Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ My Statue ❯ What People Think ( Chapter 3 )

To: Alisa Grimm, staff writer
Colony House Books, Inc
From: T. T. Bloom, Producer
The Greatest Show in the Universe
Date: February 18, A.C.213
Re: Biography

Well, the writing bug has bitten me. I was very distracted today at work. I spent the whole time thinking about what I would type next and what words I would use. I even checked a few facts with Cathy. I can see now why you writers enjoy writing Ms. Grimm.

I vividly recall one other thing irritating me about Missy's training with the Panzinis. Jack Panzini. He was tall, young, and well built. He lifted, swung and grabbed Missy way too much for me.

"What's up with you?" shouted Cathy over the roar of the motorcycle.

I looked down at her cage swinging beneath me. I cut the engine.

"We were supposed to go backward with you in a handstand, but you repeated the last move!" Cathy glared at me.

"Sorry, lets start again." I said, trying not to watch Missy and Jack.

"I'm not doing anything with you when you are so distracted. What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing," I said.

But she instinctively followed my gaze. She looked at Missy. "Is there something wrong with Missy."

"No...yes...no, not really."

"Trowa..."

"It's just Jack Panzini, don't you think he's pawing her a little too much?"

Cathy humored me by pausing and looking back at the trapeze group. "It's just the swan toss. He does that with his sister all the time. Same move."

"Missy is not his sister. And I think..." I had to stop, Cathy was laughing at me. "What?"

"Well, you do realize that Jack Panzini is gay, don't you?"

Irrationally, I felt better, and clueless. "He is? But he doesn't...you know..."

"Swish?"

"Yeah"

"Really, Trowa, not all gay men swish. Half our male dancers are gay and they still write their names in the snow with urine." She grinned up at me. "So can we rehearse now please? Now that you know Jack isn't stealing your girl?"

I was shocked. "She's not my girl! I'm her trainer, it's my job to look out for her!"

"Sure." She grinned smugly. I hate having a sister sometimes. Especially when she misses the point entirely!

And she started to plot against me after that. What I mean is she became my self-appointed matchmaker. It became obvious when a few days later, she started in on me again about those Friday nights at the local roadhouse. Cathy and her crowd loved to go dancing there. Big crowd. Too much noise. Too much talking. And they actually thought it was fun!

"You've got to come tonight, Trowa!" Cathy said.

"You know I don't like those roadhouses." I shifted paperwork on my desk. You'd think she get my hint I had work to do.

"Why? It's fun. Dancing, drinking, laughing. It would do you good!"

"I like the quiet Friday nights to get caught up on my paperwork."

"Oh! You are such a stick in the mud!" Cathy threw her arms up.

Missy knocked then entered the door Cathy had left open. "Mail," she announced, placing the pile on my desk.

"Thanks," I told her. At least one of them understood work.

"And you got these two requests for petty cash." She handed me the forms.

"Missy'll come tonight, won't you?" Cathy asked.

"Where?" asked Missy.

"Dancing at the Roadhouse. All our friends will be there. Jackpotting, laughing, having a good time."

That was totally unfair of Cathy, she knew Missy would follow her anywhere. Missy still seemed to be a Cathy fan. I knew Missy wouldn't like that crowd but she agreed any way.

"Good," crowed Cathy linking her arm in Missy's. "We need to get you out doing normal stuff anyway."

"It sounds like fun." Missy grinned at Cathy. Then she looked at the watch I'd bought her. "Oh I've got to run!"

"Fine." Cathy let go of her. "We leave here at about 8:30."

"Great!" Missy left in a hurry, off to rehearsal.

Cathy turned back to me. She raised her eyebrows.

"It changes nothing," I told her.

"Really? If you go, you could dance with her." She held her arms out and waltzed toward the door. She stopped in the doorway. "If you don't, other men will." She left, but I could hear her dancing down the hall.

"Your little plots won't work on me, Cathy!" I called after her. I heard only the tinkle of her laughter in response. Damn her!

My pride wouldn't let me go dancing with them. But the evening was wasted because I found it impossible to work. Instead I spent my time worrying about men taking advantage of poor little Missy. I told myself I was responsible for her and that's why I worried. Cathy shouldn't risk someone like her like that! Missy was still an amnesiac after all.

I tried to work, but I couldn't focus on anything. I blamed Cathy. Why did she have to mess with things? When I went to bed, I found myself lying awake in bed. I couldn't get to sleep until I heard them both come home. They were quiet, but I heard them.

Cathy stopped outside my door and whispered loudly, "You are a fool!"

I didn't say anything.

The next Friday, I found that Missy did not go out again. I found this out because I walked in on her practicing in the gymnastics room that evening.

"Hey, you didn't go dancing?" I said.

"Oh, Trowa," she said turning around, "no, I didn't. I needed to work out a little. I'm too weak in the arms and I keep missing. Besides, last time I thought that y...well I thought it would be different than it was."

"Different?"

She nodded. "Dancing was harder than I thought."

"You don't know how to dance?"

She smiled. "I sort of hoped it would be like making breakfast, I'd just know from somewhere in my past. Guess not."

"Must be interesting, figuring out what you knew before."

"Except when you embarrass yourself on the dance floor!"

"But you and Cathy dance all the time."

"Yeah but that's jazz dancing, showgirl stuff, circus stuff," she said.

"My point is you know that type, so learning other types will be easy."

"Spoken like someone who has never stepped repeatedly on Jack Panzini's loafers." She giggled.

I liked the fact she went out dancing and had danced with the 'safe' guy. I smiled. "Well I don't get much chance to dance with Jack Panzini."

"Well you could, you know," she joked. "I'm sure he'd much rather dance with you."

"So I've heard." I smiled again. She laughed. I made her laugh, it was a good feeling. And that was probably the reason I said what I said next. "If you want to learn ballroom dancing, I could show you?"

"You know how to dance?" She looked at me like she always did when I performed for her: with awe. The truth was, she looked at Cathy that way too. We were training the leader of our fan club.

"Yes," I quipped, "The clown can dance."

She giggled. "Just so long as the Clown can do it without the bang." She feigned dancing and ducking my clown hair.

I laughed. "You know, that would make a good routine."

"Oh yes, it would be funny with you and Cathy." She gave me her patented adoring fan look.

"Why not you and I?" I heard myself suggest.

Her face fell. "Oh no, I can't even do the trapeze right yet! And besides I can't dance."

"You will. On both." I took her left hand and drew her towards me. And that was the first time I noticed it. Missy wasn't emaciated any more. She had muscles now. Her arms were beginning to look like Cathy's arms: strong and developed. Even better, I couldn't see her ribs. She had abs that would please any body builder. The only thing she was missing was a certain feminine softness. She was now muscle and bone. Of course, we hadn't let her sit still long enough to get any body fat. Except for one place. I caught myself before my staring became too obvious, but she had breasts now. She looked like a woman again.

Beautiful, I thought. The audience would cry at the beauty of her as she flew threw the air. I was sure of it.

"Well?" she asked and I realized I'd paused.

"Well, first..." I placed her hand on my shoulder and took her right in a lower swing style hold. "We'll start with the Jitterbug swing."

She scoffed. "Is there really a dance with that name?"

"Yes, and it's a classic."

I'd missed working with Missy these last weeks. She was a joy to teach. She had this enthusiasm that made it easy. She never got discouraged, she'd get determined. And when she got something right, she'd smile and it would light up her whole face. I know that's a cliché thing to say, but I don't know how else to describe it. I don't know how long we danced that night, but it was the most fun I'd had in as long as I could remember. We tried all the dances I knew: The Jitterbug, the Lindy, the waltz and the nightclub two step. The Lindy is swing too, but the nightclub two-step is a slow dance like the waltz. Slow dances are made for tall people with the sweeping moves and the up-down stride. Her long legs were built for it.

When we'd got the basics of the nightclub two-step down, we put on a slow rock song: 'Lady in Red', which is a very old song. It had been redone that year and was very popular. During it, she stopped grinning at her success and let her body and face move to the music. Music has a way of demanding an emotional response from you, and I felt myself drawn into the beauty of watching her move. I led selfishly, moving her in circles so I could see all of her. I spun very little myself, and stopped leading her behind my back. I couldn't see her face if I did that. Or the gentle smile that played on her lips. Or her softly curling hair, which had gained enough length to frame her face like a halo of gold. Or her pale blue eyes that held me captive as I looked at them. When the music stopped I was still looking at them, at her.

I was holding her in my arms, but her eyes held me. I was drawn to her. I wasn't thinking. There was only her, and a growing desire deep inside of me to kiss her.

But it only lasted a moment, because when the last bars faded away completely, the audience clapped. My sister, and the Friday night crowd had returned. God, I would've given anything for Heavyarms at that moment to blast them all away! But instead, the performer in me took over. I led Missy into a graceful dancer's bow and curtsy.

Cathy laughed. "You were just pretending last Friday Missy! You do know how to dance."

Missy grinned. "I do now. Trowa taught me. Just the basics though." She looked at me, and there was something new in her eyes-some understanding. Something I'd like just two more minutes to figure out.

The crowd moved in to surround us. I have never been one to show my feelings on my face, which is a good thing because I didn't want the whole circus to know what I felt right at that moment. Disappointed. Why did they have to come just then?

I followed the crowd back to the dormitory, barely listening to their pointless chatter. It wasn't until I got safely back in my room that I realized what I almost did. I stood there in horror. I'd almost kissed an amnesiac war victim! Someone who'd placed her trust in my circus and me. I'd nearly taken advantage of her! I must have responded to the temptation of her natural hero worship of me. The man in the circus I should protect her from was me. I felt like the lowest cad ever to crawl the earth sphere. I vowed it would not happen again.

But the gossip chain had been set in motion like a cascading line of dominoes. That very next day, I was walking passed a room when a whispered comment reached my ear and I had to stop and eavesdrop. I stood next to the door, putting all my old skills as a Gundam pilot to use, and heard it all.

"Did you see the way he looked at Missy when they were dancing?" crowed Gwen.

"I sure did, well that confirms it doesn't it?" said a girl I couldn't place without looking in, and I wasn't going to look in. They might stop talking.

"Well it was certainly obvious that she loved him before this, I mean if her statement the Friday before when she realized he didn't come dancing is any proof..."

"Oh I missed that, what did she say?" It sounded a little like Anna, or maybe Mary-Beth. Even now, I don't know.

I leaned closer, as eager as any of the gossipers themselves to hear about Missy on that Friday night.

"She said very sadly: 'But where's Trowa?' to Cathy. I heard her. And then she looked incredibly depressed for the rest of the night."

"Yeah, I thought that was because she danced badly."

"She just didn't want to dance with anybody else, that's why she danced that way. Did you see her last night?"

"She said he taught her."

"Sure, I believe that one."

"Missy's not that manipulative."

"No I agree there, I don't think she realizes she's doing it. Blind love."

"Why does he like it? Why does he like her? I've seen hundreds of girls practically throw themselves at him and he never responds."

This statement caught me off guard. Where was I? How come I'd never noticed these hundreds of girls I hadn't responded to! That absolutely couldn't be true.

"Oh it's just like him. There's only two things that man cares about in this world. The circus business and his sister. He's got one, he can't keep the other because she's in love with that politician, so he finds some girl with no past and no future and creates a copy of Cathy."

"Really?"

"Oh sure, men do it all the time. I've seen a hundred movies where some popular guy finds this poor worthless girl turns her into his perfect woman and falls in love with her. It's a main movie theme. Like that one Greek guy-you know the one who carves a statue and then falls for it and asks the Goddess of Love to bring her to life."

I knew who she meant: Pygmalion. But Missy was not my Galatea. She wasn't my statue. I was not making a copy of Cathy. And I definitely was not in love with Missy! Yesterday was just an unguarded moment that wouldn't happen again. But even if I butted in and told them so, it would only make matters worse.

So I left, very quietly. But I still thought about what I'd heard. It was hard not to. I did feel bad that I exposed Missy to those kind of rumors. And I wanted to check and see if the rumors upset her. So I waited for her in my office, since morning rehearsal was almost over.

We hadn't talked much at breakfast that morning. Cathy had dominated the conversation with the details of the Friday night dance. Plus I was still a bit ashamed at what I'd almost done to Missy. I didn't look at her much then.

She came by my office at about eleven to do the normal errands she always does.

"There's something I'd like to talk to you about, Missy," I told her when she handed me the mail.

"Sure." She sat down.

I found myself noticing another part of her that was no longer emaciated. Her lips. They were much fuller now. The lips I almost kissed. Shocked at the direction of my thoughts, I forced myself onto the subject.

"I want to apologize for the rumor...about, well...you see it's about..." I couldn't believe I was being this inarticulate. What was so hard about saying 'You and I'?

She laughed before I could spit it out. "Which one of the many rumors do you mean?"

"The one I caused by my behavior last night...wait a minute, there's more than one?" This I couldn't understand, surely last night was the first time anyone had true fodder for starting rumors of a romance between Missy and myself?

She smiled. "Well, let's see...there's definitely the one about you and I being an item, but that one's been around for forever."

"It has?"

"Then there's the one about me being a victim of some action of yours during the war and you are training me because you feel guilty. Then there's the one about Cathy being a homosexual and she and I are an item."

I think I groaned, or maybe just raised my eyebrows.

"Then there's the rumor that you have a sister complex and are trying to turn me into another Cathy..."

"Heard that one..." I mumbled, and a pit opened up in my stomach.

"Then there's the one about me being the act you were going to replace the Panzinis with before they signed the contract." She thought for a second. "Oh yes..."

"Good Lord there's more?" I put my head in my hands.

"There's one about me being a con artist who has you wrapped about my little finger. Also the one where I'm a cancer patient with only two years to live and a dying wish to perform in the circus."

I felt miserable. "How did this happen?"

"Well, when you don't offer any information, people simply make it up." She smiled. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it!" I was startled.

"Which one bothers you? They're all just wild guesses."

"It's just that I thought the one about you and I would make you uncomfortable." I watched her face for a reaction.

"It does, a little," she admitted.

I felt happy that it bothered her, because if it didn't that meant...I forced that thought away. "Then I am sorry. What happened last night was inexcusable, and I..."

"Dancing with you only added fuel to a fire that's been burning for a long time."

That particular choice of words made me uncomfortable. It had added fuel to more fires than gossip. "How did it get started then?" I asked.

"Oh lots of little things. Did you want a list?"

"Yes, tell me, so I can avoid embarrassing you in the future."

She tapped a finger on her lips thoughtfully before answering. "Well, you should stop making every excuse to come talk to me."

"I don't!" Then I thought about it. "Do I?"

"The inventory?"

"I really couldn't find it."

"It was right in the middle of your desk."

"Well yes but..." I said.

"And you searched the place to find me when the baby elephant was born."

"I thought you'd like to see it."

"I did, but you could've waited," she said.

"Well, I..."

She giggled at my discomfort, in a way I thought she was enjoying our little interview. "Do you want the list or not?"

"Please continue."

"Stop buying me presents."

"I've only gotten you useful items!" This was really making me uncomfortable.

She held up her wrist. "The watch?"

"You needed a watch." I had gotten it for her a month ago. It had a pretty blue leather band that matched her eyes.

"Then you should've given me the money and sent me for it. You picked it out yourself, and it's a nice one, definitely gossip material."

"I concede the point. Is that it?"

"Well, you should stop watching me rehearse."

"I don't. I can't. Cathy and I practice in another room now."

She smiled. "Of course, why do you think she insisted on the move?"

"She said I was too distracted...okay, okay, fine, next?"

"Well it would help if you didn't sit next to me at lunch and glare at any man I try to talk to."

My jaw dropped, speechless. I wanted to deny it, but I knew it was true. I had told myself that I was protecting her from people who would take advantage of her in her condition. I had no idea it could be taken that way. Then something occurred to me. "If I stop doing all these things, then you should stop doing the things you do."

"I do? I don't do anything gossip worthy."

"You do. You always look at me like an adoring fan."

"But," she stammered, "you're Trowa the Clown! You're famous."

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"Okay, I'll try." She blushed.

"Also," I continued, "You probably shouldn't wear that T-shirt anymore."

She looked at her chest, a big goofy cartoon of me as Trowa the Clown was in the center of it. "But Cathy gave me this. Lots of people wear it, it was last year's shirt!"

"It's me."

She pouted a little. "Okay, I'll stop wearing it."

"I also hear you sulked that Friday when I didn't come dancing..."

"I was upset at my lack of dancing ability!"

"I heard people gossiping about it. That you mournfully asked why I hadn't come."

She flushed redder and I knew it was true.

I held up the stack of mail. "And I am capable of getting my own mail too, you know."

She looked crestfallen. "I was just trying to help. You've done so much for me!"

I began to regret having to do this. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but this had to be done. "And I appreciate it, but maybe it's best to not do it for a while."

"Very well." She definitely pouted then. "But I'm not stopping breakfast!"

"Don't you dare! Cathy would kill me." And I'd help her.

She giggled and I was relieved that she was still able to laugh at the situation. "Okay." She sat there for a moment, but then said, "Is it really so important to stop this gossip?"

I sighed. "My goal for you was to give you a career. In your own right. When we start the season, I hoped you would be just like every other circus member. One of us. I don't want to handicap you by making the our supposed relationship the only reason you are accepted."

"Thank you." She looked at her hands again.

"Beside, the producer really shouldn't..."

"Be involved with a performer?" she volunteered.

"Be thought of as involved with a performer. I'll never be able to hire you then." The whole thing made my head hurt. This was way too complicated.

"Okay, we'll begin immediately. Can I go to lunch now?" She looked at me, determined.

"Sure." I watched her get up and walk to the door, then I added, "I really am sorry about this."

She turned. "It's okay." Then she left looking very much like I'd just canceled Christmas on her. Suddenly, I wanted to call her back, to tell her to forget it. But I didn't, I couldn't let myself hinder her career.

I rescued her from a shelter, I'd given her a voice and a job. I was her hero, she'd do whatever I asked. She was becoming a trapeze artist just because I wanted her to. And I knew, that if I asked her, she'd kiss me. Even if she didn't want to, just because I was her savior. I couldn't take advantage like that. No matter how much I wanted to feel those full lips on mine, or see if her eyes still had that sparkle after I kissed her...or would there be something more there...

What was I thinking? Had I completely lost control of my thoughts?

As I sat there, I wondered if I really could ignore her during the day and these wild thoughts of mine. My hand closed into a fist. Of course I could. I was the producer of a circus, the star! I could do anything.

Ms Grimm, you have caused me to stay up very late yet again. Well, actually, I just lost track of time. As much as I'd like to stay up, I do have work tomorrow. I think I'll have some time to continue tomorrow evening.

Yours truly,

T. T. Bloom

"Don't dance all night with me, till the stars fade out of sight,
They'll see it's alright with me, people will say we're in love." --Oklahoma