Christine shifted uncomfortably in the backseat of the taxi as it weaved the long twisting trail through the city to reach her tiny apartment. Under and in between the skyscrapers of fame, and over the great bridges seen in countless films, until the common yellow car pulled in front of a run down Chinese bakery, where Christine rented the apartment above it.
Erik's lasagna container was resting on her lap, the hot food inside warming her legs. It had been embarrassing that he'd given it to her, but anything that could help to fight the biting cold was a blessing. Her mind had been preoccupied for the entire ride, and so the driver had given up trying to make small talk about three minutes into their trip.
Christine blinked and realized that the car had stopped, and then she glanced down into her hand. Erik had given her his dinner and a handful of bills for the cab fare, and he had gone so far as to speak to the driver, urging him to get Christine home and out of the cold as quickly as possible.
It would have been flattering if their situation had been different; if they had shared a night of comfort rather than the awkward talk over the meal…she was surprised that she could even consider Erik as anything other than what he truly was: a man who believed himself so superior and all-powerful that he could demand a woman whenever the mood struck him.
Perhaps for a moment she had indulged in a pang of pity- he wore a mask to keep his facial scarring hidden from prying eyes. Erik might be timid around women of a more appropriate age and social set, but he obviously felt no hesitation at all in using the young girls that worked in his club.
'Of course. What good is a girl if she isn't selling herself in one way or another?'She hadn't looked at the cab fare he'd given to her, but as Christine opened her hand and peeled through the bills, she realized that Erik had been uncommonly generous.
Her eyes widened as she counted out $500.
"Hey, lady, you deaf or blind? We're here, let's move it," the driver urged. Christine glanced up and saw that his shift was nearly over, no doubt he was anxious to get home and get some sleep, just as she was.
"Oh, sorry, here you go," she said quickly, peeling away a couple $20 bills and handing them over. She let him keep the change.
The driver took her money and a moment later he was nothing but red trail lights speeding away down the street. It was deadly quiet and dark outside, the only light came from a streetlamp several doors down the block. The neon lights that alighted all of the shops- including the bakery that she lived over- wouldn't come on for another few hours. Christine made quick work of getting into her apartment and securing the three locks behind her.
Erik's money was still clutched in her hand, a ridiculous amount given to her for no reason at all. The man was rich, and might have been out of touch with the way that the "other half" lived, but he couldn't have honestly thought that it would cost $500 for cab fare.
It had been her payment then. He'd not paid her for sexual favors, and come to think of it, May had said he only wanted her company for the night. Sex hadn't been mentioned, and as withdrawn and tense as she had been, Christine had still technically shared her company with Erik. She felt no qualm at all in keeping the money. He had done most of the talking, and at first he had seemed just as uncomfortable as she, but once dinner had been served, Erik had opened up and spoken to her.
It was strange- it had felt more like Erik had truly only wanted her to have dinner with him.
The idea was ridiculous, of course. What man would pay $500 for a dinner guest? If he had wanted sex, he could have taken it, whether she was willing or not. Christine tugged off her faded sweatshirt and tossed it over the kitchen chair. One look at the clock told her that it was nearing 4:45 in the morning and she groaned heavily.
Christine knew she needed to sleep, but she had an established routine that she wanted to keep. 'I can't control anything else that's happened to me, but I'll be damned if they take this from me too…'
She took out her pink money purse that she used whenever she danced, and began to count everything. She counted out every last crumpled bill, smoothing it out and setting it into a pile, separating the ones, fives, tens, twenties and the few fifties and one hundreds that she'd earned from the bachelor party.
'All right, that's…$783…$1283 after the money that Erik gave to me tonight…'It was the most that she'd ever earned in a night, but part of it hadn't been earned at all, Erik had given it to her freely. Christine had seen the way he'd assessed her with his bright eyes, from her worn out shoes to her faded clothes. 'More a grubby girl off the street than a desirable woman,' Christine thought to herself as she organized the money and put it all together into her large cookie jar. 'Maybe I aroused more pity in him than anything else, hopefully he won't think to ask for me again. It'll be Summer or Crystal that he'll want,'
She crossed the tiny kitchen and put the cookie jar behind the dismal refrigerator, and then took the three steps necessary to make it over to her bed. The apartment was really just one room, sectioned off into the kitchen and living room by linen curtains that Christine had managed to hang from the ceiling.
There was a bathroom and a closet on the other end of her apartment, both tiny and run down but Christine had counted her blessings when she found that, even if the hot water supply for her shower only lasted about ten minutes, the water was perfectly clean and the plumbing had never given her any problems.
She turned over to lay on her back and stare up at the crack in the wall just above the cracked headboard of her bed. It was getting worse with each passing week. The extra $500 would come in handy towards home repairs…
In a rush, there was a flood of voices filling her head.
"He wants to fuck me, he pays,"
"You're a stripper, nothin' but a pole dancer,"
"It just gets lonely eating by myself every night, Christine,"
She shook her head, hoping to quiet the voices. Christine felt almost giddy with exhaustion. Her toes and heels were blistered first from her constant use of her worn out boots and then they suffered even more abuse by her pinching, plastic pole shoes. She was also cold and, despite just having eaten with Erik, she was hungry.
The hunger she felt had nothing to do with food- she felt hungry for a life to be lived far away from the uncaring, unseeing steel city. All around her there was ugliness. The girls at the club regularly took home customers to earn just that much more money so they could afford designer clothes, the rent or other stupid, frivolous things like Tiffany jewelry- as if wearing a priceless gem might make them somehow more worthy themselves. She shivered. The girls would come into work and brag about how quickly their chosen client of the night got off, one sick way or another.
Christine felt bile rise to her throat suddenly, and loathing began to tighten its hold on her stomach and heart, clenching and refusing to let her go. She was sick of being a pole dancer; she couldn't even look herself in the mirror anymore without hating what she saw; even with the heavy makeup washed away, she could still see despair in her eyes. Pathetic.
She hated the men in the clubs, the girls who danced there; she hated neon lights and alcohol and the smell of cigarettes and the loud, deafening beat that passed for music at Mama V's.
She hated how out of control her life had become in such a short time- she had not even seen Meg or Raoul in three months, and she had made damn sure that they wouldn't be able to find her. It would break her, to be dancing one night only to look down and see them staring back at her from the audience as she was forced to writhe on stage, as if it were natural for her to be so aroused by strange men licking and leering at her, their hungry hands always reaching to touch…
"Stop it!" She shouted into the darkness. For a moment she felt frenzied and trapped.
Christine took a deep breath and sat up to slip off her boots. She left them fall to the floor before she flopped back onto her lumpy mattress, not even bothering to change out of her clothes. Sleep descended quickly, but not before she remembered something about Erik expressing a wish to see her again.
May watched in fascinated disgust as Diamond performed on stage. From her office above the club floor, she could see everything from behind a wall of two-way mirror windows. There was ample security already in place to protect the girls who danced and of course to ensure that no sparky teenage boys managed to slip into New York's latest and greatest strip club.
There were bouncers at every entrance and cameras in every corner, but May still liked the subtle, voyeuristic thrill of being able to see without being seen. Diamond was on the stage, working the pole. May could understand Erik's attraction. The girl was beautiful in the face, even when she wasn't wearing the heavy makeup required for the job.
Fantastic blue eyes were framed with long, incongruously dark lashes; she had a full, sensual mouth and a dazzling smile. That thought struck May- had Erik ever seen a genuine smile from the girl, or just the practiced, sexy smile she used for the stage?
Erik hadn't gone into details about what he and Diamond had done the night before. Indeed, May could hardly remember what he'd said after calling her at five in the morning, snarling something about how she had made him look like some kind of deranged whoremonger in front of Christine.
"What does it matter?" She had argued tiredly, "You wanted to meet her, and now you have. You might want to call me when you're feeling a little more grateful."
Erik had probably hissed out some brutal insult, but May had hung up on him. The man hadn't called back since then, and she figured that maybe he'd taken her advice to heart. He would never have found a way to approach the girl on his own; May might not know all the ins and outs of his life, but she knew him well enough to know that dealing with women wasn't his area of expertise.
Because of the mask, the scars underneath it, Erik was often withdrawn, reclusive and timid. She knew that he might take a woman every once in a great while, but his affairs had always been short-lived and more physical than anything else. 'Well, he is a man!' May thought to herself. 'And a man is always drawn to what he thinks he can't have,'
If Erik desired Diamond, May couldn't be surprised, despite that she thought of the girl as just another trick who wanted into his pockets. He had told her, some weeks ago, that he didn't think the girl belonged dancing in the club. Erik thought that he saw something different in her, and he had mentioned an urge to protect. May had thought it strange at the time, but Erik's words were beginning to make sense.
'So Erik wants to play the hero and save princess Diamond- wha a male cliché!' she thought as she watched Diamond smile at the crowd and writhe against the pole. May shook her head as she walked back to her desk and took out a pen to jot out a short note to the club's prized dancer. She would have Diamond pay another visit to Erik, and another and another, for as many nights as it took to keep Erik's attention away from the club.
'Speaking of which…' May took out another sheet of paper and penned a quick note, addressing it to Crystal. 'The messenger and the special delivery.'
Christine stood in the hallway, just outside of Erik's apartment. She took a deep breath and looked down at her feet. Soaked again, but she was strangely thankful for being so cold- her toes had gone numb and she couldn't feel her blisters. The doorman had greeted her again kindly, but his friendliness hadn't put her at ease.
She didn't know what to expect this time around- Erik hadn't seemed to want anything more than just dinner conversation the night before, but that had no bearing on the here and now.
He could hurt her, or he might not do a thing. There were several possibilities to consider, but Christine was exhausted and shivering. She felt so drained of dignity and hope that she almost didn't care if by going to Erik, she was in a sense embracing the lifestyle that was destroying her.
'Take me, kill me…what does it matter in the end…?'
Feeling hopeless and uncaring of her safety, she raised a trembling hand to knock on his door. A moment later, the man was standing before her. She blinked, trying to regain herself. Erik stood tall and smooth in another dark suit; his eyes were bright behind the mask as he looked upon her. "Christine, please, come in," he said, his voice full of hope. He stepped aside and gestured her welcome into his home.
There was a fire going and Christine didn't bother to ask if it was all right, she headed straight for it to warm herself. Erik closed the door behind her and turned to watch as her trembling figure tried desperately to absorb some heat into her thin, damp clothing.
Erik frowned slightly as he watched her shiver, and again he wondered why she didn't wear warmer clothes. As the sole investor to Mama V's, Erik and his accountants had gone over the pay estimates for all the employees; the dancers were the highest paid by far- he knew she could afford a decent coat at the very least, so why was it that she had come to him not once, but twice, trembling from the bitter cold and wearing the same faded overshirt?
He shook his head, dismissing the question. It wasn't his business what she did with her money, and he had no intention to interfere in her life any more than he already had. He wondered if she blamed him for May's manipulation.
Erik stirred up a bit of courage to speak to her; the night before had been too awkward for his taste, he wanted to put her at ease and gain some of her trust. Just enough so that she wouldn't fear him, and perhaps they could engage in a real conversation rather than the small talk of the night before.
"Cold outside?" he asked.
Christine turned to look at him and nodded, "Freezing out, as usual," she said through chattering teeth. Erik noticed the slight blue tint to her lips and made her quick offer.
He motioned to the kitchen, "I could make you something. Spiced cider, coffee- if you want something sweeter, I can make tea or cocoa, you need something hot."
The corners of her lips lifted slightly, but Christine shook her head. "You don't have to do that for me, I'll warm up in just a few minutes,"
"It wouldn't put me out if that's what concerns you. Can you smell the cinnamon in the air? I was making cider anyway, you should have some. It's a new recipe and I could use the second opinion." he urged her.
Christine had smelt the sugary spice in the air upon entering, but she hadn't called attention to it. She took a deep breath and shrugged, "Well, if you're going to force me,"
Erik paused at her words; he knew that she had only been referring to the cider tasting, but it reminded him of the very reason that the girl was in his home- she believed that Erik had demanded her presence purely for sex. Damn May, the woman was more conniving than a politician!
He knew that the issue had to be addressed between them in full honesty, if any progress was ever to be made. He had to make it clear to her that he wished only for her companionship, how else could he gain her acceptance than by telling her the truth?
"Have a seat, Christine, and I'll bring you a cup,"
She nodded and sunk down into one of his chairs, the one nearest to the fireplace. Her body and mind were exhausted to the point where she could feel no fear of Erik or what he might do to her. The news she had received earlier, before her shift at the club, had beaten her down. With hope removed, there was no longer any bright side to look forward to; Christine had given up, in a way. If Erik were to approach her sexually, she didn't have it in her to refuse or fight.
'Take me, I don't care anymore. It's over, I'm done…'"Here you are, Christine,"
She looked up to see Erik moving toward her with a steaming mug of cider in one hand, a plate of pastries in the other. She took the mug from him and Erik sat down across from her with a mug of his own. They sat in comfortable silence for several long moments; content, warm and peaceful.
The cider was strong and sweet, so hot that she could feel it move down her throat and pool in her stomach, warming her from the inside out. It was wonderful, and the strong flavor had revived her. Christine blinked and drank more, becoming warmer and more alive with each burning sip. The gray fog of depression that had been veiling her mind lifted, and she turned to look at the man across from her.
Christine didn't hide her gaze as she watched the golden light of the fire dance on his mask, playing into the shadows and crevices of the strange face covering. If his scars were so horrible that he chose to cover them with a leather mask, then Christine could identify with him in a small way. They both had a part of their lives that brought them intense shame- she, her present situation and he, his facial scarring.
Erik likewise regarded Christine with level eyes. Her body had stopped shivering and she appeared relaxed, comfortable in his home. Her color had returned. Her face was again bare of the heavy makeup the girls wore when they danced; she looked like a different person. This was Christine before him, not Diamond. As much as he would have liked to continue this peaceful night of cider sipping, Erik knew he had to break it to address the reason that she was there in the first place.
"Christine, I need to speak to you about May and the reason she told you to come see me," he began.
To his surprise, the girl let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Oh, right down to business? Of course, whenever you're ready sir," she said, a strange mix of bitterness and hysteria coloring her voice. Christine started to rise from her chair, but Erik stood first and braced his hands over her narrow shoulders. His grip was firm, but hurting her was the last thing on his mind.
"Christine, no, will you please listen to me?"
She sat down and fixed her eyes to his as Erik kneeled before her.
"This is all May's doing…please, believe me when I tell you that I had not asked her to send you to me. I wouldn't…she took things out of hand, do you understand?" Erik continued with difficulty. "I mentioned an attraction, and I suppose that, given the environment, she assumed you were available for…Christ! I'm sorry, I'm not explaining myself very well," he muttered, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. He made a slight adjustment to his mask and sighed.
Christine frowned, unsure of him. "What are you trying to say?"
"I didn't tell May to send you to me for sex!" he said quickly. "I saw you on your first day. It's all right if you don't remember me, we never spoke. We just looked at each other for a moment, over a month ago. I mentioned to May that I found you attractive, and in her way of thinking, she's trying to do me a favor by sending you over. I don't want anything from you, nothing but your company."
Christine stared at him, trying to absorb all he'd told her. There was a time when she might have listened to the soft voices in the very back of her mind that urged her to have faith in the golden eyes of Erik, to trust his words of pure intent. But that was a long time ago, before all trust and innocence had been beaten out of her. "You really expect me to believe that?" She asked.
Erik stilled at the dry, skeptical question. "Have I given you a reason to doubt what I say?"
"Not yet, but that doesn't mean anything. May explained enough to me that I should expect you to want a little more than just dinner and cookies," she said, motioning to the plate on the coffee table between them. "She told me you were a lonely man, and so important to the club that I have no real choice but to bend to your whim."
Erik sighed and his brow furrowed at her obstinacy. "Well, then. My whim is that you come see me for the next few days. Talk to me, let me cook for you. I don't often have visitors, but I like you, Christine. As I told you the other night, it does become lonely after so much time alone. So, will you please share a meal with me?"
Christine shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I have a choice."
Erik sighed and then stood up, again offering his hand to her the way a gentleman would. This time, he wasn't nearly as thrilled when the girl placed her hand into his and allowed him to lead her into the dining room.
His heart sank as he saw that she truly was there only for the money, and not by any true want of her own. Erik had been hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would have come back because he offered her a gentle reprieve from the club environment, but he could see now that that was not the case.
She came back for the money and for fear of losing her position at his club. Erik sighed lightly as he began to serve the meal- Italian again, pene rustica- and his mind raced for ideas on how he might be able to salvage the evening.
Christine looked at him from across the table and he caught a genuine smile cross her lips- it was gone in a moment, and her face returned to it's blank, objective expression, but Erik had seen it, and because he had witnessed such a tiny, telltale sign, a spark of hope returned to him.
He raised his glass, and Christine raised hers. They clicked glasses and began to eat. Erik reasoned to himself as he watched her that, even if she was little more than his unwilling guest for the night, her company was still better than none at all.