Stiles was in a foul mood. Derek hadn't turned up again after walking out of their suite and now he had to endure the evening with Peter Dickhead Hale all by himself. He couldn't wait until this farce was over and he could shut himself alone in his cosy apartement again, away from every douche that walked on this planets surface. The douche next to him was checking out himself in a mirror for the umpteenth time and Stiles couldn't help but wonder why the werewolf was so obsessed with his appearance. He was a radio host, for God's sake, none of his billion listeners would know if that one hair was out of place.
Stiles question was answered as they stepped out of their limousine infront of the L. A. Opera's performing center. The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was a big, square building covered with large windows and surounded by giant pillars that held up the protruding roof. Huge posters promoted the opera's show in capital letters, displaying gallant pictures of the redheaded banshee in a classic blue dress, the fabric flowing like water around her petite form. He had only a second to take it all in, before reporters shoved their cameras into his face, taking pictures of him and Hale, who had wrapped an amicable arm around Stiles' shoulder and showed his pearlwhite teeth in a big smile to the journalists.
For the first time, Stiles was happy to have the dj next to him, because his lucent personality pulled everyones attention away from the skinny human and towards the famous werewolf, who answered every question cheekily, even the ones directed at Stiles. Like a pro, he steered them both through the crowd towards the opera house's entrance as fast as possible without neglecting the press.
Inside the marble foyer, Stiles had a second to catch his breath until Allison Argent suddenly appeared next to him in a strapless evening gown and a pist off posture.
„What are you doing here?", he asked flabbergasted and a bit in awe of her gorgeous complexion.
„I'm making sure you don't do anything stupid. How could you board that plane without me? We're supposed to be partners on this mission, Stiles!"
Her frustration with him was clear in her voice and Stiles felt a knot of shame fasten in his stomach. For years they had trusted each other, always counting on their partner to have each other's back, and now he had disappointed her, too.
„Who's this tasty tidbit, Stiles? Do you have two winning horses in your stable? You sly fox!", Hale chirruped, giving Allison an approving once-over.
„Excuse my manners, I'm Allison Argent, a friend of Stiles. I'm his attendance tonight."
„Peter Hale", the radio host told her with a kiss to her hand. „Enchanté."
A frightening notion came up in Stiles' mind and he regarded her with angry eyes. „Wait, where's Derek? I swear, if you laid a finger on him-"
„I didn't do anything to your boyfriend", Allison hissed. „But if you had the brass neck to bring him here, I had folded him up and handed him in at the cloakroom for you to pick him up after we had collected the stones. Now, come on", she said suddenly sweet again, linking their arms, as she remembered all the civilians around them. „We gonna enjoy the show and meet the banshee right after."
Hale's assistants emerged out of nowhere and surrounded him with their nerve-wracking jabbering. In tow they had an important looking man who introduced himself as the L.A. Opera's vice chairman and a beautiful woman wearing a small tiara on her head and a sash around her torso, which read Miss California. In a rush, names were exchanged and hands shaken, while the radio host fastened his small micro to his head and quickly ran over the scheduling with one of his assistants. In unison, the group ceased speaking as one man with giant headphones and his eyes on his wristwatch depicted a countdown with his fingers.
„Los Angeles!", Hale shouted out in his cheap showmanship voice when the countdown struck zero. „Peter Hale at your service for two hours with the lucky winner of the Cheerios' contest Stiles Stilinski, L.A. Opera's vice chairman Bernard Greenberg, and this years Miss California in person! And the three thousand other lucksters here, to enjoy the privilege of the unique concert of Miss Lydia Martin!"
Hale delivered his fast-paced announcement faltlessly as the large group started to move further inside the building. In the concert hall, plush seats were spread over four tiers, connected by wide curving stairways. Lucent chandeliers hanged from the ceiling and filled the room with an apprehensive light. The sound of people muttering resounded in the large hall, as the members of the audience searched for their seats.
„Now we enter what must be the most beautiful concert hall of the U.S.A.! The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion is part of the Los Angeles Music Center, which is one of the three largest performing arts centers in the United States." Hale paused for a moment and surveyed the rich décor of the interior before he waved a disregarding hand. „But who cares!"
They strode down the rows of seats while the radio host began to gossip about the high-profile audience. „To my right, a row of ministers, more sinisters than ministers. To my left, Lou Ferrigno, star of 1970s Incredible Hulk. He's not going to get much out of this concert. He's stone-deaf!", he yelled into the actor's direction, who seemed to have problems at dedicating his signature to a fan. „And here we have Mike Morin, pitcher of the Los Angeles Angels!" He high-fived the athlete as he walked past. „Oklahoma Governer Mary Fallin and her lovely daughter. ''I love to sing'', she recently confessed to me. By the way, I have a recording of her talented voice. I'll play you the whole song after the concert, it's time for Stiles to say the word of the day."
Hale abruptly stopped as they reached the front row, snatched a mike out of his assistant's hand and held it under Stiles' nose. The human had become accustomed to the dj's antics and just looked at him unfazed.
„Tell me, my man, you happy here in the big world?"
„Thrilled."
He sat down on his seat next to Allison, displaying his displeasure at being dragged into the stupid radio show once again while Hale's body convulsed with the effort of not letting his anger show in his voice.
„And now", he pressed through gritted teeth. „Champagne!"
He beckoned a tall waiter over and grabbed one of the glasses from his tray before he shooed him away again.
„Commercial", he shouted irritated into his earpiece. „Commercial!"
Every person found their seat at last and the murmur hushed as the lights were dimmed. The hall was dark as the curtains were drawn apart and a single spotlight shined down onto a female figure. The orchestra started to play soft music as Lydia Martin slowly stepped to the front of the stage, dressed in a silky lilac evening gown. The banshee looked breathtaking and for a short moment Stiles thought that if Derek never reciprocated his feelings, this woman would definetly be his next love interest.
His admiration increased when the redhead opened her mouth and began to sing with a devine voice, enchanting every member of the audience within seconds. Mesmerized, Stiles leant back in his seat and let the heart-wrenching music wave over him.
