Friday Night
Greyson
I sit perched on a black velvet couch in the shadows of the balcony in the club 'Maison des Mort Vivant' all alone watching the stunning angel on the stage below. The theater turned gothic night club in the oldest part of the city was both my sanctuary and my prison. The black leather mask hiding my identity is tight across my face perhaps it is time for a new design.
I had been stunned when I saw the band below perform the first time, haunting melodies with the clear beautiful soprano of the songstress with the adorable lavender chin length curls. I had informed my brother Fitzwilliam, or Fitzi as he preferred, that they would be given a house band gig as long and as often as they wanted and that they would be paid handsomely in return. I settle myself here on the balcony every time they play and allow her voice to fill my head and chase my fears away. She sways with the music and closes her heavily lined eyes and seems to sing from her soul. As her glossy ruby colored lips, pouted and full, open as she breathes deep and joins the screaming violin through the speakers and my blood begins to race in my veins.
"You know lurking up here every time The Broken Dolls play is bordering on creepy." Fitzi said as he stepped up beside my seat with a short glass of whiskey in hand, which he set at my right-hand table.
"She is stunning, the best I`ve ever heard." I smiled never looking away from her sweet portclien face under the stage lights.
"Whatever you say, just remember don`t be seen or you`ll be sorry. I have to get back. Behave!" Fitzi demanded and slipped back down the stairs to the bar he manned below me on the ground floor.
Much to my disappointment within another twenty minutes she was speaking thanking the crowd and announcing that starting at midnight, The Phantom, takes over for the night. 'That is my que' I thought getting to my feet and heading down carefully using the shadows and low lighting to my advantage I need to make it to the stage after it goes black. "Fitzi! Give me a green appletini!" I hear Sara Kane the drummer for the dolls shout over the bar top.
"Sure thing, animal," Fitzi called back starting the drink as Sara and Emily, the angel voiced vocalist took seats at the bar and I settled back into the shadows to listen.
"Hey Fitzi! Didn`t this place used to belong to The Greyson Sharp before he died?" Sara asked, what are the odds?
"Yes ladies, this club was bought, and designed by the late great Greyson Sharp, My big brother." He passed the neon green martini to the girl.
"I`m so sorry," Emily reacted honestly,
"Its painful every day without him, it breaks my heart. But I go on for him." Fitzi was laying it on thick and I could not help the snicker that escaped me and I took the opportunity to pass them slipping in close behind her, my angel and get a brush of her presence as I passed by. Her scent was sweet and warm and made me want to linger but all it would take is one person to notice the shadow of a man in their midst and the last eight years would be for nothing. So, I continued on my way headed for the basement to prepare for The Phantom to take the stage once again.
The Phantom performs in total darkness on the stage. He wears a mask while he sings in his base voice and running the backing music al on his own. He performs every night at midnight no matter the crowd of curious goths. His drive was the music not the idolization and praise but for just a moment as he looked up into her emerald colored eyes across the sea of bodies on the dance floor he wished he could step into that spotlight and be his old self the version of himself that she could accept. However, like every time before that he had this thought the scar running from his cheekbone over his jaw across his throat ending at his opposite collarbone burned at just the thought. So tonight, like every night before for the last eight years I slipped onto the stage in the inky blackness of the darkened stage and turned on the processor readying to begin the night music.