keep it professional - r. taylor

30

~June 1985~

John was last to take a seat. He was busy leaving Laura with Oliver since she didn't want to sit through the meeting. Once he sat down, we all shuffled a little in our chairs. I wasn't quite sure how I wanted to start this, so I kept my mouth shut to see if one of them could begin the conversation.

Like always, Freddie was the first to break the tension. "Lovely office you've got here."

"Thank you. Decorated it myself."

"Thanks for actually sitting down for a meeting with us."

"I felt bad. Didn't know how much longer you guys would be able to hold out."

"We were prepared to stay there as long as needed. Even prepared to stay there until the day before Live Aid."

"Seriously? Is it that worth it?"

"More than anything." I turned my attention over to Roger, trying to see if he was lying. He was probably over exaggerating so they would get on my good side. But, I could tell he wasn't. His eyes met mine once more, sending unwanted butterflies flying around my stomach.

"Okay guys listen," I scooted my chair forward, linking my fingers with one another, "The fact that you guys would do that for me is really sweet, and I really appreciate it..."

"So what's taking you so long?"

"It's just... I don't think that stepping back onto your management team would be the best idea."

"And why is that? Don't you miss working with us?"

"Of course! But, I think it's just been too long, and I've got some prior... complications with the band. Besides, you said it yourself, Miami is doing the job just fine."

"We were giving him too much credit. Elizabeth, let me tell you what I know." Freddie leaned in, placing his hands on mine. "Whether you care to admit it or not, you miss us. More than you probably know."

"Oh really?"

"Haven't you noticed how most of your walls are decorated with pictures from us on tour? Or, even though you tried your best to hide it, I noticed that you have bought and stored every one of our records right over there."

I turned over towards my record collection, which had some Elton John and Devid Bowie records in the front. But my hiding skills were subpar, so their newest albums peaked out from the back. What can I say? Some of their songs were actually, really catchy.

"What's really holding you back? What's keeping you from taking the opportunity? And don't say it's because of that little fucker Paul, because he's long gone. And don't even try to explain that you don't have the time because your little secretary told us you had more than enough time." Damn it Oliver. That man can never keep his mouth shut.

But I pondered on what Freddie asked. What was holding me back? Why was I so intent on saying no to them? I think I had been telling myself that I refused to come back to them that I had forgotten my original reasoning.

Maybe it wasn't such a horrible idea. Besides, if it did go horribly, I could easily quit and I don't think they would argue with me.

I didn't say anything to them. I simply sat there for a few more seconds, debating a few more logistics I would have to work out. Reaching over for my telephone, I punched in a few numbers and heard the phone ring. The boys were looking towards each other, and leaning in closer to me to see who I had on the phone. In their minds, it could either be a fellow, important music manager, possibly Reid. Or it could be me calling security to escort them out of the building.