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Good morning...it's Wednesday!

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Chapter 26

~X~

Monday arrived, and with it came the dress rehearsal for her skit at Juilliard. Christine apologized to the other two girls for not choosing an outfit similar to theirs, claiming that she just didn't feel as comfortable in the skimpy costume as they apparently were. She decided not to mention it was due to her husband's insistence on the matter, not wishing for them to think badly of him. For in all honesty, once Erik had pointed it out, Christine would have felt rather self-conscious about exposing so much skin in public.

Yet, as they practiced both singing and choreography, Barb and Tammi decided they wanted to change their costumes to dresses as well, claiming that Christine's twirly skirt was rather eye-catching. This made her feel so much better, and would not cause her to stick out like the sore thumb during the performance. So she gave the girls the address of the second hand store where she had bought hers. The two of them were very excited to go shopping later that evening. When they were at last finished with their rehearsal, Christine left the stage, running directly into Meg as she hurried towards her.

"That was wonderful, Chris!" she said in a bubbly voice. "You're gunna just kill the night of the program."

"If so, it'll be because I tripped over my own two feet and landed in the audience," Christine laughed, wiping her face with one of the stage towels provided. "I honestly don't have a clue what I'm doing up there, I've never had to dance while I sang before."

"Well…I was mostly complimenting your voice," Meg stated, looking a bit hesitant. "But, since you brought it up…your dance steps could use a bit of work. Would you like me to help you with that?"

"Yes, please!" Christine begged, gripping Meg's arm in desperation.

"Then consider it done," her ballerina friend chuckled. "See if you can stay an hour later each day after classes, starting tomorrow, and we can meet in the dance room to practice. The number seems relatively easy, and it won't take any time at all to get you into shape. I've got'cha back, sista'."

"That's good, since I'll likely land on my backside more than once," Christine laughed good-naturedly.

"I've got to run now, but I'll see you tomorrow, all right?" Meg called over her shoulder as she skipped away.

"Yes, thank you!" Christine nodded, waving as she disappeared out of the auditorium.

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When it came time to head home, Christine was stopped in the hallway by Professor Stanley, asking if she would join him in his office for a bit. Knowing that Gerald was waiting for her outside, she hesitated for a moment, but in the end went with him out of pure curiosity. When she stepped in, she was surprised to see two others there as well, Professor Reiner, and one of Christine's voice coaches, Mrs. Weatherly.

"Have…have I done something wrong?" Christine asked, cautiously taking the seat that Mr. Stanley pulled out for her.

"Not at all, Miss Daae," Reiner assured her, a wide smile on his face. "In fact, we have some very splendid news."

Christine thought about correcting him on his use of her maiden name, telling them that she would prefer to go by her new married title, but she was far too confused at the moment to do so.

"We have decided to add one final performance to the event coming up, and it will concern you…if you're interested, of course," Stanley told her, also taking a seat behind his desk. "We would like to showcase three of our best vocalists by having them perform a number together, and we believe that you qualify as one of those three."

"You…you think I'm good enough for that?" she stammered, shocked by this news.

"We very much believe this," Mrs. Weatherly said firmly. "You and the other two would each sing part of a song of our choosing, taking turns so that those in the audience can experience each of your talents in full. Are you willing to be one of those three, Christine?"

"I…I would be honored," she quickly assured them, a smile of pure delight spreading over her face. "Thank you all for the opportunity, I'm overwhelmed… truly I am. But, are you sure? I've only been here for a week, wouldn't you rather choose someone who's been at your school for much longer?"

"Your voice won you this part, Christine," Reiner informed her. "You have worked very hard since arriving and we would be foolish not to recognize your gifts and talent."

"Then yes! I accept," she told them assuredly. "What song will we be singing…will I need a specific costume…when will I be practicing with the others?"

"One thing at a time," Professor Stanley laughed, holding up his hands in a halting fashion. "We still need to speak with the other two who will be joining you, and once we have our trio arranged, you will be notified about your rehearsal schedule and how you should dress. In the meantime, here is the song you will be singing, so you can become familiar with it - your section is highlighted. I do hope the fact that it is in Italian will not be a problem?"

"No…not at all!" she told him, knowing that she would happily learn Swahili if that's what was required of her. "Thank you very much!"

"No, Christine," Professor Reiner corrected. "Thank you."

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Christine was still dumbstruck as she left the room, her eyes wide with excitement over the news. Erik was going to flip! She was still rather dazed as she walked out the front doors, eager to make it to the limo and tell Gerald her wonderful news. Unfortunately, Christine was so distracted that she failed to see the crowd of people quickly approaching from the side…until it was too late. The group all but mobbed her, shoving microphones in her face and blinding her with the flashes from their cameras.

"Mrs. Thorn, Mrs. Thorn!" they called from every direction, causing Christine to take a few steps back and shield her eyes.

"When did you meet Erik Thorn," one asked.

"How long were you two dating?" came another.

"Are you pregnant…is that why the wedding took place so quickly?" was next.

"What?" Christine responded, not knowing what this was all about. "Pregnant? No…I'm not…what?"

"Is it true that you were once a stripper, Mrs. Thorn? And that you met your husband when giving him a lap dance?" a rather greasy looking man asked, pushing his way forward and causing Christine to step farther back to avoid him touching her. Unfortunately, as she did, her heel caught on a step, and losing her balance Christine fell backwards, landing on her backside as her right arm hit the pavement. She drew in a sharp breath as she felt the rough concrete scrape her skin, yet the mob only seemed to crowd in more, still blasting her with questions and taking photos.

"OUT OF MY WAY!" came the very loud and demanding voice of Gerald, his muscular figure shoving through the crowd. "Leave her alone, you vultures! Back off, or I swear you'll regret it!"

Christine once more shielded her face, but this time in hopes that no one would see the tears that had formed in her eyes over her confusion, as well as the scrape on her arm. When she felt Gerald lifting her off the ground and cradling her like a child, she quickly buried her face in his chest, doing her best to block out the offensive questions they were still firing at her. That was when she heard the unmistakable voice of Amir.

"That's enough! All of you just get away!" the Persian ordered, holding out his arms in a halting manner, allowing Gerald to make his way through the group like Moses parting the Red Sea. As he set her in the back seat and shut the door, Christine felt a wave of gratitude to both men wash over her.

Daring to glance out the tinted window, she could see Gerald talking with Amir, the two men looking fit to be tied. The stood their ground, fending off those persistent few who continued to aim their cameras at the car window. Christine could imagine they were discussing what Erik would have to say on the matter, and she could only assume it wouldn't be good. But right now, she didn't care, she just wanted to get away from there…away from all the people who wanted to rip her and her reputation to shreds. A stripper? Pregnant? Where in the world had they come up with those wild ideas?

Christine had just bent her elbow to get a look at her arm when Gerald opened the front door and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the car into gear and exiting the parking area at a rather high speed.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Thorn," the bald driver stated in an irritated tone. "Mr. Dessan is going to handle that unruly mob. I can guarantee you won't be bothered by them again!"

"What did they want from me?" she questioned, giving a hiss of displeasure as she examined the scrape. Gerald must have seen the blood oozing down her arm through the rear-view mirror, for he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it back to her through the little window. Pressing it to the wound, she watched as it quickly stained red.

"They only want a story, and obviously the more scandalous the better," he informed her, weaving through traffic as he sped through the streets. "Mr. Thorn does not give interviews, and he has put a gag order on all the newspapers and magazines in the city, forbidding them to publish anything about him. Yet apparently, they figure his new wife is fair game, and chose to ambush you the moment you stepped outside the school." He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand in frustration. "I'm really sorry for not seeing them sooner."

"You're not to blame," she quickly assured him. "And I bet this all happened because I changed my last name to Thorn last Friday. I had no idea that anyone would care, or even want to know anything about me personally."

"You're now married to one of the richest, not to mention most mysterious, men in the city," Gerald explained. "They'd give their eye-teeth to get an interview with you…trust me, you're big news."

"But what if I don't want to be big news?" she protested.

"Well…it's too late for that now, don't you think?" he shrugged, turning his attention back to the road.

Too late…well, it certainly would appear that way, Christine thought to herself. Too late to change her mind, too late to insist on any more addendums to the contract…and far too late to run. She was stuck!

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Erik had decided to leave early that day, anxious to get home and see his little wife, and perhaps spend some time talking with her like they had the night before. He was never keen on divulging things about his past or private life, but if it afforded him the opportunity to learn more about Christine…well, perhaps it was not so bad.

Yet, just as he reached for the car handle, his phone rang - and not just any ring, but a special one that he and Amir had designated for emergencies. Pulling it out of his pocket, he put it to his ear, his body already tensing up in anticipation of what his friend might say next.

"What?" he barked, dispensing with any pleasantries.

"Christine was accosted by a mob of reporters…all wanting an interview with the new Mrs. Erik Thorn," Amir told him over the phone. "They surrounded her outside Juilliard…and she fell."

"Is she injured?" Erik seethed, his free hand fisting in rage.

"Just a scratch it would seem, but she appeared rather shaken up," Amir's voice was low, feeling his employer's pain upon hearing this. "You best get home as quickly as possible."

Erik didn't even bother to respond, simply hitting the end-call button and quickly getting into his car. Once the car was started, he cursed a few times under his breath, his angry grip turning his knuckles white against the steering wheel and gear shift. How dare they approach his wife! Someone would pay dearly for this, he thought to himself. As he burst out of the parking garage and onto the street, Erik was glad he had taken the Jaguar that day, for it was about to be put through its paces!

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Erik broke all speed records getting home, pulling into the driveway and stopping in front of the door, not even bothering to put his car in the garage. Bounding up the steps he was about to grab for his keys when the door opened for him, with Amir stepping out of the way to let him pass.

"She's in the sun-room," he informed Erik. "Gerald and Mrs. Murphy are tending to her."

Erik gave no reply, simply headed through the house, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Christine, lying on the sofa, yet looking none the worse for wear. But then he saw her arm, the nasty three inch scrape starting at her elbow and heading towards her wrist. Mrs. Murphy had cleaned it up nicely, and Gerald was hovering nearby with a piece of gauze, medical tape, and an ace bandage, ready to apply when needed.

"It's just a scratch, for heaven's sake," Christine was complaining, apparently upset by all the mothering she was getting. "I've had worse as a child when I fell off the swings."

"Well, you are no longer a child, Christine," Erik stated, storming into the room and coming to stand at the end of the sofa, staring at her with fire in his eyes. "You are my wife, and this sort of thing will never happen again!"

"Why on earth did it happen in the first place?" she shot back, assuming his anger was directed at her. "I certainly never had anyone beating down my door to get an interview before I met you! I hardly think that I'm the one to blame here."

"No…you are not," Erik agreed, realizing that he was projecting his rage onto her, when in truth all he wished to do was take her in his arms and hold her tightly, thankful that she was all right. "I should have taken precautions long before this. Of course they would come after you, seeking a story…any juicy tidbit that might turn a buck. I am the one to blame, only me."

Christine was stunned silent by his admission of guilt, and found she had nothing else to say. Everyone else appeared just as shocked as she was, for they too looked at Erik as if seeing him for the first time.

"May I please have a moment alone with Christine?" he asked, his voice now just above a whisper. Still everyone heard him just fine, and they all turned and filed out, with Gerald handing Erik the bandage as he went. Once they were alone, Erik slowly walked to the sofa and kneeled down, his masked face now at the same level as Christine's. "Does it hurt?"

"A…a little bit," she admitted. "But Mrs. Murphy washed it clean and spread some Neosporin over it, so I think I'll live."

"I will make sure of it," he grumbled, reaching out as he gently placed the sterile gauze over the scrape, tapped it in place, and began to wrap it with the ace bandage.

"Don't you think this is sort of…well…over-kill?" she asked, beginning to feel like a mummy with as much wrapping as Erik was putting on her arm.

"Humor me," Erik stated firmly. "I will not take any chances with your health, Christine."

"No, of course not," she huffed, giving a heavy sigh. "So, tell me, why were those people all fired up to get an interview from me?" she questioned. "And what did you mean when you said you should have taken precautions earlier…what kind of precautions?" Christine didn't know why, but the conversation about how Erik had insinuated that he would have to 'eliminate' all her former lovers sprung to mind.

"I should have spoken to the newspapers once again, informing them that you fell under the same restraining order I already have in place," he told her, finishing up as he secured the bandage around her arm. Erik found he had the overwhelming urge to lean forward and give it a kiss, the foolish gesture somehow being able to speed the healing. Yet, he refrained, instead moving from the floor to the sofa beside her, gazing down into her lovely blue eyes. "I will be sure to contact them first thing in the morning, assuring that this will never happen again. You are my wife…thus it is my duty to protect you from those who wish to harm you or defame your reputation. I am very sorry this happened, Christine. Very sorry indeed."

"Well…thank you," she mumbled, her fingers grazing over the bandage he had just put on her. "And I suppose in truth, I'm somewhat to blame as well. After all, I'm the one who changed my name at the school without telling you beforehand that I was going to do so. I think that's how they found out…as well as knowing where to pounce on me like they did."

"You are not to blame for any of this, Christine," Erik stated firmly. "Out of everyone, you're the innocent one here. Though I intend on having a very stern talk with Amir and Gerald over their failure to protect you properly."

"No, don't do that!" she insisted. "It wasn't their fault, really. And the moment I was surrounded, Gerald came storming through like an army tank to rescue me. Amir was there too, and it was only thanks to them that I got out of there with only a scratch. I honestly think if I laid there much longer, I would have been trampled by those reporters."

"They were not reporters, they were scavengers…ambulance chasers, all looking for something to sell to the rag magazines, nothing more," Erik clarified, obviously having dealt with them on numerous occasions.

"And they said the most horrid things too!" Christine told him, still shocked by that last man's words. "One even accused me of being a stripper…and saying that was how we met!"

"THEY THOUGHT WHAT?" Erik was now beyond furious. "It is one thing to malign my name…but yours? This will not be tolerated!"

"I'm sorry they cornered me so easily," she said with a look of guilt. "I guess I was just so excited about the news I just got, I failed to take note of my surroundings."

"Like a coiled up snake, they are very proficient at remaining hidden until they strike," Erik said in a reassuring tone. "They would have been very difficult to spot."

"Then please don't blame Amir or Gerald," she begged. "I don't hold them responsible, and neither should you. Please?"

"I will think on it," he told her, that being all he was willing to promise. "Now, what is this about good news?" Erik wished to change the subject, eager to hear something positive after such an upsetting experience.

"Oh, I can hardly believe it, but Professor Stanley called me into his office and offered me a small solo in the program for Juilliard!" she blurted out, the happy smile on her face doing strange things to Erik's heart. "Well, not truly a solo, as I will be sharing the stage with two others, but I do get to sing one part of the song all by myself."

"That is amazing, Christine!" Erik assured her, delighted that her talent was being recognized, and so quickly too. "I am so very proud of you!"

"I was rather shocked by their offer," she blushed, averting her eyes just a bit. "They sent me home with a copy of the song, but the trouble is…I don't speak Italian, and that's what the song is written in. I really hope I can sing it properly."

"I am fluent in Italian, as well as several other languages, so I will see that you have no trouble learning the lyrics," he told her, standing up and offering her his hand. "We shall practice each evening until you feel more than confident."

"Oh, speaking of practice, Meg has offered to help me with my dance steps for the skit as well," she told him as she rose to her feet. "I'll have to stay an hour later each day though, and I'm not sure that will leave me enough time to visit my father and still be home before you."

"You need not worry about such things," Erik said, touched that she would be concerned about his feelings. "I completely understand the need to excel in your chosen art, and I will not begrudge you the opportunity to do so."

"Thank you," Christine told him, a bit shocked by his generous attitude. Then again, she could tell he was doing his best to make up for what happened today – something he believed was his fault.

"Now, why don't you go upstairs, change your clothes, and rest a bit," he suggested. "You've had a very tiring, yet exciting day. I will let you know when dinner is ready, all right?"

"I suppose a little nap wouldn't be a bad idea," she nodded, suddenly feeling rather drained. "But don't let me sleep too long, the recital is this weekend and I need all the practice time I can get."

"We will not forgo our session, I promise," Erik assured her, escorting her to the bottom of the stairs and watching as she climbed them, disappearing down the hall to their bedroom. Once she was out of sight, he turned to search out Amir and Gerald, intent on plying them for more information on the disturbing incident. He found them in the kitchen, the two men leaning on the counter with cups of coffee in their hands, talking quietly. Mrs. Murphy was busy fixing dinner, but all three looked up as Erik walked in, the scowl on his face telling them he was not at all happy.

"Tell me exactly what happened," he demanded, pulling out a chair at the table and taking a seat, his arms crossed over his chest.

Amir and Gerald gave each other nervous looks, but both took seats across from their employer, the two men launching into a very detailed report of what took place. When they felt they had disclosed all the information they had, they fell silent, waiting to see what Erik would do or say.

"I see," he replied at last, his expression unreadable. "It would appear that Christine's assessment of the situation matches yours as well. She claimed that you two performed your duties admirably, and that neither one of you should be blamed for what took place." At this, Amir and Gerald gave a visible sigh of relief. "However…" Erik spoke again, his tone putting them on high alert. "I will not have such a thing happening again, am I clear? This was a minor incident, but it could have just as easily been a kidnapping…or an assassination attempt. I will not rule out anything, no matter how farfetched it seems. I have enemies, a great deal of them, making Christine a constant target. It's time to step up your game…or else. Understand?"

"Of course," Amir agreed.

"Perfectly clear, Mr. Thorn," Gerald nodded, a glint of determination in his eyes.

"Good," Erik said, turning his attention to his driver. "Now, I left my car out front, please see that it is moved to the garage before a pigeon targets it."

"Right away, sir," Gerald replied, standing up and hurrying out the door, eager to be out of Erik's line of fire.

This left Amir as Erik's sole target, with Mrs. Murphy doing her best to continue working and not appear to be hanging on every word being spoken.

"I'm very sorry, Erik," Amir said, breaking the silence at last. "I spotted the group of paparazzi only moments before they struck. I promise I'll be more alert next time."

"Oh, trust me, there will not be a next time," Erik growled. "I fully intend to slap each and every one of those rag magazines, and any others who dared to accost my wife, with enough lawsuits that it will put them in the poor house!"

"Yes…you could do that," Amir agreed, though he looked rather skeptical about the idea. "But perhaps that might be overreacting just a bit, don't you think?"

"Overreacting?" Erik barked out. "My wife was injured! I hardly believe I am overreacting!"

"Yet, don't you think there might be another way to handle this?" Amir continued, though trying to be a bit more diplomatic this time.

"How? You know they won't stop until they get their story! They will hound her day and night if I do not do something!" he pointed out. "And I will not allow Christine to be stalked like some sort of prey!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Mrs. Murphy broke in, turning around to stare at the two men. "Why not just give them what they want? If it's an interview they desire so badly…then let them have on, but on your terms, not theirs."

The two men stared at the usually unassuming cook with a bit of surprise, neither one having expected her to speak.

"What? I can't have good ideas just because I'm a woman…and a cook?" she questioned.

"Of course not," Erik told her, clearing his throat as he spoke. "I very much value your opinion, Mrs. Murphy…and I think your suggestion is ideal."

"You do?" Amir asked in shock, assuming if he had suggested such a thing, Erik would have laughed in his face.

"Yes, like Mrs. Murphy said, if I allow Christine to them the interview they are after, they will have no further need to hound her," he stated, the wheels in his mind already turning. "I will call tomorrow and set up an appointment with every reputable newspaper and magazine in town, and maybe even a few news channels, but the interview will be conducted on my territory and under my close supervision. I will not have them attacking my wife with their absurd accusations again. Then, when the information floods the newsstands, it will put an end to this need for some exclusive. I will also stipulate that by granting the interview, that no one is to bother me or my wife again, or heads will roll!"

"Do you really think it'll work?" Amir questioned, always a bit unnerved when Erik got that sinister smile on his face.

"Oh…it will work, all right," Erik said firmly. "I will make it work."

"All right, if you say so," Amir shrugged, standing up and preparing to leave.

"Are you forgetting something, Mr. Dessan?" Erik asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

"What?" Amir questioned, not understanding Erik's point.

"You owe me a hundred dollars," he stated, his tone very serious.

"Why?" the Persian demanded. "What did I do?"

"Obviously not your job!" Erik accused. "This is the second time that Christine has ended up on the floor, or ground, while on your watch. If it happens a third time, I will be demanding a lot more than simply money in compensation."

Amir just rolled his eyes in exasperation, not even dignifying Erik's empty threat with a response. Still, he pulled out his wallet and handed over a hundred-dollar bill, the action now almost routine between the two. Erik pocketed the money and watched his friend leave, a small grin touching his lips once he was out of sight.

"You two are as bad as a couple of children," Mrs. Murphy laughed, turning back to her job of fixing dinner.

Erik's grin grew even wider.

Well, it looks like Christine is going to have a nice little solo piece in the program this coming weekend! And of course Erik speaks Italian...and several other languages. ha ha. Would we expect anything else?

But her changing her name at school had a few adverse repercussions. But Erik will fix things!

Gerald and Amir both did a good job, but Erik wants to make sure it never happens again!

Poor Amir...one-hundred dollars poorer...again. ha ha.

Guest Reviews:

Kristin: ha ha, Erik CAN influence the gardener...but not the garden! Even if he tried really really hard. Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks.

Gummy: I'm glad I can brighten your day with my chapters. And you have never been obnoxious! Phangirling is expected too! In fact, it is almost a requirement when reading a POTO story. ha ha. To me, Erik is tall, thin, but strong, dark hair, (not a wig) and his right side of his face is the only part messes up in THIS story - I change it up with each one. He has the golden eyes, and wears the half mask. I think his one side is good looking, but I don't see him as any particular Phantom actor I've seen before. In my mind he looks like...well...Erik. But you can imagine him anyway you want, that's the beauty of reading verses watching. And NO, this Erik would never lose control or in any way harm Christine. In Angel of Persia I kind of had him do something, but there was extenuating circumstances that was not his fault...but he still blamed himself terribly for it. But this Erik wouldn't lift a finger against her. Ever. And no, I never saw a play version where Erik did that on stage...interesting. It must be that each actor puts his own little spin on the character. Thanks.

Phantomphan: Sorry there are not 100 chapters for you to read all at once. Not that I see it going that far, ha ha, but you know what I meant. I did just finish chapter 50 though, so you still have a ways to go...and then some. Thanks for enjoying my writing. See you next time!

Guest: Was it short? Some are long, some are not as long...I just write till the scene is done. ha ha. Amir is full of sass...and I think Erik often enjoys a bit of it...but not overly much. ha ha. Maybe Erik will get even later, short sheeting his bed or putting dirt in his coffee grounds. ha ha. Fake magazines in stories will write anything to boost sales these days. ha ha. Thanks.