Mac: Time for an Intergalactic Wrestling Update!
Last time Kevin Mask volunteered to accompany Theresa to the airport to collect someone known only as 'Frankie'.
Who is this Fabulous Flying Frankie? What does he do? And what will happen when he meets Kevin? Doc, your thoughts?
Doc: Well, Mac, the author seems to have everything planned out for this chapter after a few false starts but she seems to have bounced back quite well
Author: …how do you two keep getting in here? I narrate the author's notes in this fiction! Out!
It has to be noted that the airport, ANY airport, is the most boring place in existence.
It is especially boring when the majority of the shops contained therein are shut and the place selling hot beverages coffee machine is on the blink so there's no caffeine hit and you have to rely on the 'accidentally on purpose' uncomfortable chairs to keep you awake and ensure you don't miss either your flight or that of the person you're supposed to be picking up.
Especially when said flight is delayed by three quarters of an hour at the least
Theresa rubbed her eyes for the fiftieth time in as many minutes and gave a small sigh.
"Bored, are we?" Kevin asked, mussing her hair. (He was, for once, maskless in public because Theresa had really, really insisted that she didn't want to have to fight of Paparazzi at a stupid hour and she'd pointed out that unless he was wearing his mask no one actually knew him as Kevin Mask because no one except her and Gramps and probably his parents had ever seen him without it.)
"It's too early in the morning for it to be early in the morning," she answered, half-heartedly pushing his hand away, but only moving it down enough so that his arm was draped loosely across her shoulders, "I'm going back to sleep. You can be my teddy bear" she mumbled, turning slightly to both hug onto his arm and hide her face from the light in it.
"How can you sleep here?" he wanted to know, he had trouble sleeping anywhere but in a bed of at least some description (specifically, he liked to sleep in Theresa's bed; preferably with Theresa in his arms and, truthfully, he first few nights away in Japan were rapidly becoming the most tiresome because he wasn't so used to sleeping alone anymore. Though he hadn't divulged that piece of information to her yet.)
"Kevin," she looked up slightly, "I have slept in more hospital corridors, backs of cars and waiting rooms than should be possible for an eighteen year old. I once fell asleep standing up, against a wall, because my mum's chemo session took longer than she thought it would. I can sleep anywhere" so saying she settled back down in the uncomfortable chair, "wake me up when the announcements sound please?" and with that she shut her eyes and, seemingly, went to sleep in a matter of seconds.
This left Kevin with little to do but attempt to look out of the windows, but it was still pitch black and, if he wasn't mistaken, starting to rain, so he contented himself with alternating between watching the various screens signalling when such-and-such flight would arrive and looking at Theresa.
He found it amazing how much but, at the same time, how little he still knew about her.
For instance, he'd once enquired why she didn't track down her father, and had been met by an uncharacteristic cold silence, and an even frostier: "He knows where I live."
She'd refused to say anything more on the subject and it had taken a ride on his motorbike and 99 ice-cream dripping with that odd raspberry sauce available only to ice-cream vendors to get her to smile again.
And now this, being here at the airport picking up someone know only as 'Frankie' who was supposedly an old friend of Theresa's mother who still visited but only when Kevin was away, it seemed she didn't want him to know this person at all. He had tried to get more information from her grandfather, but the old man had been almost as tight lipped as Theresa, simply telling him that he would find out when the time came but that Kevin had no need to worry at all, that he'd be pleasantly surprised…hopefully.
"This is announcement. The 5.45am flight from Australia will be arriving shortly at Gate 5."
He supposed he should wake her now…
Somewhere at 50,000 feet and soon-to-be dropping, Frankie looked out at the view offered from the small window of his airplane seat, anything than at the hideous sight within the vehicle itself.
This was his first time flying first class and, if he had his own way, it would be the last. But they had insisted back in Australia and he had been much too groggy from the painkillers to put up a proper objection.
Still, at least it wouldn't be much longer and he could be back on the ground and, if he was lucky, he and Theresa could get bacon sandwiches on the way back to his flat…was anywhere open at this time on a Sunday?
He missed his flat…and he hoped his brother had remembered to look after his beloved Viola
"Attention to all passengers. We are approaching London Heathrow and will soon begin our descent. If you would all please fasten your seatbelts and kindly remain in your seats until we have come to a complete stop."
Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. He'd had enough of this horrible 'I'm SO superior' atmosphere First Class had.
He cast a longing glance back towards the curtain that separated the two halves of the airplane.
Sometimes he longed for the days when he was still plain old Frankie who worked down Camden Market on the weekends selling bits of old tat to people looking for a bargain and hoping to find treasure.
Not that he wasn't grateful for his success, Heaven knew, and every thing it brought with it but at heart, Frankie was still a man of simple pleasures and style.
No matter what anyone else said, he knew the truth: he was just someone who'd had an incredibly lucky break and the day that he let it go to his head, if he ever looked in the mirror and saw someone who wasn't Frankie, then it would be time to admit defeat and walk away.
He vaguely felt his ears pop as the plane came back down to earth, felt the juddering as it hit the ground and heard the screech of tires as it slowed.
The only thing holding him back from jumping up and down gleefully when they were finally allowed to leave the bloody thing was his broken ankle.
As it was, he allowed the stewardess to hand him his crutches (he'd be old and grey without a tooth in his head before he'd let someone push him in a wheelchair) and carefully made his way down to the airport, humming happily to himself, glad to be back on British soil for as long as it took his ankle to heal.
He thought about all the things he could do whilst he was home…for one thing he could have a bacon sandwich without it making the newspapers in one form or another.
Oh, and even better than that, his smile broadened as he thought about his mother's homemade from scratch curries, (exactly how she managed to produce such huge meals from very few ingredients was something she hadn't yet passed on) she'd been bemoaning how little she saw him and that he was looking too skinny recently and she'd threatened to make a huge meal the next time she saw him.
Damn, he hadn't phoned her!
Oh well, he'd do that when he got home, when it was less likely she'd have a coronary when he told her he was hurt.
Now he just had to find Theresa (he hoped she liked the present he'd bought her) and get back to his flat.
Bacon sandwiches all around! Yes!
…followed by a nice long oblivion in his own bed.
"What, exactly, sort of person am I supposed to be looking for?" Kevin asked, it had been 15 minutes since the plane had landed. Thankfully, the early hour meant that there weren't many people around; most people arriving this early opted to either catch a taxi or a bus to the nearest hotel rather than have someone pick them up
"I'll tell you when I see him" Theresa replied, "just promise me you won't freak out"
"I do not 'freak out'"
"Just promise?"
"Very well, I promise. Why all the subterfuge?"
"You'll find out," she yawned, covering her mouth as she did, and leaned against him, "you'll like Frankie though"
Before he could try to get any more information from her, she stood up and waved her arm above her head, clearly trying to catch someone's attention.
Said someone was carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder (the flight tag clearly visible) and wearing a baseball cap down low over their face, a loose green shirt with "I'm good in bed. I can sleep for days!' written across the front, black shorts and soft shoes, or shoe rather, as the left foot was wrapped tightly in bandages, and they were leaning on a set of crutches.
And they were coming towards them
"Frankie!" Theresa greeted enthusiastically
"Hello there, my beauty!" a voice that was somehow familiar spoke, (Kevin tried to think where he'd heard it before now,) and 'Frankie' let go of a crutch long enough to drape an arm around Theresa and pull her into a hug before letting go, "you're looking stunning in the early morning gloom!"
"Liar"
"And who's this?" Frankie now turned his attention to Kevin…who blinked as the last piece of the jigsaw of recognition slid into place. He'd seen Frankie before
On stage
Not in the wrestling ring but actually on stage.
"Cat got your tongue, mate?" Frankie continued, giving Kevin the open and friendly smile seen in a dozen music posters, before holding out his hand, "I'll guess you're Kevin then, my little beauty's beloved"
"Yes…yes, that's…" he began, for once at a loss for words, "that's me. It's…an honour to meet you."
"Come on, we'll save the introductions for when we're in the van," Theresa interrupted, linking arms with Kevin and giving him a discreet poke in the side, "it's not too far"
"Terrific!" Frankie beamed, "and you two make a fabulous couple, my beauty"
"Thank you" Kevin replied, trying to regain his calm.
He honestly couldn't believe it.
Here in front of him, chatting away amiably was none other than Frankie Platinum, frontman of the internationally known, quintessentially British band, REGINA
In other words, the only band that Kevin followed even semi-religiously and owned more than one CD of their music (an achievement in and of itself as, before he met Theresa, he more or less lived out of a backpack)
"You know Frankie Platinum!" he whispered to her
"No, I don't"
"But that's Frankie Platinum!" he knew he sounded like and excited child but couldn't help it
"That's Frankie Smith, Kevin," Theresa answered gently, giving his hand a slight squeeze, "Frankie Platinum only lives on stage" her expression softened and she smiled playfully, "if it really means a lot to you, you can ask Frankie for his autograph later, OK? And I'll explain everything on the way to his flat."
"You know where he lives?" he asked, unable to stop himself, but not even the newspapers knew where Frankie Platinum called home, an achievement in and of itself, and realistically he knew Theresa must know or she wouldn't have agreed to drop him off there.
"Naturally"
It seemed to take no time at all before the three of them were safely enconsed in the relative comfort of the van; Theresa driving, Kevin in the passenger seat and Frankie on the camp bed in the back with his ankle propped up on two pillows.
Even less before Kevin found himself, almost in the space of a blink, in Frankie Platinum…sorry, Frankie Smith's flat with a friendly "Come in, come in! Make yourselves at home!"
It was less extravagant than he'd expected, the decor and the furniture were all down to earth and obviously chosen for comfort rather than style, as none of the furniture matched and judging by the things that filled the shelves, Frankie had a fondness for strange knickknacks and bizarre book titles and he would, given more time, love to peruse them, however, the early hour and the smell of the bacon sandwiches they had, at Frankie's request, (more like mild nagging) bought from the first place they found that was open, added to the fact that Theresa had just sat on the sofa which had almost eaten her, it was so soft, made him relax despite being in the presence of someone he actually respected.
"So, how'd you hurt yourself?" Theresa asked, before taking a big bite out of her sandwich, getting ketchup on her fingers
"Stone steps are slippery as polished marble when it's raining, remember that, children. Fell down the steps of the opera house after getting an 'up coming events' brochure,"
"Such a klutz"
"If you don't mind me asking," Kevin said, "James said you were an old friend of Theresa's mother, but how did you two meet? Were you at school together?"
To his surprise, Frankie laughed lightly, "Actually we met in the A&E of London Central Hospital"
"Excuse me?" Kevin wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly
"Well, it happened like this…"
Frankie had been at a Gay Pride March, he wasn't gay himself but had a lot of friends who were and he was always up for a good cause.
The march was supposed to be a peaceful one, walking from one end a part of the city to the other…sounded simple enough, right?
Sadly, some people didn't like the idea of a quiet march; specifically anti-gay fractions that hadn't heard it was a non-violent event had shown up and decided to invoke an old-fashioned gay bashing – whether you were gay or not.
The police had shown up, but not before some had been rushed straight to casualty.
Frankie, however, since he was still walking and talking, had simply been given a lift to A&E and a contact number for the police to inform them of how things had turned out so that they could make an official report.
The lady at the desk had been more than a bit cold to him, ("If attitudes were countries, she'd be Antarctica in mid-December") giving him the impression she thought he was wasting her time and faking his injuries despite the blood still dripping from his nose and split lip and the bruise around his right eye getting darker by the moment.
He'd been unceremoniously told to take a seat, with the implication that he should sit down, shut up and stop whining about injuries he was making up.
It had happened that the seat he'd chosen in the white and grey room, filled with hopelessly out of date magazines about celebrities that no-one really cared out, had been next to Melody, Theresa's mother, she'd been there since mid-morning because Theresa had chosen that day to hurl herself off the garden wall and down the steps.
Melody had been anxious because she'd been a teen-mother (and a lot of them are) and afraid that no one would believe it'd been an accident whilst her back was turned and that Theresa would be taken away from her, despite never having been in with any injuries before now and the pieces of gravel still stuck, here and there, to the toddler's face.
"Don't worry, I'm sure they see lots of children like this," Frankie'd reassured her, then offered his hand in introduction, "Frankie Smith"
"Melody Chappen and this is Theresa, my daughter," Melody had replied (Theresa had been asleep at this time, despite the bruising – though she voiced the opinion it was probably due to pure boredom.)
He wasn't quite sure how things had progressed from a simple meeting in an A&E waiting room to becoming friends but Frankie was a greater believer in the workings of fate and Melody had been a good friend to Frankie and, he hoped, he to her up until the day she died.
"…and there you have it," Frankie said with a shrug…moments before something grey and furry landed in his lap and attempted to steal some of his bacon sandwich.
The thing turned out to be a young-ish grey tabby cat; at a guess it was about a year old
"Viola!" the singer said, half pleased, half annoyed, pushing gently at the animal's head in an attempt to push it away from himself long enough to offer it the bit of bacon it'd been after, "Viola, precious, you are naughty. Where've you been hiding?"
The two teenagers shared an embarrassed look as Frankie began to baby talk to the cat and give it kisses over its furry face.
"I think it's time we left you to get some sleep," Theresa said, licking the last of the ketchup from her fingers, "I'll come and see you again in the week, OK?"
"OK, my beauty," Frankie grabbed her arm and tugged her down to kiss her cheek, "bring your boyfriend with you too! You make a REALLY nice couple and I want to see if some of the things you've told me are true!" he added in a stage whisper
10 minutes later they left Frankie cuddled on his sofa with a quilt covering him and Viola covering the quilt – he'd quickly handed out the gifts he'd bought in Australia, so Theresa wore her new, stereotypical cork-hat back to the van and Kevin left feeling like the child he hadn't had much of a chance to be, he left with Frankie Platinum's autograph.
"You know," he said as they got into Theresa's van, "He's a lot more…approachable in person than he seems on stage"
That made her smile at him as she clicked her seatbelt into place
"Reminds me of someone else I know, love," she said, reaching across to give his hand a squeeze.
Author's Notes: I love writing sweet scenes between Theresa and Kevin…I also thought it'd be nice for Kevin to show a little bit of passion about something other than wrestling and training, so he likes a particular band, in this case, he's a big fan of REGINA.
And if you haven't guessed already (you're smart people) Frankie Platinum aka Frankie Smith is loosely based on Freddy Mercury aka Farrokh Bulsara. I have loads of fun writing Frankie, he's such a lovable character, n'est-il pa?
Frankie: The next chapter you'll do my beauty's beloved's father, right? And who were those strange men announcing at the start of the chapter?
Author: in reverse order: That's Doc and Mac and I don't know how to stop them getting in here, I think I need to get an alarm or something and secondly, do you have any idea how hard Robin is to write for?
Frankie: Oh, try (hugs)
Author: Why can't I ever say 'no' to you, Frankie?