The Luckycharm -A Brian May fanfiction- English

Italian paparazzi

"Hey! This time are them! This time are them! "

Very energetic screaming immediately make me open my eyes and turn my attention to the hotel gate, where the large group of photographers has positioned itself in a fighting trim. Four porters, in their impeccable bordeaux uniform and with tall, round hats like cylinders, open the gate while two beautiful and very elegant black limousines arrive in front of the hotel entrance. The paparazzi get close as much as possible to the car windows and they start to take pictures like crazy. The shutter-clicks of their cameras follow each other very fast and the flash glow is so insistently powerful that it almost blinds me, even though I'm observing the scene from the hotel attic.

"Queen are arrived" I say to myself, leaning on the windowsill to admire the scene more comfortably.

The two limousines cross the entrance quickly, taking care not to hit any of the photographers, who haven't shown the slightest intention of abandoning their prey, or rather their preys. The waiters close the gate with equal speed and the paparazzi being trapped outside the hotel like lions in cage, some of them even insert their lens between the railings to continue taking pictures of the limousines that now are traveling swiftly along the avenue that leads directly in front of the main entrance of the Hotel Royal.

"Oh my God! Italians paparazzi!" I whisper to myself "They don't leave them in peace even for a moment"

I lean out a little more from the windowsill, I can see the cars coming to the entrance and then stopping right in front of the door. Two porters open the doors to allow to the illustrious guests to get off: Freddie and John appear first, escorted by a bodyguard completely dressed in black; Roger, Brian, another bodyguard and a not very tall gentleman get out from the second car. They quickly cross the hotel threshold, meanwhile the porters open the luggage compartments and take out their suitcases to take them to their rooms.

"Come on Lilibeth. The show is over" I still mumble, a little disappointed because I thought it would last a few more minutes "I guess it'd be better if I came back inside"

I love the sea breeze, it's so pleasant that salty pinch that leaves on the skin, but the humidity takes away the voice: it's true that tomorrow I have to sing in playback, but I need the voice anyway!

I reluctantly get up from the windowsill, I come back into the room and I close the window. I stand for a few seconds and sigh, now that the silence reigns again in my room I feel alone for the umpteenth time.

"I can't stay here, I can't ..." I despair, collapsing my forehead on the window pane "What can I do to calm myself, what can I do?" I wonder and close my eyes.

I try to concentrate only on my breathing, controlling its rhythm. Usually this clumsy meditation attempt always works when I want to relax, but after less than two minutes I realize that this time the Pranayama just doesn't want to work on me. I open my eyes again, a little nervous, and I see the last paparazzi group leaving the hotel entrance gate.

"And if I went out for a walk?" I wonder again "Walking relaxes me generally, it induces sleep and then the photographers have also gone, so I have a clear run"

Proud of my good idea, I move the curtain away and I walk quickly to one of two armchairs at the foot of the bed where I placed my clothes before wearing my nightgown, with the illusion of being able to fall asleep. I grab the jeans dangling from one of the two armrests and I put them on, I take off my nightgown and place it on the other armchair, in this way I'll have it at hand when I'll come back from my night walk.

"But the shirt? Where did I put the shirt?" I wonder looking around, buttoning up my jeans "Ah, yes, of course, it's down here"

I lift the musical sheets scattered on the chair and I find my heavenly sweater under them. Tonight, after going to bed, I started working on a new song and, before undertaking my vain attempts to fall asleep, I literally threw the musical sheets on the chair because I bothered to get up and carrying them as a civilized person should do. I also wear my sweater on and I run to the mirror on the Empire style chest of drawers.

"Your hair has known better days Lilibeth" I brooding, admiring my totally disheveled hair "But, what's even more horrifying: you're without make-up"

I sigh, I snort at the thought that for a simple and harmless walk at night I have even to make up "But if I don't make up even when I go out during the day!" I exclaim to myself in front of the mirror.

And so, after having hearten myself about the uselessness of foundation and eye-pencil in the middle of the night, I comb my hair as best I can, I quickly wear my dark coat and take the room keys on the entrance consolle. As soon as I cross the threshold of my room, the thoughtful smell of the moquette makes me sneeze.

"Maybe I'm allergic to dust" I think, locking the door "But I've never been until today. Maybe it will be the old age" I think again, even if I was eighty "But the moquette is also in the room and it doesn't do this effect on me. Maybe because the corridor is claustrophobic and just a little of fresh air circulates in it" I conclude, though not entirely satisfied with the deductions I have reached.

I put the keys in my pocket, letting the bordeaux tassel dangle outside of it to remind me to deliver them to the receptionist once I'll come down in the lobby. I never take the keys of my hotel room out of the hotel itself, I'm so careless that I would lose them for sure!

I start to walk swiftly in the deserted corridor, but suddenly a thought flashes in my mind: "What if I went to him? Would that be a good idea?" I wonder, turning to the door of his room, not far from mine "No... it's better not. I just need to walk a little outside, just this"

I move to the elevator, the silence that reigns up here on the attic is quite disturbing, it almost gets the chills and the paintings hanging on the walls, joyful and lively still lives, certainly don't contribute to cheer up the place.

"We're close to the sea, they could have put some paintings with a boat, a beach, or with some flower arrangement, we're in the city of flowers!" I think, now I'm in front of the elevator "It's also occupied, what the hell!" I curse in a low voice, I hate when I want to leave a place and there's something that stops me from doing it.

I peek at the control panel and I note that the elevator is not just going up but it's already on the third floor, fortunately for me. I'm on the fifth floor, so it doesn't take too much time to reach me: the button panel lights up on key number four firstly and, after a few seconds, on that number five.

Tin...

The elevator doors open in front of me and I stand breathless for a few seconds, staring at who's in front of me now.