Keep Yourself Alive - Roger Taylor

63

So the mission was settled. Roger, Mary and I would leave today to convince Freddie to come back and, assuming it all goes to plan, we'll come home with him,

We all boarded the plane, which was a private one for the three of us. It was odd having a plane to myself. Well it was odd being on a plane altogether, I hadn't really travelled too much until I began going on tours with the lads.

Sitting on a row by myself, I pulled out a book and began to immerse myself within the pages, until eventually falling asleep with the book resting between my fingertips.

Roger had noticed me, snoozing against the window, and decided that he would snap a few pictures on my Polaroid camera and shove them in his wallet for safe keeping. He then took his leather jacket off and draped it over my body, making sure I didn't get too cold as I snuggled against the plastic walls.

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When we landed, the route was simple. 1, go to Freddie's house. 2, take Freddie (with consent, obviously). 3, come back to the airport. 4, get on the plane, with Freddie hopefully. 5, go home and perform at live aid. Simple, right?

Think again.

The taxi rolled up to a very extravagant house, but America was not the sunny paradise I had once envisioned. The rain pelted down on the ground, and bounced back up into the air as it hit the dark road. It was pitch black, as we had landed late, but that didn't matter at all.

Mary and I rushed towards the door, trying to avoid the inevitable waterfall of rain that spilled over us. However, when we neared we could see the upsetting image of our Freddie curled up, asleep on the couch. I say upsetting, because it didn't seem like him.

Mary knocked on the window, and he awoke immediately, giving us a shocked yet relieved stare. He rushed to let us in, and we instantly felt the hit of warmth caress our freezing skin.

"Mary...Rose?...What are you doing here?" He asked, his eyes were tired and bloodshot.

Instantly, my eyes met the white powder and razors blades that laid on his tables, along with bottles of spirits. Or should I say, empty bottles of spirits.

"We came to see you Freddie, we're worried. Why are you ignoring our calls, we've been trying to ask you about Live Aid for months now" Mary shook her head in confusion.

"Calls? Live Aid? Am I seriously that drunk, I have no clue what you are talking about, dear" He said, rubbing his hand over his eyes wearily.

"Live Aid, it's a huge gig for the people in Africa. It's a great opportunity, Fred. You should come home and do it" I nodded, holding his hand in mine.

"Why didn't I know about this?" He asked, an upset glance on his face.

"Well every time I called, Paul claimed that you were too busy" Mary scoffed, looking at me.

"And where are my postcards, Freddie?" I asked, raising my brow at him.

"Busy? And the postcards.. I gave them to Paul every week, didn't any of them make it?" He asked, still not seeing the obvious solution to our problem.

"So Paul has been lying to you then, Fred?" I huffed.

"No, surely they got lost in the post office?" He said, but it came out as a question. He knew that they didn't get bloody lost.

"Come on Freddie, shall we go home?" Mary begged.

"Why don't you stay here? Both of you!" He pleaded.

"I can't Freddie, boyfriend? And I'm pregnant Fred" Mary said, revealing the news.

He looked utterly gobsmacked and  offended.

"How could you?" He asked, giving her a disapproving look.

"Excuse me?" She started, but before she could finish, Paul made his grand entrance.

"Ah, Mary, Rose! If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake" He said sarcastically.

"I'm more of a biscuit girl anyway, thanks though Paul" I grinned falsely at him.

"Yeah; hard and snappy, just like you" He taunted and I just rolled my eyes at him.

All of this had taken my attention from the important thing, and without me realising, the two others had fled from the house and into the rain.

"I think Freddie is coming with us today, why would you keep Live Aid from him?" I asked, confronting the dickhead once and for all.

"It's a distraction. He was doing well without you lot there to persuade him to do other things" He shrugged, squaring up as he took steps towards me.

"Persuasion!? Ha, that's rich coming from you. It's your fault that he fired John too, you're not the manager, you're just the assistant" I scoffed.

He took more steps towards me, his chest nearly touching mine.

"Get the fuck away from me, you dick" I said, pressing my hands against his chest to push him away. However, he grabbed my wrist between his strong hand and pulled it away from his body.

"You'll regret that. Do you remember the first time I met you, princess?" He taunted, whispering into my ear.

He's gay for Christ sake, I understand wanting to intimidate people but why does he have to be so strange about it? Getting up in my personal space and breathing down my neck was a bad decision in his part though.

"Yes, very well actually. I thought you were a sweaty pedophile that touches younger girls. But it turns out that you're not much older than me. Time didn't serve you well Mr Prenter did it?" I asked, giving him a fake pout.

His grip on my wrist tightened, making my back arch away from him.

"Paul, what the fuck are you doing?" I suddenly heard, and Freddie was at the door. He was soaking wet, but still managed to stick up for me.

"We were just- I was just talk-" He started, letting go of my wrists and pulling me into a side hug. I quickly retreated and pushed myself away from the sweaty Irishman.

"You weren't, you were hurting her. I'm leaving" Freddie started.

"Okay, shall I pack the bags or are we coming back?" Paul asked nervously.

"Oh no, you heard me wrong, dear. I'm leaving, not we're leaving. You can do whatever, we're done, you're fired" Freddie nodded, walking over to us.

"What? Don't let one night ruin everything, I'm the only one you've got left" Paul laughed desperately.

"Actually, He has us lot too so shut the fuck up you leprechaun" I defended, and Freddie had to suppress a smirk. Paul looked extremely offended, and I have to admit that it was quite racist, but he deserved it fully.

"You're a fruit fly, Paul. Always hovering and buzzing around me annoyingly. Well you can't anymore. Im swatting you out of my life. You lied to me about Live Aid, and the postcards. I never want to see your face again, say what you want about me to the press I don't care. I'm done with this, I just want to be back to normal. Back to what I know" He admitted, and we both made our way to the door.

"Back to Queen" I smiled at him, and he nodded in agreement.