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“This is absolutely mental.” Brian glanced down at his wristwatch, shaking his head at the late hour. “Roger, it’s been nearly six hours, mate, when are you going to give this a rest?”
“I’ve made my terms clear.” The drummer’s voice was muffled inside the cupboard but never-the-less unyielding in its resolve.
Brian dropped his head in frustration. The guitarist had been sitting on the floor of the kitchen for the better part of the last half-hour, and it was beginning to wear on his patience. After having a late lunch, the band had been discussing singles and b-sides. It had been clear from the beginning that Freddie’s masterpiece, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, would be the first single that Queen put out off of their new record, A Night at the Opera. What would be it’s b-side, however, was a little harder to iron out. Each of the other band members had songs they wanted considered, but Roger had been particularly vehement about his hard-rocker, ‘I’m in Love with My Car’. Brian and John had been giving Roger a hard time about the song since Roger had first brought the idea to the table - in fact, if he was being honest, Brian had originally thought the song to be a joke. They must have finally gone too far in their insults, however, as the blonde had climbed into the kitchen cupboard then, vowing not to emerge until ‘I’m in Love With My Car’ was made the b-side for ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. The band had ignored him, assuming the petulant drummer would emerge on his own within a few minutes. Now, hours later, it was becoming clear how serious Roger was. Brian was almost impressed with his bandmates resolve.
“Okay, Rog, If you just come out I’ll make you brownies, huh?”
“Genius.”
Brian cast an irritated glare up to where John was sitting on the counter above him, legs dangling in front of the cupboard doors that concealed their stubborn bandmate.
“By all means.” Brian waved at the closed wooden doors before loosely wrapping his arms back around his knees. “If you've got a better idea, please, be my guest.
“Oh, no, no, you’re doing great.”
“Roger, darling, are you still in there?” Freddie came around the corner into the small kitchen, crossing his arms where he propped himself against the wall. “Well, I must say, while I find it flattering that you have so much faith in ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, I don’t see why you’re making such a big stink about it. We’re all four going to get a song out there. Why does it matter so much whose goes with whose? Personally I think Deaky’s done magnificent work with ‘You’re My Best Friend’, and I’m not just saying that because it’s written about me.”
“Veronica. It’s about Veronica.”
“What do you say, darling?” The flamboyant singer ignored his bassist’s correction, keeping his focus on Roger. “Don’t be ridiculous, come on out now.”
The three men waited in silence for a response, but it soon become clear that none would be forthcoming.
“Or we can just leave you in there, go make all the decisions, and then come back and get you before the tour.”
“He’d’ve long died of starvation by then, Fred.” John supplied helpfully.
Brian couldn’t help the slight chuckle that escaped his throat at his friend's ever deadpan commentary.
“Then why don’t we just let Rog’s precious car song be the b-side and make ‘You’re my Best Friend’ the second single release?” Freddie, turned to look between his visible bandmates.
“What about ‘39?’” Brian protested.
“Well-”
“Brian won Scrabble last night so I don’t think he should get to win this too.”
“What?!” The guitarist turned back to the cupboard, which had decided to speak up again.
Freddie inclined his head in agreement. “You did get 168 points for ‘lacquers,’ you bastard! You may be a beautiful bastard, but you are a bastard nonetheless.”
“What-“ Brian spun where he was still sitting on the wood floor to look up at the singer. “Are you seriously siding with him right now? The grown man who is folded up in a cupboard with crackers, mouse traps, and old cans of beans?”
“They're not old! They don’t expire until next year, Brian!” Roger's muffled voice corrected.
“Ah,” Brian threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Well in that case this is all a perfectly normal business practice!”
“Oh, shut up!” Roger shot back at the guitarist's sarcasm.
“There’s a special place in hell for you, Rog!”
“Yeah, and it’s the throne!”
“Oh my God,” Brian threw up his hands, looking to his friend still seated on the counter above him. “I can’t do this! John?! A little help here?”
“Okay, Roger, If you come out of the cupboard, Brian will let you sleep with Chrissie.”
“What?!” Brian shot the bassist a withering look.
In return, John simply shrugged his shoulders. “Worth a shot.”
“Actually, that is the best offer I’ve heard so far…”
“No! No, no, no, no! And did I mention no? My wife is not a bargaining chip in your delusional mind games, you horny bastard!”
“Well, then I guess you don’t want that b-side that badly, now do you?” Roger’s muffled voice taunted the guitarist.
Brian just blinked dumbly at the old wooden doors that concealed his bandmate, before turning to face his singer, his eyes pleading for help.
“You’ve got to admit,” Freddie shrugged, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “he’s got a bit of a point there…”
“Aha!”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Brian’s jaw dropped as he ignored the drummer’s cheers.
“All I’m pointing out, is that one of us has been locked in a small, dingy box for the better part of the day for his cause.”
“Yeah, Fred,” Brian ran a tired hand down his face. “That doesn’t mean he wants it more, it means he’s lost his bloody mind!”
“And I don’t miss it!”
Without breaking eye contact with Freddie, Brian dramatically gestured toward the cabinet doors with a wave of his arm. “See.”
“What, in bloody hell, is goin’ on?” Paul asked as he came around the corner into the kitchen, arms folded over his chest. The assistant came to a stop next to Freddie, glancing around the room. “Who’s in charge around ‘ere?”
“Usually whoever shouts the loudest.” John smiled from where he still sat perched atop the counter.
“Paul, as always, your presence is entirely unwelcome.” Brian pulled his knees back up to his chest with a shrug. “But it appears as though you may actually be of use for once... What song do you think should be the b-side to ‘Bo-Rhap’?”
“I rather liked Roger’s car song, actually.”
“Paul, mate,” Roger’s shocked voice pierced the wooden barrier that separated him from the rest of the room. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank you.”
“It did turn out quite good actually...” John agreed with a shrug.
“This must be what going mad feels like…” Brian mumbled to himself, rubbing his temples with his fingers.
“Thank you for the input, darling, but this is a band discussion. Bye bye now!” Freddie waved off the assistant, who took the hint and left the room with a nod.
“What about ‘You’re My Best Friend?’ It’s catchy, under three minutes, has great commercial appeal…" Brian looked back up at the bassist, a pleading look in his hazel eyes. "C’mon, John, it’s your bloody song! What do you think?”
“I’m just the bassist.” John shrugged, shaking his head at Brian with an apologetic closed-mouth smile. “I’m fine with whatever the band decides.”
“Fred?” Brian turned to face the singer.
“I think I’m rather bored with this topic,” Freddie pushed away from the wall, making it across the kitchen to the cupboard in three strides. "Roger, come on out, darling. The b-side is yours.”
With that, John shifted his legs out of the way and the singer unceremoniously threw open the cupboard doors, revealing the scrunched up drummer.
“Wha-you can’t do that!” Brian gasped, jumping to his feet to face Freddie.
“I can, and I did.” The singer placed his hands on his hips. “Look, Deaky and I are indifferent, which leaves you and Rog, and I’m sorry darling, but this way I don’t have to hear him bitch the rest of the night.”
“It’s true, I would have.” Roger agreed, groaning as he slowly unfolded himself from the tight quarters of the cupboard.
“The second single can be ‘You’re My Best Friend’, which, like you said, has great commercial appeal, and ‘’39’ can be the b-side.”
“Works for me.” John agreed, hoping down from the counter.
“Look, okay, that works, but we’re a band. We’re supposed to work together.” Brian shook his head. “And I just don’t think we should be rewarding him for stooping to something as petty as locking himself in a cupboard to get his way.”
“You’re right.”
“That’s…” Brian cocked his head at the drummer in surprise, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “That’s an unusual phrase for you, did you just learn it?”
“You’re right, it was petty. That’s why I like you, Brian. You’re the better man. You always take the high road, which leaves more room for me on the low road.” Roger winked, clapping the guitarist on the shoulder. “Now, I’m starving!”
“My days of not taking you seriously are certainly coming to a middle, Roger.” Brian frowned, his eyes tracking where the drummer had moved past him to inspect the contents of the refrigerator.
“Oh, don’t pout, darling!” Freddie reached out, holding the guitarist’s chin in his hand. “You’ll get wrinkles on that beautiful face of yours. Roger’s antics aren’t worth that tragedy.”
Brian couldn’t help but huff a laugh at his friend, shaking his head with affection. “You’re right, let’s just move on, shall we?”
“How about to dinner?” Roger’s voice was muffled where his entire head was stuck into the refrigerator. “What do we have to eat in this blasted house anyway?”
“Well, If you had eaten when the rest of us did two hours ago there was pizza.” John smiled unapologetically from where he was leaning against the counter. “But I’m pretty sure the rest of us made short work of that.”
As if to prove the bassist’s point, the pizza box that Roger extracted from the fridge had nothing but a single piece of crust left inside.
“You couldn’t’ve at least saved me a slice?” Roger lamented, taking a large bite of the piece of crust as he tossed the now empty box back into the fridge before flicking the door shut.
“I was a little preoccupied dreaming up ways to kill you in your sleep.”
“Charming.” Roger shot a grin at Brian as he tore off another hunk of crust with his incisors.
“I was just hungry myself.” John interjected to break the moment of awkward silence that followed. “Still kinda am, actually…”
“Let’s all go grab a bite then!”
“I could go for something sweet.” Freddie smiled at the drummers suggestion, turning to look at John who was nodding his head enthusiastically now.
“I was thinking burgers actually.” Roger countered.
“Sorry, Rog, but the rest of us have already eaten, mate.” Brian reminded his friend with a shrug. “Looks like you’ve been outvoted.”
“Oh yeah?” The drummer raised a challenging eyebrow as he turned on his heels and walked further back into the kitchen. When he bent down to swing open the door of the cupboard, his three band mates erupted into a chorus of groans and complaints. “Are you kidding me?!” Brian’s voice rose above the rest. In response the drummer smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes as he flicked the old wooden door closed with a bang as he stood back up straight.
“I’m just messin’ with ya, mate.” Roger brushed shoulders with Brian as he walked past, shooting the curly haired guitarist a wink. The drummer slipped on his white sneakers, looking up when he noticed that no one else was following suit. “C’mon! Let’s go get some dessert!”
“Cheeky bastard, isn’t he?” Freddie mumbled as he made his way out the door that Roger had already disappeared through.
“Why do I feel like this wasn't the last we’ve heard of this blasted cupboard?” Brian grumbled, side eyeing his bassist.
“Don’t worry, If it ever happens again, we can just glue him inside of the damn thing.” John shrugged easily as he made his way outside.
“I do rather like the sound of that…” Brian hummed gleefully, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he followed his friend, closing the door behind them.