Rudy arrived to pick us up at nine-thirty sharp. When I opened the door, he greeted me with a quick nod of the head and walked right in.

Rushing up to Freddie's room, Rudy knocked and asked if he was ready. As might be expected, Freddie wasn't quite prepared, seeing as he couldn't make up his mind what to wear that day. At least I wasn't the cause for delay; I had my backpack with me, holding a little money, my Android, and my notebook. If anything, I was overprepared. So I poured the driver a cup of tea, and we sat in silence and stared awkwardly at each other while we waited. Oscar hopped into my lap as I sat down. For once I was grateful; now I had something to do with my hands.

To my complete surprise, it was Rudy who spoke first. "May I ask a personal question?"

I shrugged, stroking Oscar's bright back. "Shoot."

"What are you to Freddie?"

"That's something you'd have to ask him."

"I mean, are you his friend, his relative- what?"

"I'm his long-lost fifth cousin, three times removed."

Rudy nodded, humoring me. "Really?"

"Why not?" I held up my smart phone. "Smile for me, Rudy."

He frowned, confused.

"Close enough." Click. And a stoic, frowning Rudy was saved to my gallery. This morning's escapade turned me into something of a shutterbug from then on. But I was very careful not to film anything. Dr. K had made such a big deal of shooting no videos in the log, I decided to just be safe and follow protocol. Why that mattered so much was beyond my tiny mind, but rules are rules.

Rudy looked at his watch. "I hope he hurries. Or else we'll be late picking up that other bloke."

"What other bloke?"

Before he could answer, Freddie skipped lightly down the stairs, tugging on a vinyl jacket over his t-shirt. "Ah, Rudy, so good of you to wait up. I think we're set to go. Now, Eve, really! You don't even have your shoes on."

"That's easy to fix," I replied, and slid my feet into the waiting pair of sandals.

Rudy's eyebrows almost rose. "Your cousin coming along?"

"Yes, she and I are- wait. Cousin?" he said, smiling. "Did she say we're cousins?"

"Rudy, I was kidding," I laughed. Rising from the comfy chair, I flip-flopped toward Freddie. "We don't look the least bit alike."

"No, but you could be related, the way you two carry on," Rudy said. "You're quite similar in many ways."

"Us?" we said in unison.

"Well, sort of. In good ways, of course."

Freddie cuffed my chin gently. "Hear that, darling? We've got lots in common."

I snorted. "Name one thing."

His eyes darted toward the kitchen, then came back. "We like tea."

"True, but I prefer coffee."

"Why don't you tell me these things?"

"You never ask."

Rudy folded his arms. We were apparently proving his point.

Freddie shook his head. "Rudy, let me put it this way." He sidled up close to me. "If we were cousins, no matter how far removed, I wouldn't have any legal desire to, say, put my arms about her waist," -suddenly two large hands reached around from behind and clasped against my stomach- "press my cheek to hers," -Freddie leaned forward and nuzzled his nose against the side of my face- "and whisper into her ear-"

He paused, tilted his head so that his lips gently grazed my ear when he talked, and finished in that soft, arousing growl from yesterday, "And whisper into her ear how wildly I want to take off all her clothes and ravish her where she stands."

My eyes widened, my body wooden with shock. I looked back at him, forced myself not to react in any shape or form. It required much more effort than I thought it would, but I still managed to freeze. My knees felt like jelly. It was bound to happen sometime. Right? This kind of talk? He doesn't mean it. Right?

And just like that, he let go of me. To Rudy he said in his normal voice, "See, if we were in any way related, that would have been peculiar on a level even I couldn't overlook." He winked.

I raised my hand, struggling to keep my eyes from spinning. "Um, actually, I found that pretty darn strange-"

"Sh," Freddie hushed me. "Come along, the poor dear's been waiting long enough."

I took a moment to start thinking clearly again. Getting into the Rolls, I gradually drifted out of my haze and wondered who of Freddie's friends we would be collecting. Probably either Minsy or Pudding Face. I'll ask him which.

So as we started rolling down the road, I said, "Who are we picking up, Freddie?"

"Friend of mine," he said. "His name's Paul."

Rats! Prenter strikes again! "So no Minsy today? David's not coming?" I asked.

"His name is Minns."

"I know, but that's my nickname for him. It's just how I keep the names straight. It's better than Mr. Clogs, right?"

Freddie rolled his eyes, smiling. "David's gone on a long holiday with his mates. He'll be back in about a week or so."

"You miss him?"

"I suppose," Freddie said indifferently. Then, suddenly suspicious, he added, "What's David got to do with anything?"

"Just wondered," I said. "Naturally curious, I guess."

"Why about him?" I couldn't help but notice a note of defensiveness. What for? What was his problem?

So I gave him a stupid, fluffy answer and hoped he would swallow it. "I love his name. It's so cute."

I glanced out the window and mouthed my real reason: And according to numerous sources, he was also your lover right around now, and I wondered if you guys were still quasi together at the moment. That's all.

It seemed Freddie wasn't in the mood for awkward silences today; quite suddenly he started doing vocal exercises. His tongue fired off a rapid succession of "da-das" against the swerving, looping roller coaster that was his voice. After a little while he did a couple slide whistle impressions, and then looked at me as if I ought to follow suit.

"Come on, Evie! We're in this together," he cajoled.

I sighed, and tried to copy him. But this morning I just didn't have the chops. My cold stole the top octave and a half from my range, and all I could do was make some kind of hissing sound in my throat whenever I attempted going past an A4. Even in the lower register, my voice gave out and I at one point accidentally honked like a Canadian goose.

Freddie exclaimed, "Where'd that come from?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you! My voice is kaput. I'm getting over a cold."

"Are you sure you didn't catch it on purpose?"

I coughed. "You're so sweet."

But he still wasn't convinced. "Sing a few lines."

I obeyed, and instead of my regular, clear alto, I heard Carol Channing. Well, wasn't this just too dandy. I had Brenda's speaking voice, and Carol's voice for- whatever that was she did, because I'm not sure it passed for singing.

"Hm," Freddie said. His brows knit together.

"Guess I'm just going to have to be a spectator," I replied. "I won't take up much room. Fact, once we get there, I could call a cab-"

"No, darling, you're stuck with me today. Otherwise you'll just hang around the flat. Am I right?"

He was right. Yesterday was evidence. I drew a heavy sigh.

"And this new sound of yours will work better than you think," Freddie went on, and might have said more but we were slowing to a stop. I looked out the window to see Paul Prenter locking the front door of his residence (I couldn't tell if it was a townhouse or just a garden variety apartment).

Freddie tapped my shoulder. "Do me a favor, dear, and slide up to the front with Rudy, would you?"

He wasn't kidding around. I got out of the car. Prenter was approaching as I walked around to the front seat. When our eyes met, he immediately stopped in his tracks and scowled with recognition. I waved.

Freddie hopped out when Paul planted himself there on the cobblestones. "Freddie, do you know who this is?" Paul said coldly.

"Of course I do," Freddie answered. "This is Eve."

"She's the one what snuck into your flat, Fred!" he snarled, as though I had suddenly turned into marble and lost all sentience.

Freddie ignored the sentence. "She's coming with us to Wessex."

"Why?"

"Because I want her to. My God, Paul, loosen up."

"So you are Paul," I smiled, drawing my lips back in a dazzling "Hello, I hate you" smile. "Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prenter."

Prenter recalled his manners. "Charmed, I'm sure," he mumbled, and put out his hand for a nauseatingly limp-wristed handshake.

Freddie frowned. "How'd you know his last name?"

I smiled. "I pay attention," I said evasively, hoping Freddie wouldn't remember having never said Paul's last name around me. "I'll leave you boys to it." With that I parked myself in the passenger seat and shut the door. They got back into the Rolls and talked in low, insistent voices together all the way to the studio.

This temporary lull gave me a chance to update the log, since Rudy even now was not, nor would really ever be, a good chat partner. I had a whole morning still to account for anyhow. I whipped out my journal and wrote with total abandon:

Day 7 (A whole week! Sweet Lord, how much longer will you hold out on me? Where's that stupid Relic?): Started the day off with a bang. A bang like the sound, like a gun going off, not the other- oh, well, never mind. Freddie and I aren't there yet. And we won't be, we won't be, no way, God forbid. NEVER! What would Minsy think anyway, his boyfriend running around with the likes of me? Anyway, Freddie's found the smart phone and he knows how to turn it on, so I need to make sure he doesn't find out the password. And just before we left he put his arms around me and whispered some very naughty words and oh, it was so hot-

Frantically I raised my pen to scratch out the last line. In my hesitation, I had the chance to read the rest of what I'd written and I went white as eggshells. Had Rudy stored a scourging whip in the floorboards, I would have at once started using it on myself.

"Holy Moses!" I exclaimed aloud.

The car hushed. Freddie asked, "What now?"

I stammered, "Um, nothing, just, uh, lost my mind for a moment."

Paul muttered something under his breath. Instinctively I glanced behind at them. I couldn't hear what he said myself, but it sent Freddie into hysterical laughter as he covered his mouth to hide his ever-visible teeth. I still don't know if they were laughing about me. I hope not.

I looked the passage over again, and decided it would only damage the paper to make a bunch of chicken scratch marks over my neat though archaic cursive, so I left it, instead opting for more control going forward:

-And now I'm sitting in Freddie's car, with he and Paul Prenter, a.k.a. the pudding-faced Antichrist, right behind me. I'm going to apparently assist in recording "Melancholy Blues" with Freddie. Not sure how that will go since I've lost any voice I had. Paul hates me, it's obvious. I don't think too highly of him myself. I feel like I need to watch my back- mind my p's and q's, so to speak. He's dangerous. How do I tell Freddie? That's not something you just walk up and say to someone. "Hey, Freddie, I know I'm still busy playing dumb and I shouldn't know anything about Paul, but can you ditch this guy for me, I think he'll be your doom and stuff. Thanks." Yeah, that won't work.

NFOs: He gets very defensive where Minns is concerned. I cannot ask too many of the wrong questions, or else he clams up. Freddie was laughing at Prenter's joke and he covered his mouth. He's self-conscious about the teeth. Why doesn't he cover his mouth when he's laughing with me? I don't think I've seen him do it once when it's just the two of us. Funny. Maybe I don't make him self-conscious. I don't see why he ought to be anyway. He's such a beautiful man. Those eyes! It's all I can do not to just fall right into them. Last night I really wish he'd tried to ki-

Violently I slammed the journal shut. That was more than enough.

Fortunately, I wasn't really bothering anyone by making so much noise. We had arrived at the studio.

"...And when we hit the club tonight, I'll introduce you to him," Paul was informing Freddie. I watched my friend nod submissively as they hopped out of the car and walked toward Wessex.

I heard Rudy take a deep breath. I turned and caught the last second of Rudy shaking his head.

"You okay, Rudy?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm quite well," he said, straightening up. "Go on with them."

So I grabbed my backpack and started behind the two men, wondering how it was that the spawn of Satan himself and a sinfully handsome, Dracula lookalike could both stroll so easily into a church-turned-studio.

Freddie is a very lucky man, I found myself musing. Such a nice body.

This time, I didn't even bother repressing the thoughts. It wouldn't have been any use. Great. I'd officially crossed the line of admiration and found myself in new territory: physical attraction.

No, that was an understatement. I had always been physically attracted to him to some degree, thanks to his pretty eyes and the voice. Whatever Freddie's true affection (or lack thereof) for me happened to be, now my friendly feelings for him were peppered with something that had much more of a kick: lust. It had come so far, I had to acknowledge the feeling. I didn't want it, and I had every inclination to fight it, but for now, it existed and it was real.

And from the looks of my journal, it was only getting worse.

Sal here. The studio chapter is the next one, I don't know why Day 7 is dragging out so long! There's just so much happening on this day, and after Day 7 things are really going to-- well, I don't want to get too far into it. Just hang in there! Thanks for sticking with me, and for all the votes and comments, by the way! You guys are the best! :)