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A bearded man in a baseball cap and flannel shirt phoned her and then delivered her car. When Christine saw that four brand new tires were supporting it, she almost choked. The man scratched his nose with a calloused thumb and said, "Yup. She's all fixed up there. New battery, oil change…all that good stuff."

"That's just…so wonderful," she replied, sniffling.

"I know how ya feel, ma'am," he replied with a firm nod. "I get real passionate about my cars, too."

The lessons had become her shelter, and Christine decided that she wanted the security twenty-four hours a day.

"Thank you for helping me that night," she said upon her next lesson. "And for taking care of my car." If it had been anyone else, she would have hugged him. After what he'd done for her, even his intimidating stature wasn't holding her back. But Erik always became very annoyed when she invaded his personal space, and so Christine kept her distance.

"It is nothing," he replied, taking a seat at the piano. "I will not have you stranded somewhere. You might miss a performance." He positioned his fingers over the keys to begin.

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"This is going to sound silly. And please don't laugh at me or get angry if you don't want to do it." Her face grew warm. "But you…I mean, I know we're only business partners and that's…."

He chuckled and dropped his bony hands in his lap. "Girl, if you do not simply say it, I'm going to perish of old age."

"Right." She took a deep breath. "I know this is all business, but you're still one of my only contacts. And so I was wondering if there was a way I could directly reach you during the day if I ever needed help. Of course, I'll always try Phillip and Anne first. I promise I won't bug you. But-for emergencies."

He didn't laugh. Erik only glanced down at the piano, dusting his fingertips along the keys. "Yes," he replied. "It is also going to become necessary to stay in contact once we begin traveling. Change the last two digits of the number I gave you to six and four. Leave a message; it will reach me immediately."

A thousand pound weight was lifted off her shoulders. No more alone.

"Your debut is soon," he continued, oblivious to her emotional state. "I am scheduling it as we speak. You will sing one song for an audience of a hundred or so."

"Oh. Wow." Butterflies formed in her stomach. "What if I'm not ready? I'm nervous."

"You will be in the beginning. But all tasks in life become much easier after repetition."

"You'll be there?"

"Does one bet his fortune on a horse and then skip the races?"

She glared slightly. "I'm not a horse."

His mirth faded, and he glanced back at the piano. "No. You are very much a singer. And you will be a damned good one at that—assuming we begin the lesson and cease the chitchat."

"All right," she agreed.

Knowing that Erik was there if she needed him made her feeling stronger over the next week, especially as she prepared Raoul for their anniversary. At least every other day, usually when Theresa was gone, Christine coaxed her husband outside and into the daylight. She pushed him down the stone paths and around the flower gardens and swaying palm trees. They went into the front yard where an occasional car passed by and to the neighborhood park where a few children were having a contest to see who could swing the highest. Raoul was generally quiet, his eyes wandering over the familiar scenery as though it were now a foreign country.

The evening arrived. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she softly asked, "Do you think you're ready?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

As they stood in front of a full-length mirror, Christine draped a midnight blue tie around his neck and began to knot it. "I don't want you to be miserable on our anniversary," she murmured. "I just…I want us to begin to live again."

"I know. It's fine. I'm ready. We'll have a nice night."

When she was finished, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. "You look so handsome."

"You're beautiful." He said it with pain in his voice as he gazed over the same red and black dress she had worn with Anne. His eyes settled on her face. "And you look so happy."

She started to wheel him out of the bedroom. "And why shouldn't I be happy? I'm going on a date with my husband, aren't I?"

"Remember our first date?" he asked. Raoul had been doing a lot of reminiscing lately.

"Yup," she replied. "A carnival. And you won me a stuffed elephant. I still have him."

"And remember what else happened?" A rare grin crossed his face.

"Yes." She faked a scowl. "I had a red ribbon in my hair. It came off on the Ferris wheel, and you climbed out of your seat and leaned over the edge to grab it. You scared me half to death over a fifty cent ribbon."

"Yeah, I did." He sighed. "Those were good times."

"Well, now we're going to have more good times," she stated. "Starting tonight."

Phillip arrived to help in an emergency. Christine had asked Phillip to bring his girlfriend along, but he'd shrugged and declined. "I think she's working a late shift." It didn't exactly sound like a promising relationship. Raoul had complained before about how fast his brother went through girls. Christine wondered if Phillip were terrified of marrying someone like his mother but never said that aloud.

All the bases were covered. Henry was even going to distract Theresa with a pair of gold hoop earrings that Phillip had picked out. Theresa was still adamant about keeping a cellular phone at her side all night. "You call me if anything goes badly," she told Phillip, casting a side-glare toward Christine. "Anything. Even the slightest bit of pain, and you call me. And sit close to them. Christine isn't strong enough to help him."

"Yeah, Mom. I've got it. It's all good," Phillip replied. Christine bit her tongue.

They used a specialized white van to drive there, one with the necessary mechanics to lift in a wheelchair and large enough to hold a month's worth of medical supplies. The new-car smell blended with a sterile hospital smell, and Christine discreetly wrinkled her nose as she climbed in the back with Raoul. After they were all in, he softly declared, "Now I really miss my old car."

"Heh," replied Phillip from the driver's seat. "That thing was in worse shape than you after the accident. I doubt they even had to crush it at the junkyard."

"You know, I don't even remember," said Raoul. "That day…I remember leaving work, and it all gets blurry."

"I'm glad you don't remember," said Christine, slipping her hand into his. The van became silent after that save for the hum of the air conditioning. Phillip and the nurse chatted a bit about how quiet the last hurricane season had been. She stared out the window, her thoughts hopping from place to place, including to her lessons. They passed by a pet store with a sale on parrots, macaws, and lovebirds.

"Do you want a pet bird?" asked Raoul.

She jerked her head to look at him. "What?"

"You were smiling; I thought maybe you wanted a pet parrot or something." He shrugged. "Maybe you should get a pet for the house, since you're alone there so much. Maybe a good guard dog."

"I…no. I mean, I wouldn't mind a cat or something someday. But not a big dog; I couldn't control it."

"We could get one that's already trained."

"I don't know. I'll think about it." Frankly, she didn't want something else to depend upon her for survival. The thought of pets or children made her nervous; she'd probably end up killing one of them. She couldn't take care of her own father, after all. You failed him, you stupid little nothing. Panic and self-loathing washed over her, and she anxiously wrung her hands together. Calm down, Christine. Erik is taking care of things now. It'll be okay.

"We're here," declared Phillip, breaking into her thoughts. He turned back to look at them, appearing rather suave in his suit and sunglasses. "You two crazy kids ready?"

She and the nurse laughed, but Raoul seemed less than amused. He gazed outside at the other customers, laughing people passing in eveningwear…or rather walking in eveningwear. He gripped her hand a little tighter.

"Are you ready?" she asked him.

In the front seat, Phillip's phone rang. "Yeah, Mom, everything's fine. You're not going to call me every five minutes, are you? Yes! Jesus, I said everything's fine." This conversation continued for another minute until Phillip finally hung up with a whispered obscenity.

"Are you ready?" she asked again.

Raoul took a deep breath and then nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go."

"So this…this is the anniversary? Looks more like a funeral without a body." He watched the taped recording a third time, his first close peek at Christine's life outside music. "That is not a positive environment for our little singer, is it? No wonder she always looks like she's ready to crawl into a hole."

"It was a little somber," agreed Nadir. "It's a lot for two young people to deal with, I imagine."

He gestured to the frame of her helping her husband with his napkin and silverware, annoyed. "That boy wallows in his own self-pity, sucking her into his depths of despair. Her mother-in-law is a hellish bitch."

"Well…." Nadir appeared speechless. "I guess it is a problem." He scratched his chin. "Here I thought you would have me do something less than savory. And this…well…hm…the music industry, huh? That meek girl is going to be a singer?"

"Are you doubting me, old friend?" He folded his hands together and leaned back into the sofa. They were in Nadir's hotel suite. He'd recently rented an apartment and regularly switched between it and a hotel room, but there was no way in hell he was going to lead anyone, including Nadir and Christine, to his current abodes.

"No. I'm only a little surprised."

"If you don't have faith in my endeavors, then get out of this city and don't return." He flipped off the video toward the end of the dinner, right before Christine said 'I love you' and shared a kiss with her husband.

"I do have faith!" Nadir exclaimed, nearly rising out of the chair.

"Hallelujah," he mocked.

"What I meant to say," began Nadir, settling back into the armchair and composing himself. "Is that this is a lot different than what I was picturing. In a good way! When you said a girl was involved, I thought you'd taken a turn into human trafficking or prostitution. I had my reservations about assisting you. But this is different." Nadir paused. "You haven't worked in the music business before."

"In the end—and I don't care whether you're smuggling drugs or opening a restaurant—it's all the same. Money controls the game." He shrugged. "But it will depend on her in the end, and I dislike that loss of control. It is a gamble, and she'll determine whether we win or lose."

"She's pretty," Nadir murmured. "There is something kind of loveable about her, isn't there? She reminds me of those blondes from the fifties and sixties movies."

"Wait until you hear her sing," he replied. "Every note that escapes her lips is perfection. It's only her poise that's off. But once she hears the applause and feels the stage lights, I think she'll have a different perspective. I'm going to get her traveling-far away from this depressing mess."

"Ah."

He glanced at his old partner. "But I want you to be where I can't always be. When a physical presence is required, you'll sometimes do my negotiating. You'll be in charge of security. Most importantly, guard her when I'm not nearby. Make sure she's not in distress." His hands curled into fists. "And if you see anyone attempting to take advantage of her, inform me. Or shoot them—whichever you prefer. You're capable; I recall hearing about you taking down a man who was about to put a bullet through the head of your Congressman."

"Yes, well…. And you'll help me save the city?" Nadir asked. "I practically resigned my position for this; it didn't garner any respect, anyway. I was a joke."

He scoffed. "Why do you even care? You're going to be rich. Your city can burn, and you can fiddle."

Nadir's expression darkened. "It's not just about the money. Whatever goes on with this girl is still your glory. I want some recognition, and I'm tired of being stepped on by the thugs that run everything. You don't know what it's been like these past years; I don't have an ounce of self-respect left. But imagine if I returned and brought down the worst criminals. Imagine if I appeared out of nowhere and fixed everything. Wouldn't that be something? Of course, it's only possible with your help…."

"Hell, we'll pay the thugs to leave your city. Make them find a new city. Or a new country. Canada has a lower crime rate, no? Well, it's time for them to pick up their fair share." He chuckled. "We'll ship them off to Ottawa. Ontario. Toronto." It was difficult to take Nadir too seriously.

Nadir softly laughed. "I don't know. I liked the super hero idea."

"I think you've had far too much to drink."

"Probably." Nadir set his mug down. "Any trouble with the local police? I could give you a hand there as well."

"No," he replied. "They don't even know who I am. They're still focused on a couple of incidents from when I was an idiot teenager. And Anne has always been helpful. Years ago, she told them that poor Erik died in a tragic boating accident."

"Funny."

"Do occasionally check up on the law enforcement rumors. We have yet to see if Ignacio Hernandez is really dead. Or Boris Kovalski."

"Or Nicostrato Mancini," Nadir added. "Yes. I'll make sure your foreign personas are really dead."

"Good." He flipped the video back on and rewound it, watching as the boy took a few bites of food, his blue eyes self-consciously wandering around the restaurant. He could read Christine's lips as she spoke to her husband. "No one is staring at you."

Except Nadir. He chuckled to himself.

As much as he wanted to deny it, her first performance was putting him on edge. If she was a disaster, it wouldn't be the end of the world, but it would still set a precedent. And if Christine were booed off the stage, she would crawl into a deep hole, and months would pass before he would be able to pull her out of it.

Her debut arrived. He was forced to sit through over an hour of amateur singers, pianists, and dancers. He'd made sure Christine was the last one; a permanent imprint would be left on the minds of the audience. Anne had helped schedule her, but there'd been nothing difficult about putting her on the list. He winced as someone mangled Silent Night on a violin. It seemed anyone was allowed on stage, an excuse for the average nobody to get his fifteen minutes of fame and for parents to live vicariously through their talentless children. Nadir was sitting in the middle row, yawning with a bored expression.

His heart jumped as it became Christine's turn to go on, and he rose slightly from his seat at the back of the audience. (He'd have preferred a box or balcony, but the wretched place wasn't fancy enough for them.) Wearing a modest lavender blouse and black skirt, she was wringing her trembling hands together beside the stage. Fear was clear on her face. "Go," he murmured in her ear. "Put your head up. Breathe, girl. Breathe."

She jerked her head upwards, probably more in surprise than because of his order. Christine nodded once and slowly climbed the steps. She closed her eyes as she stood in front of the microphone, chest heaving. The accompanist began the Broadway ballad. He kept her versatile, introducing her to everything from show tunes to pop ballads to easier classical pieces. Tonight's song wasn't extremely difficult, but it managed to showcase her range well enough. And he wanted to save the impressive music, including his own pieces, for when it was time to begin churning a profit.

Her voice was timid at first, and he nearly growled. "Christine," he rasped in her ear. "As we've practiced! Stop trembling and sing!" He cast a glare at her husband at the front of the audience. That boy had probably ruined her mood with his constant sulking!

But then Christine improved. Her voice became stronger, her head held higher and her eyes brighter. The kicked puppy disappeared, and the star came out. Yes, yes. Good girl. By the middle, she was magnificent.

"Brava," he murmured at the end. It may have never reached her ear; the audience was standing and clapping at a deafening volume. Her husband was desperately reaching out to her from his wheelchair, eyes wide with complete shock. She took a quick, nervous bow, and the applause continued.

He clasped his hands together in victory. Mine. This is all mine.

He considered a brief a meeting with her but decided it could wait for the next lesson. She was surrounded by her family. Instead, he departed to meet Nadir at the hotel and celebrate with a glass of fine wine. Energy buzzed in his veins; it was ten times better than the highs he'd received from a successful, clean hit.

After the performance, Nadir was also bouncing with energy. "Good God," he said, palms outwards in disbelief. "That was incredible."

"Isn't she brilliant?" he smugly asked, leaning back in the cheap chair. "And she is ours. She won't a sign a thing without my permission."

"How did you ever find her?"

"It was really an accident," he replied, leaning back with the wine glass clasped in his fingers. "She fell into my hands, and it was all like clockwork from there."

"Amazing," Nadir murmured.

His good mood lingered for days, and he composed some of his best works as he waited for the next lesson. Now they could begin making true progress and fan the flames of her success. Just wait until the world heard her singing the pieces he had written specifically for her voice!

The last thing he expected was Christine to come to her lesson five minutes early with a scowl on her face.

"And what is wrong with you?" he asked. "After that night, how could anything be wrong with you? Did you see their faces, girl?"

Her lip trembled. "I searched for you afterwards. You weren't there."

"What?"

"After it was over, I looked for you. For almost thirty minutes. But you were gone."

"You were surrounded by your family," he snapped, entirely taken off guard. "There was no need for me."

"I left them to find you! You don't know what it was like. I was so shocked and scared. I didn't even know if I did well."

"All you had to do was look at the audience."

"But I wanted to know what you thought! Erik, if I'm going to do this, I need you to be there. That was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. And you were the only one…who could understand. But you weren't there."

"If you were in a crazed panic, why didn't you call the number I gave you?"

"It didn't seem like an emergency," she whispered. "I just thought you'd be there."

Speechless, he stared at her. "Fine," he replied, mostly to appease her. "If it pleases you, I will meet you after the next performance."

"It was so strange," she continued as though she hadn't heard him. "And Raoul…he said he couldn't even believe it was me up there. Phillip said, 'Holy…f-word, Christine. Where have you been hiding?' It was so strange. I nearly fainted at the end."

"But did you enjoy it?"

"I think so," she whispered.

"Good." He attempted to loosen his tense shoulders; sometimes the girl confused the hell out of him. "As I said, you'll become used to it. It was only shocking last night."

"But you'll meet with me next time?"

"Yes."

"Thank you." Her expression softened. "Are we going to have lessons tonight?"

"Yes. But it is also time for us to begin discussing the other aspects of this arrangement."

"Other aspects?"

"Your appearance," he slowly began. "Your hair, your makeup, your complexion, and your posture. All of it will matter."

"Why should I change my appearance?" she asked, jutting her chin out.

He nearly groaned. "Now is not the time for half-witted idealism. There will be no nonsense about appearances not mattering. And I, Christine, I of all people know this better than anyone. You must look the part."

Her mouth hung open for a moment. And then she softly said, "You're right, Erik. I know you're right." Christine stared at the floor and frowned. "I was just thinking about what Raoul said on our anniversary. He was so afraid people were staring at him because of the wheelchair. It was so heartbreaking. And…I…it doesn't seem fair that it even matters…."

"Nothing comes fair," he coolly replied. "Make it fair."

"Fine. I will." A slightly dejected expression remained on her face.

"You were magnificent that night," he continued. "All of the time and effort has been worth it. There is no reason to look back with a single regret."

She slowly smiled. "If you weren't here, I couldn't do this."

"It is a combined effort," he said with a shrug. And then he casually added, "And I'm correct to assume you'll continue with me and not sign the first contract some crook hands you?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, I would never betray you like that. We're partners."

He nodded once in satisfaction and then headed for the piano. With some alarm, he noticed she was approaching him.

"Erik?"

"What?"

"We've never shaken hands for this deal."

"So? We've never signed a contract. It is all informal, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied. "But…I thought we could just…shake on it…."

He waved his hand to the side, trying to get her to step backwards. "It is unnecessary."

She stopped several feet away and held out her open hand.

"This is ridiculous. It guarantees nothing on either side."

"But I…." She stopped speaking and tilted her head, her eyes narrowing and focusing on his visage. "Your face," she murmured. "I thought it was my imagination before…but…are you wearing a mask, Erik?"

He took a deep breath before speaking, clenching and unclenching his hands. "What did I tell you from the beginning?" he asked in a low, icy voice, looking her straight in the eye. "Keep your distance—both physically and conversationally. You are not doing either now, are you?"

She withdrew her hand and quickly took several steps backward. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It wasn't my business. I'm sorry. I wanted to shake your hand."

"Let's begin," he said. "We've wasted enough time as it is."

She rapidly bobbed her head up and down in agreement. He played the piano, attempting to ignore the tension in his muscles. Within a half an hour, he'd gone from celebrating the beginning of his triumph to having another gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. And now she was going to ask Anne about the mask; Anne, of course, knew to keep her mouth shut.

Then again, maybe it didn't even matter if the girl knew at this point. She wasn't afraid, and it was all simply business in the end, wasn't it? Christine wasn't going to abandon these lessons—along with the chance to save her husband—all because she had a very ugly business partner.

Yes, let the cards fall where they may. This changed nothing.