Phantom of the Cabaret

Chapter One

By Catherine Morland

Summery: A young girl named Christine is a cabaret dancer, who dreams of bigger and better things. Erik is an architect, deformed in an accident. Raoul is a young man, who trys to woo Christine on a bet from some friends. Modern retelling, and strong PG-13 rating.

Dedication:

I dedicate this phic to Project Phantom!

Charles came in through the door, holding several envelopes of different colors.

"Mail for you," he said, tossing an envelope at Erik, then sat down to go through the rest of the stack. Presently he selected an envelope that he hadn't discarded as trash, and slit it open, his eyes scanning it.

"We got an invite to go to the 'grand opening' of that new building we just built." He told Erik.

"Did you ever find out what it was going to be, yet?" Erik asked him absentmindedly, scanning his mail.

"A cabaret." Charles answered.

Erik almost choked on his coffee. "Why did we agree to the job?"

"We didn't know what it was before now."

"Why didn't we check??" Erik demanded.

Charles shrugged. "Are we going to go, or not?"

Erik groaned. "You know how sworn against these things I am."

"Yes, but it's always a tradition for us to go to the grand opening of building we architect." Charles reminded him.

Erik eyed him. "When is it?"

"Tonight, at 8."

"What time is it?"

Charles checked the gold watch dangling from his wrist.

"About 6:30."

Erik heaved a sigh. "Fine, we'll go. But not for long, and I'll just lurk about in the shadows as usual."

Charles grinned.

"And I don't want any comments from you." Erik stated firmly.

Charles shut his mouth, a sheepish smile on his face.

XoOxXoOx

Christine Daae listened to her best friend, Meg Giry talk, as she stretched her legs.

"And then he says..." Meg continued, as Christine stretched out her leg over her head.

"So I say..."

Christine only half-heartedly listened as she finished stretching, and started to slide her tights on, grimacing at the small snag.

"And then he goes..."

Finally managing to shimmy up the tights, she sat down and started to apply her makeup, putting copious amounts on her lips and eyes.

"So then he asks me for my number!" Meg squealed, showing a piece of paper in her hand. Christine beamed at her friend. "That's great!"

Meg did a split, grinning.

"Ladies, only 20 minutes left," a knock and a voice said, outside their dressing room door.

"Ok," Meg called. Then she turned back to Christine. "Are you excited??"

"Yeah, a bit." Christine said.

"A bit?!" Meg squealed, "That's it?"

"Well, a little more than that."

Meg lifted an eyebrow.

"Ok, I'm really nervous," she admitted.

Meg linked her arm through Christine's. "You'll be fine!" she told her, "You're the best dancer here, everyone says it!"

Christine gave a small whimper, and hugged Meg hard. "Thanks, Meg." She said softly.

XoOxXoOx

"Hey, Philippe!" Raoul de Chagny called to his older brother. "You know that cabaret we donated money to? Well, we got invited to their grand opening!"

Philippe came out of his bedroom, fastening his cufflinks.

"Philippe, why do you always insist on wearing a suit?" Raoul whined, "This is a nightclub, not an opera!"

Philippe stiffened. It was apparent that Raoul had hit a sore spot. "Because nightclub, or opera, I insist on looking presentable. You would do well to take a leaf out of my book." He said, eyeing Raoul's clothes...if you could call them clothes.

"For god's sake, Raoul, you aren't going to wear your pajamas to a club, are you?" Philippe demanded.

"No, I'll change." Raoul said, battling with the remote.

"You'd better do it now, it opens in 15 minutes." Philippe glared at him sternly.

Raoul sighed and stood up, stretching his arms up, and padded off to his room to get changed.

XoOxXoOx

"Some club, eh?" Charles shouted to Erik over the din.

"Why don't we find a table?" Erik yelled back.

Charles nodded and set off, picking a table at the side of the room, but close enough to see the stage.

Erik sat down, clutching the sides of his mask as if scared someone would rip it off him.

"Erik, loosen up!" Charles still had to yell, even though they were sitting across from each other at a table. "Everyone's too wasted to care about a strange man in a mask!"

Erik released his death grip on his mask. He and Charles were good friends. They were both genius architects, business partners over a long period of time. When Erik had been seriously injured in that architect incident long ago...(here Erik shuddered)...Charles had been his best friend. They loved each other like brothers, and would do anything for each other. Charles was anything but repulsed by Erik's face. He had helped him, nursed him, and defended him. Erik remembered a line from one of his favorite books – Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.

'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...' he mused.

He was snapped out of his faze when the noise got (if possible) louder. Every man in the place seemed to be stomping his feet and hitting his hands on the table. Whistles were heard throughout the crowd, as was chanting. Erik was completely confused as to what they were doing until he noticed the woman onstage, a spotlight shined on her.

"Oh my god..." he groaned.

She was doing a split, her chest pressed to the floor. The low cut outfit in some places (and high in others) made Erik turn his face away, embarrassed. He was aware that Charles was staring at her, fascinated. Mortified, Erik started to play with his napkin, folding it into an origami flower. Finally having enough (and averting his glance from the woman on stage who was straddling a chair) he got up, whispered to Charles that he was leaving, and he left, with a swirl of cape, and a flash of mask.

A/N: Hey, pleeease R&R. I know the 'retelling' has been done to death, but I thought this was a unique idea, and I HAD to write it. Don't worry...it gets better!!