Now for something a bit different. This is a joint fic. Which basically means, it's not written by one author, but two. The plot line was pulled out of the air by Lucy (citygal509) as is almost all the other focal issues and ideas, and this chapter is basically cut directly in half between our written parts. That style will more than likely change as the story goes on so don't settle into one set feel.

Through this story the main running theme is a modeling/fashion agency known as Pellie Designs. Lucy and I however are not responsible for that work of genius. Jade Danielle and Ally had quite an amusing messenger conversation and it was brought up and since it was absolutely brilliant we took the liberty of taking that small idea and turning it into an actual fic. And we thank them both for the idea, which we now dedicate the chapter to. We would also like to dedicate it to Melissa (Anjel919) our beta, for helping us with so many fics. Our writing grew with your help Melissa so thank you.

We hope you all enjoy this

Lucy (citygal509) and Kate (Kaitlinbell)


"You are such a disgrace to this family! Sleeping with another man! Holding hands, kissing in public! How can you even CALL yourself a man after the sin you have brought to this family..." Mr. Del Rossi's speech slowed, becoming lower and more deadly, a rough hiss that belied his disgust more than words ever could. "It is...unspeakable what you have done."

Marco closed his eyes tightly and clenched the fists behind his back tighter, feeling nails dig painfully into the soft flesh of his palms. He had worried about this day since he first realized he was gay. In fact, most times in those fake visions he stood proud in front of his father and took it like water on a duck's back. Sometimes he was beaten. Sometimes it turned out better than he had hoped. But each and every one he always had his jaw set in a tight line and he didn't back down after admitting who he truly was.

Somehow, it was hard to keep up this vision when confronted with the real thing. His father stood feet away from him as if disgusted, fearing to touch him like he was diseased. The beatings seemed like such a far cry now. And the man's eyes...he could tell that the man hated having to say every word. He could tell that he was reliving every good moment he had ever had with him...and hating that he had to throw it all away because his son was a pervert. But...it was his choice to make.

"You have ten minutes to collect what things you can carry and then I want you out of this house. You are not to darken our doorstep any longer. Understood?"

Marco eyed his father stonily and calmly, keeping the tears in check and nodded with a jerk. Dropping his eyes to the floor he hurried to leave the kitchen and find the sanctuary of his room one last time.

"Before you go...sit down," his father called at his retreating back. Marco almost wanted to keep walking...but instead he turned to face the man who was kicking him out of the only place he called home and stared with an almost awkward mix of indolence and obedience. The man pointed a fat finger at one of the chairs pulled away from the dining table. "Sit. Now. Do not make me say it again."

And Marco did, glaring up hotly and finally noticing the hot burn of tears rising up. The portly man moved to stand behind him and before he could stand the metallic snip of a pair of scissors sounded through the air.

"I do not know why I allowed you to wear your hair like a fruity boy. Your mama was a bad influence."

Snip, snip. Marco clenched his fingers bitterly into his pant legs and glared forward at the tabletop not daring to move but listening to the awful clip of the blades through his hair. The hair that he had spent so long growing out and meticulously taking care of. The hair that garnered compliments from every person he had ever met whether they be girl or boy, gay or straight. It was the one thing about his appearance that he ever really and truly loved.

And with a final harsh snip...it was gone.

"Now go pack your things. You now have five minutes."

And Marco did. He stood up from the chair, cast an agonizing glance to the fallen hair on the floor, glared heatedly at his father...and then simply walked away to the upstairs.

He wasn't a Del Rossi anymore.

The first thing he grabbed, even before his clothes, was a bottle of expensive Italian shampoo from the bathroom. His hair, he decided, would be the first thing taken care of. See if he let a man that let tradition come between blood keep him away from such a small and trivial pleasure.

He didn't need to be a Del Rossi.

Beep beep beep beep beep...

Groaning into the sweet smelling pillow his face was currently smashing into Marco decided that, once again, he absolutely hated Mondays. In fact, he loathed them.

The alarm continued screaming on the nightstand however, and he was forced out of his Monday bashing as he very slowly opened his eyes. He glared at the early morning pink of sunrise drifting in lazily through the billowing curtains around his window and decided he rather loathed mornings as well. Giving up on the lame idea of five more minutes he sat up and moved his glare to the alarm clock, reaching up a sleep leaden arm to turn it off. He shifted and groaned and finally sat up correctly, staring down at his toes.

Hearing the birds outside Marco finally stood up and stretched luxuriously, feeling the delicate pop of bones in his shoulders. Sounds of people waking and starting their days down in the towns squares drifted up to him on a strong breeze as he walked out onto his balcony. Below him the streets of Rome remained uncrowded and quiet so early in the morning, a pleasant change from the bustle and energy that roared up by noon and later. Marco took a deep breath and turned back around, heading back into his apartment.

After college he had immediately headed to Roma for a career in advertising. And what he had found here had been far, far more than the simple desk job he had expected. A development he didn't dislike in the least. He was quite well off, if his apartment was a testament to his yearly income at all. He spent a third of his income on charities and other such functions, but the two thirds left to his name was more than enough to make sure he was well off.

Quite well off even.

After taking a quick shower Marco ran about his room making sure he had everything packed for the flight. He had a business meeting in Toronto this week with one of the highest acclaimed fashion agencies in the business and he was doing a mandatory contract change to make sure business flowed easily from one company to the other. It was actually, in fact, his first transfer and he was a bit nervous.

Maybe because this time he knew who his boss to be was.

Satisfied that he did indeed have everything packed Marco picked up his cell and called his manager. "Domani...yes. The flight leaves in an hours time. You will phone me when I arrive in Toronto? Si. Ciao," he ended the phone conversation with a smile and immediately rang the desk downstairs to make sure his ride was scheduled properly and that his luggage would be taken care of as well as his apartment for the two months or longer he would be gone.

If he made a big break...maybe he would be staying.

Before leaving and locking up after himself he stopped at the mirror by his front door and tossed his hair to the side, running thin fingers through it, straightening it, and combing it into place. It always pleased him beyond recognition to be able to toy with his own hair again after a year of painfully trying to grow it back. It hung rakishly into his eyes, red streaks shocking through in pleasing places, and one side tucked behind his ear.

He didn't need to be a Del Rossi anymore.

He was Marco. And he was very well off if he did say so himself.

--------------------------------

It was quite a sight, Paige walking into Pellie Designs on Monday morning. She had what some would call grace, carrying her portfolio, talking on her cell phone, and telling her multiple assistants what do that morning all at the same time. Her Blonde hair, curling naturally with small light pink highlights framing her face was already tied up in a bun ready for work.

On the other side of the room, a red head watched her make her way closer. The brown eyes followed the blonde, until the sniggering of a person next to her brought her out of it.

"I would have never thought I'd see: one, Paige in pink highlights; two, her looking professional. You've done wonders El."

She smiled at the blond next to her. "Thanks, Dyl. She could have been professional with out me, but I'd like to think the highlights are due to me. Anyways, what did you think of the last layout?"

Dylan ran his hand through his long blonde curls. His sky blue eyes clouded as he was thinking. "They were good, but whatever model that is-,"

"I know. That's what we thought too. We already have an ad up on the site, and a couple interviews lined up," she beamed a small smile up to Dylan.

"You all seem to have it together. I don't know why you even need me as a consultant." Dylan smiled down at Ellie.

"Oh come on big bro, give yourself some credit. You do deserve some of it. You are the biggest sponsor, and the fact that you have good taste," Paige said from behind, her voice giving off the oh-so Paige tone that he knew so well.

He turned to face her smirking at him; almost beaming. "Oh, I do deserve some credit, huh? Enlighten me, dear sister."

Paige rolled her eyes. "Stop playing dumb Dylan. As much as you whine, complain, and say how much you hate working in the modeling business; you know you love it. And you're good at it too."

When Dylan looked away, Paige knew she had him. Her smile brightened; if it was at all possible. "I hate it when you're right."

"Oh, but I love it." She gave him a bright smile before turning to her fiancé. "Hey love. Thanks for the breakfast. It was good. Why didn't you wait for me?"

Ellie looked at her with a small smile playing on her lips. "I had a couple things to do; and you know I like to watch your entrance instead of being with or behind you when you make it."

Paige closed the gap between them and was about to kiss Ellie, when a voice interrupted.

"Ms. Nash, Ms. Michalchuk, you have a call on line one. Says it's urgent and that they need to speak to you specifically. I already tried to see if I could transfer to one of your vices but he says he will only speak to you. I'm sorry for bothering you," Paige's personal assistant Lilly said.

"Thanks Lilly. We'll go take it in the conference room. Dylan, if you will excuse us? I left some letters for you on your desk; magazines that want to feature us in them and a couple of stages that would love to host the upcoming fashion show. I need you to decide on those things. Also I am expecting a phone call from someone in New York about fashion week. I was thinking that maybe you could take that," Ellie said in all one breath. She pulled her longish red hair with black streaks up into a bun.

"Always the professional, huh El?" Dylan replied his eyes dancing with anticipation with the mention of today's jobs. He had been a professional hockey player since his sophomore year in University, when four years ago he hurt his knee and was never able to play hockey again. He still did some publicity and appearances for the sports world, but that door of his life had closed. The only thing that was there to remind him of it was the money and the fan mail he still got almost every day.

The new love of his life was the model/design world. As he couldn't draw, he was the business manger and biggest sponsor for Pellie Designs; the designs company that Paige and Ellie set up. When they first started out, when he was still playing hockey, it had just been Paige and Ellie designing the clothing, and a couple other employees with the help of savings and donations to have a couple small fashion shows a year. One day, a year or two after Dylan started to work full time there; a fashion editor from Elle had stopped at a boutique in downtown Toronto and found a perfect outfit. She had to ask who designed it and found out about Pellie Designs. She called them and set up a shoot for the next issue of Elle. When the editor in chief saw the layout she had insisted they have a show during Fashion week in New York. The magazine would help host and publicize it. The show had been a great success, and they were the designs that everyone was talking about in the States and in Canada. They quickly rose to fame, and their small company was now a big one.

"She's not always professional. Isn't that right, Boo?" The voice of his sister brought him out of his blast from the past.

Paige kissed Ellie on the cheek, and grabbed her hand as she started leading the way to the conference room. "Have fun, big bro." She turned around, blew him a kiss, turned back, and sauntered off down the hall, Ellie following right behind her.

"Someone had a little too much coffee," she heard him mutter good-naturedly as they walked away.

As they walked down the long hall leading to the conference room they said hello to many people: their interns, models, tailors, seamstresses, and other lesser designers of the firm. Ellie smiled as she thought about how they had progressed into to so much more than she had planned.

The hall was all to short and they where at the door to the conference room. She wondered what kind of bitchy person they would have to deal with today. They had always had to deal with bitchy people; bitchy models, agents, managers, and editors, just to name a few.

They entered the room, the sunlight streaming through the large windows giving the room some natural light. The sat down in the over stuffed rolling chairs at the end of the table. The conference speaker set between them. Ellie nodded at Paige before turning on the phone. "Hello, Ellie Nash and Paige Michalchuk from Pellie Designs here. How may we help you?"

"El? Paige?" a familiar voice from their past with a slight Italian accent asked.

"Marco, hun, is that you?" Paige said, her voice quivering slightly in disbelief. It had been years since they heard from Marco. They had heard a rumor that he was a big shot model in Italy, but how busy they were with work they never really checked into the rumor. She stared wide eyed at the speaker and then up at Ellie, to match the same wide eyed expression.

"Yeah Paige, it's me. Look I don't have that much time on the phone. Calling people on international flights cost a lot of money. I heard that you were looking for a tan male model. My agent emailed you my resume and photos a little while ago. I am going to be arriving in Toronto at four. I'll call you when I get in. We'll have dinner tonight, my treat. I've got to go, sorry. Ciao."

They looked down at the speaker, and back at the other. Both having the same expression. Both having the same thought, "That was Marco?"


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