PRETTY LOVER BOY - ROGER TAYLOR

XXXVI.

NOTE!!: i'm going to be messing with the family timeline of the band members. you'll see what i mean.

♛ ♛ ♛

"And you said this is one of your favorite photo shoots you've ever done?" The journalists asks me, looking up from what he already has written down on his paper.

"Yes, I mean, I got to work with dogs," I grin, "what can be better than two big dogs and an absolutely gorgeous dress?"

"Yes, I can see that," he laughs, pen back to his journal, "but you do have a favorite shoot, don't you?"

"Yes of course I do-" I falter for a moment. It must have been my first one. I hadn't thought about it in years. And yet, that red dress still sits untouched in the back of my wardrobe and my mind.

"Miss Landers?" I shake out of it, looking back up at the journalist. "Your favorite?"

"My Killer Queen one," I say, quietly, as if I'm trying to convince myself of it.

"How long has it been since you've talked to Queen?"

-

"No, I want to cancel them all for this month," I repeat into the receiver. My agent once again begins to protest. "Jerry, I can afford to miss out on these. Like actually, I can afford it."

I pull the phone away from my ear, groaning as he goes on another tangent about public image and the like. When I think he's calmed a bit, I bring it back up.

"I just want a break from it all, for a little while," I sigh, "please don't make me fire you."

There's silence on the other end before he too sighs, finally giving in. I hang up the phone, dragging my feet across the floor to the couch and falling over on to it. I lay, face down, for a moment, waiting until it becomes too hard to breath to do anything.

"Yes, it does seem we're going to be getting the lineup for Live Aid soon."

Slowly, I lift my head to look at the television, finding a lady and a man on screen, talking of the big new concert that a singer named Bob Gedoff organized as a fundraiser for famine relief in Ethiopia. It truly is a wonderful idea. Yes, I do believe it is. A great opportunity for rock bands as well...

I flip on to my back, not trying to fake grace in the slightest. The ceiling stares back at me, cornices mocking me with their whimsical carvings as I lay in a sweater I've had since I was seventeen and socks that each have a hole in the bottom. This house is far too big for me, and too fancy as well. It doesn't feel like home here. It's beautiful, that's for sure and it's on an even more beautiful piece of land, but it's just doesn't feel like me. I feel more at home alone, by the lake, under the willow tree then in my own bed. God, if only I could buy myself a family.

The TV and my thoughts are quickly overtaken by the sound of the phone ringing and I grab one of the pillows off of my couch, screaming into it. Jerry must've changed his mind.

Of course.

I slide off the couch, thinking momentarily of allowing myself to just hit the ground before ultimately deciding I'd better not. I pad quickly over to the phone, picking it up.