Brian's Turn

"It's your turn next Brian," Roger placed the tray on the table and sat down. The bar was noisy and smoky and nobody wanted to be the one to go get the drinks.

"L'Chaim!" Freddie raised his glass.

"Freddie, none of us are Jewish," John was confused.

"I know dear, but would it hurt to explore some culture? To life!"

"To life!" The four men of Queen raised their glasses for the toast.

"I'm hungry," Roger looked at Brian. "Go see if you can find some chips or something."

"Why me?"

"Your turn," John informed him.

Roger got up to allow brian out of the booth. "It's Freddie's turn next."

"Yes, yes, dearie, we are all starving here"

Brian didn't like the smoke and noise, but he liked being with his friends. He stood at the bar waiting for his turn to be served. He wasn't paying attention when she walked in the door.

"Hey Tall Boy," she said, sitting on the bar stool next to him.

"Hello," he answered her.

The other three were watching. "Whoa! Brian's getting laid tonight."

"That's crude roger,"

"True though, she's totally hitting on him. Look, but don't be obvious."

Freddie and John swung around to look.

"I said don't be obvious!"

Fortunately, Brian didn't notice the three men staring at him.

"I like your dress," he said to her, wishing he was better at flirting.

"Thank you," she smiled, "it's new." she stood and twirled around giving Brian the full effect. The red dress could have been painted on her, and she wore red high heels to match.

"Do you want a drink? i'm here with my friends, but they won't care if I leave them alone."

"What I want, Tall Boy, is to dance."

"I can't dance."

"Pretend you can." she took his hand, leading him to the dance floor. it was crowded, and impossible to not bump into other dancers.

They were still being watched by the other three.

"Brian's gone," John said.

"You think he's going to still find us some snacks?" asked roger.

"No you idiot. He's found himself his own snack," Freddie answered.

"So, Tall Boy, are you just out with your friends? No girls tonight?"

"Its just us. Do you want to join us?" He gestured over to the table.

"They aren't my type," she replied, looking at him.

"So you have a type?"

"I do. Doesn't everyone?"

"I guess so. What is your type?" He couldn't resist asking her.

"Well, let me think. I like the artsy type. You know - creative. But he has to be smart. Has to hold up his side of the conversation."

"What about musicians?" He moved closer to her. "Do they count in your type?"

"As long as you aren't a drummer, Tall Boy."

"What's wrong with drummers?"

"Nothing specifically. I've just met a few drummers."

"I'm not a drummer." He reassured her, "actually I play guitar."

"A guitar player, hmmm. Let me see your hands."

Brian held out both hands for her to inspect.

She took his hands in hers. "Calluses. And long fingers. I bet you are a good player."

"I am a good player," he looked her in the eye. "Very good."

"Do you really want to stay here, Tall Boy?"

"Why? Do you have a better idea?"

"I definitely have a better idea."

"So is this when I'm supposed to ask if you want to go to your place or mine?"

"You could. But does it really make any difference, Tall Boy?"

"Absolutely none," brian answered quietly. "Let me just tell my friends i am leaving."

He walked her to the table where Roger John and Freddie were sitting.

"Guys, my wife and I are going home now. i'll see you tomorrow."

"Night Brian!" they all said. "night Chrissie!"

"Goodnight boys," she replied and took Brian's arm, leading him to the exit.