Thanks for the review. Here's some more…

I decided to put a little thing about the name 'Jezebel'. I kind of bolded it for you. Aren't I kind? Also her ethnicity is that she is half French and Persian. I'll get into that later. For now…

Enjoy

At least three weeks went by, and Bayard's production was coming along smoothly. Well, somewhat. His sister was outraged that she couldn't be leading singer. So he gave her leading dancer. Although, he left out the 'background' in leading dancer.

The phantom had no complaints; which was most odd for him. Usually he would had afewletters by now. Perhaps he was preoccupied. Bayard was rather disappointed; the phantom had become somewhat of a friend.

He had spoken to him numerous times, and found him to be…charming, somewhat. Bayard would often discuss the songs they would be singing in the production, and the moves. Sometimes the phantom would give advice for him to tell the singers. But for the past weeks, he hadn't been visited. Not once.

Sometimes he'd often wonder if that man was married, or was courting. He seemed so lonely, yet so angry. Bayard had drifted off a bit, and didn't notice someone who was trying to gain his attention.

"Hey, Mr. Bevin. Long time no see. How are you? Hello? Bayard? You in there?" a mysterious man called out to Bayard. Bayard finally noticed and looked at the man. Bayard frowned a little.

"Vachel, what are you doing here?" Bayard asked calmly. Bayard wasn't really as calm was he was pretending to me.

"I've come to help you out, of course. You didn't think you could do this production with out me?" he said with a charming smile. Bayard's frown stayed.

"Yes, actually, I could." He got up and tried to walk away. Vachel walked behind pleating to help out in the production.

"Vachel, do you recall the last time you helped out in the production? Do you recall what do you at my home?" Bayard asked infuriately. Vachel stopped a little.

"Oh, Mr. Bevin, I only burned your cabinets a little! And so I dropped a few lights, and paints on people. That was in the past; I'm a different man now!" he said desperately. Bayard turned to him.

"Not only did you carelessly drop things, Vachel, you also either seduced or slept with half my of actresses. The ones you slept with couldn't do the performances because they were emotionally distressed when they found out they were just apart of a list." He said sharply. Vachel looked away a little.

"Look Mr. Bevin. I've changed. I don't do those things anymore, and I've become a lot more careful. I only want to be in this production. Please, sir." Vachel said pleadingly. Bayard sighed.

"You cannot be in this one. The opening is the day after tomorrow, and you do not have time to practice. However, after this production, which will end next Wednesday, you may try out for our next performance." Bayard said wearily. Vachel smiled.

"Thanks Bevin. Thanks a lot." Vachel said shaking Bayard's hand. Bayard shifted in disgusted after the handshake, and walked away.

'Oh…what have I done?' Bayard thought, while shaking his head.

It was only an hour before the performance, and Beatrice was in a frenzy.

"Jezebel! There is much to be done! Do my hair, get my clothes, and for god's sake, get me something to eat!" Beatrice said angrily. Monique sighed and dropped the clothes she was getting.

"You know, it would be much easierfor me todo one of these things at a time." Monique said trying to keep calm. Beatrice huffed.

"Well I don't understand why you find it so hard. Oh, do hurry with my hair!" she said gazing at herself in the mirror. She wore a light dress that was dark blue. Her hair was braided down almost to the ends of her hair. Her make-up made her look at least five years younger than she actually was. Everything was set.

"Alright…I'm done. May I go?" Monique said tiredly. All this ordering around was making her exhausted. She felt as if she might faint.

"Well, alright. You may go to the show, but you must be behind the curtains; I must see that you have not run off." Beatrice said sharply. Monique felt a little disappointed, but nodded. She wanted to see Erik, but she could not today.

Beatrice left the room, and Monique leaped to the bed. She was worn out. All day of 'do this' 'that's not right' 'do it this way' 'must you be so dim-witted?' are not as easy as they might sound. Finally, she could get some rest for a while. The performance didn't actually began for another half an hour.

Twenty minutes went by, and Monique was asleep. So asleep, she didn't even notice the shadow that let it self in through the mirror. Erik looked at her for endless moments. He wanted to brush his hand gently across her left cheek, but fearing that it might wake her, he kept his hands to himself. He couldn't hide it now; he was becoming deeply infatuated her. He wanted to deny it; hoping he could forget Monique like he somewhat did Christine. But he could not.

His thoughts drifted that that battle-axthat orders Monique around. He was usually on the other side of the mirror watching what she'ddo, or what she'd say.Always saying 'Jezebel' do this, or 'Jezebel' dothat. It was even irritating for him.

He had a sudden thought. 'Wait a moment…doesn't Jezebel mean… impure? Could she perhaps not be…a virgin?' He looked at her face once more. She looked somewhat innocent; but she also looked slightly seductive with her clothes.There was also the fact that she is a gypsy, and she did belong to a group. Somewhat like the one he was in. And from what he could remember…

Even if it happened years ago, it felt as fresh as the tragic time last year.