Days of Our Lives (Book 2)

Chapter 11 - Love me tender, love me true

Wednesday, 16th July, 1986

London

-Dear Lord Ratty, you really worth your name! - I laughed as I watched that tiny, long-haired guy crawling in the tour bus' trunk to arrange our luggage.

-The whole thing is about logistic - he shrugged his shoulder - if you knew how many times I've done this with complete stages.

-Yes, I always wondered how you can pack all that stuff into those trucks. - I giggled, watching him to pack himself out.

-I told you, logistics and my brilliance.

-You know, I just love the fact that you guys are all so...humble.

-Ratty! Ratatoise! - we suddenly heard His Majesty looking for him and he rolled his eyes before shouting back:

-On my way Freddie!

I watched him to walk back to the front of the tour bus where Freddie was seemingly busy complaining about something and as I also walked closer, I've already heard the reason:

-I can't believe it, it's already 10 o'clock! He's half an hour late, where the hell is he?

-Freddie... - Mary tried to calm him down, with not much success.

-Lyvia - he turned to me now - where the fuck is he, why's this goddamn cock late again?

-I don't know Freddie - I mumbled, but I knew he was right. We were supposed to leave at 10 am to Manchester, but yet no sign of Roger and Crystal. I was also worried myself, because I knew nothing about Roger since he left my hotel room two days ago. I knew he's gone home for these two days off to spend some time with his kids and I accepted it, but he hadn't even called me once, so by that morning I also had no clue why he asked me to stay in the hotel instead of going home.

-Lyvia! - Freddie called me again.

-I'm sorry Freddie, I told you I don't know. - I sighed.

-I used to like it much more when you took care of him. - Freddie looked at me seriously.

-Me too. - I mumbled, while Freddie turned to Jim, waving theatrically again:

-Jim, do something, find that son of a bitch!

-Freddie, calm down, I'm sure they'll be here in a minute. - Jim tried his best.

-Freddie, could you please keep it a bit low? - Mary rolled her eyes. Not because we weren't already get used to the Mercury-drama, but rather because a couple members of  Queen Fan Club (The Royal Family as Freddie nicknamed the most loyal fans who follow the band everywhere) were also around, talking to Brian and John. They will come and see the gig in the evening in Manchester, of course, but it was so kind from them to show up this morning and to have a couple of words with the boys before we start our 4 hours bus ride. Well, of course, in case Roger and CT manage to arrive.

-Guys, I beg you, at least you get onto this fuckin' bus! - Jim tried to steer us, so when finally the missing boys would arrive, we can leave immediately. It took him a good 10 minutes, while Brian and John said goodbye to The Royal Family and all of us took our seat on the tour bus. The same exact moment when Jim managed to steer still complaining-Freddie on the bus, a Bentley arrived and I've already seen Roger, CT and another guy jumping out of it. Crystal busily filled the bus' trunk with their luggage, while Roger shook hands with the guy, who, I just realised was his friend and neighbour, Tom. Yes, that one Tom, from Wembley...he just looked at me through the bus' window and waved and as I nodded back, he already got into the car and drove away.

Roger stepped onto the bus and I immediately knew something is wrong with him. Though he was hiding behind his Ray Bans, I noticed him being...tired? Yes, I think this is the right word, he was tired and sickened of everything and everybody. He waved hello to everyone, followed by some not really nice words from Freddie, but all he answered him was "Not now Freddie, I beg you." Freddie then turned to Crystal to find out "what the fuck this was and why you cocks were late that much" but Crystal also just waved and sat down to the seat silently.

In that moment the bus drove off and we started our way to the Manchester gig. Roger stepped there and without saying anything he sat down to the seat next to me. I looked at him awaiting, because I didn't know what to say to him, not to mention that I had at least a thousand questions echoing in my mind. Some of them have been immediately answered when he pulled me into his arms and held me so tight, it almost hurt. I put my arms around him, caressed his hair and back, when after long silent moments he kissed my temple and whispered:

-God Lyv, I missed you so much. So fuckin' much, baby.

Roger fell asleep in a minute and was sleeping during the whole bus ride. I held him in my arms and kept on caressing his hair - when I moved or tried to stand up for a couple minutes in order to stretch my legs a little bit, he moaned and grabbed my hand putting it back around him, so basically I couldn't move. I still didn't know anything what happened to him, my hundreds and hundreds questions in my mind were still unanswered. But feeling how much he needed me, only to hold him, at least some of my doubts were dispelled. After that two and a half days what I've spent in that hotel room alone without knowing anything about him (but mainly without knowing if we'll be together again), I just knew I got him back. I knew it; by the way he pulled me in his arms and held me tight, like he never ever wants me to get out of there. Those couple of words he said to me, they told me everything and for the moment I didn't even have to know more. I tried to ask Crystal once, but he wasn't much help in the matter: he just shrugged his shoulder and told me he doesn't know anything, but when Tom and Roger picked him up in the morning at his London apartment, Roger already looked like a piece of shit. Well, at least I found out that Roger spent these days in his Surrey home and that's why he needed his old friend Tom, to drive him to London and bring his Bentley back to Surrey. I looked at Roger, peacefully sleeping on my shoulder with his angel-face and I figured: either he's going to tell me what the hell happened to him or not, but he was mine again. I kissed his forehead and pulled him tighter in my arms and all I could think about is how happy I am at the moment.

The gig itself went on well, the only thing bothered the boys was that the volume had to be kept to a reasonable minimum. "Blind 'em and deafen 'em", that's the motto, well, in this case deafen them part could not really carried out. And as it had to be finished till 10 p.m., we were back to the hotel pretty early, which, in this case was quite good for Roger. When he got off the tour bus this afternoon, he was behaving the same way as he always used to: he was smiling and joking all afternoon and also during the gig, but I had a suspicion this time it's only a deception. I immediately knew I was right about that when we got back to the hotel after the gig, because Roger collapsed into an armchair and his smile faded in a second. He made me sit in his lap and then hugged me again so tight, like in the morning, on the tour bus. He held me for long, long minutes, not saying anything, only kissing my forehead a couple times. And though I haven't let him know, but this whole thing started to piss me off: because I knew something's wrong with him but he didn't tell me anything. The always full of words and so communicative Roger was not saying a single word now and with this he made me worrying about him more and more. No matter how hard I tried to make him at least a bit better, he didn't want anything. Didn't want to have dinner, but only whiskey; didn't talk, just stared into nothing or pulled me back into his arms tight. By that time I felt myself completely helpless and it took me a good 20 minutes to convince him to have at least a good, warm bath.