The door opened up again and this time Freddie shrugged noticeably, incredulous. His decorum stopped him from saying his press agent that the interview didn't take place yet. I looked at him with wide eyes and understood everything. The time was finished. Damn it, Ashlee. It was just needed a couple of innocent questions and clear off.
You would vanished like the smoke without bringing anything to this rock star's life. But now... I was making history in the clumsiest way. Anyone else had ever leaving without interview him? It was unlikely.
- The time has finished, darling -Freddie informed me with pitiful tone in his soft voice.
- Oh, I'll be damned. I must leaving now.
- I still can't believe it. Are you showing off your magazine with nothing at all? Unless you made it up. Are you going to do something like that?
Suddenly the pressure overcame me and leaning my head against my knees broke down and cry. Noone could stop that. The shock of it all had bent my required temperance. It went worse and worse. And to think with just a fifteen minutes interview with standard questions, everything could have avoided. The stage fright overcame me, being in front of my great idol. Freddie gestured to his press agent to disappear and the door was closed again.
- Darling, something happens to you... Here -he handed me a few tissues which he pulled from a near box.
I sank my nose in them, blowing it tremendously and in blinded rage. I looked at Freddie among all that mess of fluids, feeling like the less competent person in planet earth. So far I was just an inconsistent mass of mumblings, monosyllabic and stutterings. At least, he couldn't find me appealing.
I was hurriedly thinking how I was going to get out of there as though my stupid brain would never step on that suite. But unfortunately my intuition radar enjoyed good health.
Freddie wouldn't let me run away yet. The irrepressible germ of his curiosity had taken hold and it was something so hard to keep at bay. But as much as in my own secret corner that flattered me, I knew that to my mission it was negative and no professional.
- No, I'm leaving... my time is up.
- Your time is up when I tell you.
Fucking Freddie Mercury. What did he just say? My belly jumped. It wasn't just what he said but how he said it.
- What do you mean?
- You'll have to fucking interview me, haven't you? That's what you come for. Or didn't you?
Oh, his insightful eyes peered into everything. He was so irresistible.
- It doesn't matter. Now you must doing other things and I've made you lose enough time...
- Do you have my agenda? You're coming with me and that's it.
- But Freddie...
- What do you have to do? Are you making up the interview that never existed?
- I would never do that -I answered with dignified air.
I could never write down any pejorative epithet nor negative about you, Mr. Fahrenheit. Can't you see how I am?
- That's what I thought. You're going to your editorial staff with an interview, I guarantee that. Maybe the fifteen minutes were too much pressure for you.
And having just a few inches from that beautiful hairy chest too. That is a huge added pressure.
- A little.
- Honey, I pity on you. What can I say? Be still. Phoebeeee!
Oh, his Phoebe at last. All Freddie's fanatics have put Phoebe on a pedestal. He's one of the most reliable and respected people around his entourage. I still remembered his book about Freddie. I had read it so many times in this researching process.
Phoebe bursted out on the scene with his huge 6 foot 6 inches body and it was as though the harmony took charge of my inner chaos.
- Darling, take care of that young lady how it should be while I'm away.
- What would you want me to do exactly, Fred?
- I don't know, darling. Trying her to stop crying. That would be a good step.
- What did you do to her?
- No, he's not to blame... -I hiccuped rubbing my eyes.
- My darling, don't rush with that sentence. Most of the time I'm use to blame for everything. Phoebe, take her home and cook her a good meal. I think she needs put something in her stomach.
Phoebe stared at me and he seemed not agree with his boss's crazy statement. I blew my nose restlessly. This must be a nightmare.
- Well, then the plan is taking her Stafford Terrace. She must eat... -Phoebe was really puzzled and he worked for Freddie 5 years now.
- Oh, you'll come up with something -he got impatient moving his hands with energy-. Don't let her go away, we have unfinished business between us.
Then he gave me one of his winks which could dry a whole regiment of hysterical baby tears. My body shuddered from head to toe. I understood then when Freddie looked at you it was as though there was noone else in the whole world. It was a dizzy feeling. And you felt suddenly special and unique.
- Don't let her go -he repeated pointing with his finger as he disappeared quickly.
- Well, love, your name...
- Elideth.
- Glad to meet you. I'm Peter although as you've heard they call me Phoebe. And if you value your own life and mine, you better not run away.
Suddenly my goal was forbidden. With that warning I couldn't allow my runaway if I hadn't arranged it properly. Why did these things happen to me? Why did Murphy's law act relentless with me? The truth is I deserved it for being useless and incompetent. I could't risk failing Phoebe, I would never put him down to Freddie's furious nature when the things didn't make his own way.
In such a way I was forced to know Freddie's flat at number 12 Stafford Terrace. I must admit it was one of my wildiest fantasies apart from the obvious. It was still more than a year to move to Garden Lodge but that flat was marvellous. It had so many precious things that you ran the risk suffering a serious Stendhal syndrome.
Freddie barely stayed there because he lived regularly in Munich owed to his tax exile condition. He had several days a year to visit United Kingdom.
The flat was more beautiful than I've ever imagined. As a whole it gave you a comfort feeling. Despite those walls filled with gold and platinum discs, not even that gave coldness resemblance or feeling you were at a museum. It was a bright and warm flat divided into three floors and there was a beautiful terrace and an inner courtyard with a lot of flowers. Although the most of british apartments were quite impractical with so many steep stairs.
- What do you like?
- Pardon?
I was transfixed by that marvellous lacquered shining piano. I imagine him sitting on it, deep in his own melodies from his creative brain. Lonely, pensive. When nobody was around him and they couldn't influence him.
- Eating. What do you enjoy eating for dinner?
- Oh, I like everything. But you don't bother.
- Oh, I do bother. It's an order.
- I'm sorry that you are forced to take care of me.
That sounded so ridiculous. A lot.
- Easy, it isn't the weirdest thing he'd ordered me.
- Oh, really? Does he use to kidnap journalist to take them home as a standard practice?
- Are you a journalist? Really?
What's wrong with these two? What devilish and weird radar did they have? Both Phoebe and Freddie had dealt with thousands of "colleagues" and I didn't fit in. I still didn't know what they've seen in me.
- Yes, I'm a kidnapped journalist.
- This is no kidnapping.
- May I leave when I choose?
- No, you'll leave right away, take it easy.
- Since when do you work for him?
- 5 years.
- Is it a good job?
- Sometimes the best.
- Only sometimes?
- Most of the time. Will you interview me now? Ok, I'll cook you something.
- Please. Don't cook for me. It makes me feel badly.
- Do you want to do it?
- No.
- Can't you cook?
- Of course I can. I'm a real star.
- Are you? Let's see.
Why did I say so? My insensibility had no limits. I was a real star inside my own kitchen. Not in front of Freddie Mercury's assistant.
- On reflection, I'm hungry too. I love eating.
- I love eating too.
- Then are you making us something?
- Us?
- Yes, Fred and I.
- Pheww, I thought...
- Don't kid yourself. He eats little but it doesn't mean he doesn't give importance to food. He's a real foodie.
- God, well I don't really fit in. I was thinking in nothing more elaborate than a chocolate sponge cake.
- Great. That will cheer him up.