Christine Daae looked over the railing and down onto the beach, her long brown hair hanging over the ledge. It was a beautiful summer's day, with the sun's glares bouncing off the ocean, the waves rolling gently onto the shore. A few beachgoers were walking towards the water, their hands getting weighed down by their various towels, shovels, and bags. Christine found herself wishing that she was going to enjoy a day at the beach instead of finding a summer job.
She checked her wrist watch. 10:00 A.M. glared back at her. The watch had been an heirloom that was passed down in the family for many generations. Christine's father said that every member of the Daae family who held possession of the watch would receive the blessing of the Angel of Music once in their lifetime.
He died two weeks later. The Angel of Music was too late for him.
Forcing herself to turn away from the beach, Christine turned and saw the Coney Island Boardwalk come to life. Shopkeepers emerged from their apartments and walked yawning down the stairs to unlock their doors. Smells from the various bakeries and hot dog vendors started wafting through the air. An organ grinder started playing his music, a monkey in a little tutu dancing to the beat. The various rides were started creaking and groaning as the attendants started them up, as if they took on a life of their own.
It was quite the wonderland.
Now if only she was hired.
~0~
"I'm sorry!" The cheerful owner of the Fudge Shop hurriedly ushered Christine outside. "We're not hiring at this time. But I wish you the best of luck, dearie!"
The door slammed shut.
"Er- thank you." Christine said softly. At least the lady took some time to speak with her. The last place she tried the owner threw her out as soon as he saw she was a girl. For four hours, Christine had walked around the Boardwalk to every shop, vendor and game booth to see if anyone was hiring people for jobs. Unfortunately for her, she was either too young, too inexperienced, or in the case of the tattoo parlor, too pretty.
The sun was now high overhead, causing the nails on the boardwalk to sparkle. A couple of seagulls were calling to each other from the roofs of the buildings. Christine wiped a hand to her sweaty brow.
"I need a break," she thought. She made her way over to the picnic area and looked around for a seat. As it was lunchtime, the Boardwalk became crowded with greedy people who were anxious to fill their stomachs with as many hot dogs, funnel cakes and diet sodas their bodies desired. It was like feeding time at the zoo.
"Hey, watch it!" a man with a Brooklyn accent yelled at Christine. "You almost made me drop my nachos!"
"I'm sorry!" Christine apologized, staggering haphazardly between a few chairs. "Excuse me!"
"Stupid girl," the man muttered, turning back to his greasy food. She pretended not to hear the man's insult and continued her search. After a few minutes, Christine was able to secure a space on a wooden bench next to a hot dog stand.
"Finally," she said, plopping herself down.
"Good job on finding a seat," a voice said. Christine looked around the stand and saw a young man with sandy brown hair and a yellow and red checkered shirt standing behind the counter. He was smiling at her.
"Does it always get this crazy?" she asked.
"This?" he gestured his hand towards the crowd. "Honey, this isn't even the worst of it. Wait until school gets out- then you have all those bratty kids running around, dropping food everywhere, screaming that they lost their balloons on some ride they went on- then you'll know the meaning of a madhouse."
"I can only imagine," Christine said.
"You from around here?" the young man asked.
"No, actually. I'm from Boston."
"Boston? Really? I've been there a few times. Nice place."
"Have you?"
"Well, not really- I just like to sound intelligent and cultured." The young man chuckled. "Don't judge me."
"Not at all," Christine said.
"So what brings you to Coney Island, the glorious land of opportunity?" He had a very easy air around him, relaxed and comfortable. Christine found herself enjoying this man's company.
"I'm actually living with my aunt for the summer." Christine pointed towards the beach. "She lives in one of those houses."
"Right on the shore? You're in for a real treat. Wait till you see the sun rise in the mornings- magnifico! And then the way the moon shines over the ocean at night? Stupendo!" His hands flourished when saying these words with an over the top Italian accent.
Christine laughed. "Brava!" she played along applauded him on his accent. His enthusiasm was contagious.
The man bowed deeply, his brown eyes laughing. "What do they call you, kid?"
"I'm Christine. Christine Daae."
"The name's Jordan." They shook hands.
"Would you like a hot dog?" he asked her. "My treat. C'mon, you can't say you've experienced Coney Island without tasting your first hot dog, can you?"
"I suppose not," Christine said with a smile. "Can you do that? Give me a free hot dog?"
"No one needs to know," Jordan winked. He set a sizzling hot dog in a long bun, smothered it in ketchup and handed it to Christine. She bit down.
"What did I tell you? Amazing, right?"
"This is the best hot dog I've ever eaten," she said, her mouth full. She wolfed the food down in two bites.
"Slow down there, slick, or one would guess that you haven't eaten in two whole months," Jordan said, giving her a napkin.
"I'm so sorry!" Christine said, wiping her hands. "I just wanted to eat it quickly so I could continue my search."
"Search?"
"Job hunting," Christine explained.
"They don't often hire young people for the jobs on the boardwalk," Jordan explained. "How old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Then they definitely won't hire you. The youngest you can be to work here is twenty-seven, maybe twenty-five? It's a strange age." He frowned, thinking. "I was lucky, though. My boss hired me, even though I'm only twenty-four."
"Who's your boss? Does he run the food stands?"
"What, this?" Jordan gestured down to his yellow and red uniform. "I only do this to make some extra money. My real job is on the other side of the Boardwalk at this new amusement park that just opened."
"What's it called?"
"Phantasma." Jordan's voice lowered to little more than a whisper. "It's really one of the creepiest places you're ever going to see or experience. Think of it as the dark side of the Boardwalk- the dangerous side. The place where your mind can play the most evil tricks on you, and you see things that you only thought existed in your nightmares. It's actually a lot of fun," he said, reverting back to his normal self.
"What do you do there?" Christine asked, wondering why he would ever choose to work at such a mysterious place.
"Juggle fire. Magic tricks. I'm even the Emcee at certain events. The park is really popular since it's brand new and all. People love being scared, you see, so that's what we do."
Christine's brain sparked an idea. "What is your boss like, Jordan? Is he nice?"
"Nice?" Jordan laughed. "I really wouldn't know. I've never actually met the man. They say he's a bit of a recluse."
"How did you get hired, then?"
"The job interview was conducted by one of his assistants. Fleck, I believe, was her name. Nice woman. Owns this weird hat." He shook his head. " Anyway, it's her and two other people that run the park in his stead. The rumor is that he gives them specific orders on what exactly he needs for his park. People go in for an interview; if they fit the part, they have the job, and if not, they're given an apology and a kick in the pants."
Christine took in all this information carefully. Here was another job opportunity on a silver platter...plus it definitely sounded like a place she could certainly do well in…..
"What are the odds are that he would hire someone now?"
Jordan saw the hope in Christine's eyes and knew immediately what she was thinking about. He cocked his head to one side, contemplating her proposal. He knew he couldn't guarantee a job offer, let alone set up an interview with Miss Fleck. But it seemed rather foolish to let the girl down.
"Why not," he said, to Christine's delight. "But we better hurry if we want to catch Miss Fleck before the crowds get out of hand." He stood up, brushing the crumbs off his shirt. Christine looked startled.
"What- right now?"
"Well, of course! What did you think I meant, tomorrow?" He saw Christine's face twist a little in nerves. "Don't worry about it. The worst they can say is no, right?"
"That's true," Christine nodded. She stood up and threw the empty hot dog wrapper and napkin into the trash bin. "Let's go."
"One thing, though, before we start," Jordan said, catching her arm. "Make sure you don't stare at them. Makes them slightly uncomfortable."
"Oh," Christine said. "But there's no reason for me to stare at them- is there?"
"Just wait and see." And with that, they sauntered up the boardwalk towards the dark place of riddles, mystery, danger and wonder owned by a reclusive and brilliant ghost of a man: Phantasma.