Page 24 of Spread Your Wings

Twenty-five years later, Sammy still hated standing in line.

Worse, he felt like everyone was staring at him.

He’d dyed his prematurely white hair a brilliant shade of C?roc blue.

The temporary gel ad said it would wash out with one shampoo.

He hoped it did. He would be on the air tomorrow morning to report whatever dumpster-fire the President had created overnight.

Blue hair would only exacerbate his naysayers’ cries of democratic bias.

They’d driven almost four hours from Atlanta to Nashville to see Adam Lambert and Queen.

Ahead of them in line, he overheard a girl whine, “I hope he sings his original songs tonight.”

“Adam Lambert could perform with anyone and I’d still go,” answered the girl directly in front of Sammy in line.

She wore a pink cut-off shirt and Daisy Duke shorts, usual summer attire for the south.

She flipped her stick-straight black hair over one shoulder, hitting Sammy in the face.

The acrid scent of burned hair filled his nose.

“I love everything about him,” her friend gushed. “Especially his eyeliner.”

“I love his bubble butt. It goes on for days.”

“The music, though,” the friend said. Her hair was brittle blond from too much bleach.

“He could sing the phone book and it would be better than some of those songs.”

Sammy couldn’t control his rage at these girls’ poor taste in music.

Then, the blond girl broke the camel’s back. “‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ is the longest, most pointless song. I hope they skip it tonight.”

“You have absolutely no taste in music.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Go home and listen to Bieber or something.”

“Okay, Boomer.”

Sammy sputtered, flailing for the right words to explain he was Gen X without starting a fight. A comforting hand on his shoulder calmed him. Mustafa’s left hand, the one bearing his onyx and white gold wedding ring. Sammy glanced over at Mustafa, who rolled his eyes.

“At least, we are at the right concert. We remember the actual music, before Freddie died.” Mustafa’s accent was more pronounced than usual, a sign of annoyance.

“You need an education.” Sammy gave her his best stink eye.

Behind his back, he clasped his hands. He twisted his matching wedding band around his ring finger.

He’d picked up the nervous habit two years ago.

They’d been one of the first couples in their county to get married after the Supreme Court ruling.

The girl with black hair glared at him. “Well?”

“Start with A Night at the Opera , and A Day at the Races . Then, Jazz , The Game , and News of the World . You’ll recognize most of those songs. Then, you need to watch Highlander , and listen to A Kind of Magic . Best album ever.”

“And Innuendo , if you want to break your own heart,” Mustafa said with a sheepish grin.

“Come on, Amber. We don’t have time for this.”

“Hold on,” the girl, Amber, said. “I didn’t know they had so many albums.”

“That’s not even half of them,” Mustafa and Sammy said at the same time.

“Still start with the Opera one?”

Sammy nodded. “Listen to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ All of it. If you hate it, you hate music.”

“Jeez, Amber. Stop talking to these geezers.” The blond pulled her to the ticket counter, and then they disappeared into the crowd.

“Look at you, educating the youth,” Mustafa said.

Sammy kissed Mustafa’s cheek. “You were amazing.”

Mustafa still blushed at every compliment, even if Sammy gave them fifty times a day. “I meant what I said. Adam Lambert’s a sad imitation if you’ve heard Freddie sing.”

“But he’s cute.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Mustafa corrected. “And sultry.”

“His bubble butt goes on for days.” Sammy waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, she had a point.”

Sammy took Mustafa’s hand. “Think he’s better than Paul Rogers?”

“Yes.”

“And Robbie Williams?”

“Eh,” Mustafa gestured with his other hand. “They have about the same swagger.”

“Adam’s voice, though.”

“Yeah. Adam’s better.” He sighed. “But not better than Freddie.”

“Nobody’s better than Freddie.”

With that, they entered Bridgestone Arena’s stadium seating for their fourth Queen concert, hand in hand.

THE END

Want more from Sammy and Mustafa? Read “Heaven for Everyone,” a contemporary bonus epilogue based on 2025 current events.