Chapter 1 - Party time
Hi there! First the usual warning, this is a slow burn. You will meet, along the way, some familiar faces if you read Healing , Say what now? , and Trouble on Wheels beforehand. It seems every character of mine wants to extend the Rainbow world they're building. If you wish to understand what this is all about, you can start with the Unconventional series : Broken, Make it a double and Unconventional Men. Thank you for being here :)
F.
Stef
Uuugh
Finding fancy clothes you can wear with one leg in a plaster cast is a hell of a challenge. It’s cold, so wearing a dress and going bare legs is out of the question, pants… meh.
You see, normally, I wouldn’t care, I mean, I’ve been walking in leggings and hoodies if not clad in ski clothes all my life, but tonight I’m retiring. As does my mom.
Sounds strange, said like that, huh?
Okay, let me introduce myself. Hi guys! I’m Stephanie. I’m thirty-one years old, I am, well, was a snowboarder in the National French and Olympic team, until very recently. As in, a few weeks ago actually.
You’re gonna tell me, but Stef, yes, let’s be friends, please call me Stef, thirty-one is a bit young to retire, is it not?
Well, you may be right, but… You see, professional sport is a whole different level, and it takes a lot of your body. Usually, you retire more quickly than if you were, let’s say, an accountant.
And me? One wake-call and a small snap of a bone was all it took me to get the message: time to stop the shit, Stephanie, and find something else to do with your life.
Last month, I still don’t know what happened, I jumped as I always do, but landed on my back. The fall took all my breath away, so bad I couldn’t even move for a while, and I really, really thought I broke my back. Or my neck. I only heard my heart thumping in my ears, loud, felt it in my head, and that was it. Then a scramble, and my mom, looking as white as a sheet, falling on her knees next to me “Stef sweetie…”. Her hands on my cheeks were so warm, it startled me, and I was relieved to breathe, and to realise my head automatically turned to her.
“Stef, can you move?”
I found out I could. I could nod, then lift a hand, a foot. I was just numbed from the fall. Nothing else.
Then, the stupidest of things, during training of all things, I landed wrong, heard a snap, felt a hot white pain stabbing through my ankle, so bad I fainted: I broke my ankle. Clean fracture, healing should be going according to the medical books, rest, hold the bones still for six weeks and call it a day.
But then my mother was already planning her retirement. Years of training kids, then training me and my best friend, before assisting the Olympic training team, and finally becoming The Big Coach. My father was a coach too, soccer coach at that, same path basically, first kids, then a bigger team, etc.
Both have enough of coaching and are fed up with being apart, but not with travelling: they’re planning to make their retirement effective within this month, bought a camper, and plan to travel in Europe.
After breaking my ankle, I realised it was time for me to grow a pair and decide to call it a day before life decided to up its lessons a notch. So when my mother announced the date was fixed for the sponsors’ party where she would make her retirement official, fancy catering and hotel all being cared of, I decided to join her: everything was aligned for me to put my big girls boots, well at least one of them, make a speech, and be done with it.
What am I going to do now, you ask? Well, coach of course, someone has to take over the family business, right? I’m not Dean or Sam, but … Just joking. But also not, I mean, I’ve been skiing and participating in competitions from such a young age, there is nothing else I can really do. And I’ve heard enough kids joining our team complaining about their previous coaches to know that my mother was the best, motherly enough, stern enough, professional enough and yet kind, a listening ear for the teenage worries, and everything in between. Sounds lame, but I always wanted to become like her when I grew up.
Anyhoo, back to the faithful evening and my struggle to find an outfit, until my Sophie, my second half, my trouble on wheels told me: why don’t you buy these sticky stockings, you know? Your legs are covered, and because they’re independent, you can wear only one under a dress.
See? That’s why you have best friends. To think for you when panic makes you stupid. Panic for a stupid outfit nonetheless, Jesus…
So here I am now, partying kind of, hopping on clutches, and trying my best to smile to everyone.
Diner had, speeches done, we’re chatting with the remaining crowd, when the same man who approached Sophie earlier approaches me too, and when she sees my face, she pushes her wheels so quickly she has to call “beep beep” to make people jump aside to let her manoeuver between them. Oh, Soph’...
Sophie, my sister in fact if not in blood.
When we were seven, I sat on the swings at recess, at school, when a big boy of a kid decided he wanted to sit on, said something ugly I don’t remember, and pushed me so hard I flew from the swing, fell on my hands and knees and started to cry at the pain of gravel, the shock and the sight of blood on my knees.
There came this blond pixie of a thing, with long blond hair and baby blue eyes, that I was sure every adult said “Awww” to with a pat on her head because she was so small and adorable, to berate the boy now swinging happily, his shoes waving up and down in front of my teary face. She stopped the swing with her two hands, turned to face the kid, shamed him for doing what he did, loud and angry and kicked him the shins a few times, didn’t rest until he said “Sorry” and left me the swing.
From that point we were friends. When school asked my mom to give us ski lessons in the winter, Sophie came alive like nowhere else: she was under the very heavy clutches from a helicopter mom like you wouldn’t believe, and on skis, she was free.
Better even: she was so fucking good at it. Where other kids beside myself were still screetching, landing on their ass or faceplanting in the snow, their planks pointing at the skies from all directions, Soph’ was beside me, turning, breaking and speeding like she’d be born on the fucking things.
So my mom decided to take her a bit under her wing, and extended her protection and coaching as much as Soph’ mother allowed it. Which wasn’t a lot, but at least enough for us both to grow up together, train together, and become gold medal olympic youngsters together.
Until the most stupid shit happened, Soph’ fell when we were fooling around on the snow, her horrid mother didn’t want to believe three different people telling her she wasn’t hurt, and decided to drive her herself to the hospital for X-rays. A truck driver intercepted their car, the nightmare of a mother unscattered of course, but Sophie’s skiiing life was over, she lost control of her legs that day, her career, and actually her complete life got cut short, at the fucking young age of seventeen. She fell right back in the clutches of her mother, emprisoned by her own body, her wheelchair and the will of that fucking witch to make her completely dependent. So dependent it almost killed her.
Then three, almost four years ago, a blessing in disguise: her caretaker, the woman who took over the abuse when the mother died, gave Sophie her two weeks notice, and actually left Sophie sitting on her wheelchair for more than two days before someone found her: my uncle, and his boyfriend.
It’s an unconventional story, I’ll admit freely: my uncle Martin is a doctor and a professional in-house doctor and caretaker, together with Jason, who is a physiotherapist. We pushed and pushed, my mother and I, Sophie to hire them, she did, they’re the Daddy kind and she’s the Babygirl kind, they fell in love and now they’re married. The three of them. And my friend is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.
Glowing now, in a glittery gown, and enjoying life.
Anyway, I saw her and the guys speak to this gorgeous man, with dark eyes, dark skin and a very expensive outfit and watch that seemed to be pure gold on his slender wrists. During dinner, I saw him stare at Soph’ quite a few times, and make Jason and Martin uncomfortable, but later they were speaking and smiling, and even laughing together.
Still I didn’t know who it was, except for hearing my father say he was a sponsor, the CEO from a Dubai new brand of sport and casual clothes, and what my father called a good dude, which is the best recommendation in my books.
But it’s nice to see my girl roll people over to wheel to my rescue, she knows I’m not that strong on talks with strangers.
“Stef, there you are! Oh, hello Ameer, so we meet again”
The man seems so controlled I’m sure no one sees who he really is, as he chuckles softly before bending forward to her and taking her hand to leave a polite small kiss on the top of her hand “That is quite the coincidence, indeed. I was willing to have a word with your friend here”.
She turns to me, eyes glinting, and I know that the man is vouched ok by her, and I relax.
“Ameer here and I had a talk earlier, I guess I know why you approach her now?”
He nods politely again, pulls at the cuffs on his sleeves, are they gold too? Then turns his black eyes to me, Jesus, the man could stand in an Armani ad, if Armani wasn’t too cheap for him. “Yes, Stephanie, may I call you Stephanie?”
I nod, amazed by the fact that he is actually waiting for my active answer to continue “Thank you, then please call me Ameer, like your friend here”.
His glance to Soph is almost affectionate before he turns his dark stare back to me “I was willing to make you the same offer I made our friend here and her husbands. I am looking for new faces for our new clothes line, and you are a beautiful young woman who could represent the feminine power we wish to convey with this new line. If you would please consider my offer, I would be very much flattered”.
I look at Soph, looking like she’s enjoying herself way too much and sounding stupid, I ask “You offered Sophie to model?”
He nods again, calmly “I did, yes. My brother is also in a wheelchair, and will model for us as well. Clothing is needed by everyone, but representation lacks tremendously in that department. Advertising is improving, if you consider the diversity of skin colors or body types, but it is still wanting in so many other aspects, and people moving differently is a good example of it. Now”, turning his face and intense eyes to me, “You are not one of these particular examples, but there is beauty and power in your every facial expression and move, and the combination is fascinating. I would very much like your features as one of our posters for what we are trying to convey with our lines. Would you consider it?”
I’m speechless, but call me crazy, I am considering it. You see, I’m retiring young. My winnings are not to spit on, but I’m planning on getting a hundred years old and still want to make a living. I’ve found a position to coach young kids here, in the region, not far from Sophie’s place, actually, but it’s a seasonal job, and part time too. So… why not?
“Thank you, Mister…”
“Ameer, please”
“Well, thank you Ameer. I am astounded by your offer, flattered too, of course, but I… I would like very much to give this a try. I’m not good at standing still, though, and I’m not sure I’m can be a good model”
He bows politely “I am convinced you will do very well, Stephanie. I am very pleased by your answer. Please allow me to leave you my card, and to ask for your details. My team will contact you shortly for a trial photoshoot, if that is agreeable? That way, we would both know if it is something that you would like to pursue, and for my team to know if it works for them as well? We will organise something in Europe in a near future… I do hope you”, turning back to Soph “and your beautiful men will consider it as well”.
He shakes my hand “I will take my leave for now, but I am sure we will see each other very soon again. In fact, I believe we are to stand in the same booth tomorrow”.
And with that, he bows, turns away and when Soph cheekily whispers “Say hi to your bodyguard”, so softly I’m not even sure I hear it well, I am sure I see the man bite a small smile before walking away.
But then I frown “What did he mean, in the same booth tomorrow?”
Sophie looks at me like I’m crazy, but my mom walks to us, a glass of champagne in her hands, and asks me “Oh I didn’t tell you? Sorry, I guess I forgot. We’re staying another night, we’re all staying. Say What Now? is performing in town tomorrow, Soph got us VIP tickets, I know you love their music, I thought it’d be a nice ending to our professional career”.
Fuck.
