Chapter Eight
"It's easier not to feel…anything."
Christine's words hung in the air as if they had been smoke in a heavy room. She could almost see her words lift and fall with what little air was stirring from the flames dancing over wood in the fireplace. The words may not have been a real confession, as to those who could sense her phycological conditions were sure to be able to predict such feelings, or lack of feelings thereof. She had merely stated an obvious truth, a lack of color or interest or that feeling of being lost that was always behind her eyes ever since her father had died. This was nothing new. This was what her life was and she had accepted it.
At some point during this, the distance between them had closed. His glass of wine was empty on the mantle, hers was still full in her hands. The wine was very strong for her tastes, nonetheless, she was not willing to let herself loosen next to anyone she didn't already know. Nor did she consider this statement of the obvious as any sort of weakness or interesting feature of her inner feelings. She did not feel any closer or any more inferior to him and yet somehow he had gotten literally closer and was sitting next to her on the couch.
When life came back to the present, she slowly looked over to him as he was sitting gently on the opposite side of the couch. Underwood's eyes were not cruel, as she had thought them to be before. His hands rest lightly on his knees and she realized how long, thin, and pale they were. A thick gold ring with a black round jewel in its center was on his smallest right finger. Her own eyes travelled from that ring and to his face, trying to avoid letting the white glowing mask that distracted her vision.
"How convenient it would be," he started quietly, "if we humans could simply stop feeling. Strange as it is, besides our evolutionary gains, we cannot."
Remembering what she had read about his early life, the fact that he had to wear a mask even in the modern age where deformities could be looked beyond with medical technology, and the strides that he had made beyond all of this came into her personal realization.
"You seem to hide yours pretty well." She admitted.
"With practice," he half-heartedly let himself chuckle, "With much practice. Perhaps that is all you need."
"What?" She let herself smile for a wink of a moment, "For 'greatness' you mean?"
"Practice, yes." His voice became clear, "To practice that vocal instrument of yours."
She looked into his eyes and asked seriously, almost coldly, "And then do what?"
"Live."
They looked at each other for a long time, not quite seeing what they wanted to in each other's eyes, but feeling as if they were close. She wondered just how a stranger could claim to fix her and he was wondering if somehow she could do the same for him. His compositions had become so dry, so boring, but the concept that she might rise to the occasion of singing them would turn everything else around.
Suddenly, he was on his feet and she was startled.
"Let me show you. Let me show you what I mean."
Christine noticed a kind of awakening within Underwood. There was a lightness to his step as he trotted past the fireplace and leaned down to something beside it. From beyond her sight, he pulled a violin case, took it to the desk, and opened it carefully there. The sight nearly pained her as it was too familiar to see a strong man take out such a fit and lean instrument. She wanted to stop him, wanted to tell him that she didn't want any of it, that it would be too much, but just as she painfully opened her mouth to speak, music was coming from the connection that the bow made with the strings.
And the sound was beautiful. Devine. Perfection.
The song was unknown to her, but the notes were so incredibly filling that she was brought to speechlessness. Her body was suddenly melting away in the couch, the cold glass that held the thick warm wine was placed beyond her without her recollection. Sight fell away, physical touch was gone, nothing was left on her lips, and the only thing she could conceptualize was the sound of pained whole-hearted beauty being played to her. Her mind, which had been brought to such a quick and fleeting place was suddenly silent, and it allowed her to feel without the corruption of her thoughts to distract her.
There was a trance in this music, a trance that she had only felt on few occasions when her father was at the height of a particular emotion. There were times when he could not speak after her mother had died and so he played on and on until his bow fell from his hands and he was left gasping for breath on the ground. Whenever she heard it she would also fall and sob with him, would want to comfort him, but knew she could not and so she would hide where she could trapped to a mask of beauty that covered the most terrible of truths.
As suddenly as the music had begun, it stopped. The sound of her breathing quickly became aware to her, the fact that her eyes had shut made her open them, and her fingers were drawn to her face to collect stray tears that had escaped from somewhere deep inside of her. She found that her eyes were cast to the floor and she swallowed as best she could to try and bring healing moisture back into her throat.
"Pain is all you feel," This foreign man beyond her said deeply, "but that will pass. All emotions can lead to something handsome. You need to embrace them. I offer you the ability to feel again and all I need from you in return is your voice."
Tired and without emotion she asked, "Take it then. I don't want it."
"Such a gift cannot be thrown away so easily. You will sing for me, Christine, and sing for me only."
Christine looked up to him and suddenly felt vulnerable after hearing him address her by her first name, "Why would you want that? I'm no good-"
"Stop." And with wide eyes, she let her mouth close, "You will no longer self critique on this matter. You will no longer talk yourself down as you have grown so accustomed to doing in the past. If your voice is to belong to me, only I am to say anything of it."
She waited to be certain he was done before speaking, "And what will I do? You said I should quit my job?"
"Yes, that would be necessary." He quickly continued, "I will pay you double the amount that you are being paid now and supply you with proper insurance so that your voice is well protected. You will give further attention to your health, your sleep, and what you eat, and at night you will meet with me to sing."
"And will this be…contracted too?"
"Verbally, yes."
"And what if I change my mind?"
There was a moment of stale silence where the last embers of the fire cracked their way through charred wood.
"You will lose everything."
Underwood's answer had been so dark, so serious, and so hopeless that her breathing picked up and she slid slightly back onto the couch. Her mind was already jumping to the conclusion that this far in, she no longer had a choice. She looked at possible exits around her and found him uncomfortably near the only one as he had moved in front of the fire, blocking her in shadow. Suddenly she was feeling like prey, feeling cornered for the kill.
"What about Raoul?" She chocked out, "I can't leave the office right now. It would crush everything we've built."
"I can take care of such a simple matter. Your talents are not restricted to his shadow."
"He won't understand. What do I tell him? What do I tell anyone?"
"That you're taking vocal instruction and have a scholarship with an instructor at the National Opera. That's not entirely a lie, either. No need to say who I am, in fact, our relationship never needs to be mentioned at all as this will remain professional. Understood?"
She nodded and he moved towards the fire so that his back was to her.
"We will begin tomorrow evening at the same time. I can't imagine that the government will be expected to work tomorrow either. Winter is finally here, it seems. Better put in your two-week notice soon, if you choose to put in a notice at all. Your replacement will be starting their first day of work when Congress is back in session." He looked back over his shoulder to her, "I trust you can see yourself out, Ms Gallagher. We will meet again tomorrow."
Without feeling any of her limbs, she slowly knew she was rising from the couch. Her coat and scarf were back on her on the door, and she felt as if she were walking backwards out of the entire experience, walking down the few steps, out of the black metal gate, and down the sidewalk back to her little basement house. Snow was swallowing her shoes, the night was darker than it had been before despite the yellow street lights. Leafless trees were passing, more steps were under her feet as she moved up and over a small path and down under steal stairs to her gated door. Locks were opened and relocked, a lamp was turned on, and finally, she was sitting down on a familiar couch.
All the while she only thought on one fact: A deal had been made that she had never agreed to. A deal had been made that she would never get out of. A deal… A deal that she had no idea what it would entail.
VII
Douglas Nadir had been working with Erik Underwood for a solid portion of both of their lives. Even as they got into business with each other through deals that were far beneath legal, their stories fit together pretty well in the end. Prior to the time that Underwood was a house representative, he spent a fair deal of time in Turkey. At that time, Nadir was working on becoming a dual citizen of both Turkey and the United States and was having difficulty despite his mother being from there. It just so happened that Underwood proved to be the ticket he was looking for.
While to the rest of the world, it appeared that Underwood, under a different name, of course, was working to improve basic infrastructure in and around the capitol, Nadir soon found out he was making far more money working within keeping secrets to major political figures. Even as Underwood was highly sought after for his ability to know and keep information that could never be written down, he was never caught by anyone wishing to expose his knowledge. In this time, Nadir became his aid up until they fled the country from a warlord who wasn't too happy about the disappearance of his illegal concubines to the United Nations.
Once back in the States, Nadir had his highly sought after green card within a month and since then, he worked for one man only.
Surprisingly, the campaign trail had not been as brutal as he had expected for Underwood. In all elections he faced, he won an easy majority, speaking to immigrants, minorities, and women in particular. At first, running for such a position was a way for Underwood to discover more secrets. With his secrets, he held power and that was what he wanted. That was how he made his money and his estate. And that was how Nadir got his paycheck.
One could say that if anyone on the planet knew just who Erik Underwood was, it was Douglas Nadir. Even then, even as many things were no longer a surprise, Nadir couldn't restrain his jaw from dropping when he witnessed a young blonde woman leaving his house. He waited a good long time before leaving his car and once he walked inside, Erik had a look in his eyes that made him feel that it was a bad time.
"What are you doing here, Nadir?" Underwood asked, his head slightly cocked to the side.
"I wanted to speak with you."
"That's what phones are for."
"The Erik I know prefers in-person conversation. However," Nadir made his way into the Study, noting that a fire was going, "The Erik I know doesn't have young ladies leaving his house in the evening either."
Erik tensed, scowled, then changed the subject, "What did you come here for?"
"To discuss your plans of running for president."
"I'm listening."
He sighed as he sat down on the couch, "To speak clearly, I'm stunned. I understand it's the highest singular position of power, but are you sure you want that kind of exposure? There are plenty of people you may not want recognizing you, especially abroad."
Erik walked over to his desk and sat in the chair behind it. He laced his fingers together and Nadir noticed that a violin case was laying on top of the desk. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't lower his eyebrow.s from the shock of everything.
"You are right."
He waited a moment to continue. He wanted to let Erik stew over his intentions, "However, the look of that nice girl who just left might soften that image once it comes into place."
Erik's eyes shot up in defence, "We are not speaking of her."
A slight smile of amusement crossed Nadir's face, "You know me better than that, old friend."
Underwood stuck his finger towards him and repeated, "We are not speaking of her."
"Wait," Nadir made a sweep around the room with his eyes and recalled being at the Arts Crusade the previous Saturday with his employer. "That girl, the young woman who just left. Was that the girl who sang first for the Spot Singing?"
"It doesn't matter because we're not talking about her." He said through his teeth.
"Aha! And you…" His eyes scanned the Study with an entertaining delight, "Did you bring her here to play for her?"
Nadir knew he was right when Erik immediately crossed his arms and stuck the nose of his mask up, "A coincidence that my violin needed to be restrung."
"You played for her!" He clapped his hands together, "Erik…do you have feelings for her?"
A quick answer, "None."
"You don't play for anyone. You said yourself that it was a gift only for the chosen few who could appreciate it. Why else would you offer to play for her?"
"Nadir, you fool, we met under professional terms! You are too curious for your own good!"
"Professional? How so? Does this have to do with Peters?"
"No. Do you not have any personal matters in your own life? I know I pay you to understand mine, but perhaps I have a few things that even you do not know of! This has nothing to do with you and has nothing to do with Peters." He took a moment to amend his statement, "Except she won't be working for him any longer."
A smug smile crossed Nadir's wrinkling face, "Due to you or their poorly hid relationship? Whether it's official or not, he couldn't take his eyes off her at dinner. It is clear that he is too transparent for politics. In her defence, she did look very lovely, but still."
"This is not why you came over to see me without having called. I can have a life without you constantly pestering me, you know? Stick to what you meant to say!"
Nadir couldn't help rolling his eyes before continuing, "Look, Erik, I need you to think. Do you really want to shoot for running against Walker in four years? Or is this all to shove him down for what he did?"
His answer was slow and low, "Yes."
"Think about it, you're where you wanted to be. You wanted to get into Congress and have a high stake in the government. You do. You're respected and feared, your wealth is squared away, and your secrets are safe. Why challenge that?"
Erik shrugged and stood. He made his way to the fireplace and looked at the painting above it as he often did when he was thinking. Eventually, his eyes fell to the fire and he leaned his weight into the wall a little.
"I was getting bored."
Nadir crossed a hand to his face, "You wanted to run for president because you are bored?"
"Was bored. And angry at that idiot Walker."
"What changed?" He waited a very long time for an answer that never came and so he repeated, "What changed, Erik?"
"I have a new project," he said a little wistfully, his eyes drifting to the window.
"Which is?" he asked this only to confirm his beliefs.
His answer came as a whisper, "Her."
"And you've known her how long?"
"That doesn't matter," he murmured.
Nadir was sceptical, "But now she's your new project?"
Erik looked up to him, suddenly confident, "Yes."
"I'm guessing there's a logical reason for this?"
His answer was so simple, "No."
"No?"
"I can't think of one. Not really." He started to make his way back to the desk, eventually leaning on it, "She reminds me of a puppy that's been kicked too many times, don't you think so? Craving human attention, but not knowing how to accept being pet. She's lost Doug, but I found her, so she'll be fine I think."
"You've never been one for pets, Erik. Not unless you consider her an investment to come out in your favor."
"Are you really complaining? I found a distraction from running for president and publicly destroying Walker. You got what you wanted to accomplish in interrupting my evening and I get something else to focus my attention on. We both win, don't we?"
Perplexed Nadir sighed, "We'll see, Erik, we'll see."
Review Review Review :)
