Chapter Text
He always made sure he checked the bathroom and under the back counter before he locked the front door. There was also the back storage room as well the shadowy corner behind the taller record displays. Once he knew no one was hiding anywhere in his store he would breathe a out sigh of relief and flip the locking mechanism on two locks securing the entrance and turn off his small neon sign that glowed 'Open' during business hours. Making sure no one was lurking wasn't entirely about being robbed. He didn't want to be seen doing something in particular.
"Are we good? his employee and best friend asked him as he turned to face him and leaned against the door. Brian nodded. Deacy turned around with a huge smile on his face as he pressed the 'Play' button. The fast paced guitar riff burst out from the speakers situated in each corner of the ceiling of the store. Deacy kicked off his shoes and took off running towards the wide aisle in the center of the store in his socks and slid into place to begin his nightly ritualistic closing time dance.
On the floors of Tokyo
A-down in London town's a go go
A-with the record selection,
And the mirror's reflection,
I'm a dancin' with myself
His large fluffy cloud of hair bounced as much as his legs did and he twirled and gyrated in a manic bop to his favorite Billy Idol track. Brian stood in his usual spot and surveyed his best friend's celebratory maneuvers. Despite having two left feet and always feeling the inferior dancer to his mate, Brian generally gave in to his own rhythmical urges and made his own exaggerated dances steps. He could always manage some mean robot moves if his feet truly failed him. But this hyper dance number compelled him to a higher plane of footwork. Deacy had picked a great song tonight. He quickly found himself jutting his body straight up in the air and seemed like he belonged in a mosh pit.
The two men gave each other rabid grins as they sang and danced through the entire song. When the song played out Brian resigned himself to counting the money in the till and Deacy began setting out the items that were on sale the next day. Additional songs continually played from the stereo system as they finished the workday but the selected tracks were lighter and slower. Easing them into the evening hours.
"I've got some spaghetti that needs eating in my fridge..." Deacy offered to his boss and buddy as he pulled some new releases from a cardboard box and placed them in the record bin.
"Thanks...but I promised to meet someone for a coffee..." Brian responded. Deacy knew what that really meant but he smiled at his friend and nodded understanding.
"Alright...." he said. "Don't be too late...remember it's Record Store Day!" Deacy added some enthusiasm to his last few words and Brian looked up at him with a knowing smile.
"I know Deaks!" he answered. "I'll be here early to set up and open at 8.." Deaks cringed at the early hour they had for this one sale day of the year. Not even Christmas season warranted an 8 a.m. opening but they were in competition with the other stores. All of them were opening at the same time tomorrow and vying for their consumer's money.
"I'll make it by 7...." Deacy confirmed and sighed. He checked his watch and saw it was nearly 7pm. "I'm off in a few minutes....if I hurry I can make it home in time for that special on MTV.
"What special is that?" Brian asked. He didn't recall seeing anything on the tv listings.
"It's a live broadcast of a concert....tonight it's The Cross..." Brian knew the band name but wasn't a huge fan. This was one show he could miss.
"Oh! Well enjoy then...see you tomorrow...." Brian answered as he counted the coins in his register. Deacy went to the front door and Brian laid down his pen to follow him.
"Good night..." Deacy told him as he slipped out the door. Brian watched him walk to his car as he locked the door again. Once he was saw him driving off he returned to finish his count. He thought about the band Deacy mentioned and remembered their last record. It was nothing remarkable and he did like one of the tracks. It had been a while since The Cross had released something new. He was certain there was nothing for them in their Record Store Day inventory. Maybe he would check the record company website to see if they had something coming out soon. It is possible they are promoting it with the concert special. Brian completed his nightly routine and left the store carrying his messenger bag and his thermal coffee cup.
The drive home felt like any other drive home. There was no coffee date with someone and Brian had a tinge of guilt for lying to his friend. He had coffee with someone last week and the blind date had turned sour fast. It finally put him off any further interest in being set up by family or friends. His cousin Mark meant well but the girl he met at the cafe was quite snobbish and rude and he made his excuses to leave not 20 minutes into their date. Brian parked his trusty Karmann Ghia in his reserved spot and made his way to his second story flat.
After unlocking the door Brian hung his bag and coat on the pegged rack on the entryway wall. He kicked off his shoes into the pile of other footwear and went straight for the shower. The hot water was therapeutic and after washing his voluminous hair, he dried it along with his body. He was thrilled to find a clean pair of socks and pulled them off after donning some joggers and his favorite Elvis Costello t-shirt. A veggie burrito was popped into his microwave and he got settled with a bottle of Snapple as he pulled out his songbook. He had thought of some more words for some lyrics he was writing. Before he could put pen to paper his microwave was calling him. He unwrapped his steamy dinner and used the same ceramic dish he always managed to use every night. The burrito needed to cool off so he carried it to his living room table and set it down along with his drink. He took a quick sip as he picked up his pen and made sure to jot down the words before they left him.
I've got nothing but trouble in my life
But I feel I've got a lot to give
Every day I try to build a new world
But I've had no-one to build it with
Oh I've been looking for a woman to share my hopes
But I know I ain't a patch on you
And I've been thinking that a woman's God's gift to man
Are you thinking the same way too?
The words felt heavy and not entirely accurate for his current life. He didn't have any trouble in his life except finding someone to share it with. But women were so complicated. It seemed like the more women he dated the worse it got. Not being able to read them. To figure them out. All the nuances and games they liked to play. It was incredibly frustrating and really not worth the trouble any more. Maybe that is the trouble he meant. The trouble in his life was women!
He had nothing else for his notebook tonight so he closed it and grabbed his television remote. He turned on the power and adjusted the volume. The ritual of channel surfing commenced as he blew on his burrito to cool it and cut a bite off with the edge of his fork as he settled for the tail end of the concert Deacy had mentioned. MTV often showcased live performances on Friday nights. He saw quite a few of them considering he wasn't out on many dates these days. Brian leaned back and took a bite of his food as he watched.
He didn't recognize the song but he recognized the lead singer. His face was constantly splashed across the music papers. Whether it was talk of their recent record or gossip about the singer's love life, he was a regular newsmaker. This guy had been in a previous band and had some success, but his real fame sprouted from this current group. A hit single had eluded them for a while. Brian recalled their last big track being 'Strange Frontier.' Not Brian's favorite but it was okay. The room felt chilly and Brian grabbed his couch throw to cover up as he kept watching. The front man, Roger Taylor, soon announced their final number. It was another song Brian didn't recollect but he preferred it over the previous song. It was not as pop driven and had a rock edge to it. The concert ended with the usual fanfare from the audience and the group taking a bow to a standing ovation. Brian yawned as he slumped down on the couch and glanced at the clock. It was only 9pm. So early for bedtime on a Friday night. So early for someone his age and single. He ignored the bad feelings it gave him to not be out there meeting someone and staying up till dawn. It was better to lose himself in the top ten video hits of the week than to lose himself in a nightclub. He sighed as he pondered whether 'Tears for Fears' had retained their title from last week and whether he would ever meet someone who could make him happy.
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"Look...I've got a splitting headache and I just want to be alone!" Roger whined to his manager as they rode to the hotel in the back of the large black town car. Evan Adams, his personal manager leaned forward and pulled a zippered bag from his briefcase and took a small vial from inside. He popped the lid off and emptied two pills into his hand. He offered them up to his client with an empathetic grin.
"Take these and just try to smile for the cameras...." Roger huffed out a breath and took the pills. Evan handed him a bottle of coca cola to down them and Roger dropped the pills on his tongue and swallowed several large sips of the beverage to wash them down. "There will only be a few press people in the lobby and then you can go up to your room...alright?" Evan pleaded. The limo came to a stop at the entrance and the back door was opened by the conscientious doorman. Roger could already hear the whir of the high speed cameras and steeled himself for the coming onslaught. He took a step out of the vehicle and heard his name.
"Roger Taylor! Roger! Over here! Hey Roger! Look here!"
He was temporarily blinded by the multitude of flashes emitting from the cameras. Roger quickly donned his Wayfarer black sunglasses and feigned a smile as his photograph was taken 100 times over by the crowd of eager cameramen.
His head pounded as he made his way through the hotel entrance. Roger was grateful for a revolving door to ward off some of the press. He walked in a circular motion and deposited himself onto the lush carpeting in the darkly lit lobby. Evan was close behind him and spilled out next to him. Roger turned towards his manager.
"I smiled! Alright? Now give me some peace!" Roger demanded as he quickened his stride to the elevators to avoid being recognized and cornered by an avid fan or stray reporter. He purposely lost Evan in the rush to catch a closing lift door. He slid in and felt relieved as the doors connected and he leaned over to press the button for the 14th floor. Roger retained his sunglasses to nurse his throbbing head and closed his eyes to wait out the ride. He patted his trouser pocket as he arrived on his floor to fish out his room key. Soon enough he was facing the door to suite C and opened it. He flipped the main light switch and tossed his key and wallet onto the end table before the front door had even closed. He was finally alone! It was a comforting feeling. Roger went to the kitchenette and opened the small refrigerator and pulled out a chilled bottle of water. He pressed it to his forehead to numb his pain as he collapsed into an oversized velvet lounge chair. Despite the absolute quiet of his luxury suite, his mind was filled with the intense noise from the concert hall. Every amplifier rang in his memory and so did the screams of the audience and the throbbing beat of drums and bass. The guitar licks almost seemed shrill as he fought his headache. The pain had dulled slightly but was still present.
He didn't want to do this show. He had argued this point to his band and his manager. With no new material it seemed pointless. Their back catalog wouldn't glean that much from a MTV special. It was better served for promoting something new. But he didn't have anything new to offer right now. He was in a writing slump. In fact, his whole life seemed in a slump. Gone were the glory days of the excitement and youthful energy that you had with a fresh band. The mystery of learning new things about and from each other. The drive to make it big and have a number one single and album. The Cross had achieved it. More than once. So that milestone had come and gone. And so had the thrill. It had come and gone as well. Roger recalled his one time desire to spend all his free time with his band mates. To share every experience together and to revel in their success and all it offered. The excesses of parties and women. Drink and drug. All of it! But recently the glamour had faded. The appeal had diminished. All the people at these events looked the same and seemed the same. No one had anything new to offer. He had nothing new to give.
He had a numb spot on his forehead from the water bottle and felt it had served it's purpose to ease his pain. Roger twisted the cap and took a large drink of the natural spring water. It was refreshing. He continued sipping the beverage and wondered if he might be dehydrated as he quickly finished the bottle. Roger spotted a small trash bin near his front door and carefully aimed and tossed the plastic container. It bounced off the edge of the bin and landed a few feet away. Well - there is one more thing he can't seem to do well anymore. Can't even get the bloody bottle in the bin!
The startling sound of the telephone made Roger jump a little. He considered not answering but knew they would just call back. He grabbed the handset and leaned his head on it.
"Yes?"
"Hey Rog....it's me Clayton..." it was the lead guitarist for their group. Roger groaned inside as he knew what was coming. "There's a party on the 12th floor...." Yeah! He knew it! Another fucking party! "I know you said you weren't up for it...but the reason I called is that I met a guy who works for a physio clinic and he said he can cure a headache with a massage technique...are you interested?" Roger had to admit it sounded appealing. He wasn't interested in being social at all but the prospect of ridding himself of this damn headache and getting some real sleep was too tempting.
"Is he a fan or something? Is he legit?" Roger asked his mate. "I'm not interested in being a star...so as long as it's professional..." he needed to know this was strictly a house call so to speak. Give him a massage and get lost.
"He's the real deal....I saw his business card and the bartender knows him...says he's seen him around.."
"Alright...make sure Evan gets the information to pay him....give me 15 minutes...need a shower.." Roger responded and hung up the phone. He forced himself from the comfortable chair and discarded his jacket as he began walking to the bathroom. By the time he reached the shower door he was naked. The water heated up fast and was of some relief. He washed away the grime of tonight's concert and the edge of his headache. Roger was soon drying his hair and body off before donning a bathrobe and running his fingers through his shaggy blond tresses. He skipped a combing and returned to the kitchenette to find a real drink as he waited.
Roger got the vodka poured over some mixer and some ice when there was a small knock on his door. He quickly stirred and kept his glass and walked over to answer it. He found a tall slender man of about 30 wearing a black t- shirt over a white blazer and faded denim jeans. Roger instantly liked the look of him. Handsome but not too pretty. A nice head of dark brown hair and warm brown eyes to match. A pleasing smile graced his face.
"Hi! I'm Warren....you're Roger?"
"Yes....come on in...." Roger told him and stepped back to allow him entry. Warren came into the room and Roger closed the door as he casually looked over his guest.
"Clayton said you weren't at the party because you've been battling a headache....and I explained I know some techniques to get rid of them....I work in a clinic that helps manage pain..."
"Do you now?" Roger remarked coyly as he sipped his tonic. Warren reached over and took hold of his glass and sniffed the contents.
"I can tell for your starters that vodka isn't going to help..." he commented in a wry manner. Roger knew his drink wasn't a remedy.
"I know...but I figured if I drank enough of it I wouldn't care how bad my head hurts..." Roger countered back with an arrogant grin. Warren handed him back the glass and Roger downed the contents in one drink.
"So.....can I help you with your pain? Roger Taylor?" Warren asked him with a hint of something more being implied with his offer. Warren was looking right into Roger's blue eyes and gave him the impression his therapeutic skills may go beyond a scalp massage.
"Do your best then..." Roger answered and walked over and flopped down in the velvet arm chair. Warren smiled victoriously as he slipped off his jacket and laid it over the back of a barstool and took a position behind Roger and his seat of choice. Roger leaned back and felt Warren take hold of his head as he began applying pressure to certain areas of his skull. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of a massage.
"Relax your neck...just let your head be supported by my hands..." Warren instructed. Roger purposely let go of any support he was providing and did feel some easing of tension as Warren rolled his head forward and lowered his fingertips to his neck.
Mmmm...does feel good.." Roger mumbled as he kept his eyes closed and noticed improvement in his overall demeanor.
"Based on what I'm feeling...I think your pain is stress induced....have you been under a lot of pressure lately?" Warren asked him. That was an understatement.
"A bit....yeah..." Roger answered back slowly and found himself leaning forward. Warren gently placed his hands on Roger's shoulders and sighed as he moved them further down.
"Wow! You are all knots!" he remarked as his hands slid down onto Roger's back. "Your shoulders are like rocks!" Warren's hands came off of Roger's body and Roger opened his eyes as he saw Warren walk around the chair and stood in front of him.
"What?" Roger asked as Warren eyed him.
"Give me your hands...I want to gently stretch out your shoulders and neck..." Warren requested. Roger wasn't sure what he meant but raised his arms up from the arm rests and Warren took hold of both hands. He shifted a little closer to him and began slowly pulling Roger's arms toward him. "Can you feel the pull?" Warren asked as he continued the stretch.
"I do....yeah....I can't feel my shoulders loosening up..." Roger commented as a small smile formed on his lips and his eyes closed again. It was soothing and he noticed his headache pain had lessened. Maybe there was something to this. He would be giving this guy a nice tip at the end.
"Good....now I'm going to try and loosen up your shoulders some more....just drop your arms back on the arm rests.." Warren instructed. Roger nodded and took his arms back and placed them where indicated. He felt Warren move in closer to his chest and suddenly felt his hands being placed on his shoulders. It felt intimate but he was pleased with the results so far and wasn't going to complain. His shoulders were gently massaged and Roger let out an involuntary sigh as his body shifted in his chair and he slouched down a bit. The massage had become almost hypnotic. His headache was easing and it was such a relief.
"Feels better...headache almost gone..." Roger said out loud as he felt light and relaxed. Warren's hands began moving down from his shoulders and Roger felt them slip onto the small amount of skin bared through the fold of the robe on his chest.
"Want me to make sure you're pain is gone entirely?" Warren asked him as his fingers pressed small circles on Roger's collar bone. Roger nodded agreement. Of course he wanted his headache completely resolved.
"Yeah....of course..." Roger replied quietly. Warren began pushing the robe away from Roger's chest to bare it to him. Roger's eyes flew open and he formed an embarrassed grin on his face as he grabbed Warren's wrists to stop him.
"Sorry! I've only got the robe on..." Roger informed him and looked Warren in the eyes to have him understand he was naked underneath so he couldn't move the robe any further. Warren wore a challenging look and smiled wickedly at his customer. Roger let go of his hands. Warren moved one hand down to Roger's chest again and slid it inside. Roger's eyes grew wide as Warren delicately pinched his nipple.
"I can do something for you to rid you of your headache all together....is that something you might be interest in?" Warren asked him directly with a knowing look in his eyes as he said it. Roger immediately understood what service Warren was offering. It had been a long time since he had done anything sexual with a male. Years actually. He looked over Warren again and appreciated his good looks and skillful hands. Maybe Warren is right. Maybe he can make sure his headache doesn't return tonight. Roger smiled warmly at him and reached down and tugged at the belt of his robe. His robe parted and slid off his chest and waist as it fell down at his sides. The cool air struck Roger's body as he was exposed but it didn't last long as he felt Warren's capable hand run itself from his nipple across his torso. His flat palm made it's way to Roger's cock and he inhaled a deep breath as Warren's capable hand wrapped around him.
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When Roger woke the next morning his headache was gone. He did feel much better and smiled to himself as he he slipped on his track suit and trainers. Today might be a good day. Roger found his hotel key and wallet and tucked them in the zippered pocket on his track jacket. He donned his sunglasses and headed down the hallway of his floor to the stairs to use them as a warm up for his workout. He arrived at the gym room on the first floor and peered through the glass window in the door to see how busy it was. To his extreme displeasure he saw an ex girlfriend using one of the treadmills. He knew five minutes of dealing with her and his headache would return for certain. Roger turned and headed to a side exit to go for a jog instead. He took off running from the parking lot and found the sidewalk. After going several blocks he set his pace and began to enjoy the feel of the brisk air and the wind on his face. It was invigorating and he was glad he skipped the hotel workout room for some fresh air. He had moved into an area of smaller businesses and some residential streets so the traffic was lighter. Roger surveyed what the area had offer as he passed by. A bakery caught his sense of smell and he slowed down as he considered stopping for something besides the standard hotel fare for breakfast. The fragrance of fresh bread and something sweet was quite tempting. He found the bakery store front and noticed a small line of people. It was disappointing as he didn't want to stand in line and possibly get recognized. Adjacent to the bakery was a record store. He saw a large banner advertising Record Store Day.
'Oh yeah..' Roger muttered out loud. He had forgotten this event was today. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to shop in a record store. Nowadays his only visits were for promotions. Roger stopped and considered visiting the record shop while he waited for the bakery line to dissipate. A few people walked out of the store carrying plastic bags that clearly contained vinyl records. He wanted to see what the store had. He walked to across the parking lot and pulled open the record store door.
"Welcome to The Inner Groove..." someone announced as he went inside. There were only three other customers browsing so he felt it was safe to stay. He slid his sunglasses up his nose and walked over to the large table displaying the special releases for Record Store Day. He looked over the offerings for the annual record event and was delighted to see a special reissue of David Bowie's Diamond Dogs. He loves that record and tried to recall what shape his current vinyl was in.
"Can I help you?" someone asked him. Roger looked up to see a young man with a pile of fluffy hair smiling at him. Roger noted his sweet smile and kind green grey eyes. Even more telling was his Depeche Mode t-shirt.
"Just looking...I might get this.." Roger commented to the man.
"We've only the one copy...do you want me to hold it at the counter?" the man asked him.
"Yeah..thanks!" Roger responded. He found it kind that he would offer to hold it for him. Roger perused the other selections as the shop worker walked away. He was intrigued by a boxed set of The Kinks and turned the box over to read the contents.
"Hey Deaks....I saw the tail end of that concert last night.." he heard someone say. "I wasn't overly impressed...." the person commented. Roger was curious if the person was referring to their live show on MTV or some other concert.
"I like The Cross...what didn't you like?" the young man asked the other person. Roger was tempted to look up to see who was rendering a negative opinion.
"They were decent live but the material was lacking...there was nothing new...nothing to get you excited about....it just fell flat for me..." the man remarked. "I missed the first half of the concert...was there a new song?" Roger glanced at the fluffy haired man and saw him shaking his head.
"No....just their old stuff...." Roger felt deflated at the negative review his show got. But he wasn't really surprised. It rang true with how he felt about doing the show in general. Their reaction was what he had feared. Roger swallowed his disappointment and decided he was ready to leave. He turned to go to the counter. He felt obligated to get the Bowie record since the guy had offered to hold it for him. He reached the register when he first saw the other person the young guy had been speaking with. The man who had rendered his opinions about the lack of content in the show. The guy was tall and slender and had a massive cascade of brown curly hair surrounding his sharp features. Has was unconventionally cute and had a warmth about him as he smiled at Roger and stood in front of the till.
"Are you ready?" the man asked him in a soft timber. Roger nodded and gestured towards his album that was resting on the counter behind the engaging man.
"Yeah....you are holding that for me..." Roger said at he pointed at the counter. The man turned and grabbed the record and laid it on the counter in front of Roger.
"Nice choice..." the man commented and began ringing the purchase up as Roger took his credit card from his wallet. Roger noticed his Jimi Hendrix shirt and was impressed.
"That's 12 pounds 15...." the man told Roger. He handed him his credit card and thought about the comments this guy had made about his concert. He was temped to ask him more about his feelings. It seemed like he had read Roger's mind and expressed all his misgivings.
"Oh my god! Look! I am so sorry about what I said about your show!" the man suddenly said to Roger. He looked up to see that the man's face made it clear he had recognized him and Roger realized his name was on his credit card. Shit! The poor guy appeared mortified. Roger smiled and shook his head.
"Actually I think your earlier opinion was right on the mark..." he replied. "So don't feel bad about saying what you thought...it was quite refreshing..." Roger informed him. The man blew out a breath of relief and smiled at him. The warmth of that smiled made Roger feel better. Better than he had felt in a while. Almost better than that encounter last night. He smiled back and held out his hand. "I'm Roger Taylor..." he told the man. He was greeted with a kind expression that reflected in the man's soft hazel eyes.
"I'm Brian.....Brian May..."