Ringo was going to be staying home with Paul. He didn't seem to mind, for some strange reason. Paul was slumped in a chair, a sad frown on his face. John would be tagging along as sort of a spy. (In the same tone he had reacted to the word "dump", Paul said, "You're more of an...operative. Spy is such a nasty word.") But George was supplying enough happiness for the entire city of New York on a bad day. He slid into the front room on his newly polished boots and playfully punched Paul under the chin.
 "Cheer up," George said. "I'm not going to steal her from you." At least he thought he wasn't.
 "I think Paul would like to see that in writing. Heh, heh," John said.
 "Do I threaten you?" George was surprised.
 "No, of course not. I'm the cute one, anyway," Paul said, finally smiling.
 George laughed heartily. "That's the old Paul."
 Ringo frowned. "Hey, George, you're only wearing a shirt and pants. I thought you were going to wear your suit. Mr. Mousie says you would look 100% better in a suit."
 "I don't accept fashion advice from rubber squeaky toys. Besides, I can't think of a tie," George said. "I wear my black one too much, and my blue one is splattered from that tomato surprise I tried last Wednesday at the Gordon party."
 "How about the red and gray one?" Paul asked.
 "I don't have a red and gray one," George explained.
 "My red and gray one," Paul replied. "She likes it."
 "If you're sure," George said, accepting the tie. "I really don't want to feel like I'm threatening you." He tied it on and put on his black jacket.
 John retreated to the kitchen and came back with two wrapped packages. "Never go all night dancing on an empty stomach," he said, giving George one.
 George opened it and saw that it was a cheese and pickle sandwich on pita bread. He took a bite. "Bleah! This tastes terrible!"
 "I know," John said, his mouth full. "I've been saving them for the past month."
 "Ugh!" George dropped the sandwich in the wastebasket. "I think I'll make a fresh one." George could not feel Paul's eyes burning holes through his back as he walked to the kitchen.
 About ten minutes later, George checked the clock and saw it was almost seven. He picked up the car keys and said, "We're off. See you."
 Goodbyes were exchanged, and Paul gave George some last-minute directions- "Don't lay a finger on her." With that, George stuffed his hands in his pockets and swung out the door, John following him.
 Julie sat up in her bedroom, waiting. She had forgotten what George looked like. To refresh her memory, Julie walked over to her records and picked up a Beatles album. Natasha rubbed against her legs and purred.
 "No, Natasha," Julie said, "I'll be back soon." She picked up Natasha in one arm and looked at the album. Her heart sank. George Harrison looked like a creepy rat with one long eyebrow. Julie grimaced as the doorbell rang. She put Natasha down on the bed. Julie didn't have time to make her hair messy so she ran downstairs.
 George pulled up into the driveway. Julie's house was a modest little place. It was two stories but still quite small. He thought it looked cute. All of a sudden, George realized his seat belt was caught. While George tried to undo his seat belt, John got out of the car and walked up the path to the porch. The path was bordered with assorted roses. He inhaled deeply and sighed. Walking up the steps to the porch, he rang the doorbell. John wondered why he was coming along in the first place.
 Bracing herself, Julie opened the door. Natasha skittered outside.
 "Mr. Harrison?" she asked.
 "Nope," John said. "John Lennon. I'm coming along, if you don't mind."
 "No, not at all...Where's George?" Julie craned her neck.
 "Seat belt's stuck. He's in the car, trying to get it loose." John put his hands in his pockets and waited.
 "Thanks for telling," George said a moment later, walking up the path. "Julie?"
 Julie was not greeted by a rat with one long eyebrow. She was greeted by a Beatle- but she wasn't paying attention to the eyebrows! He looked- dare she think it- even cuter than Paul! And that had to be pretty darn cute.
 George had seen Julie before and thought she looked nice. But tonight, she didn't look nice- she looked absolutely magnificent! George's heart thumped as if Ringo himself was inside him. John stood back and watched George's facial expression turn from one of confusion to a sheer stupor. It was hilarious.
 There were a few minutes of dead silence. Julie waved them inside the house. Then- a few more minutes of dead silence.
 "So," George said with a smile.
 "So," Julie replied.
 "So, we're going to be late," added John.
 "Oh! Right!" George jumped. "Sorry, come on." The three walked down the rose-lined path to the car. George opened the door for her with a flourish, and Julie had to stifle a laugh. John reminded himself to tell Paul what a ham George was that evening. They drove off towards The Club.
 George couldn't find a parking space that was very near The Club, so he had to park a long way off. Julie didn't mind this, and neither did George. But John didn't like it that much because he still had a few blisters. However, it had been raining again and puddles were everywhere. Julie's shoes were white, and very expensive. Soon they came across a rather large puddle.
 They stood there for a moment. Without a second thought, George took off his jacket and gallantly laid it down over the puddle. John cracked up and went on ahead in a different route. Paul was going to love this. It was an expensive jacket, but what was a regular old jacket compared to Julie's cute little shoes? Or cute little Julie, for that matter?
 Julie gave George a funny look. Even Paul, who was comparable to Sir Galahad, never thought of doing that.
 George smiled. "Go on. It's already dirty, might as well use it."
 Julie shook her head and walked over it. By the time she had walked over George's jacket for the tenth time, they were doubled over in laughter. George had a cheerful mind about it. Besides, it could dry at the coat check. He knew he wouldn't need it while dancing. People stared at them, which just made George and Julie laugh harder. When they finally stopped laughing at the door, George held up his jacket, took a look at it, and cracked up again.
 George recognized the voice coming out of the speakers when they walked onto the floor. He cracked up yet again. The song was "I'm Happy Just To Dance With You".
 "What, did I do something wrong?" Julie asked, concerned. "Or are you thinking about your jacket again?"
 "No," George said, recovering. "That's me."
 "Huh?" Julie asked.
 "You know, the band I'm in," George replied.
 "Oh!" Julie exclaimed. And so George sang along with the rest of the song as they danced.
 After they had danced furiously for a while, the lights turned a bit lower and prettier. Instead of a fast-paced rock song, a slow tune flowed from the speakers.
 Julie looked awkwardly at George. George looked awkwardly at Julie. It was a very sticky situation, since it was what she and Paul knew fondly as their song. Julie felt strange dancing to it with another guy. So they started to dance clumsily. They looked like two little second-graders at an elementary school dance. At least George didn't suffer from foot-stepper-onner-itis.
 John had been watching for some time, and thought that they needed a little push. Literally. So he grabbed the hand of a lady who was just standing alone and danced toward them. John quickly bumped into George. George keeled over until he was nose to nose with Julie.

 Chapter 2 and a half