Wow, I posted in under five days! Freaky. I'm trying to make up for the past uber long break.
Before reading this chapter, if you haven't ever heard the song "Cocaine" I suggest you do that now.
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Richard was easily slipping into the rhythm of the morning's classes. After reading through the script during Theater Arts, Richard was slowly losing his consternation concerning having to learn an entire musicale. He had bonded well with his other cast mates and succeeded in making Kori laugh twice more. Somehow bringing forth that enchanting sound had brightened his entire day. Now as he exited his Art History conference at Raven's side he glanced around earnestly for his new companion among the thick crowds of people exiting the other lecture halls lining the corridor in which they stood.
"Looking for someone?" Raven said slyly.
Richard's head spun around to face her. He had truly enjoyed his class with Raven; she was quite intelligent and very interesting to discuss the works of Vermeer with. And his new professor, Lillian Chang, had proved to be just as fascinating when Richard could understand her words around her thick Chinese accent. Raven promised that after a few days Richard would find Professor Chang's speech a little easier to comprehend. It had all been very enjoyable. But still he couldn't stop himself from searching out a certain bright musician. Raven smiled weakly in an understanding way.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "I'm used to this. She and Gar will be coming out of that door down there." Raven pointed out a door a little ways down the hall through the mass of milling students. There Richard spotted a flash of red hair where Kori stood near the door of Lecture Hall D with Garfield and a distinguished looking older woman. Snow white hair pulled back into a severe bun projected an image of strict discipline when matched with her smart green silk blouse and black pants.
As Richard crew closer to the trio, he noticed a small plaque on the door the woman stood next to that proclaimed the words Musical Composition, Professor Helena Platt.
Just when Richard had tapped Kori on the shoulder, the woman he took to be Helena Platt handed a sheaf of sheet music to Garfield saying, "I like where you're taking this Mr. Logan. Keep up the good work."
"Thank you Professor," he said.
"You're welcome. Is that the piece you plan on using for your Exhibition submission?"
"Yeah, I was thinking about it."
As the other two spoke, Kori smiled up at Richard and whispered, "Hello friend, did you enjoy Art History?"
"Yep. Just need to find Victor and head off to art."
"Oh, there he is." Kori began waving as Victor, with Karen on his arm, came barreling through the horde, grinning.
"What's up man?"
"We were just waiting for you," Richard said.
"Do you have your stuff for class?" Vic asked.
"What are you talking about?" Richard replied.
"Well this is your first day in Madame D'Loncre's class. She's gonna want to see a portfolio of your work."
Richard blanched, "Oh shit! I left it up in my room!"
"Quick, you run upstairs and get it. I'll catch up with you at the bottom of the dorm stairs." Victor said urgently.
"Right." Richard took of in a run, dodging students as he went.
"Better go catch up with him. Later guys." Victor bade his friends goodbye and jogged off to catch up with a spastic artist.
"I gotta go too y'all." Karen said heading off in the direction of the dance studios.
Kori and Garfield bade her farewell and linked arms together, walking off towards the auditorium and their symphony rehearsal.
She turned to her life-long companion and smiled. "What do you think of him?"
"Grayson? I guess he's all right."
"He is much more than 'all right'." Kori bristled slightly.
Garfield picked up on her reaction and immediately felt his hackles rise. "Oh yeah? What do you think about him?"
Kori realized how the conversation was going and blushed slightly. "Well, he seems very intelligent and… gifted. I very much enjoy his company."
"You shouldn't trust every guy who crosses your path Kori. I mean I like him too, but we really don't know him at all."
Kori stopped in her tracks. The other students pushed them on all sides so she grabbed Gar by the hand and hauled him into a vacant classroom.
"Garfield, you have always protected me, always. But we have also always been alone, aren't you tired of that yet? Aren't you lonely?"
Swiftly Gar took hold of her around the waist and pulled her into a tight hug. He spoke into her hair.
"More than you know sweetie. More than you know."
Kori looked up at her closest companion. "So learn to trust him. I do."
"I'll try."
Kori grinned, "That is all I am asking for."
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Upstairs, Richard was tearing through his dorm. He jumped over Gar's piano stool and threw open his bedroom door.
Though he didn't know it, his room was designed much the same as Kori's except that where she had a window seat Richard's room was blessed with a set of slim French doors and a tiny balcony that was really only for show. He has explored them the night before to discover that they opened just wide enough to let in a lovely autumn breeze. Cardboard packing boxes full of clothes and personal effects lined the walls and a portfolio folder was lying on a small oak desk in the corner.
Richard grabbed this file up and turned on his heel quick as a flash and dashed out of his room again. He thundered down the spiraling stairs past three floors of dormitory doors, almost colliding with Victor at the bottom.
"Got your stuff?"
"Yeah."
"Ok let's go. We gotta hurry though, Madame hates it when we're late."
Together the boys ran off with Victor in the lead. It indeed seemed like they might be late as there were no other students still in the halls. Victor led Richard through a maze of sunlit corridors finally arriving at the base of a set of narrow stone steps leading up into oblivion. Richard couldn't see where they ended due to poor lighting in the stairwell.
Richard sprinted up the stairs behind Victor. They seemed to go on forever and even though both men were in excellent shape, they were panting by the time they reached the small landing at the top of the stairs.
A large blue door covered with a painting of a dove in flight stood before them. Just as Victor stretched out his hand to open the portal, it was pulled open by someone on the other side.
And Richard found himself face to face with one of the most exotic women he had ever seen.
Mocha skin covered a supple body that could bring any man to the ground. A silk summer sundress evocative of the ocean fell just to her knees, bare feet tapped themselves on the hardwood floor in an annoyed manner. The woman's slender arms were crossed over her chest and her fingers sported many expensive looking rings. A colorful scarf held back a head of glossy corkscrew curls. Her lovely lips were twisted into an exasperated pout.
"Vous êtes en retard," she whispered icily in French. Richard knew just enough of the language to know she was accusing them of being late.
To Richard's surprise Victor stepped back, tucked his hands behind him, lowered his head and muttered, "Ma Madame d'excuses". Richard translated awkwardly in his head 'my apologies Madame'. The tall black woman seemed to have a very strong persona that kept men even as imposing as Victor in line.
"Vous devez être," Richard snickered in his head as the woman told Victor he should be sorry and the other man's head dipped an inch lower.
Suddenly she switched her attention over to Richard himself and she questioned in a silky French accent, "And who are you? Victor, why do you bring strange friends to my class?"
"No Madam, this is a new student. His name's Richard Grayson. I had to show him the way. I…"
Madame D'Loncre cut him off. "That is enough Victor. You are excused from being late. Be about your work now, Exhibition is in a few short weeks."
"Merci Madame," Victor nodded his head respectfully and passed by his professor into the room still hidden from Richard.
"So you are my new student?"
"Ye…yes," she really was quite impressive.
The Madame took notice of his tentative manner and her look softened somewhat.
"Forgive me my ill-tempered greeting of Monsieur Stone. He often comes late to this class and he rarely has an excuse. He thinks I do not t know about his girlfriend, but I have seen them together at the bottom of my stairs, often ten minutes into the start of my class. Well, I can only yell at him so much. He is gifted but needs to learn restraint, especially with the girl."
Richard laughed despite himself.
Madame D'Loncre smiled and uncrossed her arms, extending one hand for Richard's portfolio. Felling amazingly self-conscious, he handed over the samples of his artwork. This was the one thing that could keep him in a Masters class.
She opened the folder and her eyebrows rose. Richard's gut clenched as it filled with adrenalin. But his fears were for naught. For Marguerite D'Loncre had rarely seen such a show of vision among one of her students.
The photographs were an inspired mix of provocateur and innocence. He seemed to have a skilled eye for lighting; the film had been expertly developed without a single flaw.
And the paintings! Photographs of oil paintings hanging in an attic studio somewhere were vivid and alive. As she turned the pages of Richard's portfolio, she realized she had misjudged him. Marguerite had taken one look at the young man and decided he was just another wannabe artiste come to through himself at her feet.
But no. This child had a true talent and a beautiful eye for what could be captured in paint and film. She returned her attention to the nervous young man before her and smiled benignly.
"Welcome to my class Monsieur Grayson."
Richard released a breath he didn't know he had been holding and followed his new teacher through her elaborately painted door into a sunny, open chamber. The opposite wall was made completely of soaring glass doors leading onto a small platform carved out of the sloping roof. Richard saw a short ladder leaning against the side of the roof and he suddenly remembered what Raven had said about Madame D'Loncre sometimes liking to teach her classes on the roof.
In the center of the room there was a young man with a thick shock of chestnut hair seated on a stool draped in purple cloth atop a petite raised dais. He was perfectly still and completely nude. Circled around the model in a few rings were students about Richard's age intently memorizing the contours of the young man's form. Easels supporting half finished portraits and coal sketches stood before the students and so intent was each person on their project that only a few looked up when Madame and her new protégée entered the area. Eric Clapton's "Cocaine" was playing softly in the background.
Richard looked around for Victor and couldn't locate him, though he did recognize Leta with her vibrant hair near the front of the circle. He made as though to join the group of artists when Madame Marguerite's hand on his arm stopped him. He caught her eye then followed her past the crowd across the room to another door, this one decorated with a rising sun. They slipped silently through and stood at the end of a long hallway lined with eight or so doors. "Cocaine" could still be heard even on this side of the door and as Richard followed his teacher down to the end of the hall he noticed that she bounced slightly with the music as she walked.
"I was very impressed by the work you have shown me thus far Richard. Based on your portfolio, I have decided that you are ready to take up a semi-private studio here. You are in luck, Victor will your studio partner, he being the only one of my students without one at the moment."
They had stopped before a plain door. Madame turned to face him again.
"Now Richard, there are certain things that I expect from my students, especially the owns whom I entrust with a private studio. You must maintain the level of uniqueness I have witnessed in your samples. You are a very talented young man, do not make me regret taking this chance on you so close to Exhibition."
"Um, if you don't mind me asking Madame, what is Exhibition? I've heard a couple people talking about it but I really have no idea what it is."
"Oh of course, my apologies. Exhibition is a form of…a …a midterm exam here at our little academy. Students are required to submit one piece pertaining to their subject major. I know this might seem like a large burden for you to have to take on in the middle of term, but I think that with Victor as a studio partner, he will be able to aid you in any thing you might need assistance with. I tend to check in on each of my isolated students at least once per class, please feel free to ask any questions or for support. The point of isolating you like this is to cultivate individuality in your art. Good luck." And she left him there outside his new studio, hips swaying to the faint music as she went.
Richard entered the flat he would now be sharing with Victor and almost jumped back again at the sight that met him. Victor stood at the base of a cubic plinth. The huge black man was wielding a blowtorch and welder's mask and soddering small scraps of copper to what seemed to be the foot of a massive statue. The other man looked up when Richard entered and pushed his mask back over his bald skull.
"Hey man! How did it go with Madame?"
"Petty good. She says I'm supposed to share a studio here with you."
Victor's face lit up merrily, "No fuckin' way! I been here four years and it took me the first two to even get into her class at all. I only got a private spot this year! Damn man, you must be something else!"
Richard grinned embarrassedly as he moved further into the room. It was a perfect place for a pair of artists. Sloping roof on one side punctured by gabled windows and whitewashed walls completely bare except for what seemed to be a dozen pictures of Karen dancing in a flowing white dance costume.
"What have you got going on here?" Richard asked, gesticulating with his chin at the strange structure Victor had been attacking with his blowtorch.
"This is my submission for Exhibition."
"Yeah…but what is it?"
"Karen."
"Beg Pardon?"
"Karen. This is a statue of my girlfriend."
"Has she seen it yet?"
"No."
"Don't let her."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean if you love her, and value your life, you wont let her see this."
Victor returned to examining a piece of metal, "It isn't yet man. I'm still working on the finer points."
"Yeah well keep working." Victor punched Richard good-humoredly in the arm and pulled down his mask again. Over the buzz of the blowtorch he asked, "So what do you think of Madame D'Loncre? She's pretty cool, huh?"
"Yeah. Where is she from? She's gorgeous."
"I know! I'm pretty sure Madame came here from Guyana, from one of the French colonies."
"Really? Her accent sounded more Parisian." At Victors raised brow Richard quickly explained "I had a Parisian tutor when I was out of school for a few weeks in the eighth grade. I was having surgery on a ripped tendon in my knee."
"Well you may be right. After four years you get to know your professors pretty well. Her father was a Parisian goodwill ambassador through the U.N. He went to Guyana, met Madam's mother, they got married and had Madame and her sisters. As far as I can tell, Madame was kinda her dad's favorite, he would take her to Paris with him on business trips and that's were she first got into Western art."
"You really know a lot about her."
"We've spent a good amount of time together. She's helped me get slots in contests and stuff. We've talked. She might be a little snappish if you show up late, but Madame is still my favorite professor."
Richard nodded appreciatively. He moved around the massive statue and the more he studied it, the more he realized that it did look a great deal like Karen Hart, in a skeletal sort of way.
The entire structure was crafted out of copper strips welded with care to form a figure with long legs leaping out of the pedestal supporting an arched back and arms flung wide to the winds. The head was fashioned out of the same metals but much more intricately, with curving cheekbones and a thousand coils of copper wiring used to create Karen's unique double chignons.
As Richard reviewed the statue, he noticed small hooks on the back of her shoulders, elbows, wrists and hips.
"What are the hooks for?" he asked. Victor removed his helmet again and came to join Richard on his side of the statue.
"I'm gonna suspend some silk sheathes from them, make it seem more like she really is dancing."
Richard noticed again the pictures of Victor's girlfriend on the wall. "Like in those?"
"Yep. Those were taken at Karen's Exhibition project from last year, she choreographed a song by Kytaro."
"Tell me more about Exhibition, Madame D'Loncre didn't get to far into it."
"Ok, all you need to do is decide on a definite project, put your entire life force into it, than present it before D'Loncre. Next Exhibition is due the week before term ends in December, about nine or ten weeks off"
"Greaaaaaaaat"
Victor just laughed.
Richard decided to leave his burly friend to his work and settled down in the corner of the studio, taking a small pad of sketch paper out of the back of his portfolio folder.
He began drawing without really concentrating on the figure forming on the page. So now he had to create an opus in just over two months. Wonderful, just peachy. What the hell was he going to do? If Exhibition was anything like the midterms Richard had taken back in Gotham, than they were all that kept him in his classes. He would need something really incredible to do that.
Slowly, Richard glided into the haze-like stupor he usually obtained when searching for new inspiration. He should probably stay in the painting department, which was his strong suit. But what to paint?
Suddenly Richard realized his hands had stilled. He looked down at the picture in his lap and felt his heart leap into his throat. Kori stared up at him from the paper, her features slightly smudged where Richard's hand had smoothed over the pencil markings. She looked just as he had imagined her two nights ago during her performance of Miss Saigon; beautifully provocative, full of passion and promising an eternity of pleasures.
And an idea began to blossom in his head.
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Raven took her usual seat in her usual balcony and began her usual practice of waiting for Victor, and now Richard, to join her as they waited for Kori and Garfield to be released fro their symphony rehearsal, which tended to run later than most classes.
It had been a pleasant day, topped off by the fact that she had been able to avoid Garfield Logan the entire time. But the more she had thought about it, the more Raven realized that her paranoia was a groundless panic, fueled only by the stress of the oncoming Exhibition and worry over her mother. The odds that anyone as talented and intelligent as Garfield was interested in her were too slim for a pragmatist like Raven.
Just then Raven could hear two pairs of footsteps treading lightly up the stairs behind her. Richard flew through the velvet curtain followed closely by Victor. Raven watched as Richard settled his well-muscled frame in one of the plush seats and leaned over the balcony to listen all the more attentively to the orchestra. Raven sighed to herself; she should have seen this coming.
Richard was besotted with Raven's best friend. Soon he would have seduced Kori into his arms, and something told Raven that Garfield's new friendship might stop him from taking the typical precautions regarding Kori's safety. And Raven would lose the one truly close friend she had. Or was she simply being neurotic? Maybe these things would never come to pass and everything would stay the way it had. God willing.
Shaking off these depressing thoughts, Raven leaned forward like Richard to look more completely at the auditorium. She was lazily sweeping her gaze over the huge room when the sight of two people down in one of the aisles, a man and a woman took her by surprise. This was strange, as people who were not involved in the orchestra were not usually allowed in the auditorium during a rehearsal (Raven and the others tended to keep a low profile). But their strange presence was soon made clear when the man looked up in Raven and Richard's direction and Raven recognized him as Frank Carmody. The woman she didn't know, but that hardly mattered. She watched as he bustled out of the aisle and entered the small inner door beneath the balconies. The woman in turn left the aisle in the other direction, traveling up across the stage and around the performs into the right wing.
One glance at Richard told Raven that he had noticed none of this. He was gawking spellbound at Kori as she watched a flutist stand to perform a solo. What was he thinking? What thoughts went through his head when he looked upon that sweet, innocent little thing?
Suddenly the curtain behind them was thrown open and Carmody burst in.
"Grayson!" He boomed. Instinctively the three teens turned and whispered, "Shusshhh!"
Frank repaired his tone and hunkered down next to Richard, who ripped his eyes away from the scene on the stage.
"Hey Mr. Carmody."
"Please, call me Frank."
"Sure."
"Look, I'm glad I found you here. I was just down there in the house talking to our costume designer Angie; she needs to see you to get your measurements for costuming purposes."
"Now?"
"That would be best. Angie's waiting in the stage right wing. Look for the open door in the wall. I'd take you there myself but I've gotta get on the road if I want to get home in time for dinner."
"Ok I'll go right down."
"Thanks. See you tomorrow morning."
Carmody hefted himself off the floor and exited the box, soon followed by Richard. He moved quickly and was soon in the pre-described wing. As he fought his way through the waves of set parts and lighting posts he caught sight of the "open door in the wall". A tiny, squat woman in tight Lycra pants and a frilly poka-dot top waving energetically stood framed in the light spilling out of a sort of cave built into the wall of the wing.
"You must be Richard," She said in a thick Brooklyn accent, "Thanks for coming down now, this eliminates me having to track you down tomorrow." She laughed, a bit like a horse, but sweetly all the same. "Come on in honey. I'm Angie "
Richard battled his way through the masses of theater flotsam and followed the woman, who barely came up to his shoulder, through the door into her domain. Raw strip lighting lit up cavern-like space stuffed to the gills with dressmaker's dummies covered in half made costumes, shelves stocked with wigs and sewing supplies, and full length mirrors suspended upon the walls. The walls were plastered with pictures of different costumes from a thousand different shows, the most prominent among them now being those of a group of French courtiers and dancers.
"Just step up there hon," Angie said, her voice floating up from the cabinet she had her head in, one hand pointing out a small raised stand in the center of all the clutter. Richard hopped up and turned to fine Angie suddenly right there at his hip.
"Oh, you really sneak up on a person, don't you?" He said laughingly.
Angie giggled as well, "That's what happens when you're only four and a half feet tall." She whipped out a tape measurer. "So Frank tells me this is your first performance ever. Nervous?"
"A little I guess."
"Don't worry baby, your gonna do just fine with this group of kids with ya,"
"Thanks." Richard felt more than a little awkward with this tiny lady running her tape measurer up his thigh to get his inseam measurements, but he just gritted his teeth and stared up at the ceiling until she had finished measuring his legs. As Angie began wrapping the tape around Richard's hips, he looked around the room more closely, noticing what looked like the remains of the costumes from Miss Saigon.
"Did you design the costumes for the last show too?" He asked while Angie was noting down some of her charge's measurements on a clipboard.
"Yep. That was my favorite job, till this one. Frank spoke very highly of you ya know."
"Really?" Richard glowed under the praise.
"Uh-ha. He says you have a great voice and with a little help you could be wonderful." She paused. "I also think he might like you because of the way you act around that nice Italian girl, Kori. She's such a sweetie, but the boys in your class are always trying to hit on her. I think Frank's taken a liking to you because you don't just seem to want her for sex."
Luckily Angie turned away at that moment to find her clipboard or she would have seen Richard's guiltily blush.
To buy time for his flush to pale again, he stared around the room. A glimpse of something green caught his eye. A female dummy was sporting a stunning green silk robe flowing to the floor on glistening folds. The mannequin was partially concealed by other gowns and negligees, barely noticeable except for a small glimpse visible through the jungle of clothes.
"That's a beautiful robe. Is it for the show?"
Angie cocked her head at the dressing gown thoughtfully. "I was thinking about using it for the scenes where Christine is in her dressing room, but the green is a little to vibrant for this particular operetta. So Frank and I decided to stay closer to the original white lace for her instead. I'll just have to put it back in the closet I suppose."
Suddenly a cell phone clipped to Angie's waist started chirping and she glanced down.
"Ok, this is my youngest son, I gotta take this. I've got all your measurements, you're free to go." She started moving towards the door, "Um… could I ask you to turn off the lights? There's no reception in this part of the building and really I need to talk to my kid."
"Sure, no problem."
"You're a doll."
Angie dashed out of the costuming room with her cell phone in hand. Richard stepped off the stand and crossed to the light switch next to the door.
From this vantage point he could hear more clearly the music played on the stage. The musicians were all really quite talented; he had rarely heard anything so beautiful. The sound of the piano floated up over the melody of the strings and Richard's thoughts turned to Garfield.
True to his word, he hadn't said anything to Gar about Kori's fainting fit in the pool and this slight confidence both thrilled and guilted him. While he found Kori's trust captivating, he was also becoming quite fond of Gar and keeping something like this from his new roommate pulled at his conscience.
But if Richard planned on going through with the idea forming in his mind, he would be violating a much larger part of Garfield's trust.
"I like you and all but if push comes to shove and you've hurt her, I'll kill you."
He didn't know what to do.
Richard stood a moment longer in the door way before returning to the room. Just as his hand stretched out to flick the lights off, he again saw the green silk of the rejected robe.
And the plan in his head began to take on a clearer form.
If Angie didn't plan on using the robe than she probably wouldn't miss it anytime soon. Something about the robe was just begging to be used.
Swiftly, fearing intrusion, Richard grabbed hold of the dressing gown, and pulled it off the mannequin. He folded it into a secure bundle and tucked it up under his shirt, reorganizing it until it the silk lay a little smoother under his shirt. He turned off the lights and fled the theater quickly.
By sheer luck he met no one on his way back up to his bedroom. Closing his door securely behind him, Richard threw the pilfered robe onto his bed and flopped down next to it. All right, he was half way there, now what?
Richard gazed around his room in that same half-stupor that consumed him earlier in his new studio.
And then he found what he was looking for. Now all he needed was the who.
Richard hauled himself off the bed and crossed to his dresser with its few toiletries. He fiddled with his tube of hair gel, the picture of a younger version of himself and his mother at his First Holy Communion. A lump formed in his throat whenever he thought of her and Richard immediately slapped the photograph face down on the dresser, instead filling his hands with the green glass bottle of sandalwood cologne from Bruce.
Suddenly the way to carry out his plan seemed completely clear.
He grinned as he dabbed a tiny amount of the aftershave on the back of his neck.
She had said she enjoyed this fragrance.
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Well I hoped you enjoyed the first day of classes. I know I got a little over descriptive at times, but I've been typing for five days straight and I got a little discombobulated. Literally, I haven' left my room for anything besides showers and meals!
I want you opinions on the direction this is taking.
Love always,
Belle Mortre
Ciao!
