Author's Note: Still do not own the Phantom of the Opera. It should not come as a surprise.

25

And thus they muddled through the next two hours, continuing their game of Coward, putting finishing touches on the set, and making sure all the pieces for the rest of the opera were in their proper positions, ready to be moved. Upon the completion of that task, they played tag on the balconies. At five 'o' clock, they went down to the dining hall for supper. The cast and crew were already assembled, most of them only half-heartedly picking at the meat and vegetables on their plates. The set crew was by far the most jovial group, eating with gusto and carrying on a lively, lighthearted conversation. Kayla could tell that the cast was especially nervous, and she tried to ignore the unsettling weight of solemn worry that covered the room. After a while, the boys began pestering Kayla to finish reciting The Importance of Being Earnest. "Where did I leave off this morning?" she inquired, smiling.

"The urn and the cigar," Baptiste exclaimed triumphantly.

Picking up where she left off, Kayla continued to tell the story. She had just reached the part where Gwendolen arrives at the estate when a voice interrupted. "Terribly sorry to interrupt," the voice chuckled lightly. "But could we join you?" Kayla looked up to see two tall, handsome men looming over her. The one who had spoken reminded Kayla of Raoul, tanned, with gleaming grey eyes and chin-length honey coloured hair tied back with a black ribbon. The second was olive skinned and had curly, short black hair and laughing brown eyes. They were both lean and muscled, and about six feet tall by Kayla's estimation. "I'm Avère Beaumont," the first speaker added.

"And I am Leonardo Gradin," the dark haired man contributed with a sweeping bow.

Kayla grinned. "You will find no opposition from me," she joked. "It's my crew you'll have to worry about."

"Oh! Of course!" Avère exclaimed. "You are Mademoiselle Abbots!"

"I see I have a reputation," Kayla snickered.

"Avère and Leonardo are the lead dancers for the cavaliers," Clemens interrupted, with a tense smile for the two men. The other members of what Kayla privately suspected to be Team Abbots straightened in their seats.

"Objections, anyone?" Kayla inquired. When there was no negative response, Kayla grinned up at the two dancers. "Welcome to the table!" she cried dramatically, and the two dancers sat down.

The laughter of the crew became so contagious and loud that the rest of the male dancers abandoned their table to join the set crew. There were only fifteen cavaliers as opposed to the thirty ballerinas. The female members of the ballet corps shot the table strange looks as the male dancers slid onto the empty benches alongside the set crew. The five youngest – adolescents – were thin and wiry, and watched Kayla closely, with small smiles lurking out of sight in their cheeks. The eight seniors, plus the two leads, did not even make an attempt to hide their amusement, laughing uproariously along with the rest of the men. Kayla found the reception quite gratifying.

Around six 'o' clock, the empty plates of the set crew and cavaliers ensured that they were entirely engrossed in Kayla's recital. "Jack immediately embraced Gwendolen, while Ms. Prism and the Vicar, and Algernon and Cecily also joined their partners in celebration. Meanwhile, Lady Bracknell picked up the burgundy volume that lay abandoned on the floor. Flipping rapidly through the pages, she stared at the entry detailing Jack's father. It read, General John Moncrieff." Her audience silenced, sneaking confused glances at each other. Kayla giggled and continued her narrative, taking on the severe British tone of the character. "'My nephew, you seem to be displaying signs of triviality,' Lady Bracknell stated in a steely tone. 'On the contrary, Aunt Augusta,' Jack replied, smirking as he wrapped an arm around his fiancé's waist. 'I've now realised for the first time in my life the vital importance of being Earnest.'"

It took a couple of seconds for the word play to sink in. Suddenly, it hit the table like a ton of bricks. "Oh damn!" Jamie choked, and the whole table lost it.

As they laughed, the hall door flew open with a bang. "Kayla!" Madame Giry barked as she swept into the room, her billowing black skirts trailing her like storm clouds. "The managers would like a word. Now."

Kayla hurriedly shoved a piece of baguette into her mouth as she clambered off the bench. "I want all of you lot in the wings at seven 'o' clock at the absolute latest, do I make myself clear?" she addressed the set crew seriously.

"Yes sir!" they chorused with respectful yet playful grins. Kayla waved and followed the ballet mistress out into the hallway.

"May I inquire as to why my presence has been requested?" Kayla asked, following Madame Giry up a narrow flight of stairs.

"La Carlotta and Ms. Daäe have… a disagreement," Madame Giry explained delicately, striding imperiously down the corridor. "They are unsure as to who will be playing the Countess for this evening's performance. Both are quite upset about the whole situation. The Vicomte seems to think Christine should take the role, and the managers do not feel it wise to take a side. They would like a second opinion."

"Or they just want me to solve their problems for them," Kayla muttered, shaking her head. "They want me to talk Carlotta off the ledge."

The ballet mistress grimaced. "You seem to be the only one in the situation who will not have preferential treatment between the two divas," Madame Giry sighed, turning sharply down the next hall. "Heaven knows the Vicomte cannot mediate the situation."

"I'll drink to that," Kayla agreed.

Madame Giry drew to a stop outside the door of the managers' office. "They're expecting you," she indicated reassuringly.

Kayla rapped smartly on the wood, waited three seconds, and opened the door. "Gentlemen, ladies," she greeted as she breezed into the office. "How may I be of service?"

Firmin and Andre were standing by the window, sharply attired in suits. They both turned as Kayla entered, relief splashed across their faces. Raoul stood rigidly by Andre's desk, a scowl plastered on his handsome face. Christine stood next to him demurely, wide-eyed and wringing her hands. Carlotta, stunning in her bright red gown, had her arms crossed furiously over her chest. "There you are!" the prima donna cried as she spotted Kayla. "The precious patron says Daäe should play the Countess tonight!"

"If not Mademoiselle Daäe, then whom would take the role? You?" Raoul snarled.

"Whoa, calm down girls; you're both pretty," Kayla snapped sarcastically, raising a silencing hand at both of them. Schooling her features into a mask of warm professionalism, she turned to the managers. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"

"The seating starts in two hours, the performance starts thirty minutes after seating," Firmin blustered. "And we are no closer to deciding who will be playing the role of the Countess!"

"Carlotta had the role last night, why wouldn't Christine play the part?" Raoul demanded, his brows furrowed.

"I was onstage for barely five minutes!" Carlotta shrieked. "That hardly counts as a performance!"

"Hey now," Kayla interjected mildly, putting her hands on her hips. "Both of you were technically in the role last night, so there's no need for yelling. Also, someone died last night, is this really the biggest concern?"

"If you are talking about the Opera Ghost, there's no such thing," Raoul interrupted.

"And who are you, a ghost expert?" Kayla shot back. "That's not important. What is important is a) we figure out who is leading tonight, and b) perhaps Christine can advocate for herself."

"That is why we called you in, Ms. Abbots," Andre added. "We feel an external judge would be best, and neither lady wishes to back down from performing this evening."

"So neither of you wants to be gracious and let the other woman lead?" Kayla asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course not!" Carlotta replied indignantly. Christine did not speak, but shook her head firmly.

"Right," Kayla sighed. "Does anyone have a franc I could borrow?"

Andre nodded and moved to his desk. Sliding open a small drawer, he removed a single coin and held it out to Kayla. Wrapping her fingers around the bronze coloured metal circle, she stepped between Carlotta and Christine. "Now, this particular method is simple, and next time you can just to this and not call me in to referee your fights. Mademoiselle Daäe: heads or tails?"

"Tails," Christine stated softly.

"Okay, if the coin lands tails up, it goes to Ms. Daäe, heads up and the role goes to Signora Giudicelli," Kayla outlined quickly. With a quick snap of her thumb, the coin shot into the air, the metal gleaming in the light of the gas lamps. As it twisted down, Kayla reached up and slapped the coin down onto the top of her hand. Uncovering the face of the franc, she glanced down at the result. "Tails," she announced. "Ms. Daäe gets the part."

Carlotta's mouth opened to protest but Kayla quickly cut in. "Nope, you're not starting this again," Kayla said severely, hoping to stave off another argument. "The contract still stands; you'll get the role tomorrow. Correct?" she clarified. The managers nodded in agreement.

"Would you like to take a different role this evening, signora?" Firmin offered timidly.

The prima donna drew herself up regally. "I shall take the role of the page boy," she declared loftily. "It is my duty. Congratulations, Ms. Daäe," she added grudgingly as she quickly left the room.

"Well, if that's all I was needed for, I am going to go help with the costumes and makeup," Kayla stated tiredly, tossing the coin back to Andre. "Until later, monsieurs, mademoiselle, Vicomte."

"Be careful, Kayla," Andre warned worriedly.

"I'm the Queen of Careful," Kayla assured jokingly. "No one's going to die on my watch, not tonight."

Carlotta was waiting for Kayla outside the door. "Can you believe the nerve of him?" Carlotta seethed, gesturing angrily at the closed door. "I was humiliated last night and yet he fights for her still, so she can take all the glory!"

"I know," Kayla stated flatly, sending an annoyed glance of her own at the man in question, shielded behind the wooden door. "Didn't he sign the agreement?"

"Of course!" Carlotta exclaimed incredulously, beginning to walk with Kayla down the corridor. "They all did. The Vicomte, the managers, even Daäe!"

"Well, my apologies," Kayla chuckled dryly. "It appears the battle is just begun."

"No, no, no," Carlotta snapped. "If I have signed the contract and they have all agreed, I will hold them to dis if it kills me."

"Not to be morbid, Carlotta," Kayla interjected. "But having the contract kill you might just be the solution to all the Vicomte's problems."

Carlotta cackled. "Comments like that are the reason we are allies," she declared resolutely. "I will not let the precious patron drive me out."

"Just keep to your end of the bargain and the Vicomte may have less of a reason to fight you," Kayla advised with a smirk. The two women strolled down the hall, Carlotta's four inch heels clicking on the tiled floor.

"I am going to the dressing room," Carlotta decided, tipping her head towards the next turn. Kayla nodded and followed, turning the corner with the indignant diva. "I might as well get ready before the ballet rat takes over my space," Carlotta explained sullenly.

Kayla rolled her eyes. "I fail to believe that in an opera house this size there isn't another dressing room as nice as or nicer than that one," she remarked, sticking her hand into the pocket of her pants and checking that her iPhone was safely enclosed as they sauntered further.

Carlotta's ruby lips curled. "There is a dressing room for the second soprano," she admitted. "And a large one for the female actors and chorus, but again, it is a matter of principle. It is the sacred space of the prima donna. To give that puttana the dressing room now would be equivalent to telling her that she can have my position!"

"You're sharing the position," Kayla reminded her sternly. "And I'd say you either share it, let her have it and make the second soprano dressing room the envy of the Populaire, or offer her the second soprano room."

Shaking her head, Carlotta snorted. "What has happened to me, that I am willing to consider the advice of a little girl?" she drawled.

"I happened!" Kayla proclaimed, raising her arms victoriously in the air. "And by the way, I ain't a little girl – I'm twenty – but thank you for the backhanded compliment."

The two women walked on in silence until they reached the polished mahogany door of the prima donna room. "This'll be different, won't it?" Kayla smirked as Carlotta turned the key to let herself in. "You won't be wearing as much makeup, and you'll be wearing pants. And you'll be a boy. A very pretty boy, granted, but a boy nonetheless."

"Shut up, Kayla," Carlotta snarled good-naturedly. She slammed the door behind her as Kayla started to laugh.

Author's Note: Apologies for this being so late, to say I'm mentally drained would be an understatement. Last previously written chapter. Going to have to write like mad now. To my readers, reviewers, favouriters (shh, I know that's not a word, just go with it), and followers, thank you all. And to guest, Guest, Samantha, and E-man-dy-S, thank you guys for your reviews too.

School's starting up Monday, but I'll try my best to stil be on time with updates.

Thanks all!

Tierney