Advance notice. There may be some corniness and slushiness ahead. (I mean, look at the title -- right!) But who doesn't enjoy a good love story?
So this story had an unusual start. I had an anonymous email from someone who had enjoyed Broadway Break and noticed a hidden little dig, realized what it was about (me being annoyed by some stupid reactions to a recently finished UK TV programme), and asked for some fan-fiction.
Sorry, just no. Weird!
To clarify, these characters are not (as none of my characters are) based on real people. They are more inspired by the potential of a performance that never happened. I don't know how else to explain it.
Somehow, and it's strange how these things happen, the email triggered my imagination and in came charging these two characters, bouncing around in my head demanding I wrote their story. This what happened with my manor series. I had to start writing it because they were bugging me so much, and I learned my lesson. This time I've just gone with it, as I know I won't be able to concentrate until they are done.
I hope you enjoy meeting Frankie and Cam. I think they are pretty amazing. It is a one off story, so longer than some. The story is set in the fictional world of competitive ballroom dancing, which I would assume bears no resemblance whatsoever to reality.
Warning: If you are of a sensitive disposition, then please be aware of the following potential triggers. Suicide attempt, homophobia, emotional abuse, physical violence, racism.
Yes, it's pretty slushy, but there is also a storyline.
I'll also take this opportunity to wish everyone only the very best for 2024. Happy New Year Ya'll x
Tess O'Meter -- Green/Amber.
-X
The room whirled around them. Cam concentrated hard not to stumble as they spun around and around.
Beth's dark gold gown flowed around both their legs as he held her. She felt like air in his arms. She moved with him, every step, every breath totally in sync.
Only three couples remained on the dance floor.
As he changed their direction, his eyes caught those of his main rival. Francis Vega-Caro. With his dark brown eyes always seeming amused, and his smile always superior.
Cam had to force himself not to tense. He gritted his teeth behind his lips. Keeping his face impassive as he allowed his gaze to drift naturally past his nemesis. As if he wasn't even there.
Then Beth did tense and he instinctively moved her to block her, but it was too late. The judges had seen.
"Mr Camillo Russo and Ms Beth Kato."
They were done.
Cam moved them in a final spin to the edge of the room, and then supported Beth as she leaned and drew in deep breaths.
"Okay?"
"Oh, Cam. I'm so sorry."
"What happened?"
"I just felt so sick all of a sudden."
"Let's go, get some air."
They shouldn't have left, but he explained quietly to the official on the door and he let them pass to the large patio and bar area.
Even as he took some iced ginger ale from the barman with thanks, he heard the final couple be eliminated and the announced winners.
"Mr Francis Vega-Caro and Ms Mia-Rosa Sanna." He wrinkled his nose as he sat and handed the drink to Beth.
"I'm sorry, Cam."
"It's fine, Beth. It's not your fault. Why did it have to be him though?"
Beth sipped and sighed. "Mia's one of my closest friends. And Frankie's adorable." She tutted when Cam snorted. "He is. Why do you hate him so much?"
"I don't HATE him. I don't even care that much. I just hate the way he looks down his nose at me."
"He doesn't, Cam. He wouldn't."
"He's practically royalty you know."
"Cam. He was raised in England because his mother's family didn't approve of her choice of partner. A musician from Cuba, so shocking! She's very loosely related to someone who is about fifty-eighth in line to the Spanish throne. That's nothing to do with Frankie."
"He went to Eton."
"For five minutes. Mainly because he could walk there from home."
Cam merely raised his glass as if she had proven his point and Beth growled, then laughed. "You. What you do to my blood pressure."
"Don't say that." Cam leaned forward, concerned. "You are feeling better?"
"I'm fine, Cam. But I can't believe it's over. For a whole year. You really should find another partner. I would understand."
"I don't want another partner. The circuit can wait until your selfish husband lets you come back and dance with me again." He grinned when she laughed. "I'll be busy with the Paris competition."
"It's a risk, Cam. Isn't the circuit safer?" Beth knew that Cam was trying to save to send his younger brother to veterinary school. But he was running out of time, so he was using all his money to enter the prestigious Paris competition, run once every five years, where your partner was a name pulled out of a hat, so to speak. The prize money would change your life, but it was pure luck.
"You don't have faith in me?"
"I believe in you completely. But what if your partner is no good?"
Cam started to answer, but then rose when Mia rushed over. "Mia. Congratulations."
She hugged him exuberantly, whispering a quick stream of rapid Italian in his ear. When he answered she finished with "Hai bisogno di un taglio di capelli," pushed his dark blonde hair back out of his eyes, and rushed around to the chair next to Beth. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
Cam merely nodded and re-seated himself as Frankie wandered over. Irritated by everything from his superiorly shiny shoes to his tight cornrows pulled back to a small bun.
Frankie flashed him a blinding smile, but then crouched down by Beth with what Cam couldn't deny, was genuine concern.
He took Beth's hand, his skin shades lighter than her glowing ebony. "Are you alright? What happened? They said you were unwell."
"I just got really sick."
"Ah." Frankie turned to Cam now and pouted at him. "You terrible man. You made the baby seasick."
"Stop it. He's already nervous about the baby."
"Maybe we should have stopped competing sooner," Cam mused.
"See!" Beth slapped Frankie's arm. "Go sit down and stop causing trouble."
Still smirking at Cam, Frankie wound his way around the table and slid into the chair next to him. Arranging himself with, what Cam considered to be, unnecessary elegance.
"Are you wearing mascara?" Cam asked him artlessly.
"Yes. We don't all have natural lashes as long as my forearm," Frankie returned. Peering closely at Cam with undisguised admiration.
Cam folded his arms across his chest and sank into his seat. He knew better than to tangle with Frankie. He would leave the conversation to the girls.
And sulk.
-X
Two weeks later, Cam was waiting with a small group as the names were pulled for the Paris competition.
He had congratulated Mia, who had been matched with Robert Armstrong, known as Robbie. He was close with Frankie, so she already knew him well. Robbie's usual dance partner, Collette, had been matched with an American lady who was new to the circuit but very talented, he thought they would do well.
When Frankie had come over to speak with Mia and Robbie, Cam had excused himself as politely as he could.
The man simply irritated him. His enthusiast overconfidence just rubbed Cam the wrong way. It was easy to be confident when you had never had to work a day in your life. When rose petals just fell beneath your feet as you walked.
Cam had tried to be polite when Frankie had arrived. Mia hugging her usual dance partner happily and rubbing her hand with familiarity over his head, "Your cornrows have gone. Oh, I like this."
Frankie had laughed and rubbed his own hand over his closely cropped hair, "Thanks. Time for a change."
Mia had then turned to answer the question that Cam had just asked. Informing him that Frankie had funded her entry fee for the competition, as well as his own, because he thought it would be fun.
Fun?
Cam wasn't entirely sure how he was going to make rent and eat over the summer, and Frankie could just do this for fun.
He had needed to excuse himself. He hadn't wanted to lose his temper in front of Mia. But fun? Fucking hell.
He had attached himself to a group on the other side of the room, where he could maintain a vague conversation and try to calm down. When he heard, "Mr Camillo Russo." His eyes locked on to the podium. His name out of the hat. Who would he be matched with?
"I hope it's me," Susan, a friend of his from the UK, linked her arm with his. He smiled and squeezed her hand. But his entire body went numb at the next words from the podium.
"Matched with, Mr Francis Vega-Caro."
The small group all turned and looked at him. In fact, Cam suspected the entire room was staring at him. It was no secret that he and Frankie couldn't abide each other.
"Excuse me," Cam managed, and turned on his heel, heading out of the closest door.
He made it to some picnic tables and shakily sat down, his head sinking onto his arms. What the hell had he done? He had gambled everything, his brother's future on this competition, and now it was over before it had even begun. He wanted to weep. It would take years. Years, to re-earn what he had lost.
He sat, panicking and regretful for some time. Jumping slightly when a hand brushed his shoulder.
"Here, drink this."
Cam's head shot up as Frankie sat opposite him. He looked at the tall, sweating glass, "I. I don't really drink."
