Franny Pie (Part 1)
Franny Pie (Part 1)
Ever since I was child, I’d loved music. When my mother used to take my siblings and I to watch my father, the one and only True Jameson, perform at his acrobatic shows, it wasn’t his death-defying stunts which kept me entertained, it was more so the music that accompanied his performances.No surprise that when I was old enough I decided that I wanted to become a singer. Soon after we moved to Setra I found part-time work as a sing-a-gram.I often sung to my family as way of practice, in hope that one day I would perform in front of a huge crowd.When I headed off to University, I instantly took on the role of Mother hen, cooking breakfast most mornings for my room mates and making sure they all headed off to their classes on time (even when they were hungover).Although I was creative, I wasn’t really into drawing. Unfortunately, since I was studying a degree in Fine Arts, it was something I couldn’t avoid participating in.Still, my course mates were lovely.Particularly Jeffrey Dean. He was three years older than me, and rather gorgeous.I decided to approach my brother, Earl, for a piece of advice. I was certain that if he could balance his studies whilst being in a relationship I could do the same.‘You know he’s failed his first year twice, right? That’s why he’s in all your classes,’ Earl explained, the concern in his voice mirroring the protective glimmer in his eyes, ‘definitely a no-go for you, Fran.’‘Why does it matter? I’m not a brainbox like you, Earl. You know I only applied for University so I’d have a safety net to fall back on,’ I said. It was true, I would have much rather stayed in Setra to try and establish a singing career, but my parents persuaded me it was best to obtain a degree in case I struggled to obtain my ultimate lifetime wish.‘Tell you what, Fran, I may be able to find a suitable man for you,’ Earl revealed, ‘a man who won’t be a bad influence.’‘Oh really? And where do you plan on finding him?’ I asked. ‘Narnia perhaps?’‘No, wait! I actually know the perfect guy.’Somehow, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like his suggestion. Nevertheless, I went ahead with it.Bernie Butler was his name, and a lovely guy he was too despite he dressed like a thirty-something year old multi-millionaire driving a convertible with it’s top down (you know the sort!).We decided to go bowling since it was pouring down with rain outside. He was more than happy to let me bowl first. Truth was, I’d never even been to a bowling alley before. As I fumbled to pick up the bowling ball from the dispenser machine thingy I could feel his judging eyes boring into me.Rolling my arm back behind me, I took a deep breath in before swinging it forwards. Almost immediately I staggered forwards on my feet, and the ball flew not so gracefully into the gutter.Cheeks burning bright red, I slowly turned to face him, expecting him to be in hysterics. Instead he was posed with one hand on his hip and with a finger against his lips, eyes appearing to be in deep thought.
‘Let’s work on your technique,’ Bernie suggested.Of course, he was awesome at bowling and spent most the night showing me how to hold the ball properly. Afterwards, he was a true gentleman and ensured I got home safely by sharing the same taxi, despite he lived on the opposite side of town.
Overall, the date was far from being a disaster, but there was something there which made me reluctant to arrange a second date with him. Bernie was just too perfect, that was the problem. Perfection, in my eyes, was boring.