I pull an embroidered shirt over my head and run a hand through my damp hair as I listen to Brian and Freddie chatter away about the show.
"And my favorite part was when Rog forgot how to play the drums mid-way through 'Father to Son,'" Brian comments with a sly grin. "You see another ex in the crowd, mate?"
"Fuck off," I mutter. That had been Skylar in the second row, right? My mind wasn't playing tricks on me? Her hair was shorter than I remembered, and her face a bit more angled, but I'd bet my life on it being her.
Tugging on black trousers, I debate running around to the front of the building to see if she's still there. But, in reality, it won't matter. Even from behind the drum kit--and even with my horrendously poor eyesight-- I'd seen the look of disgust when she had recognized me. No, there's no way she would want to see me.
A firm knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. I irrationally hope that it's my long-lost woman in yellow, even though I know that it's impossible. Mary peeks her head in to ensure that we're all decent before she opens the door, carrying a duffle bag of clothes for Freddie.
"I don't know what I'd do without you, darling," Freddie says, giving his girlfriend a quick kiss. He grabs the bag eagerly and makes quick work of changing clothes. We pile out the door, walking the short distance to Kensington Pub. From halfway down the block, it's clear that anyone who Freddie has ever met is gathered to celebrate our first real tour.
Once inside, we smile and wave before making our way to the bar for much-needed libations. As I'm ordering a drink, a familiar blonde pins me against the bar, her lips on mine. Susan? Suzanne? Something like that. I return the kiss and give her waist a little squeeze. "Hey, you," I say warmly.
We make small talk while I wait for my drink, then retreat to one of the large tables in the back where Brian and Freddie have congregated.
"Where's your mystery girl, Bri?" I ask as we approach the table. He's been talking non-stop about a girl who lives in South Kensington. She was supposed to come backstage tonight, but never showed, prompting us to wonder if she exists at all.
"She'll be here," he replies confidently. "She and her flatmate were at the show, I saw them."
I sit in the empty chair next to Fred, gesturing to the blonde to take the adjoining seat. Instead, she plops herself down in my lap and loops an arm around my neck. I can't for the life of me remember her name, and I feel like an absolute sod. Undeterred, she nestles her body into mine as Freddie starts to dissect Bowie's latest track.
"It's fucking incendiary," he proclaims as I take a sip of my beer and glance just past Susan/Suzanne's shoulder into the crowd behind us.
Oh my God, it's her. It's Skylar.
She marches towards me with half a scowl on her face, looking dangerously beautiful. My eyes brighten--she found me!--and I sit up straight, almost knocking the other woman off my lap.
"Hey!" I exclaim as she approaches, flashing a cautious smile. She doesn't look thrilled to see me.
"My God, Roger, do you always have to travel with a fucking harem?" Freddie mutters jokingly under his breath as our eyes collectively follow Skylar's arrival.
"Oh, hey! There you are," Brian says casually to her as if they're best mates. "Is Jenny with you?"
"Wait, what?" I say, looking back and forth between Brian and Skylar. She returns his greeting, flashing him a tight-lipped smile, before she turns her attention back to me.
"You have a lot of nerve," she thunders. I sputter and try to stand, but I'm held hostage by the woman on my lap. She's also glaring at me, so I feel like a real winner right now.
"You two know each other?" Brian asks, confused. I could ask you the very same question, mate.
Skylar glowers at me, the pissed off look in her eyes making her look like some sort of avenging angel. Freddie takes it upon himself to address her in a tone that's both jovial and weary, as if he's said this sort of thing a thousand times before.
"Darling, if you and Roger had, um, relations, and he forgot to ring afterward, he's sorry. He's deeply apologetic. But it's not his fault, really, it's just his genetic make-up." Then, he winks at her. "Though, to be fair, I certainly would have phoned a lovely thing like yourself."
"Oh, fuck off," she says, taking both him and me by surprise. Freddie opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Skylar turns back towards me. I finally manage to extricate myself from Susan/Suzanne's grasp and stand up, putting a hand lightly on Skylar's arm.
"Skylar, let's go have a chat--" I say softly, just wanting to make things right, but I'm interrupted by Freddie's cackle.
"Don't tell me that you're the mysterious Skylar from so many years ago?" Freddie's eyes are wide and delighted; he couldn't sound more overjoyed if he tried. "Well, fuck, darling, Roger rung up half of London looking for you. Frankly, I was impressed with his dedication, but now I can see why he was so committed to the search."
Bloody. Hell.
"What?" she asks, confused, as she looks from Freddie to me, then over to Brian, and then back to me. I avoid her eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor in utter embarrassment. What the fuck is Freddie doing? Surely this goes against some sort of man code. Beside me, Susan/Suzanne makes a little scoffing noise and traipses off to the bar.
"Wait, you're Roger's Skylar?" Brian asks, surprised.
"I'm not Roger's anything," she replies, looking affronted at the idea.
"--And I thought Rog was going to murder his sister, the poor thing, after that whole misunderstanding at the wedding," Freddie continues his monologue in earnest.
"His... sister?" Skylar asks.
"And then for weeks, it was all 'Skylar' this and 'Skylar' that. I mean, really, darling--" Freddie looks across the pub and spots his girlfriend. "Mary! This is Skylar! You remember the girl that Roger-- well, look! She's here!"
"Oh, belt up, Fred," I finally hiss, glaring at my best friend. He rolls his eyes and stands, walking over to peck a bewildered Skylar on the cheek. She stands frozen, staring at the lot of us.
"I like her already!" he proclaims grandly. He saunters over and tries to ruffle my hair, but I fend off his approach and direct an icy glare his way.
"Don't fuck it up, Rog," he sings with a cheeky grin before flouncing over to join Mary at a table across the room. "Wanker," I mutter under my breath. Brian takes the hint and hurriedly escapes to the safety of a pretty blonde standing by the bar.
Skylar and I stand facing each other, unsure of what to say. I still don't quite understand what I'm walking into, but she's not happy, that's for sure. And she now knows that I basically stalked her a few years ago. Fuck, this is embarrassing.
"Hi?" she says finally, her eyes softening slightly.
"Hi," I reply softly, finally daring to look her in the eye. She gazes up at me from beneath her long lashes and, I swear to you, my breath hitches like I'm 14, and this is the first girl I've ever laid eyes on.
"It was... your sister? At the wedding?" Her voice is hesitant and quiet, and she sounds much less American than the last time I saw her.
"It was my sister," I confirm with a nod. "My sister, who has terrible timing and apparently doesn't look quite enough like me."
"Ah," she replies, her eyes unreadable. "Well, sorry for assuming. And also for yelling at you in front of your friends."
"It's alright," I reply. "Do-- do you want to get a drink?" I gesture over to the bar where Susan/Suzanne is eyeing us suspiciously. Skylar hesitates as if debating the offer but then shakes her head.
"Thanks, but I have to head home. Early day tomorrow."
"Skylar--"
"Good to see you, Roger. It was a really great show tonight. Take care of yourself." She hesitantly clasps my forearm and gives it a little squeeze.
And then, in a repeat of what happened four years ago, she turns and is immediately swallowed by the crowd. I debate running after her, but what would that solve? She clearly has no interest in me. Cursing my rotten luck, I walk back towards the bar to order another drink.
As I pass Freddie's table, I thump him lightly on the back of his head. "Hey!" he cries out, affronted, before realizing that it's just me.
"Oh, helllllllo, Rog. Where's your young lady?" he croons with a wink.
"I'm going to fucking kill you, Fred."
"Oh, stop being so tetchy, Rog. I've done you a favor. I'm your own personal Yenta, darling. It'll all work out, you'll see."