keep it professional - r. taylor

9

~June 1975~

A few weeks had passed, and we were making good progress on the album. Some of the guys had pitched some song ideas; some were good, some were bad, and some were god awful. We only had about three weeks left, and we still needed a song or two for the B-side, and our headline single. The band had agreed that none of the songs had stood out enough to be their main single, but we were running out of time.

I had managed to stay out of the way for most of the time, trying to keep myself occupied any way I could. Reading books and magazines, going for walks, completing sudokus, I felt myself slowly begin to get bored and lazy. But there wasn't much else to do, so I went with what I brought and hoped for the best.

I hadn't really spoken to Roger since the whole incident in the recording studio. Every time I was left alone in a room with him, I tried to find any excuse to leave as quickly as I could. Whether that was offering to help clean the dishes, announcing that I have to go phone my parents, or remembering that I suddenly had to do laundry. Most of the time, I hated doing what I said, but had to do it so I didn't make it even more awkward.

Kathleen and I hadn't really spoken. She had told me that she might not be able to talk so often on her trip considering the closest phone to her cottage was a fifteen minute drive away. Apparently Harry's aunt and uncle, who own the place, try to stay as far away from technology as possible. She sadly didn't remember this until she was packing, trying to figure out other things to do instead of watch television.

One morning, I had finally managed to get to bed the night before. I was right in my assumption that the brick of a mattress would loosen up after a few uses. It must have been around 4:00 am, considering that the sun had barely peaked over the hills when the phone began to ring. The silence in the house was split by the ringing of the telephone.

I raised my head up, trying to find out who in their right mind would be calling us at this hour. There was some grumbling from across the hallway, mainly coming from Roger's room. "Just wait to see if it's a wrong number. Let the caller have time to realize that this isn't the phone number they want" I thought to myself. But the phone kept ringing. It didn't stop. Clearly this person was quite insistent on reaching someone here.

"Who's going to get it?" Roger shouted out.

"I made dinner last night, so don't look at me," Brian said.

"I need my sleep. Unless you want my voice to sound like absolute shit in the recording booth later," Freddie said, defending himself. "Roger dear, why don't you get it?"

"Why should I get it?"

"Because you've barely done anything while we've been stuck here. Most of the time, you're too drunk to do anything."

"Fine," Roger said, groaning as he got out of bed. As I heard his footsteps make their way down the hallway and the stairs, I nuzzled myself back into my bed. Obviously this person was not calling for me, since I didn't know anyone who would be calling at this hour, so I thought that with the ringing gone, I could get myself back to sleep.

"It's for Elizabeth!" I heard Roger shout. Yet again, I raised my head. But this time, in confusion. Why would I be getting a call at 4:00 am? Unless it was someone calling that one of my parents died! Jesus, how grim would that be?

I slipped on my slippers, and tied my robe around myself as I hurried down the stairs. Once I got into the study, I saw Roger standing there with the phone in his hand, an annoyed look on his face. He was wearing just a pair of plaid pyjama pants, to which I looked down at. But I quickly looked back up at his face because that wasn't important right now.