Angel of Music
Chapter Six: Brava, Brava, Bravissima
When I returned to the stage, the theater had been transformed into an astounding, shining array of flooding lights, cameras, candles, hung ribbons, posted flowers, and white and gold icicles that hung from every balcony. It was the most decorated that I had ever seen the Lawless Opera House. Those who had already arrived were dressed in costume and make-up.
Lauren, Meg's understudy, approached me from the left side door of the stage. She wore a ballet's tutu and carnation pink tap shoes. In Loki's phrase, her predecessor had come to no harm; so Lauren remained cast as one of the chorus girls who side-stepped as a dancer. Although Belinda's unfortunate delay came, Lauren didn't look at all remorseful as she had appeared when Belinda had fallen onto her knees. Instead, Lauren beamed at me with gratitude and happiness that I hadn't seen on her face since I had performed as Fantine in Les Miserablés in our Lawless Opera House.
I was still shocked by the transformation of our desolated theater into what was all glamor—the world's full-tilt diva would be impressed if she stepped foot inside the cathedral. It was no Opera Populaire like in The Phantom of the Opera, but it could fool the most ignorant sod.
Lauren eagerly took my hand.
"Oh, it's just like you always wanted!"
Oh, yes…
"I'm just a little…"
"I bet you're so pleased!"
I stared at Lauren. I know that I should have been grateful to have some attention thrown my way, but this wasn't the first time that she had expressed sole excitement in front of me. She was a sycophant who sided with the winner; before, she would have sent flowers to Belinda. Now that I was in the limelight, Lauren took up the pedestal at my right hand side and attempted to skin her way to my favorites list.
In an opera house that had argued with me from the very beginning—I already knew that most of them thought that I was an arrogant cuss—I didn't easily fall for Lauren's scheme.
However, to remain tactful, I smiled at Lauren.
She seemed appeased enough as she gripped my hand in both hers and led me through the back of the stage where I was met by a chorus of congratulations from fellow understudies and the executive producers who had staged Belinda in front of me. Among them, I acknowledged Darren, who swept by all the others and embraced me cheerfully like a grandfather would to an estranged granddaughter.
He leaned in with his mouth close to my ear where no other could hear what he said to me.
"I convinced them all that you're innocent. Nobody believes that you had any fault with Belinda."
I nodded to confirm that I had heard correctly. He withdrew from me as quickly as he spoken to make certain that he had only told me a sincere congratulatory whisper. I didn't name the executive producers to you. It isn't because their names have escaped me. It's because I didn't think that they were important enough. However, you should know who they are.
The first who slept with Belinda and to put her talent before mine was named Alexander Right. His morbidl obesity and thick-rimmed glasses were his convicted attributes; if there was anything attractive about that man, it was the fact that he did wear glasses, and that he at least could walk for six minutes without tiring.
The second producer—the one who guided Belinda and Lauren from stage while Darren held me back—was Victor Blaise. He was an unsuccessful attempt at tall elegance. He possibly had been attractive and suave during childhood, but those charismatic features—sharp eyes, high cheekbones, blemished-free skin, and prominent chin—all rendered him to look relatively gaunt. Several wrinkles plagued his face. In his youth, he apparently didn't laugh or smile. The laugh lines that Darren and Mr. Right had along their noses and mouths were forlorn on Mr. Blaise's face.
Then Darren How. I named him already; but he was still important to mention as he didn't sleep with Belinda "La Carlotta" Conner. He had won my respect when I learned that; and although he didn't furnish my celebrity status (though tarnishing my reputation in the opera house), I felt incredibly entitled to a place in the spotlight. He had whispered to me that there was no suspicion among my fellow cast mates; so with that, I smiled at Darren.
Mr. Right and Mr. Blaise approached me with extended hands. While they offered handshakes of congratulations, I had the sense that it was a chance for appeasement—much like Lauren had displayed only a moment ago.
I shook both of their hands, to which they reacted with large grins that they had only given to Belinda upon hearing her belt out lyrics at the top of her lungs.
"Oh, we should have cast you as Christine," said Mr. Right.
"Oh, yes, we were wrong!" agreed Mr. Blaise.
"Oh, why didn't we think of that before? We should have done this a long time ago!" They chimed something along the lines of this.
So I replied shamelessly,
"Perhaps you couldn't tell Belinda 'No'."
I turned to Darren while I took advantage of the producers' stunned silence.
"I need to get dressed." I glanced at Misters Right and Blaise and smiled. "Thank you, though, for congrats."
I glanced at Lauren and leaned in to whisper,
"The next time that you want to appease me, why don't you do it where everyone else can hear you?"
Lauren made a disgusted sound, but I walked away before she could say much of anything else.
Darren led me to my new dressing room. He closed the door as I sat down in the make-up chair.
"You shouldn't really disrespect Victor and Alex," warned Darren carefully. "They, too, are in charge of who keeps their job and who gets canned."
I strung my brunette hair from my ponytail and turned to look at him.
"They need me now. What have I to fear?"
"And since when have you become so demanding, Ms. Solstrom?" asked Darren.
"Oh, Ms. Solstrom."
Through the mirror, he met my eyes. He looked suddenly disappointed. In contrast, I definitely looked as egocentric as Belinda had when she was singing hours ago.
"Since when do you call me by my last name?" I muttered, folding my arms.
"You've got the chair, you've got the light; the cast is appealing to your satisfaction." Darren listed the benefits of tonight on his hand and then tossed an arm behind him to indicate the entire opera house. "This is your night, Harper. You're acting like—"
"I have a right to act this way; it was taken from me when Right and Blaise took that warbling whore and put her on the stage before they heard me sing."
"They heard you sing. We all did. You were Fantine and—"
"Yes, I was Fantine, and I did it perfectly!" I said angrily. "I did that part better than any of your understudies and your lead vocalist. I scraped those newbies and did what Belinda couldn't do. I sang I Dreamed a Dream and the entire theater applauded!"
"You can't always have the spotlight, Harper…" Darren sighed in exhaustion. "Everyone is entitled to some fame."
"Not everyone is me," I remarked.
Darren looked at me.
"What has happened to you, Harper?"
"Nothing has happened," I retorted.
"You have changed in the last few days."
"I said nothing has happened!"
Darren approached me from behind my chair. His hand fell upon my shoulder as if to comfort me.
"Have you run into some bad people?"
"No."
"Would you tell me?"
I hesitated.
Then I peered up into the mirror…
My stomach dropped.
Behind Darren How reflected the brilliant emerald green of Loki's penetrating gaze. Loki's reflection stood behind Darren, though he did nothing. Loki's arms were at his sides; that's all he was doing was just staring at me. Yet I felt as if a rug had been pulled from underneath me.
Not a word…
I glanced at Darren's brown-eyed concern through the mirror.
"Of course," I said, disheveled, "I would tell you."
"Then you haven't met anyone bad?"
"No…" I said calmly. "I haven't."
Darren glanced behind him slowly. I stared at the reflection of Loki as Darren turned fully around. There was no one behind us. I already knew that. After all, I was the only one that Loki wanted to see him…at least for now. While Darren was occupied, I passed a nervous hand along the sides of my face where anxious sweat had begun to gather. Loki's presence—whether make-believe or if he was really in the room with me—frightened yet aroused me. Either response would have Darren aware that something in the room was causing me stress.
Loki raised a finger to his lips, a silent demand to keep me quiet.
"Hmm…" Darren mused over my reactions of late, yet he didn't press on.
He believed me.
"We should get you ready, Harper. It'll be wonderful, believe me."
"I trust you," I said out loud, though I wasn't sure if I had said it to Darren or to Loki.
Either way, Darren patted me cheerfully on the shoulder. Loki smiled in the mirror.
With a blink of my eye, he vanished. I sighed in relief.
When I was fitted into a white laced dress and star-shaped berets were placed in their appropriate locations in the dark and pinned curls of my hair, the make-up artists beamed at me with pride.
"This looks better on you than it ever did on Belinda…" one of the girls mused.
Darren came to see me along with Mr. Right and Mr. Blaise. All three beamed at me.
"You look so beautiful."
"Oh, she does, Mr. Right; she does."
Darren graced me with a swift kiss to the top of my hand and said with a smile,
"You do."
There was a sound of applause from the audience that erupted in front of the curtains.
"Looks like this is it," Darren said happily. "Break a leg."
From the beginning of the opera, it was as if I was in a dizzy light the entire time. I felt as if I was drunk; however, I was confident that I beamed with every note that I sang. It was if I was in a dream, and for once in my life, it didn't end with disappointment or anger. While I was in song, I had gazed about the audience while acting. It was partial stage-acting; the other half of me searched for Loki. I didn't see him through the first and second act.
In the hot light, I started to sweat; so the make-up artists had to redo my eye-liner and face powder. They did this three times. I was hot, yes; but I was in an intense fever. I wondered through the entire opera whether Loki could see his handiwork. This was only possible because he had taken out Belinda's vocal cords. Although he informed me that this was my doing; it couldn't have been carried out this well if he had stayed back this entire time.
So my last song, Think of Me, began to play; and I stood alone on the stage. The light glimmered off the stars in my hair and the faintest use of glitter on my dress. After being blinded by the stage lights, it was hard to make out anybody's face in front of me. When my note began to play, I opened my mouth, and I began to sing:
"Think of me,
Think of me fondly
When we said goodbye.
Remember once in a while,
Please promise me
You'll try."
I glanced to my left and searched the rows that I could find. Unimportant faces and marveled stares watched me; but no one fit the description of the green eyes that I had seen peering back at me through my reflection.
"When you find
That once again you long
To take your heart back and be free;
If you ever find a moment
Spare a thought for me…"
To the middle, especially down into the pit, I saw only the occupied stares of the violinists, cellists, trombonists, and the flutists; they flipped the pages of their handbooks passively.
"We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea;
But if you can still remember,
Stop and think of me.
"Think of all the things we've shared and seen;
Don't think about the way things might have been.
Think of me,
Think of me waking silent and resigned.
Imagine me, trying so hard to put you from my mind."
I turned to my left; and I was given the same result as the first two times. I began to lose hope.
"Recall those days; look back on those times…
Think of the things we'll never do…"
But then—
"There will never be a day
When I won't think of you!"
I looked up to the balcony positioned in front of me; I saw Loki standing in the middle of the precipice. He was leaned over on the railing with his hands folded together in mid-evening gloves. He wasn't dressed in his Asgardian leather and metal. He wore the three-piece business suit that I had seen him wear previously. His eyes met mine.
I was grateful for the music interlude. I was almost breathless.
When I hit the key note—one that Belinda had failed to pitch in the rehearsals—the entire audience applauded. I didn't find any delight in that until Loki straightened and started to clap his hands. He didn't applaud as feverishly as the crowd—but that didn't sincerely bother me. I felt my entire face grin from ear to ear as I absorbed the attention in the entire opera house.
Before me was a standing ovation.
Behind me, I heard applause as well; Darren and the other two producers were clapping. Lauren was jumping up and down with hot delight. I turned to face the audience again. They lowered to their chairs.
"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade;
They have their seasons, so do we.
But please promise me that sometimes,
You…
Will…
Think…"
I felt my heart stop as I vocalized my next syllable; mostly because if I didn't perform as well as next to perfect, all of what had happened previously would have been all in vain. However, I believed that I carried it out to a "T"—
"Of me!"
I was met with a roar of applause and showered with rose petals.