You sighed, propping your elbows up on the sound booth, wanting to smash your head into the controls.
While Queen was in town, you were assigned to be their producer for a while, and it was driving you insane. In your entire career, you had never met a band like them. They were very dramatic--which, you figured they would be, but not like this--and they argued all of the time. And when they weren't arguing, they were either being geniuses or goofing off. It was like you were sitting around with a bunch of maniacs.
You persevered nonetheless and pressed your hand on the button to the mic, so they could hear you through your headphones.
"Okay, let's do that again... Shall we?" You mumbled, letting go of the button. You moved your arms off of the sound booth and crossed your arms. You were not impressed with the progress they made today, and your patience was wearing thin.
You looked through the glass to see any signs of acknowledgment, and they all gave you a thumbs up. You pressed play on John's bass part and Freddie's piano so Roger and Brian could follow along, all the while John and Freddie sat patiently, waiting for them to finish.
Slowly, Roger started with his drums keeping a steady beat, who is extremely concentrated.
Over the course of the time you spent with the boys, you had gotten really close to them. As much as you disliked working with them, you enjoyed being their friend outside of work and hanging out with them. But one of the band members, you weren't sure you liked or hated: Roger Taylor. Whenever he was around you he tried avoiding you, or if you started a friendly conversation, it would immediately flip and turn into a heated argument. You always wondered why he hated you, or at least, that's what it looked like. Whenever you caught him looking at you, or would return the eye contact he would either look away quickly or give you a nasty glare. It was odd. But then again, you couldn't make everyone like you.
You smiled, nodding your head to the beat as it continued, glad that everything was going well. That was until Brian missed his cue and came in late.
"Brian!" Yelled Roger, coming to an immediate halt.
Brian sighed, letting his head hang in guilt, as he realized he knew he screwed up. "Yeah, I know, sorry."
You groaned and pushed the button again. "Brian, this is the fifth time this has happened today. Are you alright?"
"Um... Yeah, I'm fine," he replied tiredly. You could see dark circles under his eyes.
You frowned, knowing that he was in fact, not okay. "Okay guys, we clearly aren't getting anywhere today, and besides, it's almost six, how about we just leave early, alright?" You said into the mic, looking at all four of them.
Freddie heaved a big sigh, nodding. "Yes, I agree. I need a drink."
"Guys!" Groaned Roger, looking at all of them in disbelief as they packed up, while he just sat there. "What about getting it done this weekend, or-"
You sighed, grabbing your purse and exiting the sound booth. "Roger, I hate to break it to you, but nobody wants to do this right now, I'm sorry. Look at everyone," you gestured around the room. "They're all tired. Let's just call it a day, alright?"
Suddenly Roger looked at you with spite, as if he was taken back. "Excuse me?!"
You groaned, turning away from him, knowing he was going to turn this into an argument.
"Hey!" He snapped, grabbing your attention again, as well as the others in the room. "Don't interrupt me!"
You nodded. "Yes sir, now can I leave now?"
