Through the Fire Pt. 02

"I will never hurt you," is all she said.

[:::: 9 ::::]

We turned up to the venue hosting the event and I almost refused to get out of the car. Being it was for a well-known international modelling agency, there was a red carpet, including bollards on both sides and a number of reporters and paparazzi that had me wanting to just drive home. Betty had to coax me out.

"It's okay Brian," Betty told me sympathetically, she knew I was well outside my comfort zone. "If we're together they are going to see you. Think of it this way, it's a short walk from the car to the doors, we stop for a photo of my hand on your muscular arm then we're clear. On the inside only the agency media is allowed. Come on handsome."

Even as hesitant as I was for the night, I startled at the remark. With a valet standing just outside the door and a horde of reporters waiting, Betty's statement gave me an additional pause.

"What? What is it Brian?" Betty said concerned.

"You called me handsome," I said quietly, and ventured a small smile.

Betty beamed, "Did I? I wasn't thinking, I guess I'll try and get into the habit of that."

She patted my hand, collected her clutch and nodded. I exited the car and for a moment the entire crowd held their breath as they watched the giant scarred man exit the luxury car and stride around to the passenger's door opening it for world famous supermodel Lurandra. With Betty on my arm, I threw the keys to the stunned valet and we were a third of the way up the red carpet before the first question rung out from the flabbergasted media.

"Ms Lurandra, is you're date tonight, Mr Other?" One reporter asked as we turned and stuck the first pose that Betty and I practiced earlier in the afternoon.

"Mr Other," the next reporter threw at me. "Are you dating Lurandra?"

We turned again and posed together. It was the first time I had ever tried to pose for a public photo, and I tried to smile softly and relax, just like Betty and I again had practiced. She was of course grace personified, easily smiling, and used to posing with a partner, like she had so many times before. I most likely stuffed it up. But she more than made up for my lack of experience. I just hoped that when the photos came out in the news that I didn't look too awkward.

As the photographers snapped photos and the reporters threw more questions, for which we just smiled but did not respond, the next car arrived and Betty squeezed my arm with the signal to turn to walk inside using a practiced smooth movement, we strode to the hotel doors where two staff opened them and we strode through.

Once we made it to the lifts that would take us up to the grand ballroom. I pressed the button and Betty continued to hang on my arm. The lift doors opened and we walked inside arm on arm. Turning to face the front, Betty pressed the floor we were heading to, and the lift doors closed for just the two of us.

"Damm," I swore as the lift doors closed. "How the hell do you do that all the time, and then in front of all those cameras during a show?"

Instead of responding straight away, she turned to me, reached up and pulled my face down for a kiss.

"I'm proud of you," she told me, letting her hand linger on my face, running her finger along the scar on my cheek just a little longer. "I know that wasn't easy. But you did so well. I am very happy to have such an amazing man on my arm."

I blushed at the praise, not used to being complimented in such a way. Betty's eyes held mine and I could see the love and adoration in them.

Wait a minute, love, adoration...

I was beginning to ponder what those words meant when the lift slowed down and the doors opened on the hallway leading into the grand ballroom.

The scene the doors opened on was something to which I had only ever seen in movies. The hallway was opulent, with dark brown and deep red colouring, interspaced with light tan highlights. Each of the doors along the hallway we walked looked to be a dark oak or some other deep grained expensive timber. The wallpaper showed a pattern that looked to be inlaid with a goldleaf. The lighting was spaced to highlight artworks, promotions and highlighting signs to rooms and facilities.

I could hear classical music and was surprised to see a grand piano being played by an older woman of Asian descent; her long brown hair sculpted into waves that accentuated the sequenced green dress she was wearing as she tickled the ivories.

As we walked, Betty calmly reiterated to me what to expect, to not worry about people's reactions and that she had me every step of the way.

As we entered the ballroom, it almost took my breath away. The agency obviously had more money than practical sense. Across the expansive ballroom were strung two rows of three opulent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. On the right side of the room was a large dancing floor and at either end were large ice statues. To my right where we entered was a large swan, its neck craned and wings spread in majestic flight, at the other end was a statue of a model in a pose struck like she was at the end of a catwalk looking out over the audience. Later in the evening when I looked again, I noted that the ice statue had more than a passing resemblance to Betty.

Directly in front of us was a large stage that currently had a string quartet playing something that felt like it matched what the pianist was playing outside the doors. To my right were a series of round tables covered in red silk tablecloths, interspaced with white cloth placements, glinting silverware and bottles of champagne that had a variety of white petaled flowers wrapped around them.

There were a number of people milling around in small groups talking. I was surprised that while a number of them were beautiful models, both male and female. I also saw a lot of 'ordinary' looking people, some of them not very attractive at all.

I was taking in the scene, and we had perhaps been in the room almost ten seconds before Betty and I heard the scream. At first, I thought it was someone who had noticed me. The high-pitched female voice was certainly aimed in my direction, but it wasn't a scream of fear, rather of excitement.

"Lurandra!" A woman in a deep blue satin dress and flowing long blonde hair yelped running up to us. I vaguely recognised her from my investigation into Betty, she was another model. She came up to us and Betty unhooked herself from my arm for the first time since exiting the car downstairs and embraced the blonde woman.

"Casandra," Betty replied with a big smile. "How are you my sweet."

"Good, good," the woman replied nonchalantly, suddenly looking at me. I watched her eyes narrow as she looked at my face, taking in my scars, then her eyes swept over my body and I watched as her eyes went wide and suddenly a smile came over her face as she turned back to Betty squeezing her in a much more familiar embrace.

"You found him," she said and Betty nodded. Casandra turned to me as Betty slipped her arm back into mine. Casandra held out a delicate hand.

"Casandra Blane," she said formally extending a petite arm. I gently took her hand, trying not to be too firm, as we shared a traditional handshake. I felt like if I squeezed too hard, I might break her hand.

"Brian Other," I said.

"Indeed you are," she said giving me another apprising look. "Betty, opps sorry. Lurandra here, has been looking for you for years. I swear that you are all she talks about."

I looked between the two women and Betty blushed as Casandra winked at me and then surprised me as she snuck herself onto my other arm and escorted Betty and I around.

For the next forty minutes I was introduced to the rich, the famous and sometimes the infamous. Models and their agents, TV celebrities, news readers and even a couple of sporting personalities.

Knowing how nervous I was, Betty stayed by my side almost constantly, and I was thankful when three times Sandra came up and brought us glasses of wine, taking our empties away. I had never even noticed Betty's mum come into the room.

Betty and I were seated towards the front of the ballroom near the stage. Our table had Casandra and her date, another model named Brad, as well as the federal member of parliament for Brisbane and her wife.

Waiters wandered around taking orders from a well-planned menu. For the main, I chose a wagyu steak, medium rare with pepper sauce, smashed potatoes and a selection of seasonal vegetables, along with a red wine that Betty recommended. Betty chose a chicken salad along with a glass of white wine.

When the meals came out, I was surprised at the size, the cuts of meat were thick and tender. My jaw must have dropped, as the TV news presenter sitting beside me must have caught my expression.

"It's always a shock the first time," he said. "You would think that with this being an event for models the meals would be tiny." I nodded; he laughed as he cut a piece of his steak. "The models may only sparsely touch their food, but the rest of us are paying good money to be here and we expect a decent meal."

I looked over at the guy and he smiled again, then put down his cutlery and held out his hand.

"Ray," he said, "Ray Jordan, Frontline News."

I tentatively shook his hand. I did recognise him, having seen him presenting for many years.

"Brian Other," I replied. And he again gave me that news anchor smile.

"I think most of the city has an idea of who you are Brian," he said as a few of the others around the table gave a polite smile. I frowned and he sat back trying to be non-threatening.

"Don't sweat it mate," he replied in an occa Aussie accent that I would not have thought he had. "In here there is no media or stories to be told, except for what you want to tell. This evening, we are just people who are giving of their time and wallets to a good cause."

"A good cause?" I asked and I felt myself stiffen; Betty had said nothing about donations. Ray must have noticed my sudden worry.

"Don't worry Brian, its all done through donations and the charity auction," he said pointing to a brochure sitting in the middle of the table. "They put on a good event every year, and this year I think they are supporting homeless shelters."

I nodded my head, and my eye caught Betty smiling and nodding her head in agreement. I found that Ray and his wife, Joanne, were great people to talk with. Both of them were used to the spotlight and treated me like I was just another person.

After dinner the charity auction was held in between a couple of speeches and a few awards. My beautiful date won the award for greatest contribution to society, beaming at me as she accepted it to polite applause.

Ray, talked to me constantly after our introduction, and together we enjoyed talking through the auction list. I learnt that he and Joanne had three daughters, all in private school and this was a rare night out for them where there was no expectation for him to be the 'Frontline News' anchor personality.

I watched as Cassandra and Brad moved among the tables, but she constantly came back to Betty and me. I got the feeling that Betty would usually be circulating, and she was only staying close for my sake. She told me off when I asked about it.

"Brian, I am exactly where I want to be tonight, by your side," she said. "The only way that I am letting you out of my sight is the bathroom, and I am watching what I drink so I don't need that right now."

With that my date, placed her hand in mine and lent in and kissed me on the cheek.

I heard a delighted sound, looking and seeing Joanne observing us, her hands clutched directly over her chest.

"I hate to talk gossip," the woman said unconvincingly, a moment later as Betty, lent against my shoulder. "But is it really true that you only met at the New Farm Park event a couple of months ago?"

I gave Betty and approving squeeze.

"Not really," Betty explained. "Brian and I first met when I was four years old in the Burns Unit at the hospital."

For the next ten minutes, Betty and I took turns explaining an abridged, less emotional version of our story. However, by the time we were done, everyone at the table looked thoughtful if they weren't using their napkins to dab moisture from their eyes. Even Casandra and Brad had sat down long enough to hear most of the story.

"Well," Joanne said when we had finished. "If there is ever a couple I want to see make it in this world, it is you two."

The sentiment was echoed around the table and I looked at Betty.

"Couple?" I asked her quietly as the MC got back up and drew everyone's attention.

Betty nodded and squeezed my arm affectionately as the MC spoke about the agency's achievements over the past year. I hardly noticed as Betty gave me her next statement. "I'd like that Brian, I know were moving fast, but I like the thought of you and I being together."

It didn't take too much longer before the dancing started and I was again moved into unfamiliar territory. I had never danced before, well outside of my house where no one could see me. Even at school, I never danced, the girls never wanting to touch me because of my scars. When one of my teachers offered, I politely declined, heartbroken by the rejection of my fellow students.

Betty was patient and helped me make the right basic moves. I wouldn't say I was graceful in any way shape or form. But I was satisfied that I never embarrassed myself either. After a few songs, Casandra cut in, sending Betty to dance with Brad. Betty told me she would be right there, not more than a half dozen steps away.

I nodded and smiled at my new dancing partner.

"You're something special, you know that don't you?" Casandra asked me almost immediately after we started moving. She, like Betty had to lead as I had no idea what I was doing.

"Me?" I asked the hot blonde woman in my arms.

"Yes you," she giggled and then turned to look at Betty who was trying not to be too obvious looking over at Casandra and me. "She is absolutely besotted with you, and now having met you I understand why."

I snorted.

"Someone really hurt you didn't they Brian?" Casandra said, cutting directly to the heart of the matter.

We danced for a few minutes and then I nodded. "Most people look at me and they see a big lumbering giant, with hideous scars, I don't usually get pleasant reactions from people."

We danced another couple of moments, mostly just swaying.

"No, it's more than that, someone has specifically hurt you, multiple times," she stated perceptively shaking her head, her words making me think of Brian DuMont. "There, right there. You thought of that person when I mentioned it, I saw it, your eyes dimmed for just a moment."

I nodded.

"Then don't let that person stay in your head to keep hurting you," Casandra said squeezing the hand I was holding. Like Betty her hand was small in mine, but she still managed to get the message across.

"Since the event at New Farm Park, Betty hasn't been able to stop talking about you," she told me. "See, she smiles all the time, for us models we either plaster the smile on our face, or we're the serious catwalk persona."

I nodded, letting her continue.

"Betty's trademark has always been her eyes, when she smiles with her eyes, the world just wants to be a better version of itself."

I again nodded, taking a glance at Betty who was still dancing with Brad and also glancing at me. We locked eyes and smiled at each other. Casandra noticed the look.

"But when she looks at you Brian, it's like the sun has notched itself up to fifteen. She is often plastered over magazine covers and does commercials for all types of products with her smile. But if the agents get one look at her smile when she looks at you, her demand will skyrocket."

"Because of me?" I responded, not believing it.

"Because of you," she replied stating the matter plainly. "I did wonder why she was obsessed by you, and I think part of it is her infatuation from her childhood."

"I sense a but...," I positioned, hesitating just a moment.

"Of course," Cassandra replied, smiling, but the smile did not reach her face this time. "She has the man of her dreams in you Brian. You're honest, hardworking, you give of yourself even when the world spits in your eye. You put yourself out there even though you don't want to. And I think you care about my friend a lot more than even you want to admit."

I blushed.

"But," she smiled at me. "You don't have the confidence in yourself, you need to believe in yourself as much as Betty believes in you. Do that and neither of you can be hurt, don't and both of you are going to be broken."

We danced for a bit more as I contemplated her words until the song came to an end. Then we turned towards Betty and Brad, preparing to again exchange partners.

"Thank you for the dance Brian," Casandra said, pulling me down to kiss my cheek, then whispered in a conspirator's tone. "Think about it. You will see what I said is true."

"Is what true?" Betty asked as we walked back to the table.

"Just that I had better look after you, or she's going to come after me with a knife," I replied after a moment's thought.

"You better believe it!" Casandra said a dozen footsteps behind me laughing.

I could see that Betty was going to ask me a follow-up, most likely something serious, when we were intercepted before we could sit down.

"Lurandra!" a wiry man with a high-pitched voice exclaimed.

"Andrew," Betty replied, and I could see a genuine smile grow upon her face.

"How are you darling," he asked her, kissing her on both cheeks, then looked at me. "Well, well. Aren't you just all the football linebackers rolled into one. Gorgeous darling, gorgeous."

Betty laughed.

"Brian, meet Andrew Phillip. The most fun fashion reporter that you will ever meet," she said as we shook hands; he had a firm grip for a gay guy. "Andrew, this is my boy... date for this evening, Brian Other."

He looked me up and down like the piece of meat I had drooled over for dinner earlier.

"Indeed, you are darling," he replied still eyeing me. "Indeed. You. Are."

Suddenly his attention went, from eyeing me off, back to Betty.

"Lurandra, darling," he said, laying it on thick as those around us smirked. I was guessing they knew this guy. "Would you and your man here, consent to an interview?"

Betty looked at me and dropped the smile, then nodded her head at me very slightly. She told me that there would be a couple of reporters around tonight, but she would only let us be interviewed by one or two of them that she trusted to tell any story, or gossip in a way that made us look good. This Andrew guy must have been one of them. I nodded back, my stomach doing flips.

"Sounds good, Andrew! Does right now work for you?" she asked, knowing that if she waited, I might chicken out.

"Perfect darlings, perfect," he said. "Follow me."

We walked through into another hall where they had four sound proof recording cubes lined up. We could see through the clear screens that two were already in use. In one, two people sat talking, it looked like they were doing a one-on-one interview. In the other there were four people. Three of them standing in the cube and doing what looked like singing. I wasn't sure, but they may have been some teen band that was semi-famous locally.

Andrew, Betty and I, walked into the cube on the end and Andrew sealed the door as Betty and I sat down on one of the couches. Andrew plonked himself down on the other one.

"Fuck," he said. "So good to get off my feet and cut the 'shmooze' for a few minutes. How are you Betty?"

I think my jaw must have hit the floor, in just that one statement his entire demeanour had changed from flamboyant gay fashion reporter to true-blue Aussie bloke.

"Did I... Did I miss something?" I asked a moment later.