Envision The Magic [Frerard] [By innocent_wolves on LJ]

Chapter Two

In his mind, before he fell asleep, Frank used to walk the ship over and over again. In his thoughts he'd passed the ship's rooms and highlights a thousand times, and he didn't do it so much for his own pleasure than for the necessity of it. He knew a guest would approach him at some point and ask him where they could find this lounge or that bar, and it was required he knew the answer; even his contract stated it. Employees must always assume that the guests don't know shit about the deck plans. Of course, that wasn't how it was written but at least that's how Frank had understood that part.

He was doing pretty good so far; he knew his way around the top deck delights, such as the swimming pool and The EnVISION Cinema, and he was familiar with the shops on the promenade, but the real challenge was telling all the bars apart. There were so many of them, and each of them were attractive and fantastic in their own ways, such as the bar in the casino, The Green Diamond. Frank hoped they would be working there soon; he'd always wanted to see how a casino looked like from a bartender's point of view, and if it was anything like the movies.

Then there were The DropKick Disco, The Late Hour Dance Club, The All In Sports Bar and the great blue and purple atrium, The Sparkle – all of these locations had bars Frank was itching to have a closer look at. He'd only seen them, but never actually found himself in one of them, and there was huge difference between watching a bar from afar and actually being able to run his hand over the counter. He wanted to be there, to feel the atmosphere specific to each and every one of them.

Still, he was pretty sure his place for now would be at The Colossus, the main show room, in which they found themselves this early afternoon. Frank didn't mind being here; just the lounge was an attraction in itself, with its details in glittering gold and purple. He wondered what kind of performers would be standing on the show room stage, what their acts were, what they could dazzle their audience with, and if it was possible he could get away and watch any of it.

He was torn out of his daydreaming as the wine glass he was polishing suddenly slipped out of his hands and shattered into a thousand pieces as it met the floor. Frank ran his hands through his hair, staring at the shards scattered at his feet, feeling a little defeated. This was his second glass for the day, which made out seven in total, added the ones he'd broken the day before.

"Seriously, am I ever gonna stop dropping these?"

Save for the staff, the lounge was still completely empty, but the evening show was getting closer by the hour, and everything had to be ready until then. Frank was glad that no guests were around.

"It's your second day at work," Jill said encouragingly, having calmed down entirely after yesterday's stressful start, "and everyone has butterfingers in the beginning. Trust me, I was in your shoes once. You'll get into it."

"Easy for you to say, you're a bartender now," he muttered, scowling as he grabbed the dust pan, sweeping the fractured glass off the floor. They hit the plastic with a light and tingling sound. "Besides, you've been doing this forever, so you don't really count."

That was not very far from the truth. Jill had been taught bartending firsthand by her father, and already at seventeen she was considered a pretty talented drink mixer. After she'd spent some time doing bartending competitions – and winning most of them – she'd turned her attention to the cruise ship business. She'd been working on various ships from the age of nineteen, and already at twenty-two she got a regular job in the bars at the Envision Destiny. Since then she hadn't looked back once. Her promotion to bartender wasn't even a year old, but despite her young age, her skills made it look like she'd been tending bars for decades. Frank had tried to talk her into showing him a couple of bartending tricks, he'd heard she was pretty darn good at them, but she modestly declined, saying that stuff like that wasn't considered appropriate in this place.

"Well, I bet two days from now, you won't drop a single glass, ever again," she laughed. "The best cure for butterfingers is to just get out there with a tray full of drinks and make sure you don't spill on anyone. Sounds nerve wrecking, yes, but it works every single time."

Frank smiled wryly, looking down at the dust pan full of wine glass remains.

"Thanks for actually allowing me behind the bar," he said. "I know this isn't really my place, so I appreciate it."

"Sure," she shrugged, "no problem. You're my trainee so it's my call, right? I think it would be a shame if being a busboy is the first thing you'll associate with working on a cruise ship. And who knows, six months from now you might be standing right here, mixing drinks."

"Well, your future premonition looks pretty bad at the moment,” he joked, "seeing as I can't even hold a fucking glass without breaking it. When it comes to wasted glassware, I'm gonna be indebted to this ship forever."

"Alright, then I know exactly what you can do," Jill replied, raising an eyebrow at him, "and it's impossible to get it wrong. You can go in there –" she jabbed her thumb in direction of the show room, "– and make sure that every table has a new candlelight."

The Colossus itself was quite a gigantic room, with a high roof giving the illusion of being shaped like a dome. The banisters along the carpeted stairs and in front of the second-rate seats were clad in a shimmering, gold imitation, while crimson and purple were the two main colors running throughout the entire design. The gallery surrounding the room was high-raised and richly decorated, and when looking up at the purple roof, an impressive crystal chandelier adding the extra luxury touch, you got the overwhelming feeling of finding yourself right in the middle of a royal theatre. As he made his way to the front seats, he glanced at the heavy, deep red curtains and wondered what kind of act the guests could look forward to that night.

Frank quickly finished his task and headed back to the lounge, making a mental note about the two tables that didn't have any candles.

"Getting the bar ready just for me, honey?"

The sound of the unfamiliar voice made him stop dead in his tracks. He didn't know exactly what held him back but for some reason he decided to linger there by the door, concealed by a huge indoor palm tree. A man was leaning against the counter, talking to Jill. His hair was black and ruffled, and he was wearing a slightly worn leather jacket and black, faded jeans, which were almost torn to shreds at the knees. Frank couldn't see his face, but he frowned at the newcomer, thinking that this weird stranger was not a typical regular on a luxury cruise. For a moment he considered joining them, in case he was somebody unwanted looking for trouble, but he quickly changed his mind. It was something in the way he talked to Jill, suggesting that they'd talked before. Frank searched his mind but couldn’t place the man anywhere. He sure wasn't staff; of that much he was sure. Yet at the same time, he certainly didn't look like a guest.

"How are you, Jill?" the mystery man asked. His voice was a soft drawl and he spoke as if he was bored, as if this place wasn't even worth considering as being fun.

"I'm good, thanks," she replied, and Frank noticed, slightly surprised, that two blushing roses had unfolded on her cheeks.

"Say…" he continued, "did anyone tip you today?"

"Not yet, no –"

Interrupting her abruptly, he reached forward in a smooth and curious movement, as though he'd seen something only he could see, and was now trying to catch it. His hand was close to Jill's ear, and suddenly a ten dollar bill had appeared in his hand, seemingly something he'd just snatched out of thin air. He gave it to her, and her face instantly turned a much darker shade of red.

"Well, now you have," he shrugged, as if what he'd just done was something everyone did on a daily basis, no big deal. "Just reminding you about my usual Manhattan, sweetheart; you know how I like it. Can you get that delivered to my suite a couple of hours or so before I'm on?"

"Yeah, uhm," Jill stuttered, sounding slightly out of breath, "two cherries instead of one, right? Yeah. Sure. Uh-huh. No problem." She nodded eagerly.

"Good girl," he replied, a slight smile in his voice. "Thanks."

The man strolled out of the lounge and Frank withdrew one more inch into the shadows. He caught a quick glimpse of his face. He had to be in his late or mid-twenties, and it didn't take very long for him to just state, once and for all, that he was obviously very handsome. At the same time he looked as though he was, in fact, feeling just as bored as he had sounded, maybe even more so. He put on a pair of sunglasses and disappeared around the corner.

"Who was that?" he asked, once he felt it was safe to leave the shadows of the palm tree and walk back to the bar.

"Who was who?" Jill murmured absently, fidgeting unnecessarily with the ice, looking flushed. "Oh, you mean Gerard?"

"Gerard?"

He couldn't help but laugh a little. That was unexpected; he didn't look like a Gerard. That was probably the last name he would have guessed. Frank made another attempt at placing the name somewhere, to attach it to someone's face, but he still had no idea.

"Yeah, Gerard Way. He's a magician – or, well, an illusionist. Award-winning and all. He used to do his own shows in Vegas and stuff before he got hired by this company. His magic show is actually one of the most popular acts this cruise has ever had, he draws a considerable amount of the guests. Huge Envision celebrity, that one."

Now it became obvious how the money could appear so curiously out of thin air. Of course. Frank guessed it was quite a cute trick… if you wanted to impress the ladies. He didn't exactly consider it a trick worth an award. Now that he thought about it, he had seen his name and picture spread out somewhere in the ship’s brochure, he just hadn't paid it any extra attention, he'd been too caught up with memorizing the location of the bars. Thoughts of the leather wearing magician swirled around in his mind, and he recalled how he'd been hanging there by the bar with his drawling voice and slightly unkempt looks. Frank's eyebrows were already way ahead of his thinking, the frown between his eyes confirming the disapproval. Gerard seemed to be placed so far away from the preconceived stereotype of a magician; somehow he just didn't fit the schema. Frank had most definitely never been the one to judge anyone, seeing as he'd gotten judged quite a lot himself over the years, but everything about this guy was screaming arrogance. Many people could be arrogant, but this one was aware of it; he was aware of it and he embraced it. Good looks on top of everything just made matters worse. Frank scowled. He hated that kind of people.

"Is that so?" he said, failing miserably at concealing the scorn. "I've never heard of the guy anyway. What's the name of his show? The Great Gerardo?"

"No," Jill laughed, apparently oblivious to the tone in his voice, "it's nothing like that. It's not like he does children's birthday parties."

"Well, he seems like an asshole to me," he blurted out, not able to keep it to himself.

"Yeah… To be honest, you're not the first one to think that, he comes off like that to many people. I think it's just a part of his image actually. It's one of the things that makes him so popular, you know; to our guests he’s very intriguing, like he's from a completely different world." She shrugged. "But what do I know? Maybe he's just being an asshole – period."

"You have a thing for him?"

"Oh, no. Good fucking heavens no," she replied quickly, with a little more feeling and a little less giggling. "I like him, I do, but not like that. Rumor has it that he sleeps around with just about anyone, and I'm pretty sure that’s not very far from the truth. Huge turn-off if you ask me. He always makes me blush like crazy though, I don't know why."

***

That same afternoon, around five o'clock, the leather wearing magician unexpectedly came back.

"Change of plans, Jillian," he said casually. "I'm expecting company, so I'll need a Cosmo to go with that Manhattan. Any Cosmo, whatever you recommend. Just make it tasty, alright?"

He slammed his hand on the counter, as though it was a final, automatic act to complete his order. Frank, who was lining up highball glasses and focusing intently on his task, trying hard not to break any of them, was standing right beside him. He was brutally startled by Gerard's sudden action. His hand jerked, two glasses accidentally clanked together, and voila; one of them exploded, sending a shower of glittering pieces straight into the midst of ice cubes.

He opened his mouth to apologize, his face blushing with embarrassment and frustration.

"It's okay, Frank," Jill said hurriedly, cutting him off. She was almost, but not quite, able to hide the exasperation in her voice. "Glass shatters like that all the time, it's mechanical shock. We'll just throw away all of this ice and get a new batch, okay, there's plenty on storage."

A chuckle reached Frank's ears, and he looked up, his face instantly turning red-hot with humiliation. Gerard was leaning against the counter, his chin resting in his hand, his hazel eyes glittering with utter amusement.

"So, Jill," he said, shaking his head in mock disapproval, his lips twisting into a jeering smile, "who is this newbie you're struggling with?"

Frank noticed, despite the sudden flow of irritation filling him up, that the guy showed a tendency to speak out of one corner of his mouth, the right side of his lower lip slightly pulling itself down at certain words. However the whole thing looked like a completely unconscious, normal act. He found himself staring at his lips and quickly withdrew his gaze before Gerard realized what he was doing. Quirks. Damn them. Frank couldn't help but notice things like that, he always did.

He scowled, feeling how his jaw clenched immediately and how his hand balled itself into a fist around the handle of the dust pan, making it tremble slightly. He was furious – furious with himself and furious with Gerard, whom had so boldly decided it was perfectly okay to just stand there and make fun of him.

"Be nice, Gerard," Jill said to him, not quite able to hold back a smile as she removed all of the useless ice. "Please. It's only his second day."

"Oh, really?" he replied, faking the surprise in his voice. "He's just made of so much win, I honestly couldn't tell."

"Gerard!" she exclaimed, slightly shocked by his retort. "You don't have to be mean to him!" She sent him an insistent glare.

Gerard just gave her a wry half-smile in response, leaning over the counter and squinting to see what was written on Frank's name tag.

"Frank," he said, deliberately getting caught up in the first couple of letters, slowly pronouncing his name as Ffffffrrrrankkk. "Nah, you're way too young to be a Frank. You don't mind if I call you Frankie, do you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly, still with that wry smile on his face, as though he was truly enjoying making him uncomfortable, which was probably true. "It just suits you better."

Frank couldn't bring himself to answer. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd say something the guy would mercilessly swoop down upon and twist to his own enjoyment. Instead he gave him another quick scowl and kept brushing pieces of glass onto the dust pan.

"Okay, I'll take that as a yes," Gerard shrugged, ignoring his glare. "Clumsy and mute, that's very cute. Good luck with this one, Jill… Now don't you forget my drinks," he added, as he was finally walking away. "See ya, Frankie," he chuckled and disappeared out of the lounge.

"I'm sorry," Jill said earnestly when he was gone, patting his shoulder timidly, "but please don't take it personally. Every once in a while a staff member gets a taste of that; he's the only one who thinks it's hilarious."

"It's not your fault," Frank muttered in reply, returning to his unfinished task of lining up glasses. "It just proves that he's a fucking asshole."