Chapter Four

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned" –Congreve

Erik walked back on the stage, after talking contracts with Spangler and then a couple cups of coffee and cigarette later, he forced himself to get back to work. Which was actually do nothing, but making sure everyone else was doing his or her job, now that he thought about it. He immediately saw Desiree painting a large backdrop. She had been told to paint the large canvas, according to where the different colors were suppose to go, like a big paint-by-number kit. He was walking by her, but then stopped in his tracks when he saw her progress.

Most of the time when backdrops were painted, it took a couple of workers a day to paint the whole thing, and that was before the artists came in and did the details. But Desiree almost had the entire canvas covered and it was just lunchtime. He set down his portfolio and leaned over her shoulder.

"Looking good there." he commented

She turned to look at him, carefully holding her paintbrush so she wouldn't drip it, but also so she could slap him in the face with it if she chose. He couldn't blame her if she did though; he had been rather rude to her.

"Yes, so what?" she snorted

"Well, it's very good you got it done so fast. How long you've been working on it?" Erik mocked himself on the inside in his feeble attempt to make causal conversation.

He observed her. She wore a tan baseball cap, a Yankee tee shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. Small beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and a small speckle of paint was under her cheek. She placed the brush back in the pan, wiped her hands and turned to face him.

"It should be good; I've worked on it since quarter till seven."

"But, weren't you working late last night?"

"Yes, Mr. Foster. So were you. We ended up running into each other if you remember?"

"Of, course and I think I owe you and apology. I was rather rude and you were just trying to do your job."

She stood up and brushed her hand under the brim of her cape. "That's alright. I'm use to it, and I've gotten into worst fights with employers than that."

He picked up his portfolio. "Still that no reason saying you have to come in so early."

"I didn't come in early to make you happy." She snapped. "I'm just working to get enough money to get back to school." She started walking off the stage, but he followed her, almost on her heels.

"School, huh? What were you studying? Theater, perhaps? Or maybe music?"

She laughed "You're giving me a distinguished major, well that very flattering. No I was a health major, which is only really good to take the sports and fitness classes." Then she paused. "But I wished I could study music. You know, just study at Julliard or something like that. I was good at music back in high school, my teachers said so but they also keep telling me that I could never make a career of it."

"See that's what wrong with music education today. Everyone here's made a living from music, it's not like they are all staving!" Erik said, waving his arms to point around the theater.

Desiree raised an eyebrow. "You should be on the board of education." Then she pulled out her wallet and glanced into it.

"You know, we could talk about music over lunch if you wanted to?" He offered.

"Oh no. I'm not dressed up enough to go to some fancy restaurant and besides I'm short on cash." She replied shaking her head and turning again to walk away.

"How about McDonald's, my treat?"

Erik found it harder than he thought to gain Desiree's trust and get information out of her. Especially when she was shoving a Big Mac and handfuls of fries into her mouth.

"So what kind of music did you do?" he asked leaning over the table in the crowed fast food place.

Desiree took a large sip of her Coke and swallowed the rest of the food in her mouth. "Oh, I played violin in the band, and dabbled a bit on the piano, but I didn't have enough time to really learn a lot of it. I always had to work."

       "Why would work get in the way of your schooling?" He asked

Desiree put down her Coke and glared at him coldly. "Do you think it's because my family had some finical trouble that I need to work to survive? It was nothing like that! So if you want a glimpse of my personal life, all I can tell you is that I came to hate my family, and working was just a way to get away from them. So I went to work all the time." she said, sharply.

Erik picked at his small salad with fork and lowered his eyes. Desiree turned her glaze to the window. "Look, I didn't mean to pry. If I offended you, I am profoundly sorry." he said sympathetically.

She looked back at him, and then smiled. "God Mr. Foster, you don't have to apology like that. You should hear yourself in your fancy tongue. Now you don't have to act like a gentleman to me. You're going to make me think I'm some uptown lady or something." She laughed and Erik started to feel more relaxed. "Besides, it's not like they were my real family."

"Your real family?" he asked

"Yeah I was raised in foster care. My mother had me when she was very young, still in college. She gave me up for adoption. She knew I have a better life than she could provide for me. But, even though I don't tell her, I know the real reason she gave me up was because of her career."

Intrigued, he pressed in with more questions. "So what was her important career? A politician?"

"Hardly, she was a singer."

"Oh really does she work on Broadway."

"Of course."

"Well what's her name? I don't know of any singer with the name Destler."

"Oh" she said shoving more fires into her hand. "That's cause Destler my dad's name. Her name is Christine Day." Then let the fries in her hand find their way to her mouth. Erik leaned back in his chair, trying with all his might to contain his inner joy and triumph. He wanted to pound his fist on the table and give out a shout. He had to content himself with a small smirk. At last he had a connection. This girl was his link to his lost love, his Christine. There was still the mystery of Desiree connection to his last name. Now that he knew Christine was her mother, there was an obvious answer to the question looming in his brain. But he could deal with that later. Right now, his goal was to win Christine back. And to do that, he would have to get her in his territory.

Desiree looked at him, rather oddly at his blank appearance.

"Um, yeah. Have you heard of her?" she asked, puzzled

Erik allowed himself a very big smile. "Know her? Why, I think your mother is one of the best voices on Broadway of today. I would love to have her in one of my shows." He sighed, hamming it up. "If only that were possible."

"Well. I'm sure she would be interested in the company. I don't know if she signed her new contract yet. But if you wanted to, I could ask her." Desiree replied

"Oh I couldn't ask you to do that. It's just." He leaned over the table. "Come closer and I'll tell you a secret." he said

Hesitantly, Desiree pushed aside her food and leaned her ears in front of his face.

"The truth is I can't stand any of the singers performing in my company. They sound think a flock of squawking geese, even toads in fact. If I could get one good Broadway name in my show, our company would have so much. We could be rich. I would love to have your mother be that voice, that name." He leaned back in the chair. "I'd even be inclined to give you a same cash bonus."

Desiree's eyes lit up. "Oh really?" she said with a smile.

Erik traced a figure down his beverage cup, feeling the wet slick drops glide across his figures. "It seems that you and I have something else in common. We both like money. So what do you say?"

She picked up a packet of ketchup and started to shake it.

"I'll see what I can do."