A/N- this is probably one of the poorest chapters I have ever written (and I have written KQ) so enjoy! 😂🤍

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H.G
New York,
10th June.

My day was destined to go  tits up the second I pissed off my girlfriend this morning.

Angela returned home to our NYC apartment, expecting a huge welcome after being gone for almost two months. To be quite honest, I more or less forgot she was meant to be back today, which went down a treat. She snapped at me, I snapped back, and next thing I knew my favourite pair of oxfords were being thrown at my head. I couldn't escape to work quick enough and I think I was still seeing stars. That woman has bloody good aim. Now Angela and I don't usually fight, but apparently she finds me more of a grump than ever and it's starting to grate on her.

I think I'm the same old laid back person I always was.

"Delivery for you Mr Griffith."

I peered over the top of my reading glasses, and gestured for the boy to leave it on my desk. I may have been a little irritated by the interruption.

"Who's it from?"

"I don't know." The intern, who's name I couldn't have been bothered to remember, replied uselessly.

He then placed it directly over the legal pad I was scrawling notes across for the past two hours. What a stupid twit."Why didn't you wait to give it to me?"

The boy frowned. "I don't understand."

An impatient sigh escaped my lips, "You can clearly see through the pane of glass, that I am writing. Busy. You barge in here, without so much as a knock, and interrupt my thought process."

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry doesn't bring me back the time you've wasted." I sniped. "Now sod off."

"I- I'm sorry Mr Griffith I'll-"

"Are you still here?"

"I'll take the package back." He reached over and tried to snatch back the post.

"Then what the hell would the point of this song and dance have been?" I stubbornly grabbed the package back, and set about tearing the seal open.

The boy quickly rushed out after that.  Now I'm sure you're thinking this must be the part where I pause, tell him to wait and apologise. Of course that isn't what happened because I'm not going to grovel to some pup who is the definition of a clanger.

"For someone with such a cute face, it's always so sour." My colleague's distinct Northern Irish accent lilted through the bleak office.

I scowled up at Alex Moore, the Stone's other fashion critique. "What exactly is it you want?"

"Easy tiger," he huffed a laugh, "I just wanted to catch up with you."

"What is it you really want?"

"You are so bloody moody."

I grunted.

"I see now is not the best time for a chat." He murmured, tossing his fingers through his brunette hair, "But I'm bored."

"Mhm." I hummed and slid what seemed to be a magazine out of the large envelope earlier delivered to me.

"What's that?"

"I don't know," I frowned at the 'Queen' stationary where a small note was scrawled across.

'Dear New York,
I heard through the grapevine that you are a huge fan and wanted to personally welcome you to the Queen Fan Club! Enclosed is the summer edition of the fan club magazine, featuring an absolutely dazzling profile all about yours truly. A truly enthralling read if I do say so myself. Enjoy your subscription to the club and all its benefits. Please do recommend us to your friends!
The Freddie Mercury.'

I was shocked that the thick sarcasm and flippant tone didn't drip down the page and cause the ink to run. I snorted in disbelief, but found the corners of my lips quirking upwards in an attempt to smile. I obviously tamed the expression down as I picked up the bright yellow magazine.

"Hayes tell me you didn't subscribe to a fan club," Alex gasped and snatched the magazine from my grasp, "I will only give you a pass because Freddie Mercury is gorgeous."

"No he's not."

"You're the reason I donate to the blind Hayes." Alex sighed and gently patted my hand.

"You can't joke about that." I swatted him away.

"I just did." Alex murmured and flicked through the magazine, "Good god, are those shorts even tighter in person? Please tell me they are."

"Did you pick up my suit or not?" I changed the subject.

Alex sighed, "Yes, I picked up your boring suit."

"I hope you aren't going to try and make me wear orange again."

"It's burnt orange." He tutted, "The tie is going to  make your eyes pop."

"Thanks," I murmured as I neatly folded the note up from Freddie, "I'm going to look like a pumpkin."

"You're wearing an all dark grey suit and one flash of colour," Alex scoffed as he rolled up the magazine, "I'm sure you'll be safe."

"If I wear the tie."

"Oh you're wearing the tie." Alex didn't lift his hazel eyes to meet mine as he continued studying the pictures in the magazine, "I went to the trouble of getting it for you."

"Fine, you're right."

"Always am honey." Alex winked which caused a strange sort of chuckle to escape me. I immediately clamped my lips shut as he squinted his eyes at me. "You okay?"

I merely nodded, because I couldn't trust my words not to come out as embarrassing stammers. I don't know what it was, I think I was often times uncomfortable with Alex's ability to be himself and not give two shits about it. The English are naturally nervous around people like that.

"Do you want me to ignore the fact you're blushing right now, when I barely even looked at you."

"I would appreciate it."

"You need to stop starving yourself of human contact Hayes, you're bordering on creepy now. If you weren't so attractive everyone would be frightened off."

"Well Angela is home so-"

Alex rolled his eyes and tucked the magazine under his arm, "That explains it, the wicked witch is back."

"I don't understand why everyone calls her that." I grumbled, and pocketed the note from Freddie. Angela was sweet and gentle, though nobody else seemed to agree with me.

Alex stood up slowly, "I just want to drop a house on her and see what happens."

"That's not fair."

"Oh you know I'm desperately jealous of her," Alex waved his hand, silver rings glittering, "And I can't believe you are bringing her to the races and not me."

"Why would ever I bring you?"

"I'm your work wife." Alex explained seriously, "So I deserve to be brought out once in a while."

For the love of god. "Stop saying things like that."

"Stop reacting like that then." Alex smiled, "Anyway, walk me out to my car at the end of the day so you can pick up your suit."

I never thought that agreeing to walk someone out to their car would lead to one of the most stupid decisions of my life. If I had known about the act which was now about to occur in the deranged ballet called life, I would have skipped right past it.

Okay, that may have been a little dramatic. Let's just say my life was about to go arse-over-tit.

F.M
Ascot, Berkshire, England.
15th June.

I honestly don't know how Roger and I ended up at the Royal Ascot Races. I think it was something we very drunkenly agreed to at at Milton Keynes after party, and something Miami would now not let us back out of. Apparently the drummer and I had been taking the piss out of someone high brow in attendance, who mistook it for friendship.

So here we were in Berkshire, surrounded by horse shit and the most unbearable type of people imaginable- the old money type rich.

"Freddie be honest. Do I look like a waiter?"

I took in Roger's black and white ensemble that was one stitch away from being a tuxedo. "Uhm, no?"

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying!"

There was then a sudden influx of security and chatter, signifying that the Royals were on their way. Our best behaviour was obviously required, but I didn't think Rog and I could get up to much mischief considering the tight asses of everyone around us. Security would have us kicked out before I could say tally-ho.

A moment later, the only beauty worth mentioning in a sea of twats appeared. There in all her ethereal glory, was princess Diana. She was donned in a flowing blush pink gown, with a floral percher fascinator to match.

"It's normal to be unnaturally attracted to Princess Di, isn't it?" Roger immediately stood up straighter, as if Princess Diana would spot him and think 'wow, is that Roger Taylor from Queen, let me just sacrifice the future crown.'

All the same, I replied. "I think it's a normal attraction for every man and woman in the U.K."

"Is that another Princess? I have never seen her before." Roger then commented as another elegant woman entered the picture.

"I honestly couldn't name any other royals." I shrugged with disinterest.

I was just about to turn away and search for some other celebrities when Roger nudged me hard in the ribs with his elbow. "What the fuck!" I hissed and proceeded to thump him back.

Roger looked as though he was going to hit me again, me but then realised why he had assaulted me in the first place. "Isn't that your best friend?"

"My best-" my jaw dropped, "Oh for fuck sake!"

Hayes was there, looking like James Bond himself asked him for tips on how to look good in a fucking suit, and speaking with Princess Diana. The unknown woman placed a hand on his chest and tipped her head back with a small laugh.

"Why is he everywhere!?" I snapped, "Everywhere!"

"I don't know! Why are you asking me!?"

As we began to bicker nonsensically, neither of us noticed that two completely random children were staring daggers at me.

"Hey, you!"

"Me?" I squeaked. Children are unnecessarily terrifying, more so than adults. Brutal honesty is scary, I don't care what anyone says.

"There's one thing that we don't stand for in our family." The young lad declared, fixing the collar of his royal blue suit. "And that's bullying!"

The adorable little girl beside him whispered something in his ear to which he nodded, "And vegetables!"

"Have you taken to bullying kids now Fred?" Roger whispered from the corner of his mouth.

I shook my head as the two kids proceeded to name more and more things that their family didn't stand for, including school, a teacher named Ms Garfield, and their evil-almost-aunt. I had no idea what was going on, but I was now privy to some juicy gossip.

"If you pick on my uncle again, we're going have problems!" The boy finally declared, "Got it?"

Okay, that's enough of being threatened by a child for one day. "Are you two dears lost?"

"Where are your parents?" Roger added, which had the little girl erupting into a fit of giggles.

"We're not here with our parents." The boys scoffed as if we were both the most stupid people he had ever come across. There was something very familiar about the haughty jut of his chin.

"Then who are you with?" Roger asked patiently, but our questions were about to be answered.

"There you two are."

The elegant woman who had been talking to Hayes and Princess Di earlier, appeared and less than gently grabbed both arms of the children.

"Stop running off on me." She snapped, her accent similar to those of the upper class women in Los Angeles, "I told you to sit still!"

Her flaming red hair proceeded to whack me in the face as she whipped her head to the side, "How much can I pay you to look after these two brats? Isn't there like a playpen for kids or something?" She directed the question towards Roger and I.

"I ah- what?" Roger spluttered with confusion.

The woman's pearl bracelet rattled as she clicked her fingers in my face. Clicked her fucking fingers. "English? Do you speak it?"

I think I was too shocked to erupt with anger at the woman's rudeness. Instead, I blinked slowly and let my mouth fall open. No words escaped me.

She let out an irritated growl, "Why do I even bother?" It was then she flung her white satin stole to Roger, "I'll have a sherry, I only drink Sibarita." Then she clicked off in her monstrously tall heels with the two cute kids in tow.

Roger and I stood there, the former was still clutching that awful girl's wrap. "What the fuck just happened!?"

"Did she think we were staff?"

"I told you I didn't like this outfit!" Roger grumbled, and waved the stole around, "What do I do with this!?"

"I don't bloody know! Give it back to her!"

"Oh no, I'm not going near her. You do it."

"What's wrong?" Phoebe asked, clutching a dainty cup of tea within his large fingers.

I bristled, and pointed, "Do you know who she is?"

Phoebe squinted and within two seconds he began rolling his eyes, "Angela Reynolds, absolute miserable tart."

"Bloody hell I didn't actually expect you to answer-"

"She's a dancer, choreographer, worked with Newton John," Phoebe dipped a tea bag in his cup, "She's a moody cow, probably because her love life is a train wreck."

"How do you know all this?"

"Assistants talk."

My lips twitched in amusement or fury, I couldn't tell, "Do you talk about me?"

"Anyway," Phoebe quipped and took a tentative sip of his tea, "The word on the street is that Angela is dating a gay man so deep in the closet, he's pinned down by feather boas in the back of the wardrobe."

"So she just needs a good shag?" Roger declared. When Phoebe and I turned to look at him, he quickly held his hands up innocently. "I'm not offering myself, I just wanted in on the conversation."

"Who's the bloke?" I asked, changing the subject back, "Anyone high profile?"

"Must be, but I think people are afraid of saying his name and linking him to being 'you know what'." Phoebe shrugged, pausing only to take another sip of tea, "All I know is he's a little bit of an arrogant sod, but his good looks are enough to give him a pass to act that way."

"Definitely not Hayes then, we saw them talking earlier," Roger mused, "Not that he isn't good looking- not that I find him good looking- I'm sure from a woman's perspective-" his eyes flicked between Phoebe and I, "or a man's perspective that—"

As Roger continued shovelling away, my gaze travelled to Hayes, who now had a gaggle of women gathered around him. Arrogant but can get away with it, that description does seem to fit. But I don't think he's gay. Or maybe he is and just didn't get a memo about the moustache. Before I could snicker to myself, Mr Freestone almost erupted beside me.

"Hayes? And Angela!?" Phoebe scoffed, "Of course not! The lad she's dating is a grumpy twat who likes to complain about everything but is too dishy for it to really matter..."

There was a small contemplative silence.

"Oh." He glanced at Roger, "And you saw them two talking earlier?"

Roger nodded apprehensively.

"Okay, well we can't be sure the gossip is about Hayes." Phoebe was obviously trying to contain his excitement, "So we need to make sure."

"We?"

"Go ask him if he's dating anyone."

"Never!" I gasped, "Get Roger to do it."

"I'm not doing it!"

"All you need to do is ask if he's dating someone, it's not like you're flirting with him. Just making conversation."

"Okay, I can do that." I declared after a brief moment of contemplation, "We actually had a nice chat on the phone the other day, I'm sure we can have a civilised conversation right now."

"A nice chat on the phone?" Phoebe arched his brows, "Why wasn't I informed?"

It was a nice chat for Hayes and I, he snapped at me about subscribing him to the fan club, after he tried to cancel it a few minutes prior. He ended up laughing by the end of it, and informed me that every issue of the magazine would be going to his friend Alex who's a big fan.

"I wish I had a better screening process before hiring you." I grumbled before setting off to find Hayes, who was no longer just casually chatting to Princess Diana. Maybe him and Maggie Thatcher have copped off.

I heard children's laughter to my left, so naturally, I looked in the opposite direction. If only I could hear the sounds of musician's crying, Hayes couldn't be too far behind. It turns out I didn't really know how to locate Hayes at all, because all my clues were completely off.

The child laughing, was the little girl from earlier, and she was tugging at Hayes' dark grey suit jacket. A playful grin transformed his face, as he lifted the girl with ease into his arms.

I found my steps heavy as I approached, not having a clue why I was suddenly so nervous. So what if there's rumours about him being gay? What difference does that make? Absolutely none! All it does is confirm he's an arrogant piece of work.

Hayes was humming the very appropriate William Tell Overture, and bouncing the girl as if to mimic galloping. The child was laughing all the while, especially when he threatened to drop her. I didn't want to interrupt him, but found my legs propelling me forward without my say so. Hayes had just passed the girl off to another man when he spotted me.

"Freddie?" Hayes' thick dark brows rose in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"Lord Griffith," I mockingly inclined my head.

"Doesn't answer my question." Always so friendly.

"We're at the races, there's only so many reasons I could possibly be here." I replied with a saccharine smile. "The little girl you were just with, is she yours?"

"Lottie? No." A soft smile played on his lips, which was a very strange but welcome sight, "She's my goddaughter."

"She threatened me earlier, along with who I'm assuming was her brother."

"Oh," Hayes chuckled, "Sorry about that, I'll have them apologise if you'd like." He deftly loosened his burnt orange tie as if he was struggling to breathe.

"No it's fine," I waved my hand dismissively, "They seemed to be looking out for you, in their own way."

Hayes nodded thoughtfully as he popped open a button on his suit jacket, "They like to think that they're taking care of me." He retrieved a carton of cigarettes from an inner pocket as I stared at the dark waistcoat. "How have you been?"

Is he being friendly? "Good." I answered honestly, "I was laying a little low before we kick off the American leg of the tour."

"Freddie Mercury laying low?" He murmured and placed a cigarette between his lips, "Doesn't sound right."

He offered me a cigarette which I declined, "I am a very low key individual Hayes."

"And I'm the Queen mother."

"You probably are."

Hayes' eyes crinkled ever so slightly, indicating he was close to laughter. "Probably."

I stared at him silently, no doubt making matters extremely awkward. "Are you uh- are you here alone?"

"I'm with my niece and nephew, but their parents came along and ruined the party." Hayes explained, "And now you're here, so I'm not alone per say."

"So you didn't bring your wife?" I tried to ask as casually as possible, "Or girlfriend? Or significant other-"

I watched as Hayes went rigid, "No, nothing like that?" He answered as if it was another question. "How about you?"

"Not unless you count Roger."

Hayes nodded and took a gulp of nicotine filled breath as if it was a strong drink, "Very good."

I don't know the man very well, but it was clear something was very off, "Are you sure you're alright Hayes-"

"Baby can you save me from your father, he keeps talking about the Falklands victory." The awful woman from earlier appeared, tucking herself under Hayes' arm.

Hayes looked as though he was holding in his breath, and he somehow coiled up even further, "Angie, uh-"

"Who's this?" She offered me an award winning smile, as if she wasn't horribly rude to Roger and I earlier.

"Freddie Mercury." I introduced myself in a clipped tone, deciding not to offer my hand in greeting.

"This is Angela Reynolds," Hayes said with a shake in his voice, "My ah- my friend- who's-"

"Fiancé," Angelia chuckled and extended her hand to me, "I'm Angie, Hayes' fiancée." My eyes were drawn like magnets to the diamond that glittered on her hand.

Either Phoebe's sources are very, very off, or Hayes has trapped himself in a bottomless pit of denial.

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Hope you somehow managed to enjoy that haha. Also, thank you so much for 1K reads! I really appreciate it! 🖤