Needless to say, with Roger's and John's sonic volcano thrust into the song, Brian came a long way toward giving "Melancholy Blues" a chance. But there was a catch; there had to be a guitar solo or to the B-side dungeon with it.

And Freddie turned to me and with a big satisfied grin asked, "I dunno, Evie, what do you think?"

Brian muttered something under his breath. But Freddie didn't miss much; he turned and said, "Sorry, Brian, didn't catch that."

"Nothing."

"Oh, do tell. We're all mad to know what you said."

Brian shook his head. "I just said, 'Oh my God, it's Yoko.'"

I widened my eyes, putting a hand against my neck as if clutching at a string of pearls. "I just know you weren't referring to me."

"Darling, really, what a thing to say!" Freddie put in. "Evie's the exact opposite of Yoko, I practically had to drag her over here- and you know, I think she'd die before publicly disguising herself as a bag."

"You don't know," I protested.

Freddie just shot me a sidelong You've-got-to-be-kidding-me look.

"She's Okoy," Roger joked. "That's what she is!"

"I'll take that," I said, then added in what was supposed to be a whispery Yoko Ono impression, "But I really believe, you know, that this song needs a guitar part as well, for, you know, John," I laid my hand against Freddie's cheek, "sometimes we must dance together, you know, before we can hear the sweet music that plays within us and without us."

Freddie blinked. "So, yes?"

"Of course, my dear walrus, now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back in bed to protest the war."

Even Brian laughed at that. I consider that yet another feather in my cap; not only did Brian say I gave something character, he also laughed at something I said.

Of course, the Queen fellows didn't solely work on "My Melancholy Blues" that day. Since "Blues" was such a simple song (when compared with about ninety-five percent of the band's repertoire, that is), they basically completed the rough cut before lunchtime.

I don't remember what the place where we ate was called, but all seven of us (Queen, Paul, John Reid who arrived a bit later than the rest of us, and myself) went in our respective cars. Freddie sat in the back seat with Paul again, and when we arrived and sat at our table, Paul carefully positioned himself between the two of us. The old Pudding Face clearly couldn't afford to let me corrupt his eventual disciple, not when his promising hedonist lifestyle was just about to bloom.

John Reid took the chair at Freddie's right; there was no way I was getting close to him now. And as soon as I considered moving over next to Deacy, Brian sat next to him. And I knew that even after this morning, I rubbed Brian the wrong way. Luckily, Roger plopped down on my other side, so I was flanked by both a wolf and a vicious snake. It was only a matter of time to see who would strike first.

I think lunch is only worth the mention because, again, I was starving (you'd think I would learn to eat something before any adventures by now), and therefore my judgment was weak. I know that seemed like a constant state for me, but I couldn't help my raging metabolism. If anything, my ability to look like a complete idiot reached new heights that day.

The waiter came by and started taking our drink orders. Quickly I looked over the options. Coffee. They had coffee. Oh, and orange juice. Mm. Coffee could wait. I needed a long tall glass of OJ right away. A couple of people ordered cocktails, a glass of wine. They could have them. I wanted OJ.

"And for you, ma'am?" the waiter said to me.

Freddie spoke up before me. "Dear, she's on my tab, just to let you know."

John Reid protested, "Freddie, I have this-"

"Well, I've got her, and no questions asked," he announced, and pointed at Paul. "So is this fellow."

"Thank you," I called across Paul.

"Your order, love?"

I still had Freddie's voice ringing in my ears while I said, as I licked my lips, "I need some serious BJ."

All the air sucked out of the room. Too late my mistake (I decided it was a mistake; but any proper psychiatrist would have called it a major Freudian slip) dawned on me. There wasn't one man at that table who hadn't heard what I said. Everyone turned a little pink. Their faces were all pinched with the laughs they were stifling. Roger covered his mouth.

The blood rushed up into my cheeks as quietly I corrected, "I mean, OJ."

Our waiter's face looked like a ripe tomato, but he kept his cool as he finished taking our orders.

Only after the waiter ran away from us did Freddie at last sigh and say loudly, "Good Plan B, darling. I don't think the other comes by the glass."

Everyone lost it. I covered my face, wishing I could liquefy and trickle down into a storm drain. Even Brian and Paul, the stoics of the troop, shared a chortle. Still I laughed, though mortified.

It didn't end there either, as I innocently ordered a dish of bangers and mash, a traditional British treat. Under any other circumstances, nobody at the table would have batted an eye. But I'd set the precedent, and again the men laughed and poked fun, as they decided I wasn't the stuck-up nun they'd taken me for. I didn't want to look like some sex-obsessed vixen in sheep's clothing, but I must say everyone's attitude toward me (aside of Freddie, he knew me already) drastically relaxed. I was speaking their language. Unintentionally, but I was doing it nonetheless.

Handsome Roger as well quit trying so hard to be shocking, started behaving a little more normally. I'd even go so far as to say he was friendly. And so, in my naive way, I let my guard down a bit.

"So tell me, Okoy," Roger said after a while, using my new nickname, "how did you get in that closet?"

I laughed. "Would you believe me if I told you, 'I don't know'?"

"I would not," he smiled. "Will you at least say where you're from?"

I didn't live with Roger, so I could make myself into whatever I wanted. "I'm from Seattle," I lied.

"How did you wind up here? But then, I guess you're not going to tell me that either."

I swooped my arms in the air (there was no doubt of Freddie's influence on me now), announcing, "I was a thief in the night, and I came like the Day of the Lord."

"Actually, she's magic," John Deacon said quietly.

Roger's eyes widened. "You're a witch?"

"No!" I said.

"I mean, she's psychic," John corrected himself. He gave me a knowing half-smile.

Roger chuckled. "Same thing. So do you read palms?"

"For a price," I sang.

"I'll pay you back tonight," Roger said ambiguously so I could only speculate on his intent, and pushed his upturned hand at me.

"I like my money up front," I replied dryly. "If you're paying tonight, then you get the palm reading tonight."

Roger didn't look too discouraged. "When can I see you tonight, then?"

"She'll be out with me this evening, Rog," Freddie interrupted.

I craned my neck to look at Freddie. "I will?"

Paul turned to Freddie, disgusted. "What?"

Roger's eyes lit up. "Where?"

Brian savagely stabbed at his salad, clearly uninterested in the conversation.

Deacy stirred his tea and listened.

John Reid kept eating.

Freddie looked back at me and said, "Won't you, darling?"

I stammered, "Uh, I mean, if it's no problem for your friends-"

"Of course not!" Paul ground his teeth, but Freddie ignored him, continuing, "And anyone else who wants to join us, you are welcome to. We'll be at the Heatwave tonight."

Roger smiled. "I'll be there."

It was John Reid, though, who forced the boys back on track again, and they set aside talk of play for the more pressing matters of work.

When we returned to the studio, we were six instead of seven. Paul had taken a cab back to his home, assuring Freddie he wouldn't forget about the club.

"Are we finished with Melancholy Blues for today?" I asked Freddie as we walked back in.

"As far as I know," he answered, "we've got other things to-"

"Good!" I cried, then ran to the piano to get the lyrics off the stand.

Freddie glided in behind me. "Hey, hey, what are you doing?"

"We, uh, don't need this anymore, so I'm putting it back," I explained, sticking the ripped words into my journal.

"Dear God," he said aloud. "First, how you so much as got here, then the Magic Mirror, now the words for our song. So secretive, dear. Whatever for?"

"I never said I wouldn't show you what the Magic Mirror can do, I just said you weren't ready for it yet."

"Mm-hm. I know what 'yet' means. It means 'never.' You are too much." Freddie turned from me, brows knit in would-be concentration.

The rest of the afternoon, I spent curled up on the studio sofa, out of everyone's way, while I filled up my phone with priceless photographs of the studio and the men hard at work. I took more shots of Freddie, snapping him whenever his chiseled face turned in profile, than anyone else there. When no one was looking, I jotted down the occasional note. Does nobody think I'm a reporter? I asked myself. Or am I too bumbling?

Mostly, I was treated to lengthy jam sessions on Brian's and Freddie's ends, plus quite a few petty rows between the three prima donnas. I did hear, though, a very early demo take of Brian's "It's Late," and it was all I could do not to break out singing it when he played that first little blues riff. As well, during a moment of lull, Freddie started playing that beautiful instrumental piece, the one that reminded me of "Jealousy." Why doesn't he put the thing to words? It's gorgeous.

Whatever my initial desire to talk Freddie out of the second verse entirely vanished by the end of the session. Sticking my nose into the works by helping persuade Brian ensured that I too had skin in the game, and "My Melancholy Blues" officially became my personal pride and joy. Granted, I had only contributed a verse and my voice, but I had geeked out like crazy over merely being one of fifteen pairs of feet on those drum risers. This called for at least three more Macarena (or shall we say, Mercurena) moments.

But it seemed that these emotion explosions had already been booked without my knowledge. The Heatwave, eh? I wasn't a clubber. Oh, well, it was out of my hands anyway. No no's. I was without choice. And disco clubs would likely be a lot more fun than EDM raves from my world.

Rudy carted the two of us home in a hurry. For it was indeed fairly late by the time the boys called it a day, and Freddie wanted to freshen up before yet another night on the town. Since he had to fill the car up with petrol, he left us on our own and said he'd be right back to pick us up.

"Where we're going, you'll get to wear your jumpsuit," Freddie announced, opening the front door. "And after all your silly talk about not needing it!"

"I'm not wearing that thing," I informed him as I walked in, "And you can't make me."

He let me stroll up the stairs a way before shouting, "Oh, CAN'T I?"

Freddie charged the stairway. With a scream I scrambled for my room but he was too fast for me. He seized me round my waist and locked his arms. I couldn't worm out of his grasp.

"Need I remind you, darling, of what you promised me today?" he purred.

"Uncle," I rasped.

"That's better," Freddie said, and let go.

I rolled my eyes. "What excuse will you have tomorrow, when you have to think up another favor? Because it has to be different from today."

"That's too far into the future," he dismissed, "I live in the now. And now, I want you to put on the jumpsuit." He punctuated the sentence with a hard slap across my bottom.

"Cheeky," I muttered. But I did as he asked. I went into my room and changed clothes, slipping into the ivory one-piece with the wide pant legs. I was just about to strap on my very fashionable platform heels when the phone rang.

I padded down the stairs to the phone and picked it up. At the very same instant, there was a hollow click and Freddie also lifted his bedroom receiver. He and the other person began talking immediately; they clearly had no idea I was also on the line. It was rude to so blatantly eavesdrop, so I lowered the phone to hang up only to hear Freddie say "Mary."

Mary? Ooo. This I had to hear. I picked the phone back up.

"...Glad you called," Freddie was saying, although his voice didn't necessarily sound too thrilled in itself. "Doing all right?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "Very. How are you and your... friend?"

"We're- I'm fine, and I think she's okay," he replied. "Hey, listen, I'll be out tonight with my mates, if you'd like to come along, I'd love to see you."

"I'd like that. When are you going?"

"I'm thinking of heading out in about half an hour or so, and uh, it would be splendid if you came too, it'll be a great time."

"Wait." Mary's voice cooled again. "Is your... little helper going to be there too?"

I felt my insides writhe. Mary, I'm not after your Freddie! I may be physically attracted to him, but I'm not here to take your place!

Freddie replied, now uncomfortable, "Well, I mean, um..."

"That means yes," Mary said with a sigh.

"Darling, I told you there's nothing between me and that girl, she just lives here."

"Then why can't you leave her at the flat?"

POW! That came right out of nowhere, socking me in the teeth.

"Mary, she doesn't want anything from me, and I'll see to it she doesn't get in the way. Are you still coming?"

Long pause. "Well, I don't know... there's a lot of things I have to do tonight..."

"Do them later!"

"I have to go. Perhaps another time, Freddie."

I closed my eyes, for a brief moment asking God what was He thinking, letting me loose on these poor people who obviously loathed me.

Freddie said quietly, "Oh. Oh, okay. But you're still on for the dinner party?"

"Of course," she said. "I'll definitely see you then- and maybe some time later in between."

"I hope so."

"So do I."

"Have a good night, darling."

"You too, Freddie."

Click.

I stood there with the phone still clenched in my hand. My bottom lip began to tremble. I was ruining everything. I hadn't meant to do it. I hadn't meant to come here at all. It was clear to me what was going on. Mary hated me and I was unraveling Freddie's relationship with her and I wasn't even trying. And she was so important to him. How dare I.

Freddie came down the stairs, his head bowed a bit. When he saw me, he said with a glued-on smile, "That was just some telephone salesman, I told him to take his wares and such and stick them up h-"

His eyes fell upon the phone still in my hand, now droning one single tone. The mask fell away again.

Very quietly he said, "I, um,... I guess you heard all that."

"I don't have to go, Freddie," I croaked. Even as dead as I sounded, my voice quivered.

"I want you to."

"No, you don't. You want to be nice. You don't have to be nice. I'll stay here. I'm so sorry."

He took a step closer, put his hands out toward me.

I walked into the kitchen, my nose beginning to cramp. I wanted to cry. "Go with your friends, I'm nothing but a pain in the ass, just go. Please."

"Evie-"

"I don't want to screw up your life!" I exploded. "I don't want to be your Yoko! Go get Mary already! I'm no fun, you said so yourself. I'm not your speed-"

All of a sudden he gripped me by the arms and shook me as he talked. "Eve, shut the f--- up and listen to me," Freddie hissed. "First, stop throwing those words in my face. I didn't mean them, and I thought we'd discussed that whole thing yesterday. Second, you are anything but a problem for me."

"Liar," I whispered.

"You're only anything close to a problem when you say things like that," he said.

"Not true. Your friends don't like me and that's a problem. Paul looks at me like he wants to put a bullet through my head."

"My friends are crazy," he said. "F--- 'em."

I covered my half-smile. "What about Mary?"

"Mary, Mary," Freddie sighed. "Don't worry about Mary, she's just- darling, don't cry," he cooed.

"I'm not crying."

"You're this close. Your balloon's about to pop. Here." Freddie put his arms around me and held me close. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?"

With a gentle hand, he brushed away a single tear sliding down my face. "You were wonderful today. Couldn't have done it without you."

I shook my head. "Okay, now you're really pouring on the baloney-"

"I am not! Brian wasn't budging, and then you slipped in and changed his mind. Do you have any idea how tough a nut he is?"

"You could have cracked him just as well without me. Perhaps better."

Freddie looked into my eyes. "Do you believe anything I say to you?"

"I believe that there's nothing between us," I said. "That, I believe."

"Well, that actually wasn't true, you know."

"Good frickin' grief. I rest my case."

"What I mean is, we are friends after all- aren't we? At least give me that."

I shrugged. In the back of my mind I resurrected Rudy's question, and I said, "A friend is all I want to be for you. I don't want to cause trouble."

"Oh, but you're more than just my quirky friend." Oh, really! I'M quirky! "You're my... my little stray kitten."

I grinned. "I'm a feral beast. Cool."

"It's just the way you came to me, dear. It's so surreal. Like you just appeared in my closet one fine day, and you're sweet and frustrating and unbelievably fun - and don't you dare say those words about my speed ever again."

"I'm a stray kitten," I repeated quietly. "That makes you the spoiled house cat."

He smiled, bent towards my face. "Does the stray kitten like this pampered pussycat?"

"Most of the time," I whispered huskily.

"I'll take that," he said, closing his eyes.

BRRIIIIIIIING!

Freddie looked up. "F---," he muttered.

I laughed. "I should go put my shoes on- you're in high demand today." Pulling away I started for the stairs.

But Freddie grabbed my hand and drew me back. "Oh, no, not this time," he said.

Very gently, then, he kissed me. It was a single kiss, nothing too involved, but it was indeed the first official kiss I shared with Freddie. And I just stood there taking it. I didn't even close my eyes. But my heart went into overdrive, and the room seemed to lean to one side; that, I couldn't control.

When Freddie pulled away and saw no visible reaction, I could swear I saw his jaw clench. In a shivering, but not exactly angry, voice he said, "You are too, too much."

"How do you mean?" I said spryly.

"Good God. Go put your shoes on, Yoko. We're leaving fairly soon." And, rather stiffly I thought, he marched over to the phone to answer it.