric, that’s for sure.

  When it looked like the narrow, winding street Bradley was navigating couldn’t go any higher, he turned into a driveway. We had arrived at his house. Appropriately, you could see the famous HOLLYWOOD sign from Bradley’s front yard. Well, not the entire sign. Just the HOLLY part.

  Reminding myself that I had probably been to Bradley’s house before, I held back from saying what a great place he had when we went inside. But it was a great place. It looked like something you’d see in House Beautiful. If Bradley had paid an obscene amount of money for his Corvette, his house and the stuff in it must have cost, I don’t know, quadruple that.

  “Want anything to drink?” Bradley asked as he went into the kitchen.

  “Pop, if you have some,” I called out to him.

  Bradley laughed.

  “They call that soda out here, Regina. But, yes, I do have pop. I have everything here.”

  We’d been yelling back and forth, so I went into the kitchen, leaned up against the counter, and watched Bradley get the drinks out of his black refrigerator. Just to his right, a wall of windows framed the backyard, which was really beautiful. Flowers everywhere. A black-bottomed Jacuzzi. A couple of cool-looking sculptures.

  Bradley kicked the refrigerator door shut with his foot, took a sip of whatever he was drinking as he walked around the counter, and handed me a glass of, OK, soda. Before I was able to take a drink, Bradley had placed his glass on the counter and had his arms around my waist.

  “What do you think you’re doing, mister?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, we were interrupted in the middle of something last night on the pier. Not to mention at the cemetery today.”

  “If you had tried to kiss me in the cemetery, I would have definitely stopped you.”

  “Right, seeing as a cemetery isn’t the proper place for public displays of affection.” Bradley smiled and pulled me closer to him. “But my house is.”

  “But then it’s not a public display, is it?”

  “Aaahhh…”

  I put down my drink, raised up on tiptoe, and kissed Bradley. I kissed first, this time, and I think it caught Bradley off guard. But he recovered pretty fast and started driving the bus, so to speak, and I was totally in a Bradley zone when his cell phone started to play “He Loves You.”

  I was sure Bradley would just ignore it, but he instantly pulled away and retrieved the phone from his pocket. “Nice ring tone, huh?” he said with a smile. Checking out the name on the display, Bradley announced that it was Melissa. “Hey, girlfriend! What’s up?”

  Girlfriend? I thought with a frown. What’s with that? He was just in the middle of kissing me, and now he’s calling Melissa “girlfriend”?

  Bradley listened for a moment, then said, “Sure, c’mon over. Regina’s here.” Bradley laughed at something Melissa said, at the same time rolling his eyes for my benefit. “Of course. The more the merrier. See you soon.” Bradley snapped his cell shut. “Melissa’s bringing some friends over. Cool with you?”

  “Melissa? That would be your girlfriend?”

  “What’s wrong with you? You know that’s her nickname ever since we became girlfriend/boyfriend on the show.”

  Oh … OK.

  Bradley tapped the iPhone screen a couple of times. “I’m gonna call my posse. I’m smelling a party here!”

  Bradley looked pretty pumped about that. I definitely wasn’t. After leaving the cemetery, Bradley had asked if I wanted to go to his house, hang out, maybe watch a movie on his huge flat-screen TV with the “killer” sound system. Considering how crazed things had been from the moment I touched down in L.A., a little alone time with Bradley sounded absolutely great.

  So I was pretty disappointed when Bradley seemed to just forget about the idea of us hanging out and maybe watching a movie later on. After all, we’d been having such a great time with just the two of us.

  But here’s the thing. I’d only spent a little time with Bradley, but already I could see that he and I were different in more ways than one. For one thing, Bradley gave off a party maestro kind of vibe. He moved with that kind of energy. As for me? Not a party girl. The few I’d been to in Twin Oaks seemed, I don’t know, just frantic or something. So a bunch of people coming over to Bradley’s? Not my idea of a good time.

  But as Bradley talked and laughed on his phone, I gave myself a sudden mental slap. Stop it, girl! This is your wish-come-true Grammy week. Have some fun for gosh sakes. And don’t be afraid to try some new things!

  Yeah, like party with rich, famous, and beautiful teenagers. Who wouldn’t want to do that? I thought I could maybe get into that, if I tried.

  Bradley had finished up with one member of his posse and was calling another when my cell phone rang. My “hello” was immediately followed by “Where are you, Regina?!”

  My heart did a backflip at the sound of my dad’s angry voice. What had I forgotten this time?

  “If you’re not in Burbank in half an hour, the Caverns go on without you! Understand?!”

  Oh, no. The Tonight Show! That’s what I’d forgotten! “I’ll be right there!” I shouted into the cell, then quickly pocketed it before Dad had a chance to yell at me some more. I frantically waved my hands in front of Bradley’s face to interrupt his phone call.

  “Just a sec,” Bradley told his friend, then he gave me a frown. “What’s up?”

  “I forgot about the Tonight Show!”

  “What?”

  “The Caverns are on the Tonight Show tonight. It starts in half an hour!”

  “You forgot about the Tonight Show?”

  “That’s what I just said!”

  “How could you forget about the Tonight Show, Regina? That’s, like, really huge!”

  “I know! I know!”

  “Party’s off, dude!” Bradley yelled into his cell. “Give Melissa a call, will you? I have to get Regina to the Tonight Show!”

  We charged out of the house, and I jumped into Bradley’s Corvette. Instead of getting into the car, Bradley pressed the garage door opener that was attached to the driver’s-side sun visor. “This won’t get us there fast enough,” Bradley said.<
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  As the garage door opened, I had the irrational thought that Bradley had a small airplane stashed away and that he was going to fly me to Burbank. There was no airplane, of course, but there was a sleek-looking motorcycle.

  “Ready to make some time?” Bradley asked with a rakish grin.

  Before I knew it, we were blasting down the Hollywood Hills and leaning crazily from one side to the other, as Bradley took the curves at breathtaking speed. At one point, I laughed out loud it was so exciting. And then I thought, This ride perfectly captures how I’m feeling right now. Breathless and traveling too fast and throwing caution to the wind!

  Because at that point, I have to admit I was totally falling for Bradley Sawyer, even though I knew I shouldn’t be. It was obvious that Bradley shared at least a few characteristics with Zane, his alter ego on P.C.H. He struck me as that kind of smooth operator and was maybe dating me for all the wrong reasons—just like my dad said.

  But let me tell you, when you fall into the orbit of someone as powerfully magnetic as Bradley Sawyer, it’s hard to resist the pull of gravity. I certainly couldn’t. But as we flew down the twisting street and I was holding on to Bradley for dear life and the wind rushed past, making it feel like we were in the middle of a really intense storm, I gave myself this warning:

  Be careful, Regina. You’re a small-town girl, remember. Pull out now or put on your life vest. ’Cause you’re definitely getting in over your head on this one!

  14

  “Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome the multiplatinum-selling, nominated-for-seven-Grammy-Awards, straight-outta-Twin-Oaks sensation … the Caverns!”

  The small audience stood and yelled. I counted out the beat for “He Loves You,” and we jumped into the song with all the verve we could manage at five thirty in the afternoon.

  I hadn’t had time to change or go to makeup after Bradley dropped me off at NBC. My stern-faced dad, who was waiting for me outside the building (one look at him, and Bradley said, “Call you later!”), quickly led me past a couple of security guards, down a labyrinth of halls, through several doors, and to the backstage area of the Tonight Show.

  Julian, Lorna, and Danny were already positioned on the stage, ready to play. As I strapped on my guitar and rushed to the center microphone, I thought, Everything looks so small! The stage. The studio. The audience. Compared to what it looked like on TV … this was Tiny Town. Then, before I had time to even get nervous, Chris Rock made his intro, and we were off and running.

  In spite of how rushed and crazed I was, I played the heck out of that song, if I do say so myself. Maybe the fact that I was so rushed and crazed is the reason I played with such enthusiasm, the adrenaline already pumping through my body—thanks to my thrilling motorcycle ride with Bradley—before I had even hit the stage.

  The band, in spite of not feeling too good about me at that point, seemed to plug into my whirlwind energy, and we wound up rocking the song especially hard. I know that audiences on live TV shows are instructed when and where to applaud even if they don’t feel like it, so I was surprised at the reaction from the audience when we hit the final chord. It was really raucous and seemed totally genuine.

  As soon as we were done with the song, Chris came over to the band and shook my hand as he announced, “We’ll be right back!” Then he leaned in close to my ear so I could hear over all the cheering and clapping and said, “Sit closest to the desk for the interview part, okay?”

  I nodded, then Chris indicated to the rest of the band to follow him. I sat on the stuffed chair next to the desk and avoided looking at the rest of the band as they squeezed onto the sofa. Before he began the interview for the audience, Chris gave us one of his infectious smiles and said, “That was cool, guys.” We all smiled in return and nodded and said thanks, then a guy behind a video camera gave Chris the signal that we were back on the air.

  (All this went by in a blur, believe me.)

  “So, Regina, why were you so late getting here?”

  That’s the question Chris asked me as soon as we were back, and it definitely threw me. But it wasn’t like Chris was upset or anything. When the audience laughed, he explained, “She was. She got here just before they had to go on. Has your life become that busy?”

  “It’s a long way from Twin Oaks, that’s for sure,” I said.

  “How long?” Chris asked. “I mean, what’s the biggest way your life has changed since you’ve become so famous?”

  I thought before answering. How had things changed for me over the past three days? “Everything seems more complicated.” Which was true.

  “Complicated?”

  “Yeah. The life of a teenager in Twin Oaks is pretty straightforward, you know?”

  “I can imagine. So how did you turn that straightforward life into so many great songs?”

  “I wasn’t that in demand before all of this. So, I had plenty of time to write them.”

  Laughter! I smiled and looked out at the audience. It felt good, and unexpected, that laughter. It made me feel comfortable and relaxed and wanting more laughs.

  “You’re only sixteen, Regina. ‘Yesterday.’ ‘In My Life.’ A lot of people have commented on how mature those songs are. Especially considering how young you are.”

  “Yeah, it’s a nice compliment. I think.” I scrunched up my face in an exaggerated frown, signalling that I really wasn’t sure whether or not it was a compliment. More laughter from the audience, which was good because it seemed to distract Chris from asking any more questions about how I came up with my supposedly original songs.

  “How many here watched the Caverns’ concert on MTV this past weekend?” Chris asked the audience. After the crowd had applauded their response, Chris said, “I liked the two new songs you played from your next CD. It doesn’t sound to me like you’re slippin’ none. You have a name for the new CD?”

  “Something New.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’re gonna be asked back to the show next year when Something New is up for ten Grammys. Think you can make it on time, Regina?”

  I smiled and said, “Yes. Next time, I’ll get here early. I promise.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Regina Bloomsbury and the Caverns!”

  The audience clapped, and I waved as Chris announced who was going to be on the show the following night and the house band kicked in, and before I knew it, the show was over, and the audience was being shown the door by ushers in uniforms. A few tried to get autographs, but they were blocked off by the ushers. I was disappointed that our time on the show had to end so quickly. I felt like I was just getting warmed up!

  But end it did, then we all piled into the limo and headed back to the hotel. Unfortunately, that’s when all the groovy vibes from the show disappeared. Just like that. Yes, folks, that’s when Lorna and I finally had it out. After giving each other a couple of warm-up jabs the previous few days …

  It was all-out catfight time!

  15

  The silence had hung heavy in the limo for a few minutes before Lorna got things going. Nobody said, “Good gig” or “We really rocked it” or “Good vocals, Gina.” There was just this awkward nothing going on. It felt like the space between me and my dad and the rest of the band was real and solid somehow and would have prevented me from getting any closer to anyone, even if I had felt like it. Which I didn’t.

  “Well, somebody finally said out loud what everyone else has been thinking.” That was Lorna’s opening line. “Regina Bloomsbury and the Caverns,” she continued, with that sarcastic tone in her voice. “Millions of people will hear Chris Rock say that tonight. It’s like an announcement. Lorna and Julian and Danny have officially become Regina’s backup band.” Lorna practically spit out the last two words, like they were a disease.

  “I didn’t tell him to say that,” I countered, feeling hot all of a sudden.

  “You didn’t have to. It’s the way you’ve been acting.”

  “Give me a break, Lorna. How about the way you’ve been
acting? Huh? How about that? Throwing me glares and sarcastic remarks ever since we took off from Twin Oaks.”

  “OK, ladies. Calm down.” That was Dad. He sounded weary and not very convincing and ready to give up on the whole Caverns thing.

  “I don’t feel like calming down.” And I didn’t. I felt like I was wound up and ready to take off like a rocket. “I’m sick of your attitude, Lorna.” I could feel Julian and Danny tense in their leather seats nearby. Oh, boy, their body language said. Here we go!

  “You’re sick of my attitude?” Lorna, who was sitting across and a little ways up from me, edged closer. “You stuck-up little princess! You don’t want anybody else’s original songs on our albums. You tell us exactly what to play. You forget about video shoots. You’re late for the Tonight Show, and it’s like, ‘Isn’t that cute. You must be so busy these days, Regina.’ If I did that, I’d be fired.”

  “Maybe you should be,” I warned.

  “That’s enough, Regina,” Dad said. He had more force behind that command.

  “You’re lucky I asked you to come back to the band after you and Danny quit.” At least I figured that’s what had happened.

  Lorna seemed at a loss for words after my last insult, so instead, she threw the soda she was drinking in my face and yelled, “Bitch!”

  Stunned and outraged at the spray of soda that splashed my face, I launched myself at Lorna. She fell back from the force of my attack, quickly recovered, threw me to the floor, and pounced on top of me.

  Ring the bell! Round One!

  “Bitch!”… yanks on each other’s hair … “BITCH!”… slapping and kicking … “[Fill in your favorite insult here. We probably said it!]”… hands trying to separate us … “BEEEE-ITCHHH!!!”

  Believe it or not, as I rolled around on the floor, I thought, This feels good! Fighting Lorna was a wonderful release from all of the tension and craziness of my L.A. journey. It didn’t occur to me that rolling on the floor of a block-long white Hummer, wrestling Lorna, was the crowning achievement, the Everest of craziness of the journey so far.