It was not his usual habit to visit strip clubs- he'd been raised in a fair house; his mother and father had shared a strong union for nearly thirty years, raising two fine sons and the surprise blessing of three daughters.
The girls were triplets, five years younger than Raoul himself. No one had been more surprised or happy than the de Chagny parents- the girls, christened the "Weird Sisters" by Philippe, the family's eldest son, were the newest students at Manhattan Elite- the family had left Florida for the excitement of New York.
Raoul hadn't minded the move; he'd only just completed his degree and had decided to come back home for a time. He could have gone off and bought his own home, but he was tired, and only wanted a rest in the bosom of his family.
His education, his determination, had led him on a tour of the states to see the greatest architecture America had to offer. Traveling was exhausting, but he'd forgotten how tiring living at home could be. His sisters were teenagers now, gossipy, shallow, and beautiful, as all teenage girls are before they realize that there is more to the world than shopping and boys.
His parents had welcomed him home, congratulations all around for his success in degrees. They were proud of him, and boasted of his accomplishments to anyone that might listen.
Philippe had been his best friend growing up, but as the years had passed, they had grown distant. They had exchanged e-mails perhaps twice a month but it had been nothing like the way it was before, when they'd been partners in mischief.
Perhaps it had been a slight sense of guilt that had spurred Philippe to invite Raoul out to the city's hotspots. It had been a whirlwind week; in seven nights, Raoul had been to more nightclubs than he could remember, and been slipped more phone numbers than his cellular could hold.
He'd had a great time- the traveling and constant testing for school had put a complete stop on his social life but with the past seven nights, Raoul had been making up for lost time.
A strip club wasn't his usual idea of entertainment. He liked to dance with girls, not to just sit back and watch them move on a stage. Raoul didn't like the idea of paying a woman, either, but Philippe had convinced him to step out for some fun.
"Wake your ass up, kid, we're going out," his brother had reasoned to him, nudging Raoul in his ribs.
Raoul had been sleeping off the hangover from the night before on the living room couch when Philippe had made that announcement. They'd had a long night, the de Chagny brothers painting New York red.
"What are you talking about?" Raoul had groaned. "We've been out every night this week, now you want to start clubbing at," he checked his watch, "2:30 in the afternoon? Are you kidding me?"
Philippe had shrugged and pulled Raoul to stand up, "Well, if you want to see Tawny work the stage we have to get there before the day shift is over,"
"Who's Tawny? Did we meet her at Ghost Bar last night?" Raoul yawned as he moved toward the kitchen for some coffee.
"No, she's the best stripper on the east coast. Come on, kid, movie it," Philippe urged him, "Take a shower, brush your teeth, and wipe that look off your face!"
"You woke me up just to go to some strip club? Forget it, those places are a waste of money- I'm not paying some dirty, sweaty chick to grind on my lap," Raoul sneered, throwing up his hands.
"Hey, this place is nice," his brother protested.
"Oh, a nice strip club? Phil, there's no such thing,"
"Raoul, don't be such a pansy, all right? You've gotta see this girl, she's gorgeous!"
"Jesus, Phil, are you in love? We've been dancing and partying with gorgeous women all week, what the hell is so special about some pole-skank?" Raoul demanded as he poured himself a cup.
"Come see her onstage, you won't ask me that again," Philippe coaxed him.
"No way, I am not setting foot in some dive to watch this girl of yours give lap dances!"
Forty-five minutes later, Raoul was slumped at a table in Mama V's, sulking and wondering how Philippe always managed to get him to go along with whatever scheme he wanted. They'd always been in trouble when they were kids and it seemed that nothing would change now that they'd grown up.
Raoul had been to plenty of strip clubs when he was younger and only just becoming a man; it had been a thrill when he and his high school buddies had all gained their nerve and pooled their money to go see the ladies of Babydollz, one of the more popular clubs in Miami.
It had been a thrill- most of them had been virgins when they'd first gone; several of them hadn't even seen a real woman naked before.
Cheap thrills, that's all it had been.
Now, though, Raoul was a man. He had known a few women already and if he'd not loved all of them, he certainly had respect and admiration for them. He'd broken it off with his girlfriend a few months before, seeking the freedom to search for someone more compatible.
The girlfriend in question, Vicky, had been beautiful but undedicated. They'd had more than a few fights toward the end, and Raoul had since been enjoying life on the single side.
He'd dated, he'd danced, he'd wined and dined, and had met amazing women from all over the city since coming back to New York to be with his family. Most of the women he'd met were like him- fresh out of school, newly single and searching for some fun.
Raoul's idea of fun was not a strip club- now that he was older and wiser, he thought they were dirty. Just like casinos, strip clubs had no clocks and no windows, the entire building being one massive structure dedicated to drain the hard-earned money from a man's pockets.
Some men went to the clubs just to escape the real world for awhile, happy to pay a woman to listen to his troubles while she writhed against him in a mockery of sex.
Raoul had visited Babydollz with his friends only three times before he'd met a young woman that had so greatly outshined the false, sleazy glamour of the clubs. Christine Daae had been her name, such a wonderful girl; she'd been adventurous, beautiful, vibrant and so full of life.
Christine had been happy to stay with Raoul for hours and hours, and Raoul had been happy to have her; it had been too late to help when he'd found out why it was she'd never wanted to go home.
He'd been away at college when his sister Tessa, the first of the triplets, had called him with the news. There had been a great deal of confusion, but Christine's mother had been taken to the hospital, her stepfather arrested and Christine had gone missing.
His phone calls and e-mails had gone unanswered- Raoul had wanted to return home, but all that madness had occurred just before his final exams that year- no professor would accept his excuses, and his scholarships would leave no room for failure. He'd had no choice but to stay and finish his exams before taking the first flight back to Miami to find Christine and help his friend in any way he could.
It had all been useless.
When he'd returned, Christine's house had been empty. While her mother remained in the ICU of Miami general, no forwarding address had been left, no sign of Christine. Raoul had stayed in Florida for as long as he could, remaining steadfast at Rebecca's bedside, waiting for Christine to come and visit her mother, but his friend never came. Still, he waited until his education demanded that he return.
When he had called to the hospital, he'd been curtly informed that Mrs. Downs had been removed to another medical facility, Raoul had fell the world tilt beneath his feet. He was not allowed the location of where she had been moved, and he had not seen Christine since the day he'd left for school.
It was as if the young woman he knew had dropped off the face of the earth.
Until just then, when the blonde had emerged from behind a curtain.
He blinked and squinted, "Good God, is that Christine?"
Philippe turned to him, "Hmm? Who?"
"That, that girl over there on the gold pole. You don't think…?"
"Raoul, you're not still obsessed with that girl, are you? For God's sake, she disappeared! Probably ran off with some dude and has seven kids by now," Philippe said absently as he watched the stage, his eyes riveted on the blonde he'd identified as the wonderful Tawny.
Raoul rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Phil! Her stepfather beat her mom into a coma, you think she'd take off after that?"
Philippe turned from the stage and threw up his hands, "It's been months, Raoul! You spent your entire spring break waiting in her mother's hospital room, and did she ever come? How many times did you call her, how many times did you write? She jumped ship, my friend, and I can't blame her."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Philippe took a swig of his beer and cleared his throat, "All right, listen, I remember Christine. How could I not? She was a cute little peach, always around the house, and you two, thick as thieves- you two were so cute together it made me fuckin' sick. Now, when we found out all that shit that was going on behind closed doors…I punched a hole through my wall. That girl was like a member of our family, Raoul, but I don't blame her for one second if she took the chance to get away from everything." Philippe shook his head lightly, "I hope she's happy, I hope she's on a beach somewhere right now with a margarita in one hand and a martini in the other. God knows she deserves to be happy. Who knows where she's gone? But, I can tell you one thing, she is not over there riding the pole."
Raoul shook his head, "I hope you're right, but I'm going to go make sure."
With that said, Raoul left the table and headed toward the stage.
The young woman was just leaving the stage, each fist clutching several large bills, she was heading towards a doorway which Raoul figured to be the stripper's personal area. He couldn't loose her, he didn't care how stupid he might look, he had to know for sure.
He lunged forward and caught her shoulder, turning her to face him. Behind all the makeup, and despite the noise and colored lights that surrounded them, Raoul recognized her.
"Raoul?"
That she had said his name was all he needed to chase away any doubts he'd had. A million questions flew through his mind, but he could put nothing into words; all he knew, all that he cared about was that he'd found his friend again.
Suddenly overwhelmed, he pulled her into a hug, but his happiness was short-lived as she pulled away from him. "What are you doing? Don't touch me!"
Raoul frowned, "What, I was just-"
"The lady said no, buddy, let's move it along."
Raoul turned to find himself facing a wall of flesh, one of the club's many heavily muscled bouncers. "No, no, I know her, I wasn't trying to-"
"Hey, kid, I've heard it all, now get movin'." The bouncer ordered. He'd seen Raoul's type before- dripping with money and arrogance; whenever the Hampton boys decided to get pushy with the girls, most of the bouncers took a special pleasure in 'escorting' them from the facility.
Christine stood just behind the larger man, Raoul could see her shaking slightly, her mouth working but no sound coming out. She blinked and then shouted to him, "I'll meet you outside!"
Raoul nodded and then let himself be dragged out by the dancers' bodyguard, still amazed and disbelieving, still so happy that he had finally found her.
"Raoul, what are you doing here?" Christine asked once she found him waiting for her just outside the club entrance. She had changed into a pair of cargo khakis and an army green shirt to match, with a gorgeous black wool coat to keep her warm in the sweeping cold- if it weren't for his sisters, Raoul never would have recognized the designer labels, but he did notice, and felt his long-buried anger towards her flare to the surface.
"What am I doing here? That's what I should be asking you, or better yet, where the hell have you been? Why didn't you ever get back in touch with me? God, I don't know what to think!" He ranted.
Christine furrowed her brow, an expression of hers that he remembered all too well. For a moment he wished that she was still wearing her stage makeup, so garish and bold, so that he might pretend she was only a girl that resembled the Christine that he'd known. He could not pretend- Christine had scrubbed her face free of the stuff, and the young woman he'd loved so dearly stood before him, defiant and obviously trying to hide her past.
"Answer me!" He demanded, ready to reach for her shoulders and shake the truth out of her, "What are you doing in this place? I can't believe you would do this to yourself, you were going to be a lead dancer at Manhattan Ballet, why are you up there dancing like a goddamn whore?"
Christine had been silent and composed the entire time, up until that point. Raoul knew that words hurt, but he'd never heard of any words with the power to crumble a person. Christine practically collapsed against him, crying and clutching.
"Oh, God, Raoul…I'm so sorry, there was just too much…"
He hated himself as he put his arms around her, stroking her hair. "Christine, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that…I...God, I haven't see you in so long and now I'm here screaming at you on the street. Let me, we need to talk, come on, let's find a place to sit down and we can catch up, for better or worse. Does that sound all right?" He asked. He felt confused, but the only solution would be for them to sit down somewhere and talk everything out.
Slowly, Christine nodded her consent.
Raoul wasn't a native New Yorker. He didn't know the city as well as he wished, most of his experience had been crammed into the past seven nights, and that experience had been a whirlwind of nightclubs, beautiful girls and alcohol.
Still, he didn't need a damn roadmap to find a Starbucks.
It was only a few blocks away when his sharp blue eyes had spotted the familiar round, green emblem. He breathed a sigh of relief once he caught sight of the cafe.
Coffee, pastries...we'll sit down, catch up, and maybe Christine will explain what the hell is going on!
Christine had walked beside Raoul, keeping pace with his hectic stride. It was bizarre, almost surreal to have his long lost friend back with him again- and to had finally found her, writhing on a stage in New York!
Life was crazy, it always had been.
He wanted to know everything, he would rattle the truth from her if he had to, but Raoul deserved the truth. He glanced at her as they walked the crowded sidewalk. Christine had calmed down, her eyes were only a bit red now. Even with her eyes slightly puffy, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever set his eyes on- he felt his heart turned over in his chest.
Raoul didn't want to to judge her, but after seeing her writhing the pole in nothing but a plain blue thong, he had to admit that she was changed in his eyes. He'd loved her so much, seeing her up there, naked, clutching all the bills thrown at her…she wasn't the same in his eyes, likely she never would be again, but he had to try. No matter what had happened, she was still his friend, she was still Christine.
He had to help her.