Rumald squinted his eyes at the screen of his laptop, squeezing at his chin between his thumb and forefinger, reading through the information Dove had found out on Belle and Gaston. He had spent the majority of his Monday, studying the information on Gaston, needing to know his enemy better. With Belle's information, Rumald wanted to take his time, reading it over and over again, until he had memorised every small detail about her to memory. It would never be as good as getting to know her properly, which he hoped he would in time, but it would be a good start as Gaston already had an advantage over him.
Tapping the down key on his laptop, Rumald passed by her college and high school grades, not shocked to see the majority of her grades were A's with the odd B here and there. He stopped scrolling the page, when he reached her employment history. This was the section he had the most trouble with, the last six times he had read it. For a woman, who had received a scholarship to the University of California, had finished top in her class and could put herself to do anything she set her mind to, Rumald was puzzled by why she had become a librarian. Not that there was anything wrong with it. Just… She had so much potential and it seemed to be wasted with her being stuck in a small town, doing a job suited for someone with a love of books and OCD. Belle should have been in the city, doing something with her degree, like journalism, advertising, or possibly working for a big company in personal relations. Not in a dead end job, where she was being undervalued. The more he pondered over it, the more he was convincing himself, it had something to do with Gaston and her father. She should have been reaching for the stars, but the lousy excuses for men in her life were keeping her grounded. He was sure they were keeping her in a cage, keeping her from flying. Rumald hated he was in no position to do anything about it… Yet.
Pinching hard at his chin, Rumald scrolled down the page, skimming over the jobs she had taken after University and those she had done whilst she had been in school. Some of the jobs overlapped, showing she had worked herself to the bone. He could tell her father had been the reason for her working two jobs at the same time. Money seemed to burn in Maurice French's pocket. The man spent any money that crossed his palm, forgetting to pay for the things he needed and splashing out on the things he wanted. Nearly every month, Rumald came close to removing goods from Maurice's shop or taking Maurice's delivery van due to Maurice not having any money for his rent or his loan.
Belle had worked really hard to get to where she was today and it saddened Rumald to think those two idiots were holding her back. With that thought in mind, Rumald slammed down the lid of his laptop and stood up in a huff, tempted to crack their heads open to shove some sense into them. He checked his watch, although he already knew it was time, and strolled over to where his overcoat hung. The front of the shop was already locked up, taking the liberty to close early, so he could read through Dove's file on Belle in peace. Grunting to himself under his breath, Rumald exited his shop through the back door and put his overcoat on as he walked down the small alleyway, between his shop and the building next door. By the time, Rumald came out from the alleyway, he had masked his annoyance from everyone.
During the short walk to the dance studio, Rumald had not seen Belle or anyone else for that matter on his journey. He checked his watch to see he was on time and entered the dance studio. Mal was stood in front of the glass wall to Studio A, her arms crossed in front of her, as she watched the couple dancing in the studio. Curious, Rumald walked over to her and cast his gaze on the couple.
"They're practising for the Blackpool Dance Festival." She said without looking at him. "Regina thinks they've got potential, but I doubt it. They can't even get through a waltz without messing it up."
Rumald titled his head as he regarded the couple, saying. "They've got time."
"You know, as well as I do, they haven't got it." Mal was harsh, but Rumald knew she was not wrong.
In the two weeks, he had been coming to the dance studio, he had seen the couple dancing but had never really noticed them. They could have been anyone for all he cared. When he used to recommended, which couples should enter competitions, there was always one factor that made his decision: they had to grab his attention. There was no point in sending a couple, who just blended into the background and did not stand out. And seeing how he had walked by them, both Tuesdays he had been at the studio, Rumald had to agree with Mal. The couple should not be going to Blackpool, not with couples from all over the world going to compete. It would be brutal for the couple.
"Regina's decision." Rumald refused to outwardly agree with Mal.
"I'll be surprised, if your couple turn up this week." Mal commented to him, twisting to see him beside her.
Rumald kept his attention on the couple, feigning his disinterest. "Why's that then, dearie?"
"Just because of their argument last week." Mal said, moving her eyes back to the couple.
"Couples argue." He told her, clasping his hands behind his back.
Mal let out a short laugh before she said. "Oh, you'd know all about that, with the epic arguments you used to have with Cora."
Rumald shuffled his feet, so he stood facing Mal and said darkly. "Don't mention her name to me."
"Sorry." She apologised, glancing briefly at Rumald from the dancers.
Letting it slide, Rumald turned himself back to face the glass, watching the couple perform a dip, nearly falling over together. While they argued on the other side of the glass, he let his mind wander back to his time with Cora. Mal was right. They had argued a lot. They would fight about the smallest things, needing to be right. Every time they had argued, it would always end up with them falling into bed together, their need for dominance continuing between the sheets. Their relationship had been an addiction for Rumald, needing her more than she needed him. Apparent, by the fact she had moved on overnight and had left him to wallow in self-pity.
Breathing loudly through his nose, taking in a deep breath, Rumald let it out as he said to Mal. "I'm going to wait upstairs."
"Okay." She said absently, scowling at the couple in the dance studio.
Strolling by Mal, Rumald gave the couple one last glimpse and headed up the stairs to Studio D. On entering the room, he removed his overcoat from himself and went straight over the sound system, leaving his overcoat and suit jacket folded on the stool. He stood near the sound system, aimlessly looking around the room, feeling foolish with nothing to do.
Rumald shrugged his shoulders at himself and moved to stand behind the sound system, inspecting the list of songs. He picked a song randomly to play, while he carried on looking through the song list. His foot tapped out the beat of the song onto the floor. Seeing another song he knew, Rumald played the song, replacing the previous song, and smiled as the beat started. In time with the singer, Rumald lip-synced along with the song, while his hips swung with the beat. He carried on through the list of songs, seeing even more songs he knew or remembered a routine he and Cora had created to a song. He hurriedly scrolled by the song, which was Milah's and his wedding song. 'So many songs, so many memories.', Rumald thought to himself, disbelieving the amount of songs he had associated to a memory.
Coming near the end of the list, he spotted the last song he and Cora had performed together. The song had been her chose. 'It's secretly for us, Rumald.', she had told him to convince him. They had danced it together at an exhibition held by the dance studio, where Rumald had taught and they had spent their free time. He had stupidly thought, it had meant something to her since it marked the fifth year they had been together and had been dance partners. If only he had known the truth, he could have saved himself the embarrassment.
He pressed play on the song. As the song started and the singer began to sing, Rumald ambled from the sound system to the middle of the room. Holding up his arms as though he was dancing with Cora, Rumald let himself imagine she was there and started to dance their routine. She had always been so regal, when they had danced, looking more like a queen than a fisherman's daughter in his arms. He dipped her and smiled, their eyes meeting like they always did, a knowing smile between them. Though, as Rumald danced with his imaginary Cora, he had to admit he did not miss her like he once did. He downright hated her, but he always missed her… Though, not so much now, he thought to himself.
"I'm so sorry!" Belle exclaimed at him, rushing into the room.
Rumald shot over to the sound system and stopped the song, as Belle dumped her handbag onto the floor and ripped her coat from her arms, saying. "I was at Freeport getting fitted for my wedding dress and on the way back, my car broke down."
He clasped his hands behind his back, lingering near the sound system, slightly startled she had caught him dancing on his own, while she continued to babble her apology. "Then the recovery truck took forever in recovering me. Gaston wouldn't answer his phone and my father was reluctant to pick me up." She let out an exasperated breath. "I am so sorry for being late."
"Miss French," He drew his brow down over his eyes, showing his annoyance, as she scurried over to him. "I distinctly remember telling you that I appreciate punctuality."
"Yes, you did." Belle opened her mouth to add something, but Rumald interrupted her.
"If you're going to be late to my classes, at least have the decency of calling either myself or the studio." Rumald advised her, angling himself forward to tower over her.
He held back his smirk as Belle gave him the most vicious, pointed look, he had ever received from a woman. He was very sure of this, as he had pissed off many women in his life. Rumald wished, he knew what other buttons he could press to fire up her temper, wanting to see his angel turn into a vixen again.
Her eyes squinted at him for a second and then she said in an irritated tone. "Maybe, if you gave me your number, I could call you next time and tell you directly, Mr Gold."
"One would hope, there isn't a next time, Miss French." He retorted quickly back at her and turned away from her as she opened her mouth to say something to him, and retrieved a business card from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
Handing his card over to her, Rumald said to her. "My business numbers are on the front. My home number is written on the back."
"Home?" She flipped the card over, seeing he had written his phone number onto the back of the card.
"Just in case." He flashed her a quick smile, when she flicked her eyes up at him from the business card.
"O…kay." Belle slipped the card into the back pocket of his jeans.
Getting on with the business at hand, Rumald clapped his hands together and said. "I was thinking we could waltz tonight."
"Oh…" The change in conversation and his demeanour baffled Belle. "Sure. Waltz."
"Is Mr Phipps joining us this evening?" Rumald asked, only out of common courtesy.
"No." Her face went instantly sullen at the mention of Gaston's name.
Half turning away from her, Rumald selected the waltz playlist from the sound system, keeping his smile hidden away from her. He should not have been finding satisfaction, in the fact, he would have her all to himself with no Gaston. After all, the reason she was doing these lessons, was to try and give herself and her future husband a common interest. Something they could do together. His smile wavered as he thought it through, foreseeing the heartache she would feel, once she found out what Gaston was doing behind her back. He wished he could save her from going through it, but it was evitable.
"The waltz is very simple." Rumald turned back to face her. "It's a three count step. You've probably done it without realising it."
While Rumald offered his hand to her, Belle nodded her head at the information and placed her hand into his awaiting hand, letting him lead her into the middle of the room. He showed her a reassuring smile, holding his arm out ready for her to step closer to him, ready to place his hand onto her back. She returned his smile, fluttering his heart for the first time that night, stepping into him to place her hand on his shoulder.
"I will lead with my left and you will step back with your right." He instructed her, holding her gaze. "On two, you'll step to your left and bring your feet together on the third step. As we step, I want you dip down in height and then on the third step we'll return to normal height."
"Okay." She said readjusting her hand on his shoulder.
"One…" Rumald stepped forward on his left and she stepped back on her right, both dipping down in height. "Two…" They stepped together to Rumald's right and on the third count, returned to normal height together. "Three. Very good. Very good, Miss French."
"O…" She was gazing up at him, blinking her eyes rapidly.
He smiled knowingly and led her through the steps again after beginning the count. "One…"
Waltzing her around the room, Rumald nodded the count with his head, smiling broadly at how well she was dancing. Without telling her, Rumald added a turn into their steps and she easily followed him, giving him a small frown at the same time. He kept the turn in their steps as they waltzed about the room together.
"This makes me think of dancing with my mother." Belle suddenly shared with him, a sad smile on her face.
"Do you want to stop?" He asked thoughtfully after seeing her sad smile.
"No, no." Her hand squeezed his shoulder. "It's nice to think about her and the goods times we shared."
Rumald remembered something she had said earlier and asked. "What did you mean earlier, when you said your father was reluctant to pick you up?"
"I'm sure, you're well aware of my father's money troubles." Belle said giving him a hint of the pointed look she had given him earlier. "He was worried about paying for gas, so I had to give him money to come and get me."
"Really?" He questioned, dropping his dearie.
She shook her head at him. "I don't want to talk or think about it." And her frown turned into a smile for him. "I just want to be here right now with you, learning to waltz."
There and then, his heart would have burst out of his chest and given itself to her. Feeling a surge of glee rush through him, Rumald twirled her and caught her back into his hold. She giggled loudly, clutching onto the shoulder of his waistcoat.
"Do it again!" She urged him.
Not needing to be told twice, Rumald spun her as they danced and caught her back into his arms to lead them through the steps. She laughed again. Gazing down at her, Rumald had not known it was possible for her look even more beautiful. Seeing her face light up with laughter made him feel light on his feet. He did not want the moment to end. If they could stay together in the dance studio, dancing for rest of their lives, Rumald would jump at the chance.
A sobered look came over Belle's face as she met his eyes. He could have sworn she could see into his depths, into his darkness, and that was why she had frozen. They came to a gradual stop together, their waltz forgotten. Fear crawled its way up his back and onto his shoulder, wanting to whisper doubting thoughts into his ear.
"Why did you ever stop teaching and dancing?" Belle asked him, halting every negative thought inside of his head.
Rumald tried to put up a front to her, hiding his feelings from her, as he fibbed. "Got too old."
She shook her head at him. "That's not it." He jolted when he felt her fingers touch his face. "Why?"
"Because…" He was going to tell her, taking the strength he needed from looking into her eyes, seeing only safety within her.
"Belle," Gaston called from the doorway, shocking both of them into looking round to the doorway. "Are you okay?"
"Yes." She said backing away from Rumald, still holding his hand.
Gaston moved his eyes from Belle to Rumald and gave him an unpleasant look. "I just got your voicemails."
Her hand slipped from Rumald's and he was left feeling lonely again, like he had on Saturday night, as she said to Gaston. "Well, that was earlier, when I could have done with you answering my calls."
"You knew, I was looking after the major league scouts today." Gaston reminded her, coming further into the room to stand in front of Belle.
Retreating from the potential argument, Rumald went over to the sound system to turn it off and began to put on his suit jacket and overcoat, while Belle said. "I'm sure, they wouldn't have minded, you answering the phone to your fiancée, who needed your help."
"I'm sorry." Gaston said through gritted teeth. "But they were very important."
"More important than me?" She questioned, making Rumald smile.
"I didn't say that." Gaston defended with his voice moving to the other side of the room behind Rumald.
Glancing over his shoulder, he found the pair had moved over to where Belle had discarded her things earlier. "You didn't not say it, either!"
"Belle, come on! That's not fair!" Gaston said lamely to her.
"Thank you, Mr Gold." She whipped round to face Rumald. "I'll see you on Thursday."
"Goodnight, Miss French." Rumald gave her a small smile, which she returned even with the deep scowl on her forehead.
Leaving Gaston in her wake, Belle stormed away from her fiancé and out of the studio. Rumald scoffed at the scene and headed for the door of the studio as well, straightening his overcoat, until Gaston stepped in front of him.
"What have you been saying to her?" Gaston demanded, shoving his hand into Rumald's chest, forcing Rumald to take a step back.
Rumald yanked at the lapels of his overcoat, just for effect, and said. "If I'd said anything, dearie, you'd know about it by now."
"And your mouth better stay shut." Gaston warned pointing his finger at Rumald.
"My mouth…" Rumald confidently stepped forward towards Gaston, unafraid of this little boy. "Will stay shut for now."
"Good." Gaston sneered and went to turn away from Rumald.
Rumald made his demeanour appear casual, as he said. "Just bear in mind that I know this secret." Gaston twisted at his waist to see Rumald. "And, if you don't want your sweet, little – Belle – to know, you'll be willing to do whatever I ask of you."
Gaston shook his head, though his face gave away how uncertain he was, as he responded to Rumald's threat. "I don't have to do anything you say."
"We'll see, dearie." Rumald grinned, showing a small amount of his teeth, and walked by Gaston.
He could feel Gaston's eyes on him as he left the studio, descending the stairs boldly. Mal gave him an acknowledging nod of her head, when he strolled by her desk, though he did not return the gesture. Rumald left the studio shoving the door wide open and walked straight out into the street, crossing without any care for the traffic. He felt he could fly, still feeling where her fingers had touched his face. Nothing could ruin his mood. Not even Gaston's pathetic attempt to threaten him. With Rumald's scheming and fate on his side, Gaston had no chance.
Song:
BodyRockers – I Like the Way
Shania Twain – You've Got a Way