No One But You

1

Madison

It's a Friday night. I find myself at my usual spot, in a club downtown. Michael, the bartender, pours me another beer after I down my first. 

"Thank you," I say to him when he slides the glass to me. 

"No worries," he says, throwing me a wink. Michael flirts with me every time I come. I don't know why. I'm not that special, but occasionally I flirt back because he gives me free drinks. 

"I'll take what she's having," a man says from besides me. I look over. I've seen him here a couple times. I recognize him from his exotic look. He has shoulder-length black hair and deep brown eyes, and is clad with a blue jacket over a colorful striped shirt. He is, I must say, extraordinarily beautiful.

Michael pours him a drink and slides it over. The man takes a sip and focuses on the band, Smile, who is setting up on stage right now. 

"I see you here often," I comment to the man. "I'm Madison."

He looks over at me, smiling gently. "Freddie," he tells me. "I've been following them for a while now," he gestures towards the band. "I want to perform."

"Why don't you?" I ask, taking another sip from my drink. 

"I plan to, darling," he gives me a smile. "I write songs and was planning on suggesting them to the band after the show. Maybe they'll be willing to play them."

"So you like to write?"

"I do."

"I've written a couple songs myself," I tell him. "I don't know if they're any good but who cares? I like them."

Freddie looks at me with a curious face. "I'll tell you what, darling, when I'm rich and famous I'll perform one of your songs. Maybe more."

I raise my eyebrows, a smirk playing on my lips. "I'll take you up on that, Freddie."

He picks his glass up and I mimic him. We clink them together and raise them as a toast before we each take a sip.

The band begins just as my lips touch the glass. I immerse myself in the music, getting lost in how much I love it. I can tell Freddie feels the same way. We make conversation here and there, talking about the songs we liked versus the ones we thought need improvement. Not that any of the songs are bad, but they lack that special something.  

I decide I like Freddie. Not in a romantic way, but he seems like a great person that I want to befriend. At the end of the show, I take a pen out of my jacket pocket and scribble my number down on a napkin that lays on the bar top.

"Here," I tell Freddie. He takes it gingerly. "For when you're rich and famous and you need my song," He smiles at me and puts the napkin in his jacket pocket. "Let me know how it goes with the band. I believe in you."

"I will," He tells me. He looks like he might say something else, but he finishes his drink and follows the crowd of people out of the bar. I watch him leave, only turning around to see Michael after he disappears outside. 

"I'll see you next week?" he asks me. I slide my empty glass over to him.

I nod. "Sure will," I send him a smile before leaving the bar myself. 

The cool breeze hits my face once I'm outside. I reach into my pocket and grab a cigarette and a lighter. Lighting the tip of it, I take a drag as I set out for my journey home.

***

It's about eleven at night the following day when the phone rings. I trip over the clothes I have strewn all over the floor, but I make it in time.

"Hello?" I answer, in a sing song voice.

"Madison, darling, guess who is the new lead singer of Smile," the voice says. It's Freddie. I smile and take a seat on my second-hand couch. I really should pick up my clothing. There's absolutely no reason for it to litter the floor in my sitting room, except for perhaps pure laziness which I possess at this moment in time.

"That's wonderful!" I tell him. "What happened to the other singer?"

"It was fate. He had quit moments before I met Brian and Roger, the guitarist and drummer. They needed someone new and called me earlier today to give me a chance."

"Well I'm very glad to hear that," I say. I liked the other lead singer, but I'm excited to see what Freddie will bring to the table. His charisma will take him places. 

"I want you to come to my first show. It'll be next Friday same time and place." Freddie tells me.

"I always go," I laugh. "But yes, I will go especially for you."

I twirl my phones cord in my fingers, leaning back on the old couch. I really need to invest in a new one, but I simply can't afford it and I refuse to ask my parents for help.

"Excellent. Now I must ask you another question," Freddie says. "You wouldn't happen to know someone who plays the bass, would you?"

Oh Freddie, you came to the right person. 

"I actually do," I say. One of my friends who I went to university with can dabble on the bass. "His name is John Deacon. You can usually find him downtown in a shop called 'Earl's'."

"John Deacon," Freddie repeats. "Earl's, the music store?"

"That's the one. Tell him Madison sent you."

"Will do. I look forward to seeing you next Friday, darling."

"Yes, Freddie, I look forward to it as well."