They're staying in a hotel in London for a little over a week as they have five shows there. And Brian couldn't be happier.
He would like to believe his joy has to do with the fact that they'll get a break from sleeping in the tour bus. They will have their own rooms – no more sleeping in the cramped bunks. They'll get to eat properly, not having to rely on whatever they can fit in the tiny fridge of the bus.
But while Brian appreciates all these things, the reason for his delight has nothing to do with them. No, to put it simply, the reason is that a certain woman won't be accompanying them anymore.
Of course, Brian wouldn't admit this to anyone. His hatred for Leais a mystery even to himself. The mere thought of having to explain it to someone else is unbearable.
But for once he's able to push her out of his mind. Maybe it's because he's exhausted and the hotel bed just happens to be so comfortable compared to the bunks in the bus.
It doesn't take long for Brian to fall asleep. It doesn't take long for someone to interrupt his sleep by knocking on the door of his room, either.
He yawns, standing up from the bed, more than a little annoyed that someone has woken him up after just a few minutes of peace.
Brian opens the door to see Roger standing on the doorstep. Brian finds himself ill at ease when he remembers what happened last time the blond showed up in his hotel room.
"What are you doing here?" Brian asks, trying not to sound as nervous as he feels.
Roger gives him an unimpressed look. "You've been here for five hours." He narrows his eyes. "Don't tell me you've been sleeping this whole time. It's four in the afternoon."
Apparently it was more than a few minutes, then. "What do you want?"
Roger smiles. "See you in my room in five minutes! It's the one next to yours." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "And take that with you," he says, pointing to the acoustic guitar lying in the corner of the room.
Brian frowns. "Why can't we just stay here?"
Roger shrugs. "Because."
He's out of the room before Brian has time to object.
***
"That bruise looks nasty," Roger says, eyeing Brian's cheek when the guitarist finally makes it to his room. "Where'd you get it from, anyway? I'm pretty sure you didn't have it earlier."
Brian glares at him. "You could have told me which one of the rooms next to me you were staying in. Turns out the lady from 307 doesn't like strangers knocking on her door. She could've at least taken off her ring before she slapped me. That hurt."
"She – slapped you?" Roger asks, laughing disbelievingly.
"It's not funny," Brian says, struggling to keep a smile off his face.
Roger looks serious again. "She really did leave quite a mark. Do you need ice or something?"
Brian shakes his head. "I'm good, thanks." He can't help feeling pleased that Roger actually sounds concerned.
Brian watches as Roger makes his way to the windowsill and picks up a cigarette pack.
"Is that why we couldn't stay in my room? Because you wanted to smoke?" Brian questions.
"Possibly."
"You could have just taken the cigarettes with you," Brian points out.
"Yeah, I suppose I could have. But I know how much you hate smoking and this way your room won't smell like cigarette smoke." Roger smiles, clearly finding his plan to be absolutely ingenious.
