Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

9. A Well Respected Man.

F.M

I lay staring at the ceiling for an immeasurable amount of time, unable to move.

I was ninety-nine percent certain that any sudden movement would have me empty the contents of my stomach all over the luxurious duvet I had tangled myself in. The sheets even smelt divine. I would expect nothing less from Hayes Griffith, London's poshest export. As I considered the very real possibility that Hayes bathed in liquid gold and dried himself off with money, I heard a muffled voice through the wall, hissing.

"What do you mean Freddie Mercury is in our spare room!?" An absolutely furiously female voice raged.

Hayes response was unintelligible, but I assumed he was on thin ice from how low his own voice was. I didn't want to get him in anymore trouble considering what he had done for me last night. I needed to dip out of here and quickly, so I braved the elements. I must have only gotten halfway through undressing before passing out last night, because next thing I knew I had fallen over with my trousers around my knees. Of course I fell with a large thud.

"Is that him!?"

"No, I smuggled in Elton John when you weren't looking." I heard him remark dryly. "A right old English piss-up- oi!" He grunted, "I was joking."

After that they moved away to a different room, or they must have because I could no longer hear them... and I did try. The room spun about me as I attempted to pull myself together. I didn't exactly want to face Hayes this morning, considering how much I embarrassed myself last night. All I could do was hope that I had not said anything too awful to Hayes when drunk. Luckily, I think I was too busy silently fawning over him to have said anything too damning.

I don't really remember how I got into the apartment, or into the bed. Hopefully I was a little graceful when I tumbled in. There was minimal furniture in the large room, aside from the bed that is. I couldn't imagine Hayes and clutter so that made sense. I squinted to find a glass of water placed on a frayed white vanity table. How matronly of Hayes.

As I forced down a few gulps of water, my eyes flicked to the mirror. My white T-shirt was thoroughly stained, rough stubble covered my jaw, and my hair... I wouldn't be shocked if someone told me I had been dragged through a bush. I need to find a bathroom before I even attempt to speak with Hayes.

The door creaked loudly as I slipped out into the hallway. I turned right, and blindly went to search for a bathroom. Only five seconds later, I was distracted by an open door leading into a large study. As I scolded myself not to go in, my feet had already carried me there.

There were few items of decor that suggested the apartment was a home and not a showroom. Although a few picture frames littered the traditional walnut desk that dominated the small room. Nosy beggar I was, I cast my eyes over the pictures.

In one photo, Emma and Hayes looked like siblings forced into the guise that they could stand each other for the split second it would take the camera to go off. It was not Emma's fault the picture gave off such a vibe, she was wrapped around Hayes like a vine. Hayes on the other hand, barely smiled and barely touched his current fiancé.

"What are you doing in here?"

Emma Reynolds' gratingly flat voice caught my ear. I whirled around, "Sorry dear, I got lost."