Summer Of '75 (Roger Taylor/Queen)

Chapter 9

Amelia's P.O.V.

As the night progressed, the more and more out of control things started to get. By this point, Roger and I were both pretty tanked up and for the record - I did manage to withstand more shots than him. He was almost on the floor by his third, while I was still going strong even at my fifth. Then again, he'd been drinking much more than me before this ridiculous challenge had begun, so it must have finally caught up with him. Downing my sixth shot, I put the empty glass back down on the table and looked at Roger who was sunk down in his seat. A feeling of superiority came over me.

'Now look who can't handle their drink!' I said, proud of myself for beating him at his own game, and reached out my hand, 'That'll be a tenner, thank you.'

'We weren't placing bets!' Roger slurred, as he tried to sit up straight again.

I looked at him and smirked, although annoyed I'd been caught out, 'Damn, you're not as plastered as I thought.'

The two of us sat there for a moment in silence, while I scanned around the room. Roger propped up his head with his arm on the table whilst it was my turn to slump down in my chair. At one point, I thought Roger had actually fallen asleep, but he soon spoke up again.

'Can I ask you something?' he said, a hint of childishness in his voice. I chuckled lightly.

'You can ask me whatever you want, darling.' I told him, my mouth running away with me.

He smiled cheekily at me before trying to find whatever words he could get together to make a sentence, 'W-would you mind if I gave you a nickname? 'Amelia' is really long.'

My faced squinted at his question, 'As long as it's not something vulgar.'

Roger burst into a fit of giggles, 'No, nothing rude. I was thinking something like... Lee. You know, like Ah-me-lee-a. Get it? Ah-me-LEE- a. It's quite clever, isn't it?'

'If you think you're being original, I hate to burst your bubble but I've already been given that nickname.' I informed him.

'Well, what else would you want to be called, then, Hot Stuff?'

'Oi, watch it.' I kicked Roger's leg underneath the table as the two of us laughed like idiots, 'Lee will do fine.'

'Lee it is then!' Roger exclaimed.

As I sat there only working on half a brain while Roger mumbled away to himself about absolute nonsense, I glanced up at the clock above the bar. It was almost midnight. I figured it was probably time to head back to the farm so I started composing myself as I knew we still had the walk back to tackle.

'C'mon, Roger. I think it's time we got ourselves home, don't you?' I asked, putting our empty glasses in a tidy manner on the table before getting up from my seat, swinging the strap of my handbag over my shoulder.

Roger looked up at me and replied with a simple nod as he pushed himself up off his chair. Slightly wobbling as he got to his feet, I quickly steadied him before he toppled over and managed to steer him towards the front door. As we stepped out onto the street, the evening air hit me like a wave - it wasn't freezing but the temperature had definitely dropped since earlier. Having said that, it would be cold compared to the stuffy atmosphere of the pub. Anyway, I was all set to start walking when I heard Roger murmur;

'I need a cigarette.'

He started fumbling around in his pockets for his packet of cigarettes and a lighter until he found what he was looking for. He popped one of the cigarettes between his lips before attempting to light it - this was easier said than done. I wasn't sure if his lighter was broken or if the amount of alcohol he'd consumed had rendered him unable to work one, but either way; he was struggling.