Chapter Three: The Good Life
Carrington Haswell reached over to the nightstand and fumbled for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. A female hand reached around his chest and groped towards the nightstand, gesturing for him to turn on the lamp.
"Oh don't ruin it." He mumbled, pushing the hand aside. He pulled out a smoke from the pack and lit up, the soft ember casting a slight glow over the bed. He reached over to look longingly at his girlfriend Celine. She was smart and sexy, and fabulous in bed. They had just finished making love and were enjoying each others warmth in the early morning hours.
"Hey, you aren't supposed to smoke in here, baby," she corrected him.
"Screw that. Don't I pay this hotel enough?" he shot back, taking a long drag on his cigarette.
"Come on, baby. Don't get any of that shit on the sheets," she whined.
"Fine." He turned over in bed, and pulled on his boxer shorts. He walked away from the bed and towards the balcony window. She could be such a pest sometimes. With his cigarette in his left hand he reached up the other arm and stretched it towards the ceiling.
Life was good. He was only 25 and on the merge of having a hit TV show coming out. He had used his money for college and bought equipment and licenses. His team had started doing investigations in buildings around London, showing their tapes to studios. Their show, "The Extreme Paranormal," had gotten great reviews in its first run. After that they traveled all over the United Kingdom, castles in Scotland and grand chateaus in the countryside of Wales. Each one of them was rumored to be haunted, and they milked each one for what it was worth. After the money started to come in, they created more special effects and used even more elaborate camera tricks to make their show more suspenseful. He had discovered Celine, a very convincing "psychic" and the camera loved her, and he did too. The profits grew larger as they all lined their pockets. He was making more in a year than the cost of a full four-year education at a university, so he considered his investment well spent.
But he had been seeking a way to break out and finally go international. His agent suggested on filming a special on an infamously haunted building. There was the Tower of London, or even the castle Ellsinore in Denmark, but Carrington had a different idea in mind.
By chance he had stumbled on some information on the internet of an American student who had been granted a tour of the Paris Opera House with the intent of proving the story of the Phantom of the Opera to be true. This Mr. Payne had plans to publish his findings; however that never happened. Some clever snooping and string-pulling on his end had landed him a copy of the manuscript that actually had been floating around the university he had attended.
Frankly he found the details of the work very boring, but the general idea intriguing and fascinating. What better way to get ratings than hosting a special about one of the sappiest love-ghost stories ever? People would eat it up.
However, Payne's manuscript seemed to avoid any details about his trip to Paris. The incomplete piece dropped off after the entry about going into the cellars. Nevertheless, the author was still alive and well. Perhaps it was a gimmick; there couldn't have been anything too terrible down there.
A pair of slender hands snaked around his waist and up onto his chest, which was still moist with sweat. Celine's small kisses on his neck soon followed. He smiled knowing that she couldn't resist him. He turned around and pulled her into his embrace. She laughed as his hands wringed though her long black hair.
"Come back to bed, Cary," she cooed then gave a playful growl. She was wearing a sheet around her slender frame, which he soon freed her of. Carrington could feel him self harden and was ready for another romp underneath the covers. He eased her back onto the bed, before pinning her on the edge. She smiled and closed her eyes in delight. She was so submissive. Such a simple girl, he thought, before covering her month with his.
Yes, this indeed was the life.
Jessalyn could hear the women next to her start to snore. They were still over the Atlantic and Jess hadn't got a chance to sleep since they took off seven hours ago. She had tried listening to the music provided by the airline, but by this part of the flight, the songs had switched from American to French, so she could barely understand them. She had switched to some soft classical music on another channel to help her relax, but it only made her more anxious about going back to the opera.
Delaunney had been very vague when he explained his situation. She had gotten the facts that there were employees complaining of ghosts and leaving. Then the cellars which had been cleaned and drained were now flooding and a TV crew was trying to film a show about the Opera Ghost without permission to be on the grounds. Jess wondered what, if anything, she could do to help. Scare the crew away? Convinced the staff that there were no ghosts at the opera?
Ghosts or not, the opera was still a dangerous place, especially for her. Why did Delaunney ask her help and why had she been so foolish to accept his invitation? Perhaps she wanted a break from her hum drum routine, or she wanted another chance to visit glorious Paris once more. How many middle class twenty-somethings got a chance to visit Paris? Or maybe, she wanted to be in the place that contained her most horrible and precious memories.
When she had told Daniel she loved him and when she realized too late that she loved Erik instead?
She glanced around the cabin at all the other sleeping passengers. Lucky them. She stood up and grabbed her carry-on bag from the top compartments. She had before she left made many unusual purchases, at least for her. She saw them as she rummaged through her bag. She had went out and bought some hair dye to get back her natural shade of blond. Jess had picked up a curling iron, make-up and hair products she hadn't used in years. She couldn't run around Paris like she had just crawled out of the woods from her morning shift back home. She also didn't want Delauney or anyone else at the opera that might remember her, see that she had fallen apart these past six years.
The rustling echoed loudly through out the silent cabin until Jessalyn found want she was looking for. She had taken a stack of the day's mails and shoved it in her bag before catching the cab to the airport that morning. Some mindless bill reading should put me to sleep.
She noticed, among the few envelopes a small package addressed to her. Curiously she opened it, trying to remember if she had ordered something over the internet recently. It was the shape of the small nature reference books she had back at the station. She turned it upside down and shook the contents onto her lap.
It was something small, wrapped in brown paper. However there was an envelope with her name written on it. This was certainly not a mail order. She hurried opened it and read the letter inside.
Jessalyn,
It's Dan. I hope the past years have been good to you. I would have gotten in contact with you sooner, but after graduation you seemed to just disappear, I figured you didn't want to be bother by me anymore.
I can never express in any amount of words how sorry I am. I still can't forgive myself for what happen to you and the rest of us at the Opera. I know that you will tell me to stop blaming myself, but I'm still convinced the whole thing was my fault. You and Tony stood by me through it all, and I ignored you. I treated you especially cruel and rudely. If only I had been more careful and alert, none of this would have happened.
Of course perhaps if I hadn't been so lucky there, I would have left empty handed and we could all have gone on with our normal lives. I received a letter from Mr. Delauney a while ago, asking for my help. When I contacted him to tell him my service would be useless to him, I also learned he had also contacted you and that surprisingly you agreed to come. It was through him I learned you address and your new profession.
I wanted to give you my journal. It seems only fair since you bought it for me all those years ago. Perhaps it will serve you better. It useless to me now, since I've lost hope of having my pet project published. I also enclosed another one for you. Perhaps you might find something interesting worthy of writing about someday.
Please know that I'm sending you this not because I want to forget you or to forget what happened to us in Paris. Not all the memories of the opera are unpleasant. I always think of you, and even though we have to keep our story secret, we will "always have Paris."
Yours, Daniel
Jess couldn't believe what she had just read so she read it again. Her heart skipped a beat with delight. He remembered her and thought of her. All these years she had been so afraid to contact him, thinking he would be angry at her and what she had let happen. She was also afraid to open up old wounds and did not want to face the awkwardness between them. She had only told him that she had loved him for years, risked her live to help him escape and then never called him again.
Now Dan was taking complete blame for what happened. She could never blame him and it wasn't as if he could have predicted what would happen in Paris. Who could?
She felt enthralled as her fingers ripped apart the brown paper. She leafed through Daniels' plain leather journal, full of notes. Then she noticed the other journal. This one was bigger, with brown and black embossed trim. It was kept closed by a magnetic flap and when she opened it the noticed the title page. Dan had even written her name in it so that it read, This Journal belongs to Jessalyn Greene.
Daniel still thought about her. He still cared about her.
Jess retrieved the box from the floor to find the return address. She was full of excitement now wanting to know where Dan lived now, and what he had been up to since they left school.
She found it.
Daniel and Lisa Payne, read the first line.
Her heart sank.
The address of a house in New York followed on the small label, and a flower decorated one corner in the usual fashion, but the first line glared at her.
Daniel and Lisa Payne.
Daniel was married. He had gotten married.
Jessalyn was glad everyone was asleep in the cabin, so no one could see her look of embarrassment and disgrace.
A/N: ouch...oh yeah I went there
