At The Rink

[Angela]

Scenes taking place at the rink will be posted here.

[Angela]

On a clear July morning, Natalya sat in her office looking over paperwork for her students' competitions. A brisk knock brought her eyes away from the entry forms and to the door.

"Come in," she called. A tall, thin, Caucasian brunette woman stepped inside, wearing a white short-sleeve blouse and a knee-length light blue skirt.

"Hello, Mrs. Ignatieva-Rampal. My name is Rihannon Rodowsky. I'd like to enlist your services in coaching my son, Bradley."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Rodowsky, but I am not taking anymore new students, as I intend to retire after the 2007 World Championships," Natalya replied, clasping her hands in front of her. "I don't want to leave your son high and dry with no one to go to, and so used to my teachings by then. It wouldn't be fair to him."

Rihannon frowned. "Well, is there any way I can convince you to coach him anyway? He really could do well learning from someone as astute as yourself. I will pay whatever you wish, just name it." To prove this, she took out her checkbook and pen.

"That won't be necessary," Natalya said camly. "I'm afraid I just don't have the strength to handle any more students. There's only so many hours in the day you know. However, if you are interested in training with an assistant, I can refer you to Evgeny Potemerenko. He's making his coaching debut this year. I assure you, he's perfectly capable of handling your son. He's spent three years coaching group classes for children on a regular basis here, and has assisted in my own seminars and has been invited by other coaches around the world for their seminars and workshops. Your son skates singles I assume? How old is he, and at what level is he competing?"

"Yes, he skates singles. He's 16, and just about to have his senior test," Rhihannon replied thoughtfully. "Yes, I think that will be satisfactory. Shall we call him to meet me?"

Natalya blinked, somewhat surprised. "We shall call him and see if he is available for a meeting right now, and I think he'll take it from there if he decides to teach your son," she said, and picked up the phone without waiting for a response. She paged Zhenya's beeper, and waited. "Why don't you sit down, Ms. Rodowsky." She gestured to the chair in front of her.

Rihannon smiled a little, and sat down. "So we just wait for him?"

"That's right. He should be along in a few minutes, depending on what he's doing."

Zhenya hummed as he swept the floor of one of the ballet rooms. He paused and reached into his pocket as he heard his beeper go off. He sighed with relief as he saw it was Natasha. Previously he'd gotten beeped because Slava had a few athsma attacks in the past few weeks. It put him on edge, dreading the next beep for fear of another attack.

He knew she wouldn't be bothered if he finished sweeping before he went to her, so he continued this task, then headed to Natalya's office. It was only fifteen minutes after the beep.

Mrs. Rodowsky stood up and folded her arms across her chest indignantly. "Well, it's about time!" she snapped. "I don't have all day you know."

Zhenya stared at her, but before he opened his mouth, Natalya calmly replied, "Evgeny Alekseievich, Ms. Rodowsky wishes to enlist your help in coaching her 16-year-old son, Bradley. He skates singles, and he will be taking his senior test with your guidance should you choose to coach him."

Evgeny thought for a moment and nodded. "Well, let's schedule a tryout for... tomorrow morning? At 9?" he offered.

"He has violin lessons at 10:30," Rhihannon said, shaking her head.

Zhenya looked carefully at her, then nodded. "All right. How does 7:30 sound? He can bring the clothes he needs for his violin lesson, and change into them after the tryout."

Rhihannon raised her eyebrows, but nodded. "That sounds fine. We'll see you tomorrow." She shook his hand. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Ignatieva-Rampal," she added to Natalya, then walked out.

Zhenya sat down with a sigh. "What did you get me into?"

"She does seem a little forceful, doesn't she?" Natasha said disapprovingly. "Well, we'll put- rather, you'll put her in her place," she encouraged with a smile. "You can handle this one."

"Sixteen years old, hm? Why didn't he come and ask me to coach him?"

"I don't know. But whatever the reason, I'm sure it's a good one."

"Well, I'd better sign in the hours on the bulletin board before they're taken," Zhenya said. He went to the bulletin boards and signed up for tomorrow's 7:30 lesson.

[Angela]

Rhihannon sighed as she walked into the living room or her South Hills flat.

"Well, how'd it go?" a darke blonde man the same age as Rhihannon asked absently, looking at the newspaper.

"Unfortunately Ignatieva-Rampal is retiring after this year, so she won't take Bradley as a student."

"Wow, looks like I'm up the creek without a paddle," a young man's voice replied.

"Not quite," Rhihannon said, rolling her eyes. "You're going to be training with Evgeny Potemerenko. You have a tryout with him tomorrow at 7:30."

"7:30? I was going to play basketball with Aaron!" he whined.

Rhihannon rolled her eyes. "You can play basketball with him after violin lessons."

"But he's leaving at noon to go to Florida for two weeks," Bradley whined. "Tomorrow was gonna be the last time I was gonna see him! This is so not fair, Mom."

Rhihannon sighed. "There's nothing I can do, honey. Either you have the tryout tomorrow at 7:30, or we look for another coach. And with the season and the senior test fast approaching, I don't think we can afford the second option."

Bradley stood up from the nearby kitchen table he was sitting at. "You suck," he spat, and stormed to his room.

"Why don't you let the boy try out for basketball this year, that's what he really wants," the other man in the room said with a sigh.

"Tom, because he'll be too busy skating to have any time to play basketball. Plus he has violin, and drama, that will cut into his time enough."

"Why don't you let him drop one of them?" Tom asked, rolling his eyes. He finally looked at her for the first time since she got home.

"Because he likes drama, remember? And that Stradivarius isn't going to play itself."

"Then let him drop the skating, you know how he hates it."

"Tom, we already discussed this," Rhihannon said with an exhausted sigh. "We're going to have an Olympic figure skating champion in this family and that's final."

[Angela]

Zhenya got up bright and early the next morning, and made breakfast for his family. After eating and making sure Slava was all right, he embraced Irina and bade her wish him good luck.

"I'm going to need it," he said coyly.

"You'll be fine," Irina said, slightly amused at the whole thing.

"I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about that mother," he said with a laugh.

Irina laughed, and watched her husband leave.

Evgeny spent 45 minutes warming up, and at 7:20 he took a break, drinking water and setting up paperwork. Ten minutes later, he was still waiting. At 7:45, he was standing with his arms crossed impatiently, looking for this new student of his.

"Mr. Potemerenko?" a woman called. It was Rhihannon. She came out of the lockerroom with a tall, muscular young man beside her. The boy had pale blond hair, was wearing a pair of extra baggy pants, a ripped black T-shirt that showed his rippled abs, and he had a medallion around his neck. But that wasn't the sight that dropped Zhenya's jaw: the boy had pierced ears, but even that wasn't too bad compared to the rest. He also had pierced eyebrows, a pierced nose, and a pierced naval.

"This is my son, Bradley," Rhihannon said redundantly. The young man stepped forward.

"'Sup, dog!" he said, holding his hand out, expecting a high five.

It didn't take long for Zhenya to find his breath. He put his hands behind his back and looked Bradley over.

"Mr. Rodowsky, you will address me henceforth as Evgeny Alekseievich. You will remove all... rings from your body before you come to the rink, and you will come dressed in appropriate training clothes. If you cannot adhere to these conditions I am afraid I will not be able to coach you. Right now you're a danger to yourself. Imagine skating in these pants, they almost cover your skates. You might trip and smash your face into the ice, causing the rings to cut yourself. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Rodowsky?"

Bradley stared at him. "Dude..." was all he could think of to say.

"Remove your rings!" Evgeny commanded, slightly louder. In a calmer voice, he added, "You can remove those, can't you?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Then remove them! You will not set foot on that ice until you do. Mrs. Rodowsky, you may leave now."

"What?" the woman asked, stunned.

"I forbid parents to sit in on private lessons," Evgeny said. "It distracts the student and the coach. It would be nice if you would leave so we can get down to business. That is, if Mr. Rodowsky takes off his rings!"

Bradley glared at him. "Fine." He took off the six earrings in his right ear, then the left, then the two in his eyebrows, the one in the nose, and the one in the naval. He held them out to Evgeny, who masked the disgusted look on his face and set the rings on the boards.

"Still here, Ms. Rodowsky? Meet me in my office at 9 to discuss Bradley's tryout please," Evgeny said, not even glancing her way.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, and left. "What the hell am I supposed to do for an hour?" she asked herself, annoyed.

Meanwhile, Zhenya had taken Bradley into the lockerroom.

"You're not gonna molest me or anything are you? Cause I'm a fighter," he quipped.

"Mr. Rodowsky, my only interest is to take your measurements so we can get you some proper training clothes so we can use whatever time we have left constructively. I can't believe your previous coaches actually allowed you to come to practice like this." He rolled his eyes and continued writing down the measurements he was taking, then called Natalya and asked her to get the matching size in a training uniform. It only took fifteen more minutes. By the time Bradley was properly dressed and warmed up, they had only a half hour left.

Zhenya let out a deep breath. They were back at the ice sheet. "Now, Bradley, I'd like to se doubles of every jump, starting with toe loop, then finishing with the Axel."

"Chill out, dude." Bradley wasted no time in doing the jumps. He had terrible posture, which made for some terrible landings. Zhenya made a note to work on that.

"Very good, now I'd like to see a camel spin from you."

"Flying or regular?" Bradley asked.

"Regular," Zhenya replied, rolling his eyes. He took note of Bradley's poor centering, position, and overall lack of focus. "Forward inside-outside spiral," Zhenya continued.

"Spiral? That's a bitch's move!" Bradley whined.

"Let me make one more thing perfectly clear, you will not swear in my presence again," Zhenya continued. "If you don't know how to do a spiral, let's see a spread eagle then."

"God, chill out for Christ's sake!" Bradley exclaimed, then did the spread eagle. Zhenya sighed and paused to take notes, then stopped and stared at Bradley's move.

When he was finished, Zhenya called Bradley to the boards. "You have a natural gift for edges," he said, impressed. "Do you do figures?"

"No," Bradley answered. Zhenya couldn't tell if he was lying or not.

"There's hope for you yet," he joked with a small smile. "It's a rare thing when someone is good with edges in this day and age. I'll coach you. Our time is up, unfortunately, but I will see you perhaps this afternoon. You may go get a shower and get ready for your violin lesson your mother was telling me about. Oh- Your rings," he said, reluctantly handing them back to the young man. As the boy headed back to the lockers, Evgeny sighed. "I feel sorry for the violin teacher."

[Angela]

Evgeny went to his office while Bradley was getting ready. He met with Rhiannon, who had spent the last hour at a salon nearby reading magazines and getting a permanent.

"Well, Mrs. Rodowsky, would you like the bad news or the good news first?" he asked, gesturing for her to sit down.

"Give the bad first," the woman replied as she sat down.

Evgeny wasted no time. "He has terrible posture, jump technique, centering, and he has lack of concentration and focus." Rhiannon stared at him, looking as if she longed to punch him. "However, the good news is that these things can be worked on. And even better news, he has an extraordinary raw talent for edges. I'd say, offhand, that I can have most, if not all, of these flaws overcome in ssix months."

Rhiannon's mouth was open slightly, then it closed. Then it opened again, and she said, "That sounds... really good." She shrugged.

"All right. I'd like to meet with him today at 3, so we can have a real training session. Now, I don't know what kept you from the tryout, and I really don't care, but tardiness is something I frown upon. Please do not be late."

"All right," she said, impressed with how confident he was about the situation.

"When does school start for him?" he asked.

"September 5th," Rhiannon replied.

"Then starting September 5th, I'd like him to train with me Monday through Friday-"

"The 5th is a Tuesday," Rhiannon pointed out, confused.

"I know this. Tuesday, the 5th, through Friday, the 8th, and Monday the 11th, through Friday the 15th, you get the idea?" After she nodded, he continued. "I'd like to train him twice a day, 5:30 AM to 7AM, and again from 4PM to 6PM."

Rhiannon nodded slowly. "Yes, that's fine. And the weekends?"

"Saturday he can sleep in," he said with a smile. "10:30AM to noon, then 7PM to 9PM."

"And Sunday?" she asked, having written all this down.

"Sundays? I don't work on Sundays," Zhenya replied calmly, as he penciled in the schedule.

"Surely to maintain a strong training regiment, he should train every day," she said disapprovingly. Zhenya calmly looked her in the eye.

"Mrs. Rodowsky, the body can only do so much work. It needs to rest. Besides, Sunday is the Sabbath, and I take the fourth commandment very seriously."

"It's good that you won't kill anyone, but don't you think we should stick to the matter at hand?" Rhiannon asked, confused. Zhenya couldn't help a laugh.

"Mrs. Rodowsky, the fourth commandment regards the Sabbath Day, to keep it holy. I will be in church most of the day."

"Aren't masses only two hours?" she inquired.

"They're a little longer than that for my church," Zhenya answered calmly. "Anyway, I will be having quality time with my wife and son. Stated once more, I do not work on Sundays."

Rhiannon wasn't pleased, but she finally nodded. "He'll lose three hours a week though. Is there any way we can add it into his training?"

"Mrs. Rodowsky! Surely you don't intend to run your son ragged. With the violin, school, and skating, he's got a full plate. His body needs time to rest, and he needs to have some fun as well. Now the schedule is as it is. That is final," he said, truly shocked at the idea of turning a 21-hour training week to a 24-hour training week. After all, if the boy was just turning senior, it was unlikely he was going to have a metioric rise to the top.

"All right. But you know I think for all I'm paying you I should be allowed some say in my son's training-"

"Mrs. Rodowsky, the coach has primary say in matters of the skater's training. If you insist on training on Sundays, you may ask any skater here, and any coach here, if they have ever trained seven days a week. I guarantee you the answer will be no. So whether he trains Sunday or not, which will have to be under the supervision of someone other than myself because I refuse to work Sundays, he will have to trade for another day off during the week." He folded his arms and looked at her skeptically.

"Fine," she said with a sigh. "He can have Sunday off."

"Thank you," Zhenya replied, rolling his eyes. "Now, I've managed to get him proper clothing for practice, so please make sure he brings them next time. And speaking of time, you were almost twenty minutes late. Let me make one thing clear: I don't care for tardiness. Please be on time next time."

"All right," she snapped, glaring at him. "Is that all, Mr. Potemerenko?"

"Yes, your son should be ready for his violin lesson by now."

Rhiannon got up and started walking to the door. Then she stopped and turned. "He also has drama during school. What if the practice times for both his skating and the drama should conflict?"

"Then we'll make arrangements in advance for him to train either earlier or later, depending on the time he has to be there for drama. You'll find I can be flexible, Madame." He smiled a little.

She laughed softly, grateful he was lightening up. "All right. Have a good day."

"You too, Ms. Rodowsky."

As the door to the office closed, Zhenya sighed and put his head in his hands. This was hard work. He massaged his temples and leaned back in his chair for a few minutes, trying to decide what he should do next.

[Angela]

(this takes place the same day as the earlier tryout; be advised, there is foul language)

After an excrutiatingly long violin lesson, Bradley went home. After a quick lunch, he went to a nearby basketball court. There, his friends Mike, Alex, and Eric were playing a game.

"Hey guys!" Bradley called happily, waving to them. "Sup, how's it going?"

Mike stared at him. "We've been waiting for you, you missed Aaron. Your mom keep you again?"

"Yeah, she wants me to train with this Russian dude who seriously needs to get a life. Potemerenko, but he insists I call him 'Evgeny Alekseievich,'" he mocked, and rolled his eyes.

"Dude, I can't imagine being forced to do a sorry excuse for a gay sport," Eric agreed, shaking his head. "You've told her you want to quit right?"

"Course I have! But she never listens to me! I've tried everything I can think of. I goof off in practice, I smart off to the coaches I've had, I've tried running away from the rink, nothing works. I hate it guys, I'm miserable." He took the ball from Alex and stood away from the Foul line. From the far end of the court he had no trouble tossing the ball ti the basket. "To make matters worse, the guy she has teaching me now says I have a 'natural talent for edges.' So I'm assuming I'm stuck, he seems like the type to interfere in my business, you know what I mean?"

"Potemerenko, isn't he that rapist guy who got away with it?" Alex asked, raising his eyebrows as Mike ran to get the ball. "Better watch your ass."

"I don't know about that, I don't follow the skating world. I just skate, I don't ask questions. It's faster that way. Anyway, thanks for the advice man."

"So are we gonna bullshit or are we gonna play!" Mike called. "Brad's on my team!"

"No way, he was on your team last time!" Eric whined. "I never get to have him on mine."

"Okay guya," Bradley said, holding his arms out. "I'll play on Eric's team first, then I'll go to Mike's. How's that?"

"A'ight," Mike replied with a shrug.

The four of them divided into teams and started playing. Bradley was more of a team player than one would think. He mostly passed the ball to Eric, who scored most of the time. There were a few times when Bradley scored, because Eric either wasn't open or wasn't close enough. By the time the game was over, Bradley and Eric were leading 74-26. They took a short break for drinks, then Bradley and Alex switched teams. Using the same strategy, Bradley and Mike won the second game 68-44.

"Hey, that wasn't too bad a loss," Eric said optimistically. "Think I'd be good to try out for the team with you guys this year?"

"Unfortunately you guys will have to try out without me," Bradley said with a sigh. "Mom's got my schedule packed with skating and violin."

"God, you're such a pussy. Beat the shit out of her, that's what I'd do," Eric said with a shrug.

"Yeah, then Dad would beat the shit out of me," Brad said with a shrug. "Oh, well, at least I still have drama."

Mike snorted. "Yeah. We get to do 'The Three Musketeers' this year for fall. Wow," he said sarcastically. "But at least we get 'Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde' for Halloween."

"Yeah, I hope I get that part, I'd make a mean Hyde," Bradley commented with a chuckle. He sighed as his phone rang. "Speak to me."

"Bradley, it's time to come home. You have to get ready for practice. Remember, he said not to be late this time."

"A'ight, mom, I'll se ya in a bit." He hung up, but didn't move. "Mom wants me to go home to get ready for my next session with my new coach. I was fashionably late this morning and he was pissed. I'll just be fashionably late again. Maybe I'll skip, then he won't coach me anymore, and Mom will have no choice but to say that I quit." Bradley checked his watch. It was 2:30. If he stayed here for twenty minutes, he'd be a half hour late by the time he got to the rink. The other boys snickered. "So want anothjer game?" He didn't need to ask twice. They started playing again, this time Bradley got to be captain of his own team which consisted of himself and Alex. Not surprisingly, they were winning. But it was a narrow margin of ten points. They had only been playing for ten minutes when a car horn beeped.

"Bradley David Rodowsky! Get in this car right now or you're grounded for a month!" Rhiannon demanded.

Bradley rolled his eyes, but tossed the ball to Mike. "See ya guys. Gotta go."

"Have fun in the tutu!" Eric teased, but Bradley didn't mind getting teased about the "girliness" of the sport because he felt the same exact way.

"You should have been home five minutes ago. What if we're late again?" Rhiannon exclaimed as they sped off to the arena. "Luckily I had your things packed in the car. But you better pray this works out and we get there on time." She sighed. It was a long ride to the arena. They arrived at five till three.

"Okay, you have everything you need. Oh, give this to Evgeny, tell him that is your music for this year. Mozart is your short program, Bach for your long."

"Joy," he said sarcastically, and took his time getting to the ice after Rhiannon left the arena.

"3:01, not bad, we can make that minute up later," Zhenya said with a nod as he saw Bradley. He raised his eyebrows at how sweaty he was, and the fact that he was in casual clothes that seemed somewhat decent. "Go change into the practice outfit, and I will be on the ice waiting for you. We have a lot of work to do for our first session."

"A'ight," he replied, and went to the lockerroom. Within a few minutes he was ready. "Hey, here's my music fo this year. My short will be Mozart and my long will be Bach," he said, repeating his mother's wishes.

Zhenya raised his eyebrows. "Mozart, classic choice. But Bach? I'm not a fan of his, to be honest. What pieces did you choose?"

Bradley was caught off-guard. "I... have no fucking clue," he admitted. "That's mom's shit, not mine."

"First of all, Bradley, don't swear, please. There's no need for it. Second, okay, if you don't want to use it, we won't. We'll work together to find something you like. Any ideas?" he asked curiously.

Bradley thought for a moment. You know, I might actually be able to deal with skating if I get to choose my music, he thought. "Anything? Anything at all?"

"As long as it doesn't have vocals, certainly," Zhenya replied. Bradley stomped his foot into the ice.

"Why can't I skate to words for once in my freaking life?" he snapped. "I hate classical stuff."

"Well, not all instrumental works are classical," Zhenya replied calmly. "What's your favorite movie?"

Bradley thought for a moment. "'Hustle & Flow,' '8 Mile,' 'White Chicks,' 'Scary Movie' series, 'Saw,' 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre,' 'The Omen,' and 'Crash.' Why?"

Zhenya bit his lip, as some of them seemed odd choices, but continued, "Angela Rabatin is a soundtrack collector, she has nearly 1,000 in her collection. I'm sure we can find some of those in her collection, or if not, she can help us find sources for them."

"There's no classical sh- stuff in any of those movies," Bradley protested.

"If there's one thing I learned from Angela, it's that every film has an orchesral score. I think we'll see about getting 'The Omen,' 'Hustle & Flow,' and 'Crash.' We'll see how she fares with getting them."

"A'ight... so what do we do now?" he asked, hoping that practice was over.

"I'd like to experiment with your edging." Zhenya promptly went over to the boards where four glasses of water were sitting. He took two over to Bradley. "Take these, one in each hand. He skated to the boards and got the other two glasses. "Now, do as I do." He proceeded to skate slowly on his edges. The water did not spill. "The object is to keep from spilling the water as best you can," he explained. Bradley raised his eyebrows, but nodded and started skating in the way that he was. Zhenya wasn't surprised when Bradley nearly spilled all the water within the first few strokes. His poor posture was to blame for that.

"It's okay, I didn't expect you to get it the first time. Your posture desperately needs adjusting. However, that can be remedied." He proceeded to show Bradley various techniques and movements, which Bradley did a pathetic job mimicking. "Not to worry, not to worry, I didn't expect you to get that right the first time. Let's start out slowly, like this..."

The two did various moves for the rest of the session. Zhenya taught Bradley how to do variations on spins, though Bradley complained that some of them "looked gay." Zhenya merely rolled his eyes and showed him other variations. Finally the session was over.

"All right, so you have all the exercises I taught you, I'd like you to do them twice a day. I also suggest getting a back massager, because believe me, once you learn to stand properly, your back won't thank you when you bend down. We've already discussed your diet plan, please stick to it. It wouldn't do any good to lug around three hundred pounds on the ice. And music, I'll talk to Angie today and see if we can get any of that music for you. You can listen to it and see what you like." Zhenya smiled. "Welcome to DeVito Park, Bradley."

"Thanks, Evgeny Alekseievich," Bradley said quietly, not sure if he meant to be sarcastic. He left the rink to shower and wait for his mother to arrive.

[Angela]

(this takes place shortly after the scene I last posted with Zhenya and Bradley)

Later, Evgeny went to the Cafe Mocha to see Angie as he promised Bradley. Angie was humming along with the piano music that was playing.

"Hello, Angie," Zhenya said with a smile as he saw her.

"Ahh, Zhenya, hi! How are you?"

"I'm fine. Listen, can you help me out with some music?"

"Sure," she replied, turning to give him her full attention.

"I have a student and I'm not sure what music would suit him. Maybe you can help with some suggestions."

"I'd be happy to," she replied.

"Great. Bring a list of your film music collection, and meet me at the rink, tomorrow morning at 7:30, please."

"Not a problem. See you then! Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, it's all right," Zhenya replied with a smile, and turned to leave. "I'm going home now. Oh-" He paused as he turned back to her. "Can I have a dozen of those orange ginger cookies? My family loves them," he said.

Angie laughed, and went behind the bakery's counter. She got the cookies and put them in a bag. "Usual price," she said with a laugh. Zhenya had bought so many dozens it was amazing that he and his family stayed thin. He paid the money and left.

Zhenya strode into the rink the next morning. After warming up and setting up the usual paperwork, he went down to the scheduled ice sheet. He paused as he heard music. Had he signed up at the wrong sheet, or was there some sort of mixup? It was a pop song, a woman with a sensual voice. He was surprised to see Angie skating, alone, on the ice he scheduled for Bradley in just fifteen minutes.

He wanted to call out to her, but stopped himself. He'd never seen the pairs champion skate singles before, and because of her poor sight, he didn't expect that she was able to. She was skating with a lot of fast turns and footwork, even a few triples here and there, nothing harder than a flip though. The song was quite nice.

"If I never feel you in my arms again
If I never feel your tender kiss again
If I never hear I love you now and then
Will I never make love to you once again
Please understand if love ends
Then I promise you, I promise you
That, that I shall never breathe again
Breathe again
Breathe again
That I shall never breathe again
Breathe again..."

"Who's the chick?" Bradley asked. Zhenya whirled around.

"Bradley, you're early..." Zhenya grinned and laughed slightly. "I'm pleased. That is Angela Rabatin. I'm sorry, maybe she didn't know that I booked the ice for us. I did tell her to meet us here though."

Angie was doing a spiral into a layback. When she was finished with that, Zhenya, though he hated to do it, called out to her.

"Angie?"

Angie stopped and looked towards his voice.

"Oh, Zhenya, I'm sorry! I was here earlier and decided to skate a little. I'm working on a program for Tima. Can we kill the music so you guys can get to work?" she asked, skating over to the boards. She was wearing a simple black dress with a flowing skirt and short sleeves.

"Angela Rabatin, this is my student, Bradley Rodowsky. As I was telling you, we would like your help in getting some music for his programs this year," Zhenya explained as the music was turned off.

"Sure, sure, no problem. Yes, you asked me to bring a list of my collection." She strode past them and picked up her water bottle and a stack of papers held ttogether by a paper clip. "The list is alphabetical by movie, it's seven pages long. The movie is listed first, then the year and the composer, as well as the length of the score. Those marked with an asterisk are not available in stores. The ones with a plus sign are expanded scores, the ones with a dollar sign are promotional albums or bootlegs, and the ones marked with a number sign are rejected scores."

"You seriously need a life, honey," Bradley commented.

Angie said nothing and Zhenya looked through the list. "Well, Bradley, you want to take a look at this with me, and see if there's anything you like?"

The two of them looked at the list, and Zhenya found his eyes lingering on one of the listings.

Brokeback Mountain (2005, Gustavo Santaolalla; Approx. 15 mins.)
Brokeback Mountain* (2005, Gustavo Santaolalla; Approx. 33 mins.) +

He made a note to ask her privtely about the expanded score, for Danil wanted to reprise his program to the commercially-released score this season.

Unfortunately Bradley noticed it too.

"You have that gay cowboy soundtrack? God, get a life lady."

"Angie is spending her valuable time to help us find something you would like to skate to. Please be polite," Zhenya scolded, rolling his eyes. Continuing to glance through the list, he pointed out, "There's your Crash. I told you she'd have it." He chuckled.

"That really isn't too good for skating. It kind of drones on for me, long drawn-out notes, nothing really spectacular happens in it," Angie pointed out.

"Hmmm... well Bradley has a gift for edging, it might be suitable."

"But not for jumps or spins, in my opinion," Angie calmly disputed.

"What, you'd prefer me skating to the gay cowboy film?" he teased Angie.

"Sorry, I don't think that would suit you either," Angie commented, rolling her eyes. "I think you're too sophisticated for soft guitar." She was being sarcastic, of course.

Zhenya sighed, continuing to glance through the list. "You have quite an impressive collection," he commented. "A lot of classics."

"Thanks."

"There's The Omen," Zhenya pointed out. "Several versions too... Many different expanded versions of each score from the trilogy and the remake."

"To make it really chilling, I suggest the original," Angie commented. "There's no one like Goldsmith," she added nostalgically. "That is one of the most horrifying scores I've ever heard."

Bradley nodded thoughtfully. "That might be pretty cool." They continued looking through the list. "Step Up," he read throughtfully. "Is that any good?" he asked.

"I was impressed with it enough to get it, yes," Angie replied. "The dance at the end was extraordinary to me. The score wasn't easy to find, either, nor was the instrumental piece they danced to at the end."

"We could look into that, I think," Zhenya said thoughtfully. "Can he keep this list and look it over?"

"Of course, he can have that, and circle the ones he wishes to borrow. I could even burn them onto CDs for him so he can listen to them," Angie replied.

"Thanks a lot," Bradley said, truly interested in at least three of the soundtracks she had listed.

"Oh, also, if you're interested, there's a great group called X-Ray Dog, they're used in a lot of movie trailers, they might do wonders for your skating too. And then of course there's Trans-Siberian Orchestra if you're interested in modern approaches to music."

"Trans-wha?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Trans-Siberian Orchestra. A lot of skaters use them. They're like a classical rock group, they're awesome," she replied. Bradley grinned.

"Hey, that sounds great! Can you lend me some of their stuff?"

"I'll make you a CD, and give it to you along with whatever else you want," she replied with a smile.

"All right," Zhenya said. "Well, we won't take up anymore of your time. Bradley, would you please go warm up with the exercises I showed you yesterday? Angie, wait just a minute." As Bradley went to the ice, Zhenya walked a little with Angie. "I see you have the expanded Brokeback Mountain score. Could you burn it for me? I'd like to give it to Danil, I'm sure he'd be very interested in it."

"Oh, absolutely! I'll get it to you... this afternoon to your office?"

"That's fine, Angie. Thanks very much."

"Not a problem," she replied with a grin. After taking her things, sh walked out.

[Angela]

(this scene takes place a few days after my previous scene with Angie, Bradley and Evgeni...)

That afternoon, as promised, Angie went to Zhenya's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Zhenya called as he was double-checking some paperwork for Bradley's competitions.

Angie stepped in, proudly smiling as she placed a CD envelope on Zhenya's desk.

"There you are, the expanded 'Brokeback Mountain' score. I hope that Danil enjoys it. He can keep it, it's a burned copy."

"Thank you, Angie, that's very kind of you." Zhenya smiled.

"It's my pleasure. Oh, and these are for you and Bradley to consider. These are some suggestions I think he might like once he hears them." She placed a few more envelopes on the desk as she sat down.

"Thank you again! I'm so anxious to get things started with him. And we can't get started unless we have music," he said with a laugh.

Angie nodded.

"Well, 'Van Helsing' by Alan Silvestri is very fast and fun. In fact you could use it as an exhibition and perhaps put a sword in his hand!"

Zhenya laughed.

"Thanks for the suggestion, Angie, but I don't want Bradley holding any sharp metal objects while skating with me on the ice." He snickered.

"You skated with a sword before," Angie pointed out.

"For my 'Lord of the Rings' exhibition, yes, but Bradley is different."

"How so?" Angie asked, raising her eyebrows.

"He's a pure-blooded hoodlum," Zhenya answered wwith a sigh. Angie folded her arms.

"Zhenya... That's not a nice thing to say about your student."

"I know but it's the truth. You should have seen him when he came in the first day! He had so many piercings, he was dressed with ripped and baggy clothes, he swore multiple times, he was very disrespectful-"

"Zhenya, Zhenya, how do you expect to teach him to the best of your ability if you're not willing to let him be himself? I mean, sure, he can't behave somewhat that way but ultimately he can't be some robot or soldier that will do as you say all the time and not think for himself," Angie pointed out. "You have to let him be himself. After all, it might be his way of relieving stress, be it at the rink or elsewhere. Maybe he's so 'street-wise' because that's just his nature. He seems to be like Arcasha was, a free spirit."

Zhenya was quiet for a moment, but finally nodded. "Yes... you're right. I'll talk to him at his next session. It really isn't that much of a risk to skate with piercings, I lied and told him it was. Mostly for myself, because I don't like to look at that. But if I am not happy with the boy he is, how can I turn him into a world-class athlete?"

"You can't," Angie answered. "If you spend more time criticizing his appearance and personality, time that could be spent working on his skating, then you only use part of your time together actually doing anything constructive. Evgeni Alekseievich Potemerenko, you were hired to coach Bradley, to teach him to skate well enough so he can earn gold medals. You were not hired to complain about his appearance and personality. Hell, it's not even the judges' job! Who he is has nothing to do with what he can do on the ice. Arcasha's success should tell you that," she pointed out.

Zhenya nodded. "When you put it that way, it really does seem shallow how I treated him. I guess I'm used to seeing skaters who are refined and care about what they do and how they present themselves..."

"Zhenya, very few people are actually like that," Angie replied with a snort. "He wants to go against convention, so let him. Maybe skating deserves someone like that."

Zhenya nodded. "You're right. So you think he'd like these, ad?" He looked at the envelopes. "'Van Helsing,' 'Romeo and Juliet,' 'The Scorpion King,' 'Trans-Siberian Orchestra,' 'X-Ray Dog,' 'The Mummy Returns,' 'Yared Troy...' What's Yared Troy?"

"That's Gabriel Yared's rejected score for the movie Troy with Brad Pitt. It's much better than the Horner version it was replaced with. 'Hector and Achilles Fight' is a great piece, nice possibility for Bradley. The first minute and a half is nothing but percussion! It's great."

"Well now, that is nice. I'll have him check it out."

"The Scorpion King has electric guitar, it's wonderful too. There's a lot of great tracks in all those CDs. I'm sure he'll find something he likes."

"Bless you, Angie. You're very kind."

Angie smiled and stood up. "Well, I'll catch you later! It was great talking with you, and I hope I haven't offended you by my words. I was just offering some thoughts."

"You were telling me your honest opinions, and I needed to hear them. Thank you, Angie. I do appreciate it. Bradley's skating is the reason I have been hired, and Bradley's skating is what I should pay attention to."

"I'm glad you realize that. Well, I'll see you around, I'm off to practice."

Zhenya nodded and Angie left the room.