Andy settled into his seat at the theatre. He had had a long, tiring day and was only interested in watching the performance and forgetting his worries as he floated away on the music. He was alone, just as he liked it. This was a private celebration for him anyway, a way to spend time with the memory of his mother. As a child she had dragged him to one performance after another, insisting Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without experiencing The Nutcracker. It was the one thing he had promised to do for her that he actually honoured. He had promised his mother many things, like being a good father and stop drinking, but neither of those had happened in time to make her proud. The annual viewing of The Nutcracker, though, that was something he just had to do in her memory. He figured his friends downtown would have no end of heckles and jokes at his expense if they knew where he was that evening, but he really didn't care. This was about family and tradition and feeling good at Christmas, and with a job like his, he needed anything he could get to help him feel the innocence and goodness in life.
The normal noise of the theatre surrounded him as he closed his eyes. He didn't want to listen to any of the conversations or see the fashion disasters that passed for theatre wear this year. He didn't want to have his imagination peaked or his sarcasm fed. He just wanted to empty himself as much as possible, and wait for the roar to hush in anticipation of the Overture.
"Excuse me, Sir" he heard, and looked up to see a polite young man pointing to seats beyond Andy.
"Sorry" Andy replied, raising to his feet to let the boy and his parents pass by. He smiled at the small group, remembering again when he had been the boy's age, and looked around him at the people who had filled in the theatre. He almost didn't notice the woman in the box to his right, sitting alone. Curiosity got the better of him and he couldn't help wonder what she was doing there, apparently not anxiously awaiting others who would be joining her. There was something about the set of her jaw which drew his interest, and he admired the way she looked so composed even with her hair seemingly carelessly pulled together on the top of her head. She must have sensed him, because she turned and looked directly at him. And then she smiled.
Sharon had been looking forward to the evening all week. Attending The Nutcracker was something she had done with her mother and grandmother since she was old enough to sit in her seat quietly. She made sure the tradition had continued with her own daughter, but this year was different. Her grandmother had been long gone, her mother had chosen to leave early for the holidays, and her daughter was busy working in England. If Sharon was lucky, her daughter would be able to catch a flight just before Christmas. If not... well Sharon didn't want to think of having neither of her children home for Christmas.
So alone she sat with her thoughts and plans. Wishing for things to be different wouldn't make it so, and she was at her core a rather practical individual, even if given to flights of fancy when no one was looking. It was in the vein of indulgence that she was sure she felt eyes on her, and turned to see who's attention she had garnered. He took her breath away when she saw him. He was always dressed nicely at work, professional, comfortable in his appearance with just enough menacing energy to disconcert. She couldn't help the smile that came to her lips. He wasn't exactly black tie and tails, but he did look quite dapper in his evening suit with cranberry tie. It suited his colouring and was extremely festive. She just stared, and smiled, and willed him to move.
She was beautiful, Andy thought, as he stood and smiled back with a goofy grin. He couldn't help putting one hand in his pants' pocket, unwittingly adding to his attractiveness. Without warning, lines from Cassablanca moved through his mind, "... in all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine..." The words made him smile even more. If there was one coworker he wouldn't mind seeing outside of work, it was Sharon Raydor. His first impressions of her had long since passed with time, and he had come to know her as a walking iceberg. Originally he had taken that to mean she was cold and frigid as well, but after working closely with her for months, and seeing how she went to bat for her team repeatedly, he reduced the metaphor to simply meaning there was more under the surface than above. She was professional to the core, and yet tonight she looked like a Patron of the Arts, dressed for the evening is an understated yet elegant evening gown, hair casually done, jewelry minimal, and quite alone.
Seeing Sharon alone was the real puzzle. Andy knew she kept her private and professional lives quite separate, with only a few windows giving members of one world a hint of what lay in the other. He was sure there was a whole other side to Captain Raydor that none of them had even guessed at, and seeing her alone in a private box at the ballet was one more confirmation.
Sharon realized she was staring. Well, not staring exactly, she was smiling also. And as she smiled and stared, she realized people were trying to move around him but he didn't notice. This is ridiculous, she said to herself, and as she stood up she motioned for him to meet her out in the mezzanine.
"I can't believe you're here" she said as soon as he came through the doors.
"Family tradition" was all he offered.
"Me too."
"Your family will be joining you shortly then?" he asked, feeling something akin to disappointment at the notion.
"No, no, I'm alone this evening. Would you care to join me?"
Sharon had no idea where that invitation came from, but as soon as it was uttered she knew it was what she wanted. Did he?
Andy was a little taken aback. His normal interactions with Sharon Raydor involved obeying her commands and keeping on her good side. The thought of sharing leisure time with her was new. He hesitated too long and saw her face drop.
"That's okay, you must be here with someone anyway. Enjoy the ballet," she said and nodded her head, then turned quickly on her heals to escape the uncomfortable situation.
"I'd love to."
"Excuse me?" she said, hand on the door railing.
"Join you. I'd love to. Thank you for inviting me." Again with his lopsided grin, he charmed her smile to the surface and followed her into the box. "Where should I sit?"
"Anywhere you want," Sharon replied. "I'm in the front row, though." The invitation was obvious.
"Isn't anyone else going to sit in the other seats?" Andy asked when they settled in? The box sat six people, but they were still the only two seated.
"No, it's just me tonight," she answered, as she returned to her seat. The look of confusion on Andy's face made her giggle. "This is my family's box, and since I am the only one in town, I'm the only one sitting here this evening."
"Family box, as in your family bought this box rather than tickets tonight?" Andy thought that kind of thing only happened in classic novels.
"The season actually, and yes my family has this space rather than tickets. Don't be too impressed though, we can only claim it as ours for the third Saturday of any give performance. Different patrons have it at other times. This just happens to be our night and no one is around to enjoy the evening but me."
Andy didn't need to be told Sharon came from money, that much was obvious with every Armani suit, but he couldn't help being awed anyway. "I always wondered about who sat in these boxes. I didn't realize theaters still did this."
"A little too Jane Austin for you?" she smiled. "Just sit and enjoy yourself. The only impressive part of this is the view."
Andy shrugged and settled in to the seat beside her, never taking his eyes off her face. She had an incredible smile, one he wanted to keep there. She didn't smile at work. The most she did was smirk at something Sanchez might say, or when they finally got the deal they were working for and guilty party signed away their freedom. But even then she was controlled and it never reached her eyes. This evening she was fully open and obviously at home in her surroundings. He wanted to keep staring and contemplating, but the house lights began to dim and the people in the theatre fell silent.
When the Conductor walked to the podium, the applause filled the air and pulled his eyes away from her face. Andy only made an annual pilgrimage to the theatre, but those in the audience obviously knew the work of the Conductor based on the response he received, and the repeated bows it encouraged.
"That's Cory," Sharon leaned over and whispered into his ear, "he's sort of a hometown sensation."
"You know him?" Why he should be surprised, Andy did not know. They lived in LA after all, where celebrities were real life people who tried to evade the law just like everyone else. But somehow the Opera and Ballet circuit rarely came to the attention of the LAPD.
"He went to school with my daughter and used to hang out at our house. Fabulous ear for music and can't sing a note himself." Sharon giggled and Andy had to smile. He was definitely getting a different view of the boss tonight.
"Do you know most of the performers?" he asked, attempting to be casual.
"Some, but it's hard to keep pace. Dancers have a very short career, but musicians and singers can be around for decades if they take care of themselves. The Percussionist in the corner is an old friend. We go back a long way, and tonight he gets to share the pit with his daughter who is Second Violin. She and my son used to date in high school."
Andy smiled and nodded as he saw the people she was pointing out. "I guess even for a large city some communities are rather small."
"Oh yes," she agreed, "everyone in this town seems focused on celebrity, so those in the Fine Arts find themselves in a rather small circle."
"And you?" Andy threw caution to the wind, "how does an LAPD Captain find herself in the world of High Culture?"
Sharon glanced over at him, showing the smirk he knew so well. If he hadn't crossed the line, he had definitely butted up against it. He thought he was about to get the sharp barb of her tongue, but instead she turned back to watch the ballet.
The rest of the first act was watched in silence. Andy was afraid it would be uncomfortable, but it was quite the opposite. As he observed Sharon throughout the performance, he noticed the occasional movement of hand and the nod of her chin at climactic moments in the music. His profession was about putting bits a pieces of information together to see the whole picture, and before the curtain fell on the Waltz of the Snowflakes, he knew that Sharon was a trained dancer. Whether it had been to professional levels or not didn't matter, merely seeing how the music filled her was enough. Sharon Raydor didn't just watch the ballet, she became a part of it.
Soon the Intermission lights filled the hall, and viewers filed out into the lobbies. "So, what do you think?" Sharon asked him.
"I always love this ballet," he told her.
"I wasn't talking about the ballet. I saw you watching me."
Andy smiled and ducked his head as a flush worked it's way up his neck. "Guilty."
"And?" she pushed, as she led them into a side room Andy hadn't noticed before. "Would you like something to drink?"
"Where are we?" he asked, pulling out his wallet.
"Put that away. This is the Patron's Lounge."
"It must be nice to know people" he said in a low tone, taking in the opulence of his surroundings."
"It's nice to be people" came her snappy reply, then ordered his regular drink as well as wine for herself.
Soon they were surrounded by friends of Sharon's, receiving wishes for the holidays and giving them in return. She was a different person in this world, relaxed, smiling, talkative, laughing frequently, sharing hugs. Andy felt as though he had stepped through the 'looking glass', and had entered an alternative universe.
"Are you okay?" she asked, as she placed her arm in his.
"Never better" he assured her, enjoying the feel of her so close. The flickering of lights in the room told everyone it was time to return for the second act, and together they walked back to their private box, her arm nestled in his.
The second act went much like the first, with Andy partially watching the stage and partially watching Sharon. When the Arabian Coffee came on to do their dance, he watched as she sat up and practically leaned over the railing. He had always been partial to this Pas de Trois, but watching her rapt attention to the erotic movements of the dancers heightened his enjoyment.
All too soon the Nutcracker turned back into a toy, Clara awoke, and the lights went up.
"Coffee?" he asked hopefully. He didn't want this evening to end.
Sharon smiled then handed him her wrap. He held on a few seconds longer than he needed to as he placed it around her shoulders. Then he offered her his arm and they left the box together.
The next morning Sharon arrived at the office, business as usual. There was no hint of who she had been the night before. Her desk was exactly as she had left it, with the files for their more recent homicide awaiting her attention. Something was out of place, however. She sensed it before she saw it, and it took a moment before she saw the tall box on her credenza. There was nothing on the box to identify it except a small tag that read "Cinderella". Sharon looked out the windows of her office to see if anyone was watching, but no one seemed to be paying her the least bit of attention, so she turned back to the gift and opened it.
Inside was the most exquisite music box Sharon had ever seen. The tarnish around the tops of the golden latticework, as well as the details carved into the bodies of the Arabian dancers, told of it's age. She turned the winding key gently, and was overwhelmed when the strains of the Arabian Dance met her ears. He had been watching quite closely, she realized. Sharon sat down in her chair and closed her eyes as the music filled her senses and transported her back to the previous evening. When the music finally wound down, Sharon looked into the box again and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Two women have made the ballet special for me. One held on to this treasure until the day she died, now I give it to the second and hope she will enjoy it just as much."
Later that afternoon, Andy returned to his desk to find an envelop lying face down. Turning it over he saw the words "Prince Charming" scrawled across the front. Smiling to himself, he opened the package and pulled out a playbill for Carmen. Attached to the booklet was a piece of paper marking the performance dates. The third Saturday had been circled.
