Stars in Your Eyes (Queen/Roger Taylor)

33. Skylar

Once through security, I pause to catch my breath and look around. The backstage area is bustling, and I've no idea where Roger is.

"Excuse me," I say to a spindly roadie walking by hurriedly. "Where can I find Roger Taylor? Or anyone from Queen?"

He grunts something unintelligible and motions with his head to our left before continuing on his way. I look in the direction he indicated, and, far off into the distance, I see Roger having a chat with Ray Davies. I just heard your song on the radio!, I have the urge to shout gleefully to The Kinks frontman.

Roger stretches out his arms, flexing his wrists around in small circles. He looks somehow relaxed but nervous at the same time, and I pray that the latter isn't because he's anxious that I won't show.

"Rog!" I call, hoping against hope that he'll hear me, but, at that moment, Kiki Dee shouts, "Thank you, London!" into the mic, and the crowd goes wild. Wiping my sweaty hair out of my face, I start to walk towards my boyfriend.

I'm halfway there when a pretty brunette walks up to the two men. She says something that earns a broad smile from Roger, which apparently gives her the right to touch his forearm lightly as if to say 'oh, don't be so silly!' It's all too chummy if you ask me. He grins in response and steps towards her, huddling together to read something on the clipboard in her hands.

I'm nearly in their sight when I hear a strange noise from behind one of the tents. Peeking around the edge, I spot a tall, gangly fellow dressed all in white crouching behind a billowy white tent. He's practically camouflaged except for his raven hair and heavily lined eyes.

"Freddie?" I say, slowing my gait and rounding the corner.

"Skylar!" he says, looking up. "We didn't know if you'd make it!" His tone is jovial as if he's not hiding in the shrubbery. He looks me up and down critically.

"I'm so glad you dressed up for the occasion, darling," he says tongue-in-cheek. "What'd you do, run here?"

"Are you alright? Where's Mary?" I ask, concerned. Roger has told me that sometimes Fred gets nervous before the big gigs--well, they all do, of course--but something about him looks particularly off.

"Oh, fine, fine," he replies, self-assuredly, ignoring my second question. A pause and then, more sheepishly, he admits, "I'm just a little... terrified."

"So, you're hiding behind a tent?"

"So I'm hiding behind a tent," he affirms. "And I've been sick twice. But let's keep that between us. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that."

He pats the ground next to him and motions for me to come closer. I sit next to him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"You'll be great. They're going to love you. What's not to love?"

Freddie gives me a small smile and then looks down at the sandy dirt on the ground. We sit in silence for a few moments. Another band starts to play in the background, but I couldn't say who because all I can hear from this side of the stage is the bass.

I'm about to suggest that he finish getting ready or let someone know where he is when he finally breaks the silence.

"We've played big gigs before, it's just... there are a lot of fucking people out there right now. And I know that the new songs are strong. They're solid, they're good, but... But what if..."

He trails off, poking his finger around in the sand.

"This whole thing about what's not to love... I'm just thinking... Skylar, you're always so self-assured, like you have it all figured it out--"