In the Year of the Cat (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

25. The Heatwave, Part Two

"Your coffee," the bartender muttered, sliding a shallow mug toward me.

Greedily I pulled it over and searched about for a sugar cradle- the ones with the pink, yellow, and blue packets all denoting which carcinogenic sweeteners they contained- but alas, I was in a club after all. No such luck. I craned my neck, looking for the bartender, but he too had disappeared.

That's when I noticed, where Paul had been reclining, a clear packet of a white crystalline substance. Thanks, Charlie, or whatever your name is. I opened it to stick my finger in and taste it. I wanted to make sure this wasn't aspartame or saccharin. I don't do artificial sweeteners. But I started getting such odd looks from the people beside me, I just decided to go with the flow and dump a portion of the packet in. One night of saccharin wouldn't hurt me.

I took a stirring straw and swirled the sugar in the cup until it dissolved, then I took a sip. I tasted no sugar, in fact found the coffee to be stronger and more bitter than I liked. I poured in some more, watching the crystals rain down into the mug, and stirred, a little less thoroughly. I took a bigger swig, but tasted no sweeter difference. I poured in about another teaspoon, and found the coffee even more chalky than before.

"What kind of sugar is this?" I said to myself. I opened the last one, tapped some of the stuff into my palm and peered closer. Looked pretty ordinary to me. But I had three other senses to choose from, and I picked the worst one.

I lifted the crystals to my nose and took a sniff.

"YOW!" I cried, jerking back. I almost spilled my coffee rubbing my nose, which was now on fire. Remind me to never do that again!

But as the seconds passed, my nose numbed, similar to what the tip of my tongue was doing. I blinked one, two, three, four times. Somehow, everything was clearer before my eyes. I felt much more awake, my energy making a welcome rebound. In my amazement, I brought the coffee back to my lips and swallowed.

Hm. Not so bad now. I guess it's an acquired taste. I want to go dance again. I gotta move. Move, move, move. I slurped some more of the coffee. It seemed as though everyone was moving a little faster than before. I smiled, watching them, ready to spring off the bar back into the crowd of dancing people to the tune of the "Lido Shuffle."

"Yo!" A raspy voice said beside me. "Okoy!"

"Well, well! If it isn't Rrrroger!" I rolled the r's in his name. I must say, he looked especially dashing that evening. "Come to say hello to little ol' me?"

"No one but you," Roger smiled, then cheekily planted a little kiss upon my forehead.

"Aw, you naughty tease, you're embarrassing me!" I laughed. "Wanna dance?"

"In a minute," he said. "First, let's see about that palm reading I've heard so much about."

"Got the money?" I whispered.

"I'll pay any price."

"I take bids."

"Two hundred."

"Too low. Try again."

"Two hundred and one."

"I'm yours," I joked, then laughed a hyper, crazed laugh that wasn't my own. As from a distance, I asked myself, Okay, what did I just put into my system?

As if I didn't know.

Roger and I found ourselves a little bar table (well actually, Roger just walked up to an occupied table and said, "Can I have this?" and the table was cleared seconds later). Just a couple places down from us, I noticed Freddie and his buddies drinking themselves into wild incoherence. Of course, I had no right to pass judgment on them as I was; with every sip of my crazy Joe, I came closer to La La Land.