(A/N This probably isn't a perfect replica of scene one of Phantom, but I try. And, it's not in French this time. Sorry. :) )
"Boston!" Rio whistled. "We're going to be late."
Boston looked in the mirror and sighed. Premiere night. So exciting. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to be excited. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened since the rose, but Boston couldn't go anywhere without feeling watched. What frightened her more than this was that she couldn't manage to be worried about that. She didn't even feel threatened.
"Coming!" She called, after pinning one final strand of hair into its place for her Hannibal costume.
She groaned when she saw her smaller friend standing with her hands on her hips in the hall. "I hate you!"
"I haven't we been through this?" Rio turned and stormed through the pre-show crowd.
"Yes. But I hate it when you're so much more easily pretty."
"You're fine."
"But that doesn't matter, because no one's going to be looking at me." Boston took a new approach with her self-pity. "You're the star, remember?"
"Oh, shut up." Rio hissed under her breath. "You're the one with the stalker."
Rio looked immediately apologetic, while Boston held her tongue was some difficulty. If they spoke aloud so near the stage Brianne would skin them alive.
Meanwhile, the prologue was being performed. "…665, ladies and gentlemen: a papier-mâché musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order."
Boston sank into her depression at the "Showing here" and little tune that followed. It didn't matter to her that it was a full house: stage fright was an almost alien concept to her by that point in her life.
"May I start at twenty francs? Fifteen, then? Fifteen I am bid." A pause, then, "Sold, for thirty francs to the Vicomte de Changy. Thank you, sir."
Ah, the Vicomte de Changy. Boston thought with a sigh. Good times.
Eric's voice, formidable though it was, roused nothing in either actress. "A collector's piece indeed… every detail exactly as she said… She often spoke of you, my friend… Your velvet lining, and your figurine of lead… Will you still play, when all the rest of us are dead?"
The auctioneer had continued: no one had heard Raoul's little soliloquy. "Lot 666, then: a chandelier in pieces. Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light, so that we may get a hint of how it may look when reassembled. Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination, gentlemen?"
The chandelier was raised, and the overture began in all its loud, heart-stopping splendor.
Rio looked up to meet Boston's eyes. She grinned, and Boston couldn't resist her friend's sheepishness. They hugged, but were torn about moments later by none other than the absurdly dressed Jess.
She winked and strode out on stage. The curtain raised, and her high, trilling voice started the scene. "This trophy from our saviors, from our saviors, from the enslaving force of Rome!"
Rio chuckled and her companion gave her a questioning look. She mouthed 'Hannibal' and rolled her eyes. Boston suppressed another giggle.
"Sad to return to find the land we love threatened once more by Roma's far-reaching grasp…" Gustav threw himself into his performance comically.
"Signor, if you please…" Their Reyer sighed almost audibly. "If you please… 'Rome'. We say 'Rome', not 'Roma'."
"Si, si, Rome, not Roma." Gustav almost put Boston and Rio into stitches. "Is very hard for me."
Their Lefevre passed by Rio and Boston, saying, "This way, gentlemen, this way. Rehearsals, as you see, are under way, for a new production of Chalumeau's "Hannibal". Ladies and gentlemen, some of you may already, perhaps, have met M. Andre and M. Firmin ..."
Reyer promptly argued with the man. "I'm sorry, M. Lefevre, we are rehearsing. If you wouldn't mind waiting a moment?"
"My apologies, Reyer. Proceed, proceed."
"Thank you, monsieur. "Sad to return", Signor…"
"M. Reyer, out chief repetituer. Rather a tyrant, I'm afraid." He was very good at being unbearably pompous. "Sad to return to find the land we love, threatened once more by Rome's far-reaching grasp. Tomorrow, we shall break the chains of Rome. Tonight, rejoice - your army has come home."
"Signore Piangi, our principal tenor… He does play so opposite of La Carlotta."
This was the cue for the first dancers to come out. Rio and Boston followed Dori out and began their ballet.
"Gentlemen, please!" Brianne, queen of the stage, appeared at the corner of Boston's eye. "If you would kindly move to one side?"
"My apologies, Mme. Giry." Lefevre stepped aside and continued to Marlon and Fremon. "Mme. Giry, out ballet mistress. I don't mind confessing, M. Firmin, I shan't be sorry to be rid of the whole blessed business."
Fremon answered him. "I keep asking you, monsieur, why exactly are you retiring?"
Lefevre ignored him. "We take a particular pride in the excellence of out ballets."
"Who's that girl, Lefevre?" Marlon pointed to Boston, who pretended not to notice.
"Her? Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter. Promising dancer, M. Andre, most promising."
As well as being pompous, he's good at being rather suggestive, isn't he? Boston thought
Rio slipped up purposefully, but subtly enough that Boston doubted the audience noticed at first.
"You! Christine Daaé, concentrate, girl!" Brianne snapped. She was very good at snapping.
"Christine…" Boston said in her stage whisper, "What's the matter?"
"Daaé." Fremon frowned. "Curious name."
"Swedish." Lefevre commented.
"Any relation to the violinist?" Marlon asked.
"His daughter, I believe. Always has her head in the clouds, I'm afraid."
True, Boston thought ruefully.
The chorus struck up the tune. "Bid welcome to Hannibal's guests -the elephants of Carthage! As guides on our conquering quests, Dido sends Hannibal's friends!"
Jess reappeared near Gustav. "Once more to my welcoming arms my love returns in splendor!"
"Once more to those sweetest of my charms my heart and soul surrender!" Gustav replied.
"The trumpeting elephants sound -- hear, Romans, now and tremble! Hark to their step on the ground -- hear the drums! Hannibal drums!" The chorus ignored the slight love affair before them and continued.
Lefevre cheerfully cut in at the end of the phrase. "Ladies and gentlemen - Madame Giry, thank you - may I have your attention, please? As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, M. Richard Firmin and M. Gilles Andre." Marlon and Fremon bowed to their audience. "Gentlemen, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now."
Jess came forward, hand outstretched. "Of course, of course," Marlon bowed over it. "I have experience all your greatest roles, Signora."
Lefevre continued. "And Signor Ubaldo Piangi."
"An honor, Signor." Fremon turned his attention to Gustav, whose fake beard jiggled comically. If I remember rightly, Elissa has a rather fine aria in Act Three of "Hannibal". I wonder, Signora, if, as a personal favor, you would oblige us with a private rendition? Unless, of course, M. Reyer objects . . ."
He turned to Reyer, who turned to Jess. "My manager commands… M. Reyer?" She raised her eyebrows haughtily.
Reyer sighed. "My diva commands. Will two bars be sufficient introduction?"
"Two bars will be quite sufficient." Fremon answered for the group.
"Signora?" Reyer raised his hand.
Jess cleared her throat and took center stage. "Maestro."
"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye ... Remember me, every so often, please promise me you'll try ... On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me ... Think of me, think of me..." She began, almost visibly bracing herself for the set to come.
It came, falling just behind Jess and folding over her. She screamed and fell convincingly.
Boston took up the song with the chorus. "The Phantom of the Opera! He's with us, he's a ghost… He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!"
Lefevre promptly grew livid as Jess was helped, spluttering, to her feet. "Signora! Are you all right? Buquet! Where is Buquet? Get that man down here! Chief of the flies. He's responsible for this. Buquet! For God's sake, man, what's going on up there?"
Percy's head appeared at the balcony. "Please monsieur don't look at me: as God's my witness, I was not at my post. Please monsieur, there's no one there: and if there is, well then, it must be a ghost…" He grinned wickedly and raised the set.
Boston took a breath, "He's there; the Phantom of the Opera!"
God, I hope he's not.
"Good heavens! Will you show a little courtesy?" Marlon snapped at Boston.
"Mademoiselle, please…" Fremon groaned.
"These things do happen!" Marlon smiled convincingly at Jess.
"Si! These things do happen!" Jess worked herself into a rage. "Well, until you stop these things from happening, this thing does not happen!" She turned on her heel and shrieked, "Ubaldo! Andiamo!"
"Amateurs!" Gustav scoffed, following her.
Lefevre shook himself. "I don't think there's much more to assist you, gentlemen. Good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Frankfurt."
Marlon fumbled with his pockets nervously. "La Carlotta will be back."
Brianne chuckled. "You think so, messieurs? I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost." She held out a note, sealed with a red skull.
Fremon threw up his hands. "God in heaven, you're all obsessed!"
"He merely welcomes you to his opera house." Brianne shrugged. "And commands you to continue to leaves box five empty for his use…" She pointed towards the Opera Populaire's infamous box five. Several members of the audience turned to look. "And reminds you that his salary is due…"
"His salary?" Fremon chuckled to himself, although he seemed to be the only one to understand the joke.
"M. Lefevre paid his twenty thousand francs a month." Brianne smiled. Boston was almost shocked to see her actually smile. "Perhaps you can afford more, with the Vicomte de Changy as your patron."
Rio started with recognition, but said nothing.
Marlon sighed as the crowd began to whisper among itself. "Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement myself."
Brianne continued, not seeming to care. "Will the Vicomte be at the performance tonight, monsieur?"
"Yes," Fremon answered for him, "in our box."
Marlon looked concerned for the problem at hand. "Madame, who is the understudy for this role?"
"There is no understudy, monsieur – the production is new."
Boston piped up behind her alleged mother. "Christine Daaé could sing it, sir."
Fremon snorted. "The chorus girl?"
"She's been taking lessons from a great teacher." Boston told him.
Marlon turned to Rio. "From whom?"
"I don't know, sir…" She looked her ballet-slippered feet.
"Oh, not you as well! Can you believe it?" Fremon looked ready to bang his head against the wall. "A full house – we shall have to cancel!"
"Let her sing for you monsieur," Brianne cut in, "She has been well taught."
After a few nods of reluctant approval, Rio took center stage.
"From the beginning of the aria, then, mam'selle." Reyer sighed and raised his hand again.
As Rio took her breath, Boston looked into the crowd, all of which were staring vapidly at the stage. This is going to be a good production… she thought. Actual 'Opera Ghost' present or not.
Box five was empty for that performance, and for every one after that. Whether by superstition, tradition, or because Mercedes wanted it that way, no one knew, but Boston had her beliefs.