Stories of Rockfield (Roger Taylor)

Chapter Three

Over the next couple of days, I'm far too busy with work to even think about writing. Even if I had the time, I don't think I could muster up the motivation or the inspiration to produce anything good. I haven't as much as looked at my notebook since the band arrived. Whenever a band is recording, everything becomes about twenty percent more frantic. There are more people to cook and clean for, not just the band but producers and managers too, and it always ends up being my job to tidy the studio and the boys' rooms at the end of the day. Granted, they usually don't leave it too messy but it's still one more job I have to deal with.

As I'm taking the bins out, I see a familiar figure sitting on the bench outside the band's house. Staying out of sight, I watch intently as he nods his head, using his hands to drum a beat on the arm of the bench. He pauses to take a drag from his cigarette and scribble a few more lyrics on to the page but soon returns to the drumming.

"Roger, do you think she'd mind if I stole one line?" Freddie asks him, popping his head out of his bedroom window.

"Bloody hell, Freds, I was doing really well there and you've fucked it up!" The blonde sighs. "And yes, of course she'd mind, how would you feel if I stole one of your lyrics?"

"Oh, come on, as if you've never stolen my lyrics."

"Why would I steal your lyrics, Freddie, they're shit?" Before anyone gets too upset, I decide to try and break up the argument.

"Calm down, what are you arguing over?"

"Nothing." The two answer in unison, neither breaking eye contact with each other which is surprising considering Freddie is on the second floor. "He started it."

"Both of you shut up." Brian orders as he appears behind Freddie in the window. "Poor Debbie doesn't need to see this. Freddie, get inside, Roger stay out here until you've grown up enough to have a civilised conversation."

As Brian slams the window shut, Roger raises his middle finger over his shoulder. He angrily smashes his cigarette into the ashtray and throws his notes to the floor, muttering insults under his breath that are clearly directed towards Freddie. Staying quiet, I pick up the song and take a seat next to him.

"You shouldn't steal people's lyrics, you know." I joke quietly. Even in his aggressive state, the drummer can't help but crack a smile. "Do you fight like that a lot?"

"All the time. It doesn't matter, the song's shit anyway."

"Why would you say that?" Glancing down at the paper in my hand, I see the title of the song. "I'm in love with my car?"

"Told you. Read it." I unfold it and read over the lyrics carefully, making sure I don't miss out a single word. Roger stays quiet as he lights up another cigarette and sulks about the argument. "It's not like Freddie would let it go on the record anyway, I might as well quit while I'm ahead."

"Well, I like it." I tell him honestly, handing the song back to him. "Look, if you talk to him, he might be able to see how proud you are of this. If this song makes you happy, I know Freddie would at least consider putting it on the record." Patting his leg, I pick up the bag of rubbish that I'd forgotten about until now and stand up. "I'll see you around, Roger."

Roger's POV

My eyes stay glued to Debbie as she disappears down the farm track. Taking another  puff of my cigarette, I think about what she advised me. I guess it made sense. In all honesty, I wasn't completely focused on what she was saying. How can I be when I've been utterly infatuated with her since the moment we met? The second I walked into that studio and saw her curled up on the sofa, I was gone. But, I'm getting sidetracked...she was right. I have to talk to Freddie.