I woke up next morning with a dreadful pit in my stomach, and my bed unusually empty, no trace of Jeremy to be found. I sighed as I felt colder than usual, as if I had my own personal rain cloud above me to keep me from ever getting warm again.

Half of me wanted to believe that Jeremy was lying yesterday just because he was frustrated with my tireless hope and stubborn dreams, but today I felt maybe he had really meant what he said yesterday.

I tried desperately to wiggle myself awake until I could find the strength to flip myself on my side to look at my clock.  After blinking away the blurriness in my sleepy eyes, I'd focused on the arms of the clock that read as quarter past eleven and nearly yelped, remembering the mystery business man from last night had wanted to meet at noon.

I rushed out of our- my room to go shower, startling Alexander who was eating his breakfast calmly just down the hallway in the kitchen.

"Why so frantic? Your aura is absolutely everywhere Sade, it's hurting mine." He said rubbing his temples, squinting in the morning light, having obviously drunk past his limit yesterday night.

"I have a meeting." I stopped just before I got into the bathroom, my breath coming out in an unsteady huff.

"Oh that's right. Milly told me there was a man." He chuckled looking back down to the magazine he'd been reading.

"Very funny Alex." I scrunched my nose and locked myself into the bathroom, beginning to get ready in a haste.

Even if by some miracle, this producer, or whoever he was, wasn't an old arrogant man, and it was like Alex implied, I don't think I could just forget yesterday night, and my entire relationship with Jeremy. I don't even know where Jeremy was for god's sake, his things were still in the closet, torturing my mind with hopes that he might come back. I had given a whole five years of my life to him, and I couldn't believe he had left like that.

Yet something about this note kept me from being overwhelmed with grief. I felt I finally had a break in my case of finding out what was in store for me as an artist, and I was prepared to give anything for it.

When I had finally gotten out of the house and on to a bus headed for 94 Baker Street, it was almost noon already, and I worried that being punctual was the difference between a deal or no deal.

I looked in my compact mirror once more, fixing my long dark brown hair that was wildly curly and practicing a smile, something I was quite proud of. I knew it was to my advantage when I smiled, knowing how often people liked my smile, yet it seemed hardly ever real when it came to talk about my musical career anymore, I had been let down so many times before by countless other people with empty promises.

"Am I at the right address?" I asked myself as I stared face to face with a giant colourful building that I had never noticed in all my years living in London.

As I walked closer and closer, a growing gut feeling told me this building was familiar. I took out the business card from my pocket and stared at it a moment. Surely this was address was mistaken. Such a plain card for an extravagant building, and I wondered why and who this was from.

I looked in the window of what seemed to me to be nothing but a psychedelic boutique and realized why this was déjà vu, this was the Beatles' boutique.

I found myself wandering into the shop and looking around myself completely lost in a haze of the store's memorabilia. I had stopped processing what was happening, so I must've looked like a complete fool to anyone watching.

"May I help you ma'am?" A young woman at the counter asked me politely to which I nodded, closing my mouth from catching flies.

"I um-" I cleared my throat from it's squeaky beginning, "this business card, surely I'm mistaken of its address, right?" I smiled with extreme confusion.

She strode over confidently,  and only then I noticed how beautiful she was, like a model of some sort. I wanted to pinch myself thinking this was all a dream my mind was leading me to believe, but I was frozen in place as she took the card from my hands and examined it thoroughly just as I had dozens of times prior.

"Not at all." She smiled up at me with a grand smile.

"Come with me." She seemed almost giddy as she began to lead me to the other side of the store where an elevator appeared behind a couple of doors. I wasn't even able to begin to understand what was going on, so I kept my mind blank of thoughts as I didn't know what to expect.

"He'll be waiting for you up on the fifth floor." She kept on the same smile that began to make me feel uneasy as she pressed the button for the fifth floor once I had stepped inside the elevator. She quickly stepped back out and looked me over once more.

"He'll love you." She winked as I began to see her less and less and the doors slid shut, trapping me in the tin box as it began to bring me up.

With every beep I felt everything grow heavier and heavier until I felt like I could no longer move on my own. Surely, this was a joke. Someone who worked alongside the Beatles listened to my set and saw something in me?

Impossible, not even the people closest to me saw that.

I flinched as the ring sounded to signal I was on the right floor. I held my breath in anticipation, until the doors opened wide enough for me to see him among the working secretaries in the office foyer.

He wore a gray blazer over a black turtleneck paired with grey pants, and I couldn't help but watch as one of his arms were risen, his hand to his mouth, biting his nails as if he were nervous.

He was taller than I had imagined, yet seemed so incredibly small compared to the larger than life reputation he had made for himself alongside his band mates.

I watched him fix his dark brown hair before smoothening out his suit, and for a moment I wondered if he were as anxious as I felt watching him. I wanted to do something, anything, but I couldn't find the strength to move.

When his eyes finally met mine, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before a grand smile illuminated his features proudly, taking on the persona I had assumed was the Beatle coming out in him, much different than who I'd seen moments ago.

When he came closer, I felt my strength begin to give out as if the floor fell out from under me, but before I could find the strength.

"Hello, I'm Paul."

Paul. Bloody. McCartney.