REAL WORLD: Jim Hutton was Freddie Mercury’s partner; officially though, he worked as a gardener in his villa, Garden Lodge.
Another person very close to the Queen frontman until his death was his ex-fiancée Mary Austin with whom Freddie maintained a deep friendship.
FANTASY: Mark Wilson, Piece Of Trash, changes his identity to become William Karson and manages to get himself hired as a handyman at Freddie’s house, welcomed by his assistant Melania. For the residence we chose the name “Melody Hall”.
New identity
With Freddie’s business card still clutched in my hand, I resigned myself to returning to my crappy room. One way or another, I’d grab my few belongings and be out of there as soon as it was light.
But sleep was nowhere to be found. Andrew and Gus, both of whom Freddie had given the virus to, and me? The recent events just wouldn’t let me rest.
I had so many unanswered questions about Andrew’s death and latest events. Why had I asked my boss to give me HIV? What was I thinking? How could I possibly apologize to him now, tell him I was just joking? It was obvious. I’d blown it, maybe for good.
My worn tracksuit was on, the business card hidden deep in my pocket. I crept down the silent stairs, reaching the deserted reception. Leaning against the wooden counter, I tried to gather my thoughts.
The phone on the wall was a siren song at three in the morning, but the sleeping porter gave me an idea: Catching him napping would definitely have scored some points with my boss.
I crept down the hallway, my heart pounding. Mr. Taylor’s office was still lit up. This was it.
“Calm down, Mark,” I whispered, reaching for the door. I knocked.
“Mr. Gus,” I called, my voice trembling. “Just forgive me for…”
“What the hell do you want, Wilson?” he yelled from inside. Good sign, he was alone. He hadn’t replaced me yet.
I walked in without waiting for an invitation, and he looked up from his desk with an annoyed expression.
“I’m truly sorry, Mr. Taylor,” I tried to explain, forcing a calm I didn’t feel at all. “I shouldn’t have disrespected you. I went too far. You’ve always given me every opportunity, I really don’t know what came over me.”
For a moment, I had the impression that I had softened him a little, but I immediately realized I was wrong, because he burst out laughing.
“Come on, man, what are you saying? Don’t fool yourself, Mark. I gave you the bare minimum job so you wouldn’t end up in trouble. And now get out.”
I stood there, a statue, as Gus rifled through his desk, his eyes boring into me. He tossed an envelope in my direction. “Here. Take it and get out,” he commanded.
My hands trembled as I opened it. Freedom or death? I didn’t know. But as I unfolded the papers, my heart pounded. Money, more than I could ever imagine. But there, staring back at me, was a new identity.
“William Karson?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “What does this mean?” The thought of Andrew flashed through my mind, and I swallowed hard. I couldn’t bear the thought of taking on someone else’s identity.
“It means… well, if you’re gonna get HIV, at least don’t drag me into it,” he sneered.
“I gotta keep my viral strain pure, you know? You’re just a worthless piece of trash.”
“But you said Freddie gave it to you…”
He shoved me hard towards the door. “Maybe some other loser like you messed my virus up. Look, Karson, forget about your old life. This is your only chance. And if I didn’t sell you to some pimp, you have to thank Raymond Still.”
Ray, the asshole. Always butting in. That name made my blood boil. “Raymond?” I growled. “What’s he got to do with this?”
Gus leaned back, a smug look on his face. “Ray’s got it all—brains, connections, the future. You’ve got nothing. But I’m feeling generous today. Now get out of here, Mark. And remember: Freddie doesn’t play games with losers. Do what he says, or better yet, screw up. It’s what you do best.”
Rage boiled up inside me, but I held it in. Gus didn’t believe in me, just like everyone else. But this time it would be different. I would achieve my goals, no matter what.
Let’s plan it all!
I retreated to my room and fixed my gaze upon the business card Gus had handed me. The name Freddie M. loomed large, followed by a tantalizing address and telephone number.
I paced back and forth, the card a lifeline in my trembling hand. This call could alter the course of my life. But it was the dead of night. I needed to compose myself.
With the first rays of dawn, I descended to the reception area.
Gus was nowhere to be seen, and the night watchman was occupied. I crept over to the rotary phone and began to dial with my hesitant hand.
My fingers hovered over the phone dial, staring at the numbers on the card. I didn’t want to mess up. One, two, three… finally, I spun the dial one last time.
I heard the tone and waited. Then a woman’s voice answered.
“Melody Hall. Who’s this?”
Yes, the number was correct, but her voice sounded familiar. She seemed out of place in such a fancy house.
“Hi, it’s William Karson,” I said, using my new name. “I heard you were looking for a handyman. Can I talk to someone about a job?”
She paused. “Yes, we are looking for someone to take care of the house. You can come by this afternoon at three. I’m Melania, the housekeeper.”
Damn! It was her, all right. And we had a history. Knowing the stakes were so high, I put on a brave face and said, “Thanks. See you at three,” trying to hide my shock.
The meeting with Melania
I was fortunate to have the funds Gus had provided. With them, I purchased new clothes, a watch, and a haircut, as well as a more suitable bag for my belongings. I felt transformed.
After a short bus trip I arrived at Melody Hall well ahead of schedule, my heart pounding in my chest. I was ready for anything, even the most arduous tasks. I was determined to take all my chances, I knew my mission was matter of some months, at the most.
I rang the bell and Melania answered, her hair cascading down her shoulders as it had the last time I’d seen her. Her eyes widened in recognition, but she quickly composed herself.
“William Karson?” she asked, her voice steady.
“Yes,” I replied, my heart pounding.
“Please come in,” she said, ushering me into a world of luxury. “I’m Freddie’s assistant. I’ll be interviewing you.”
We sat down and she began to question me. I answered, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was sizing me up. Every time she looked at me, I felt like I was being judged.
Our eyes met and held, creating a charged atmosphere. Finally, she spoke, “I believe I know you.” Her voice was soft, yet filled with a hint of accusation.
My heart pounded. I had hoped our encounter would remain a secret. “I’ve been doing this for a long time,” I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Cleaning houses is a tough business in London.”
She smiled enigmatically. Was she playing with me? Or did she really know who I was?
“You’ve got the job,” she said finally. “But there’s something you need to know. You’ll be living here, so listen up…”
I nodded impatiently. She closed the door. “Whatever you see or hear, keep it to yourself. Freddie’s a big deal, and the press would love to get their hands on anything.”
“I got it,” I said. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Freddie’s sick,” she said, her voice low. “And he wants to keep it a secret. It’s a terrible disease.”
“I’m here to help,” I said. “If he needs anything, I’ll be there.”
“You’re just here to clean,” she said. “We have people for the rest. AIDS is deadly.”
I had done it. I’d gotten the job. I followed Melania, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and dread. The work was familiar, but the circumstances were far from ordinary. I cleaned, I organized, I did whatever she asked. It was humbling, but it was a small price to pay.
Unlike Gus, who had given me that job as a punishment, Melania seemed to appreciate my work.
A long journey
As time wore on, it became increasingly clear that Freddie was an enigma. Despite the vibrant atmosphere of Melody Hall, he remained an elusive figure, a ghost haunting the grand halls.
Whenever I encountered him he was surrounded by his staff, and I felt utterly insignificant in front of that divine presence, the angel Andrew used to describe me while talking about him.
His stage persona was electrifying, but in private, Freddie was just a shadow.
Melania, ever the temptress, seemed determined to complicate my existence. I fended off her advances by fabricating a romantic entanglement, but with not enough success.
One fateful evening though, as we dined together, a dramatic incident unfolded. Freddie, in a moment of carelessness, sliced his finger with a knife.
The blood seeped through the elegant linen, staining the pristine tablecloth. It was a stark reminder of his mortality, a jarring contrast to the immortal image he projected on stage. As I watched him, I felt a strange sense of connection. In that moment, the rock star became a man, struggling with pain and vulnerability.
Blood and frustration
It was a small wound, almost insignificant, but a few drops of blood staining the tablecloth ignited a primal instinct within me.
I watched, transfixed, unable to look away. Freddie’s blood was so close, so real. But before I could even move, Melania sprang to her feet.
With practiced ease, she retrieved gloves from her purse and tended to his wound, her movements precise and calm. A bandage was applied, and the evening resumed as if nothing had happened, the crimson stain on the pristine tablecloth unnoticed by most.
I sat there, paralyzed, unable to act. As I returned to my room that night, I bit my lip in frustration. The virus had been inches from me, and I had let Melania take control of everything.
Andrew in my dreams
I fell asleep almost immediately that night, but dark thoughts plagued my dreams. Andrew appeared, as vivid and real as I’d seen him in months.
Yet, he wasn’t my Andy, not the man I had loved and lost; I recognized his features, his hair, his hands, but his eyes and smile were those of a predator.
“You’ve gotten a job, changed your name, and yet you do nothing,” he sneered, his contempt for me palpable. His voice was cold, harsh, almost alien. “You’re wasting your time, Mark.”
“Andrew, my love…” I tried to respond, but no word came out from my throat.
“Freddie will never notice you,” he continued, a malicious grin spreading across his face as he leaned in close.
“Forget about getting into his bed, darling. It doesn’t work that way. You want the virus, don’t you? The one coursing through his veins? I bet you’re hoping to reunite with me.”
His laughter grew more mocking as his icy fingers traced my cheek. “You don’t understand, handsome. Our HIV is a sacred thing! You can’t just wait for others to give it to you. You have to fight for it! You’re not worthy of Gifter Freddie, of my family and his!”
I tried to protest, to justify myself, but yet no sound came from my mouth. Andrew knelt beside the bed, his face inches from mine and as I looked closer, I realized he definitely looked like a vampire.
“Bleed him, Mark,” he hissed, his voice sending chills down my spine. “It’s the only way. He won’t wait for you, he won’t choose you. You have to take his virus by force. Only then will you be complete.”
I woke with a start, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding and my breath ragged.
Andrew was gone, and my cheek was pressed against the cold wall.
Yet, his words echoed in my mind: “Bleed him, bleed him, bleed him.”
I rushed to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would wash away the disturbing dream, but the roar of the water couldn’t drown out Andrew’s voice.
“Bleed him, Mark, so you two become one,” he taunted.
“How?” I whispered to myself. Perhaps playing along would make the nightmare end.
“Be clever,” Andrew sneered, his voice echoing from the shower. “I don’t care how you do it. Just bleed him. Kill him. I want Gifter Freddie here with me again.”
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