PRETTY LOVER BOY - ROGER TAYLOR

XVII.

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In a very Roger Taylor like fashion, Roger let's himself inside Freddie's flat, swinging open the door without announcing us at all.

"Your phones off the hook," Roger says to who I assume is Freddie. When I enter behind Brian and Deaky, I find that Freddie and Mary are sitting on the couch, both covered by a blanket. Mary looks to me for an explanation, but I only mouth a sorry to her, sitting down next to Brian and John on the couch.

"Come on in, make yourselves at home," Freddie says, looking a bit annoyed.

"Hello Mary," Brian begins to uncork the bottle of champagne he brought, "how's your dad?"

"Yeah, pretty nice," she responds, resituating herself on the couch, obviously a bit uncomfortable knowing she's wearing nothing with only a blanket to cover her.

"Good," Brian starts, cut off by Freddie.

"What's going on Brian?" He asks.

"Well if you'd answered your phone you'd know already," Brian replies, continuing with the champagne.

"This really isn't a good time guys," Freddie tells us. I let my eyes travel to Roger who's now standing in front of us all holding a few glasses.

"John Reid called today," Brian begins, "he has a little tour in mind for us."

"I wouldn't call it little," I say, crossing my legs under me.

"He's booked us a tour of America," Roger jumps in. Freddie looks confused for a moment, like he thinks we must be joking. "The album's hit the charts in the U.S."

"Oh, yes," Freddie says through a shaky breath, and I can tell it's finally hit him. "Yes!"

The boys all jump up, getting into a group hug as they voice their excitement, leaving me to laugh at them. I glance over at Mary, immediately drawn to something shining on her hand that I recognize quickly. My gasp grabs her attention, and when she looks to me I point to my ring finger. She looks down to her hand before back up to me, grinning.

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I'd expected that landing in America, I would get a strange sense of being home or a rush of familiarity, but all I got was a pit of dread and anxiety in my stomach.

We were met by a crowd of fans as we exited the airport in Ohio, way more than I'd expected there to be. They were reduced to screams as the boys made their way through to the car. As we get closer, the fans are overtaken by the press and flashing cameras. I play to some with Roger who pulls me along, but as he gets to distracted and I fall a bit out of step with the band, I hear my name being called. I look towards the crowd, pinpointing a journalist who waves me down. Before I head over, I glance to the boys who've stopped at a camera, making sure I won't be left.

"Clementine, how was your flight?" She asks me, pen already to her paper.

"It was alright actually," I reply, wringing my hands in front of me as I try not to look to the camera taking pictures of me. "I slept awhile until Freddie woke me for scrabble."

"So, you've been referred to by the band as their killer queen," she says to me, looking up from her paper.

"Yes, it does seem that's stuck a bit," I scratch my neck, a somewhat nervous smile tugging at my lips.

"Can you explain what it's like to be in this position?" She asks.

"Yes, well, it's a bit more work than I originally thought it would be," I laugh, "I actually help with performances, like lighting placement and such to make sure everything looks okay. I kind of make sure each show has a specific personality you could say, so that they're never doing the same thing."

"So it isn't all fun and champagne then?" She scribbles down on her pad.

"Well, most of the time it is," I roll up on my toes, "it really is a good time in the studio and out around for the most part, and back stage as well. The boys are very entertaining to be around."

"Now, we do know you have a favorite band member," she begins with a grin, only to be cut off.

"Well, Ms. Popular aren't you?" I look to my side as a familiar mop of blond hair comes into view over my shoulder.

"Speak of the devil," I laugh as his hand finds the small of my back. Seconds later, another head pops over my other shoulder and I find that it's Freddie.

"Charming the public, are you darling?" Freddie asks, and I shake my head, taking both of their faces in my hands.

"Living the dream," I respond, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Roger's cheek, an image I'm sure will be spit out on every media source interested in Queen tomorrow morning.

"Roger, Freddie, Clementine," I move my attention away from the whole situation, finding an annoyed looking Pretner.

"It was a pleasure talking to you," I say quickly to the journalist, who thanks me before I head off with the boys.

"Rather popular, Clems?" Brian elbows me and I roll my eyes.

"We knew you had it in you somewhere," John adds on.

"Shut up," I chide.

"Alright boys, we've got separate limos for you
each-"

"We'll all take the same one," Freddie cuts a rather offended looking Paul off.

"But-" Pretner begins again, but Freddie silences him.

"Where are they?" Freddie ends the short argument, and Paul hesitates for a moment before gesturing for us to follow. We get to the limo, and all of us pile in the back.

"America," Roger says as the car begins to move, the others laughing brokenly as they look out the windows.

"Be prepared for a bit of a culture shock," I say to them, running my hands over my thighs.

"What do you mean?" Brian asks.

"You're going to hate the food."

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NOTE!!: another short mediocre one, my apologies (i started school, (,: send help). also, let's totally pretend that's what it was like when Queen landed in America because I really have no idea what went down.