Stars in Your Eyes (Queen/Roger Taylor)

39. Roger

Milwaukee

"It's still all fucking wrong!" Freddie stops abruptly mid-song, dangling the mic stick precariously from his hand. I continue to play regardless, keeping the beat on the snare he stalks across the stage.

"What's not right about it?" Brian shouts from across the way, his voice competing with my drumming. "Roger, can you stop--"

Freddie is silent for a moment, gazing up at the ceiling and bobbing his head ever so slightly as he works out the song in his head. In the meantime, Brian puts his palm on the snare, forcibly bringing an end to my drumming.

"Well, when we get to the, you know, the bridge--" Freddie runs a hand through his hair in frustration and pauses once more, just before the words spill out. "When I start with 'find me somebody to love' and then Rog comes in on the third round -- that whole bit is just missing something, isn't it?" He looks at me for confirmation.

I place the drum sticks down and twist my torso to stretch out my back with a sigh. We've been through this song so many bloody times, and I don't think it'll ever be perfect. We worked on it for ages back in London, not even sure if it would even translate live. And now here we are at soundcheck, two hours before our first show of the tour, and we're doing this again?

"It's missing about 500 overdubbed voices," I offer up.

"Well, I think it works," John says, handing off his bass to Ratty. He stretches his hands over his back. "It works, Fred. Let's stop fiddling with it."

"It has to be perfect," Freddie insists, looking to Brian for support. The guitarist rubs his eyes wearily, and I realize that the stress of the tour has gotten to all of us even before it starts. Fred's right:  we have to be flawless.

"While you figure it out, I'm going to phone Veronica; otherwise, it'll be too late over there," John says. "Rog, want to come ring Skylar?"

"I'll do it later," I say distractedly, turning my attention back to my bandmate. "Yeah, I see what you mean, Fred. What if we..." I hop off the riser and stand in a huddle with Brian and Freddie as we try to work out the harmonies. We're there for a good twenty minutes--enough time for John to rejoin us--before Freddie looks over my shoulder and brightens.

"There she is!"

Our heads swivel to see Dominique, who has just walked into the back of the auditorium. She's carrying a huge stack of papers, no doubt the press releases that she's always poring over. She raises a hand and smiles as Freddie motions her closer.

"We need an outsider's perspective," he calls over to her as soon as she's within earshot.

"You beg me to join your tour, and now I'm an outsider?" she jokes, continuing to walk closer. Despite the jetlag and the stress, she looks unruffled.

"Tart," Freddie replies with a wink. "Sit and have a listen. Otherwise, I think one of us will quit before we even make it on stage tonight."

"I'm just here for the PR," she says with a laugh. "I'm hardly a music expert."

"Well, you have a set of ears," Freddie grumbles.

'Yeah, tell us what you think," I call over. "I'll treat you to dinner in the dressing room as a thank you. Any sort of sandwich that you fancy. I heard that tonight we can pick from ham or cheese."

"Ooooh, how could a girl say no to an offer like that?" She raises one eyebrow before sitting a few rows back. Putting down her papers on the adjacent seat, she motions for us to start, and I count off.

Detroit

"Roger."

Dominique's voice permeates my dreams, causing me to open one eye. Just as quickly, I close it and pull a pillow over my head.