In the Year of the Cat (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

55. The Yin, the Yang, and the YIKES!

I stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, poring over a most unintelligible map of London, intended for tourists but written by seasoned locals.  It was nearly time for high tea, so the streets weren't as congested as they might have been, and I served as an obstacle only to a handful.

  I squinted at the small print, struggling to identify the numbers scattered all across the scale drawing of the Royal Borough of Kensington.  True, I had made great strides in familiarizing myself with the city, but London was far too huge and far too confusing (for an American, anyway) to know by heart in under two weeks. 

Folding the map up, I opened up my journal to stick it back between the pages for the moment, and briefly scanned the list I had brainstormed of things I knew Freddie liked, with a few parenthetical comments to myself scrawled in the margins: 

Music (duh)
Sex (double duh)
Attention (quadruple duh)
jewelry/jewels (shiny shiny)
Asian art, jade stuff, sculptures (Chinese/Japanese)
Anything that doesn't require batteries or a plug (he'd never last in the 21st century, that's all we got)
General art, paintings, etc.
Antiques
Shopping
Ballet (Nijinsky, Baryshnikov)
Opera (Monster- I mean, Montserrat Caballe especially, but there's no box what could hold her, hee hee hee, I'm such a rotten immature little beast)
Cats
Godiva chocolate
Bubble baths
Massages (head/neck/back/foot preference?)
Flowers, gardens

Hm.  I'm seeing a pattern here.  

And toward the bottom, I had written a few more names to round out the list's contents:

Darth Vader
Richard Dreyfuss (just kidding)
Mary
David (Minsy)
Joe (Liza)
Love (till it runs out)

I looked at the last four items in the list, and sighed.  Dr. C had indeed done his job; doubt had enveloped me once more.  For Freddie could scarcely cross my mind now, without thoughts of the prophesied brevity of our love affair in hot pursuit.  I would not be a link in a chain.  I would not be another of Freddie's nameless, disposable lovers.  I loved him madly, but not madly enough to accept such a status.  I would jump out of a thirty-story window first.

Freddie had extremely expensive tastes, I knew; Cartier pleased him to no end.  I personally didn't get the appeal; diamonds sparkled, sure, and they cost an ungodly amount of money, but how Freddie could simply immerse himself in a shopping spree, much less a jewelry store shopping spree, escaped my imagination.  I had actually just left Cartier a little while ago, and found out for myself that Freddie's favorite bijou boutique rose almost embarrassingly out of my price range.  I couldn't afford anything there, not even when I combined my Vegas winnings with my generous daily allowance.  Besides, if I was completely clueless about picking jewelry for myself, then I had no business even shopping around for someone as bling-savvy as he.

The antiques idea, though, had potential.  Portobello Road was famous for its antiques, but only on weekends.  Scratch that idea.  According to the map, there were numerous shops on Kensington Church Street, which was just a block over.  Let's check it out. 

I remembered walking through that area a bit earlier anyway, so I knew where to go.  Making good time, I soon strolled down the street surveying my options.  I kept my eyes peeled for an Asian-themed shop, with an emphasis on Japanese or Chinese art pieces. 

A few stores down, a place caught my eye -I forget what the dealer's shop was called, I don't think it's there anymore anyway.  But in its window sat a two foot bronze Buddha sculpture surrounded by what looked like an old Japanese tea set.  It didn't get any more Oriental than that.  With a smile, I stepped inside.