The Silver Stage
Chapter 4
Abigail was overwhelmed when Christian ended his song. She had never heard such wonderful words before in her life. There was so much feeling and—appeal. She so wanted to believe him when he said he wanted her—that he thought she was beautiful. She felt her heart flutter in her chest and she smiled brightly as she innocently turned away in embarrassment.
"Oh, my. I—I don't know what to say. That song—those words—they were so beautiful. You are such a poetic soul, Christian. You stir in me such beautiful feelings. They're so—so bohemian."
"Bohemian?"
Suddenly, Christian began to panic. He suddenly remembered the first time he desired to be a bohemian, back when he believed in such things like beauty, freedom and love. Back when he first came to the Moulin Rouge and fell in love with Satine. And now, since her death and his dreams gone all away like smoke, he didn't want to experience things like love ever again. He couldn't bear to suffer another heartbreak no matter how charming and nymph-like Ms. Nightingale appeared. By god! Why did he have to go and fall in love again? And with another singer too? What was wrong with him?
Abruptly, Christian grabbed his hat and inched his way towards the door. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Nightingale, but this is a mistake. I—I don't, I mean I can't. I shouldn't have told you those things."
Abigail wrinkled her nose, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Christian then inhaled a deep breath and stood up straighter and said, "I don't love you, Ms. Nightingale. Please forgive me for misleading you. You are very charming, but I allowed my feelings to get the best of me."
The diva huffed. "I don't believe you."
"What? But, I just said it was all a misunderstanding."
Abby then took a step closer to the reporter and said, "And I don't believe you."
Christian scuffed at the diva's stubbornness and replied, "Then, believe what you want, but it isn't true."
Annoyed, the diva answered, "Fine. Deny it all you want, but you're the one who started all this nonsense about love, beauty and nymphs. I've never been so confused in my life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think you ought to leave."
"Fine. I will leave. Good-day Madame."
Swiftly, Christian turned around and marched towards the door and swung to open with great force and excited the dressing room. He had never been so irritated, yet so perplexed in his life. He didn't know what had gotten into him to say such things to a complete stranger. He already knew now that love didn't always mean happy endings and they certainty didn't end well with ladies of the stage.
Mumbling to himself he said, "Damn, Christian what's wrong with you? Isn't having your heart broken once good enough?"
He glanced up at the entrance of the Silver Stage and gazed at the glittering lights and large printed letters of the great diva's name. She had no doubt many admirers and he was probably only one of many. It was pointless of him to confess his feelings that way—but the glow in her dark lovely eyes and that innocent flush on her youthful cheeks—she was still such a beautiful songbird.
Christian then shook his head and tried to shake out the thought. He didn't have time for chasing out of reach idols. He had to get what little information he got from the diva and compose a stellar report for his article and turn it in to Mr. Du Bois.
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However, back in the dressing room Abby sighed and flopped herself down at the vanity and covered her face with her hands. She just couldn't believe what just happened. Oh, why did she have to open her big mouth and say such things?
She groaned and let her head fall all the way down onto the table top with a thud and didn't hear Cherie come in and close the door. The dancer then tiptoed over to the lady-writer and sat down next to her on her seat.
"So, my sweet, how did the interview go?"
Still faced down the girl replied, "Horrible."
Cherie laughed and said, "You exaggerate. I'm sure it wasn't all that bad."
"No, it was worse. I got overheated in this stupid little room and fainted that he ended up taking off my mask and then he told me that he loved me than he took it back. God, I wish the earth would just swallow me up already and be done with it."
Startled, the dancer rose and shouted, "What do you mean your mask fell off? This is horrible. He will see you are not the real Ms. Nightingale."
Abby then shook her head in her arms and said, "Oh, what does it matter? He didn't seem to notice. My guess is he doesn't know what she really looks like or he'd have known on the spot."
"Then—we are still saved! Thank Shakespeare! We can just have the real Ms. Nightingale release another interview and have it published in the paper before Mr. Christian prints his. With luck perhaps our little switch at the opening act will be overlooked."
Cherie excitedly began to head towards the door when she paused and said, "Did you say he told you he loved you?"
Abigail lifted her head up at last and frowned. "Yes, and he then took it back. The man is full of mixed signals."
Cherie snorted, "Men! He sounds like a schoolboy. What did you do, my pet?"
"Oh, I told him I didn't believe him and then I told him to leave. But, Cherie that isn't the worst part. I honestly think I liked him. And—it just makes me hate him all the more."
The dancer smiled and approached Abby and gave her head a kiss and smoothed her hair. "Don't worry over such a boy, Abigail. He was obvious not worthy of your love. And I thought you were wise enough not to believe every pretty word a stranger tells you."
Solemnly, she replied, "Yes, I know, but you should have seen the look in his eyes, Cherie. The eyes are the windows to the soul and his was lovely."
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TBC
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