I do not own these characters.
The second of my character-building scenes. In this scene, I'm exploring the idea that Frank wasn't always as crazy-abusive as he was in the movie. I like to think that he and Columbia had had something real, but it was also dysfunctional, and eventually it deteriorated to what we see in the movie. Enjoy, and as always, I'd love to hear from all of you.
Scene Two – Falling Apart
Columbia was curled up asleep on the bed, a magazine lying open beside her. The television had long been dark; Columbia had dozed off sometime during the second act. Magenta sat in a mess of papers, intently finishing Frank's balance books.
Frank sauntered into the bedroom looking for Magenta. He saw Columbia and froze. A smile crept over his red, glossy lips.
"Magenta," he said quietly, so as not to wake Columbia.
Magenta tensed at the sound of Frank's voice. The air was still; Columbia's breathing was the only sound.
"Master."
"Shouldn't you be…attending to dinner?"
Magenta rose slowly and placed the balance book on the table. She hesitated for a second to look at Columbia, and then left the room. After today's outburst, the little groupie was starting to get to her. Why does she have to look so fucking vulnerable?
Frank quietly walked over to the bed and kneeled next to Columbia, placing a cold hand on her pale, bare shoulder. He gazed at her longingly and began slowly stroking her bright red hair.
"Columbia," he said gently.
Columbia woke with a start. She was fearful for a split second, and then she recognized Frank. She released a contented sigh, her sleepy eyes filled with trust.
"Hi." She smiled.
Frank sat on the bed next to Columbia and pulled her into his lap, holding her like a baby, his arms enveloping her petite figure. He placed his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes as he inhaled her spicy perfume.
"I heard you tapping away today," Frank said softly. The warmth of Frank's voice melted her heart, caressing every fear and worry from Columbia's mind. Her entire body was overwhelmed by a single thought: I love him.
"Ha!" she laughed, "Maybe for two seconds. I get bored quicker than a retarded goldfish."
"Yes, I know," he said with a grin. Columbia smiled. She loved the way his accent sounded, how it teased the sensuality out of every syllable of every word.
"I'm hammering out a wicked new routine," Columbia said.
"Oh?" Frank asked, amused.
"Mm-hmm!" she rotated her body so that she was straddling Frank, flinging her arms around his neck. "I've been doing it for about a week or so. I'm gonna wear that new gold costume you got me." Frank cocked his head in response, gently increasing the pressure of his hand on Columbia's thigh.
"Would you do me the great," he drew close to her ear and whispered, "pleasure…of giving me a preview?" Columbia shivered and grinned. Frank moved in to kiss her but Columbia dodged playfully.
"Sure," she said coyly, weaseling out of Frank's muscular arms, "You're gonna love it. Wait right there." Columbia ran across the carpet to the hallway, so that Frank could see her through the doorframe. She became very serious, planting herself firmly, a concentrated look on her face. Frank leaned forward on the bed with his hands on his knees, his lips pursed in a sensuous, cocky half-smile. Columbia counted "5, 6, 7, 8" and then began her new tap dance. About 30 seconds in, she made a mistake, stumbling backwards into the wall.
"Aw shit!"
Laughing, Frank left the bed and headed towards Columbia. He grabbed her forearms forcefully and pulled her into an embrace. His lips lightly brushed her forehead.
"Mmm."
Columbia rested her head against his chest. She felt secure, protected in his arms. She never wanted to leave.
I might as well ask him now, she thought, he's in such a good mood. No time like the present, I guess.
"I've been doing some thinking lately," Columbia began.
"That's rare."
"Hey!" Columbia hit him playfully. Frank laughed and tussled her hair. Columbia suddenly became very sober. She stared at the floor, afraid to look Frank in the eye. Come on, Columbia, she urged herself, ya gotta ask him! Just do it.
"What do you think," she paused, "of me taking some dance lessons at the Academy again?"
Frank suddenly became cold. His arms loosened their grip. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, glaring at Columbia. The warmth had left his eyes.
Magenta entered wearing a stained apron. She hit a large gong, the sound of which startled Columbia and Frank. He shot Magenta a piercing glare.
"Dinner is prepared, master." She glanced at Columbia and then returned to the kitchen. You can't care, Magenta thought, She's not your problem. Frank let out a dramatic sigh.
"Coming!" He turned from Columbia and strutted down the hallway. "Columbia, change out of that ridiculous outfit before you join us for dinner," he called. "No one needs to be reminded of last night's disastrous festivities."
It felt like he had punched her in the stomach. She slowly sank down the wall. Columbia, you fucking idiot! She yanked off her tap shoes, and with an anguished cry, hurled them against the opposite wall. Goddamn…clothes…She stripped off her clothes with the force of a whirlwind, as if her life depended on it. Then, she lay on the hallway floor in her bra and underwear. She tried to breathe, but her throat caught. Unshed tears blurred her vision. She could not-she would not lose control.
Magenta, in the meantime, served dinner to Frank and Riff Raff. She was trying not to be alarmed by Columbia's absence at the table, but with one look at Frank's stony expression, Magenta knew something had gone wrong. Again. She had a choice to make. Hadn't she sworn to herself a few hours ago that she wouldn't get emotionally involved?
She excused herself from the table and headed upstairs to check on her friend. Magenta found Columbia in the hallway, sitting against the wall and angrily ripping the sequins from her bowtie. Magenta hesitated for a second. Once she did this, there was no going back. She just looks so…helpless. Magenta suddenly felt a rush of compassion for Columbia, the very emotion she had been trying so hard to avoid. Magenta picked up the rest of the clothes, and then leaned down in front of her friend.
"Columbia."
When she heard Magenta's voice, Columbia bit her lower lip, determined not to cry. Magenta helped her up, led her into the bedroom, and then helped her get under the covers. Columbia shoved her face into the pillow.
"Fuck!" came the muffled cry as her fist slammed into the mattress.
Magenta sat on the edge of the bed. She hesitated again for a moment, and then touched Columbia's arm. Magenta could feel Columbia's body relax immediately. She really needs someone. Magenta rested her hand on Columbia's back, which began heaving with stifled sobs. Magenta was overwhelmed with guilt. I wasn't there for her. She had needed me desperately, and I wasn't there for her.
Magenta heard a sound near the door and looked up. It was Frank, calmly leaning against the doorframe. He stared coldly at Columbia. Frank met Magenta's gaze and they seemed to have a moment of non-verbal communication. He rolled his eyes, sighed, and walked away.
