Telling Stories: Fiction In The Space Between
By Missy SERIES: Telling Stories:
Title of fic: Fiction In The Space Between
RATING: PG-13ish (For discussion of mature themes; language)
PAIRING: None to speak of
DISTRIBUTION: To Squeaky, LW, Kai and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"
Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!
CATEGORY: Monolouge, I think; Songfic series
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SONG USED: "IT's OK" By Tracy Chapman
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Carmine has to deal with a betrayl that comes from quite the shocking place.
NOTES: Yes, this is a songfic; and, bear with me, it's also a songfic series, featuring songs that aren't of the era the show is set into -___-. Bear with me, though; I do believe that the song fits very nicely into the setting of this particular series. The previous titles in the series are "Speak The Word" (Lenny/Laverne) and "Keep The Walls From Falling Down" (Squiggy/Rhonda); and following titles will be "Less Than Strangers" (Shirley), and "Dreams and Visions" (Concluding fic)

All lyrics from this series W/By Tracy Chapman; lyrics culled from: http://rzsunhome.rrze.uni-erlangen.de:81/~sichglei/tracy/songs/ltellsto.html#top

Thanks to Allie and FG for Beta

***

He was infuriated.

Her words were everywhere; on the face of every Britloid, screaming about his roguish ways. Not something a serious actor wants to have thrown in his face.

But she was just one more person getting a payday from his cash cow. How he was used to feeding their hoggish behavior by now; it was easy as snapping his fingers.

There is fiction in the space between
The lines on your page and memories
Write it down but it doesn't mean
You're not just telling stories

Her wiped grease paint off of his brow with a stale napkin, staring into a mirror holding a face that was no longer his own. He was this animal called an "Actor" now; and less that than that funny hybrid of actor/singer/dancer. Within the space of a year, he'd risen from chorus boy to leading man. Now he was Europe's favorite middle-of-the-road darling.

And all of his hard work was close to being shot to hell.



His phone rang, "Yeah...Yeah, Murray, I saw it; what are we going to do?! How the hell should I know?! You're my agent!" He took a drag off of a cigarette, handed quietly by his latest lover as she exited the room, a guitar strapped across her back. Tomorrow there would be a song about how he had loved and left her.

There is fiction in the space between
You and Reality
You will do and say anything
To make your everyday life seem less mundane

"Can't you keep them away from my hotel?" He asked; his voice far away from the unpolished accent and English he'd used for years, "For the love of God, Murray, do something!"

His agent quickly hung up on him. Leaving Carmine Ragusa alone in his dressing room to face another performance.

He should have never left California, but that was something he would learn later, when he sold his last principle out and lost himself wholly to the godless machina of fame. He rode high and mighty now; now, he could crush the soul of the woman who had loved him fiercely for years, had believed that she would stand beside him for the rest of her life.

When he had space, time, and less heart, he would look back in horror at these blackened emotions and feel shame. But now, nothing existed but a thirst for vengeance. Sadly, he didn't care if he crushed the tender soul of the woman whom he had loved most strongly.

Stubbing out his cigarette, he left behind his dressing room.

There is Fiction in the space between
You and Me.

And a tabloid bearing the headline: "My Years With Carmine Ragusa

By Shirley Meeny."


Move on to "Telling Stories: Less Than Stangers"