Freddie

The girl was young. How young, exactly, was anybody's guess at present; in my mind I could put her anywhere from eighteen to twenty-five years old. She was decently built, from what I could see, anyway. The polo neck made it near impossible to determine her shape for certain.

As John had described, her brown hair was long, falling past her shoulders and down her back- and a bit tousled, I would assume perhaps thanks to being under the bed for however long she had kept herself stuffed in there. Her lips were pursed, her eyes rather red and watery as though she were getting over some terrible cold, and there were dark smudges of mascara under her eyes where she had obviously been rubbing them, making her look exhausted. And round her neck she wore a peculiar necklace, with a small white pendant which put off a steady red glow.

At this stage, I couldn't really say whether she was handsome or homely, nor did I particularly care. All I could tell for certain was that she was not feeling well. Nonetheless, she had come into my flat without invitation; and thus far, I was much more than willing to help dish out the consequences.

"So John wasn't hallucinating after all." I folded my arms. "Well! I've heard of fans going to extremes, but this is ridiculous."

She pinched the corners of her eyes and squinted at me as though she didn't have the first clue what I was on about. "What?"

"Fans like you, going overboard," I explained.

"...Fans?"

"Look, I know you love us, really, darling, but don't you think that breaking into my flat's a little much?"

"Love you?" She sort of scoffed- which stunned me. The cheek of this girl! I said to myself. In a situation like this and she's got the sheer nerve to fucking scoff! At ME!

That surprise, however, paled entirely before the next thing she said: "I don't even know you."

For the moment I was too taken aback to be angry. "Don't know me?"

She sniffed, having just sneezed again. "Uh-uh."

"But- but you don't really expect me to believe that, do you?"

All the girl did was nod earnestly. "Yeah, I do. I don't know you from Adam. Nothing personal, I just... I don't know who you are. Sorry."

I could scarcely believe my ears. I think my jaw even dropped. What do you mean, you don't know who I am? I'm Freddie Mercury! Of the band Queen!

And then she said, "I have an idea what you might be, though. Are you an artist?"

"Sort of," I replied. "I used to do a bit of painting, drawings, things like that in colle-"

I cut myself off. Why was I fucking telling her this?

I straightened up then, shook my finger in her face, made myself sound as wrathful as I could manage- and I could manage a lot of wrath- but somehow, now, it wasn't happening. "No, stop, you're stalling and I know it. Aren't you?"

"Possibly," she whispered, this time with an odd little smirk. It didn't last, though; right after, her face screwed up horribly for another great big sneeze- one that sounded almost painful.

In spite of myself, I frowned. "Are you all right?"

"Ugh... I'm fine. It's just... dust..."

"Of course I believe you," I said dryly- for the way she started ferociously rubbing her eyes said there was a bit more to it than "just dust."

She didn't answer, instead just stood there and kept sniffling. The girl looked utterly miserable- and it was really starting to bother me, to the point where just looking at her put a pronounced tickle in my own nose. I can't get answers out of her like this.

So, even though Joe was still waiting for me, I took her hand and dragged her toward the bathroom. "Here. Take yourself in there, throw some cold water on your face. Your mascara's starting to run, you'll look like a raccoon if you keep it up. When you've gotten yourself under control, come downstairs, and we'll talk."

When she didn't immediately leap into the bathroom, instead just stared at me with her poor swollen eyes, I only became more impatient.

"Well, don't just stand there!" I ordered. "Go on, I'm not waiting round on you all night! Chop-chop!" I clapped my hands once for every "chop."

"Y-yes, sir," the girl stammered, then darted inside, closing the door. There was the sound of running water as she turned on the tap, with a few good sniffs thrown in here and there.

When I was satisfied she was doing as she was told, I took a step toward my bedroom, where I kept one of the two phones. By all rights, I should have immediately picked it up and dialed the authorities. However, at the moment all I could do was try and wrap my head around what she had just said.

How could she not know who I am? I asked myself again. How could she be so clever as to sneak into a flat unnoticed, and yet so dense as to not know who lives in it?

It was then I had to remind myself that she was indeed a Yank. Obviously our records had made waves across the Atlantic as well as in Europe and the UK- but we didn't have nearly the same kind of following over there. With any luck, this next album of ours would soon fix that.

All the same, it didn't make sense, what was happening now. This girl claimed not to know me, and therefore (as I chose to interpret her words), that she didn't recognize me- so what was she doing here? Why had she broken into my flat?

Had she even broken in at all?

I checked around, inspected all the windows, tested all the locks. Everything was snug, with nothing broken, busted, or loose. How had she managed to slip in? Maybe Ms. Cottage, in a moment of carelessness, had left the front door unlocked yesterday when she came in to tidy up the place. But then, how would this girl have managed to hide from me for more than twenty-four hours in my own home? Not that I spent a lot of time just hanging around Stafford Terrace, but I surely would have figured out eventually that I wasn't alone.

Again, none of it made any sense.

I went downstairs and poured myself a drink to settle me; I was still a bit rattled after all. It wasn't every day a complete stranger crawled out from under my bed and told me they didn't know me from Adam. Of course, I hadn't yet decided whether she was even telling the truth on that in the first place. I planned to find out.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I had every intention of having her arrested, that hadn't changed. But now, I also had questions, things I wanted her to shed some light on before I did that.

I picked up the phone- but not to call the police. I dialed the number of my driver.

One, two rings- and then a deep, businesslike voice greeted me, "Good evening."

"Good evening, Rudy. Listen, I need you here in about ten minutes to pick me up and take me over to Joe Fanelli's flat."

"Yes, sir."

I rolled my eyes. "Rudy, we've been over this many times-"

"I mean- Yes, Freddie."

"Thank you," I said. "In fact, make it twenty minutes, there's something I've got to dispose of first."

"As you wish."

"Thanks, darling. See you in a moment." I hung up.

The girl was taking longer than I had expected. Feeling a bit peckish, I went into the kitchen and picked at some of the cold meat I had left uneaten earlier at dinner. I noshed in silence, thinking to myself how silent the house seemed at present- when suddenly the bathroom door opened again.

Funny, but I was almost glad at the sound. True, by now I should have been well on my way to "Liza's", but it was at least a little comforting to know I wasn't all alone in the flat. I've never enjoyed being alone. I mean, I won't freak out if I am, I don't have a sort of major phobia or anything- but I certainly prefer having people around me, even those I'm about to report.

I walked out of the kitchen to find her drifting down the stairs. "Ah! There you are," I exclaimed.

The girl waved. As she drew closer, I could see she had washed her face, smoothed her clothes and hair, and stopped sniffing like a cocaine addict. She almost tripped upon reaching the bottom step; either her balance had worsened, or her vision. All in all, however, those last ten minutes she spent in the bathroom had made a marked improvement.

"You look better; I truly thought you were about to explode earlier, you poor thing," I said. "Do you have your story straight?"

Her answer was honest and immediate. "No."

I nodded. "Good. That will make this even more entertaining." I looked down, realizing I had brought my leftovers with me. On impulse I asked her, "By the way, have you eaten?"

Inwardly, I balked. What was I thinking? The girl was a trespasser, she broke into my home- and here I was, standing here, offering her food?

Why not? I told myself flippantly. There's nothing wrong with a simple question like that. She might be hungry; she certainly looks it.

And she did. I watched her eyes dart from my face, to the plate, then back up at me again. The girl licked her lips and swallowed.

But to my surprise, she nodded, saying in a low, gentle voice, "Yes, I have, thank you."

"Oh." I shrugged. I knew she was lying, of course- the poor thing was obviously famished- but I wasn't going to force her to eat."Well, I'm a bit peckish myself, so I hope you don't mind me eating in front of you."

"No, no, not at all," she said. "Go right ahead."

"Mm." I took a sip from my drink, then led her toward the dining room. "All right, you, sit down."

So the girl took a seat at the far end of the dining room table. I set my plate down directly across from her, only to find those tall candlesticks in the center were in the way of a clear view of the culprit. So I moved to take a place at her left.

Through all of this the girl didn't say a word. She scarcely even moved, instead just sat with her little hands folded in the table, staring at me with big, anxious hazel eyes. Funny, but she was indeed much better-looking now that her allergies (or whatever) had settled down. I was no happier for the situation than before, but at least this girl was now visually tolerable.

"Okay, Eve," I began. "I'm all ears."

"Who's Eve?" she asked, frowning.

"You are, of course."

The girl just blinked at me, still not understanding what was going on.

I was a bit confused at myself as well, but I would die before I let her know that, so I crooned, "Isn't that your name? Evelyn Dubroc, Eve for short? A very elegant name indeed."

"But that's not my name."

"It is, now. The way I see it, if you don't know me from Adam, then I certainly don't know you from Eve." I almost smiled at my cleverness- when too late, I realized, Shit, I've just named her. It isn't just a nickname either; I gave her a first and last name. I'm about to report this girl, what the fuck am I doing, naming her?

"Where'd Dubroc come from?" she asked.

I sighed. "Does it really matter, dear?"

She only shook her head and looked down, a tiny smile playing around the corners of her lips. "So," the newly-dubbed Eve said, "am I supposed to call you Adam?"

"No, you are supposed to call me Fred," I replied, adding quickly, "Or Freddie, whichever one."

"How do you do, Freddie." She put out her hand, and I shook it.

What, now we're introducing ourselves? Freddie, what's wrong with you? Get her out of here before she pulls a knife on you or something!

I had every intention to- but first I wanted an explanation.

So I cleared my throat. "Now, do you mind telling me what you were doing hiding in my closet and practically giving poor John a heart attack?"

"I don't know," she shrugged.

Of course, you don't. "Why should I believe you?"

"I don't see why you should," Eve conceded. "I'm a total stranger infringing upon your privacy. But it's the honest-to-God truth. And truth is stranger than fiction."

"How did you do it? Nothing's broken so far as I can tell." I coughed a little. "How did you come in?"

Her mouth twitched with another stifled smile. "Same way everyone does- through the bathroom window."

I opened my mouth to tell her that would be impossible since there were no windows in either bathroom big enough for her to fit through- when I realized she was referencing a Beatles song. I covered my mouth to hide the smile. She's quick, I noted. I'll give her that much.

"I highly doubt that," I said finally.

"It's true, Freddie," she insisted. "I don't know what I'm doing here, I don't know why I'm here, I don't even know where 'here' is."

"And you don't know who I am- which makes no sense at all! What else would make you come here?"

"Maybe I just wanted to cat burgle you," Eve offered. All of a sudden, she burst out laughing, as she went on, "God knows, you have more cats than you can handle."

"Darling, that was awful." And it was- but I still ended up smiling. I couldn't help it. Not that what she had just said really was worth cracking a smile about. It was the way she herself was smiling, I found terribly contagious.

"I know, I'm tired, sorry," she apologized. "But seriously. Am I supposed to know who you are?"

Eve shot one more glance at the plate as I pushed it to the side so I could lean forward a little better and said, "Maybe not. You're American. Let's put it this way. Do you like rock and roll?"

She mulled the question a moment. "Just the old stuff. I'm more of a jazz baby myself, a little Latin music now and again."

Jazz, I said to myself. All right, that's not bad.

Why I cared what kind of music she enjoyed was beyond me, but at the moment, I did. I had to admit, the girl had a charm about her.

"But I do like Beatles, Elvis, et cetera," she went on. "I'm not too crazy about the new rock music these days- a little too extreme, a little too overdone-"

My face froze, my back stiffened. I could take it, though barely, from the press; hearing it from an American tart that had crashed my home was a bridge too fucking far, no matter how charming she seemed.

She must have seen my face change colors, because then she said, "Oh, wait, are you that kind of a musician?"

"I am," was all I said.

She gasped. "Oh, wow, I'm sorry. And you must be pretty famous too. I shouldn't have said that. That's just my opinion. I broke into your house, what could you possibly care what I think?"

All she was doing at the moment was reminding me I had a phone call to make. My fingers drummed slowly against the table. "Yes. You did. Why don't you leave before I do something about that."

Eve swallowed hard, eyes darting frantically around the room a moment as if looking for something, anything, to swoop down from above and save her. Then she whispered, "But I have nowhere to go."

I rolled my eyes, unimpressed. At least, not until I saw the look in her big eyes change (I had thought at first her eyes were that wide simply because she was frightened or nervous- but it seemed that was simply the way they looked all the time). It was as though something was sinking in all of a sudden- something horrible. She lifted a shaking hand to cover her mouth.

"What's wrong now?" I asked- but I don't believe she heard me.

"I have nowhere," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "and I have no one."

The girl seemed to wilt before my very eyes. Eve hung her head, her shoulders sagging. Once more, I forgot to be angry with her for a split second while my heart involuntarily went out to her.

"Now, Eve," I said a little more gently, "you must have some place to go."

"I wish... how I wish I did." She shuddered a bit- and for a moment I thought she was crying. When she lifted her head, though, her face was dry- and her tone was resigned, though shivering, as she said to me, "I... I don't know why this happened, but I'm sorry it did. If you want to call the police, call them. God knows I deserve it."

Without another word, she rose from the table and walked out of the dining room. Her head was high, her shoulders square.

I pushed my chair back and stood. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be right back," was the meek answer. I heard soft footsteps tread up the stairs- but nothing more.

Setting my plate in the sink, I took another sip of vodka. The flat was quiet save for my footsteps padding across the floor. Eve was upstairs, doing something or other. If ever was a good time to alert the police, it was now.

I set my hand on the phone, gripped it- then pulled away again.

For suddenly I didn't have the heart. That helpless look in her eyes had sucked so much of the original ire out of me. I wasn't happy she had broken in, you understand. But I didn't quite feel right just coldly watching a couple of men with brass buttons and billy clubs escort this confused young girl to jail. I could simply let her walk out under her own steam; surely Eve wouldn't make this mistake again?

Then again, I couldn't take that chance. If I didn't show myself to be a hard-nosed bitch about my own personal security, and not come down hard on even someone like her, then every mad boy and girl would feel free to descend upon me at all hours of day or night. As much as I didn't like it, I would have to make an example of Eve.

Listen to me, I said to myself, shaking my head. I'm calling her Eve. My God, I fucking named her. People only name things that they intend to keep around a while. I'm getting rid of her in a matter of minutes- and yet, I just named her!

It occurred to me, then, how much time I was wasting just waiting for her to come back down. I couldn't take it anymore. Rather than calling the police straight away, still I hesitated, instead marching up the stairs and bursting into the spare room.

"Darling, what's the-" I cut myself off as soon as I laid eyes on her.

Eve was lying on the guest bed, curled up on top of the blankets, arms wrapped around her bag. As I drew closer, I saw her eyes were shut, the lids twitching a bit with a dream- and Oscar, the cat which had found her before me, was nestled comfortably on the pillow above her head.

"All right, you, scat," I hissed at him, waving my hands.

Oscar didn't move.

"Come on, darling, shoo!" I raised my voice a bit. "Sleep somewhere else, here is not helpful."

The cat just blinked at me, the wide green eyes looking at me rather pleadingly as if to say, "Can we keep her?"

"No, we can't keep her, Oscar, as pretty as you might think she is, she's got to go!"

And he actually cocked his head as if to ask why. For whatever reason, I found myself spluttering about for an answer to a question he couldn't even ask. "Because- because she must. All right? Now get up."

When I actually reached out to pick him up myself, however, he swiped his paw at me. It didn't do any damage, I'd had him declawed some time before this; but the message was not lost on me. I stared at the little orange traitor, who seemed to have scooted even closer to Eve.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" I asked him quietly.

All he did was meow once, and yawn. Unable to help myself, I rubbed behind his ears a bit, set the little fellow to purring.

"All right, you win," I sighed. "She stays asleep until the police come."

Very carefully, then, I pulled the rucksack out of her grasp. Although she didn't stir, the movement was finally enough to disturb Oscar, who stood and adjusted himself while I checked the contents of the bag one more time. As before, I could find nothing of mine in it; just some loose papers, a heavy-looking schoolbook or two, and an assortment of pens and mechanical pencils. So she wasn't a thief after all.

I felt myself weakening- till I noticed her little black flats were still on. My eyes narrowed. No shoes on the bed, I said to myself. No exceptions. So what did I do? Without another thought I slipped her shoes off her feet and set them down by the side of the bed. And still she slept.

My God, this girl must be whacked, I mused.

I took a moment then (not like I could afford to at this rate, but I did anyway) to look her over. There was something very disarming about her face, when the big eyes were closed and her features were relaxed. She indeed looked tired, but more than that. She looked helpless, completely vulnerable before the world- like a little girl almost.

I couldn't turn this girl over to authorities tonight- nor could I turn her out on the street. She wouldn't last five minutes.

Before I knew it, I found myself gently drawing back the covers and tucking them up round her chin like the naive fool I am. In case there was any question from the start, Eve was staying.

It's nothing personal, I assured myself. It's like she's some little stray cat come to seek shelter from the storm; I may be giving her a moment's relief, but I'm not adopting her. That's for certain.

"This is only for tonight," I told her softly. "Don't think for a minute we're making this a permanent arrangement, I expect you to be gone first thing in the morning. Understand?"

Eve shifted a little in her sleep, lips parting and sealing silently- which I facetiously took as a yes.

"Good girl," I whispered. "In the meantime, though, sweet dreams- you inconvenience, you."

I leaned closer, about to kiss the top of her head- when I halted, realized what I was doing, and hopped off the bed with a deep frown and ran out of the bedroom, leaving Oscar and the stray kitten alone.

Once downstairs, I looked at the clock again and winced. Fuck, it was late. I wrestled with the idea of calling Joe to apologize for the delay, but I thought better of it. Acting as though I didn't even realize the time of night would save me from having to explain the night away. It was better to be thought somewhat scatterbrained than to be pinned down about my goings-on.

Hang on, I said to myself. I can't just leave her here. Leave some total stranger alone in the flat while I go out and play with Joe? That's complete idiocy! It's like I'm begging her please, PLEASE take advantage of me!

I had already written off calling the police on her tonight, so that only left one other option: cancel our rendezvous, and stay here.

"Shit," I groaned. Helplessly I kicked a throw pillow that had fallen off the sofa when Roger jumped up from it too quickly. How did this happen? How had that girl so quickly taken precedence over Joe? I didn't even know her real name!

What's the matter with me? Why am I still here and not with Joe right now? Why did she have to show up in my closet and why did I name her and why is tonight such a fucking mess? WHY?

But even as I raged against the circumstances, I dragged myself to the phone, picked it up, and dialed Liza's number, cursing myself every other second.

"Hello, Liza. It's me. Look, about tonight. Um..."

While I made up the most ridiculous excuse for Joe, I took some small comfort in knowing it wouldn't be like this forever. This was a one time thing, a single unfortunate exception. Eve would be out of this flat tomorrow, if I had to personally kick her to the curb.

I slammed the receiver down and looked up the stairs, where the girl lay sleeping.

"Damn your eyes," I growled.

Good Lord. What had I gotten myself into?