A Man For All Seasons (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

11. The Good Twin

Freddie

I tallied up the score of my final, winning word. "...Twelve, thirteen, with another triple letter score on the s, makes sixteen, plus one, seventeen."

"And I thought Julia was good," Roxie whistled. "Congrats."

I shook the ringed, knobby hand she extended to me. "Nice game. You're a good sport."

"Speak for yourself, spending your evening playing Scrabble with some old lady when you could be off helping your friend fend off a jealous guy."

My tongue slid back and forth along the inside of my cheek, in an effort to check the outburst simmering upon its tip. I assure you, dear, were the cards not so heavily stacked against me, that is precisely where I would be now. But you already knew that.

Roxie began collecting up the tiles, thus concluding our fairly mediocre battle of wits. Usually, as I'm sure will come as no surprise to most of you, there was very little outside the bounds of sex and performing live with Queen, that I found as thrilling as a competitive game of Scrabble. Julia's cousin, however, did not qualify, at least not when compared to the cutthroat rule Nazis I was used to playing against (now, really, what in the world makes you think I mean Brian). Victory does not taste half as sweet when your opponent lets you basically get away with murder all the time leading up to it. I know part of that may have been an attempt to keep me from aggravating my concussion, but really.

I slid off the stool and walked toward the large window in the living room, stepping carefully so as not to trip over an ever-underfoot Blofeld. Once concealed behind the curtain, I peered between the crack in the blinds, but just like the last thirty-four times I had looked, Rudy's car had not moved. It was still parked right outside the house, its yellow body frosted with a thin layer of ice.

"Is he still out there?" Roxie asked.

"His car is, anyway," I muttered. "He might not even be in it for all I know, might have just left it there to make me think he's still-"

Suddenly the headlights rapidly flashed on and off for a few seconds, paused, then twice more for good measure.

I sighed. "Never mind."

How cozy; not only is he making sure I don't leave, but he can hear everything I'm saying, too. I wonder if that's another future thing- or if he was always able to do that. Either way, I wouldn't be shocked.

Roxie laid the lid over the Scrabble box. "If you don't mind my asking, what is that guy protecting you from?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"No. All I know is it's something to do with her boyfriend."

With effort I tried to suppress another catty remark. "Well, that's, um- that's really not the sort of word I would use to describe Stuart."

"Oh?"

"No. He's- he's more along the lines of a parasite, I think."

I said I tried; I didn't say I succeeded.

"A -parasite?" Her tight, manipulated features pulled into a cautious grin.

"Naturally. You know, like a leech, or a, um- a tapeworm, perhaps-"

"Oh, my gosh," she tittered, egging me on. "I guess you don't like him at all anymore, huh?"

My God, was there ever a time when I did?

"Well, after all, my dear," I shrugged, "there's very little to love about a tapeworm, all they do is bring about the most ghastly digestive complaints- and for me that's exactly what Stu-"