The Girl Next Door
A week had passed before Erik saw his neighbour again. He was just coming home from work when he saw her at the door of the building, tapping in the security code. She looked back and smiled, holding the door open for him.
"Hi." She said as they walked to the elevator. "How are you?"
"Well enough." He looked at her face. "The stitches?"
"Took them out yesterday. Hurt like hell." She smiled. "But at least they're gone. Still a bit of a scar, but that's OK. At least I'll look interesting!"
He smiled slightly, pressing the button for the fifth floor. Christine looked at him curiously.
"May I ask, what is it exactly that you do?"
"I'm a composer and director at the Hawthorn Theatre." Erik replied. Christine looked surprised.
"Really? That's amazing!"
"It passes the time." He said modestly. In truth he was damn good at his job, but he had never been one to show off. Christine looked suitably impressed without hammering the fact home.
"Are you working on Il Muto?" She asked. He was surprised that she kept up with the shows. Somehow she didn't seem the sort of woman who would find the opera interesting,
"I've heard of it." He said. No need to mention that he had, in fact, written the show.
She laughed.
"My company is doing the advertising for Il Muto. I'm on the production team." The lift stopped at their floor and they moved down the corridor together.
"Thank you for the wine." He said as they reached their respective doors.
"Oh, you're welcome. Thank you for helping me." Christine said. Erik just nodded but before anything further could be said the lift opened again and a man came out, carrying a huge bouquet of gorgeous flowers. He paused at the sight of them.
"Christine Daae?"
"That's me." Christine said. He passed the flowers to her and smiled before leaving. Christine flushed and looked at the card.
Christine,
I saw these and thought of you.
Stuart
She laughed quietly and Erik lifted an eyebrow.
"Nice flowers."
"From a friend." She said.
"Very… friendly." He commented, eyeing the large bouquet. Christine sighed.
"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so."
For some reason she didn't seem particularly enthused about the fact. She smiled at him and then went into her apartment. How strange. Apparently sending flowers and being pleasant was not the way to a woman's heart.
"And to think I've been doing it wrong all these years." Erik muttered wryly.
"First meeting on the Il Muto project. You scared?" Meg smiled as they went to the boardroom. Christine laughed.
"Nope. Couldn't be readier."
"You seem very certain of yourself."
"This is just what I need right now. A big project to keep myself busy." Christine said. "I haven't worked on anything this big since… well, in ages."
"Just don't get too bogged under, Christine." Meg warned. "I know what you're like."
Christine didn't reply. She just pushed open the door to the boardroom. There were five other people in there. One was Firmin, one was Sorelli, another man from the company and the other two were clearly from the Hawthorn Theatre. One of them was Erik Destler.
"This is Christine Daae and Meg Giry; they're on the team as well. Ladies, this is Mr Erik Destler, the writer and director of Il Muto and Mr Nadir Khan, the manager of the Hawthorn Theatre." Firmin said jovially.
Handshakes were exchanged and they all sat down. Mr Khan, a foreign man with dark eyes and skin, handed out slim folders.
"This contains all information on the show that you will need. A plot summary, photographs of the cast and crew, etc. We need a programme, posters, leaflets, the whole deal."
"Christine, you can take over with graphics and images for posters and leaflets. Sorelli and Meg, I want you to work together on the programme. Thomas, I want you on newspaper advertisements and publications." Firmin said. "Oh, and we've got a new person joining next week. Christine, I'd like it if she could follow you around until she's learnt the ropes."
"That's fine, Mr Firmin."
"Excellent." He beamed
"When will we be able to see some mock-ups?" Erik asked.
"Within a fortnight, I should think. We'll have them sent straight along to you at the theatre." Firmin assured him.
Mr Khan nodded solemnly. He was a serious looking man, Christine noted. For the next thirty minutes they sat discussing the opera and the various themes in it. Christine wrote everything down, already imagining the pictures in her mind, mentally adding to them with every passing comment. By the end of the meeting she was bursting with ideas and desperate to get to her computer and start creating. They all stood up to shake hands again. When Christine reached Erik she smirked.
"We're going to be having words, Mr Destler."
"And why might that be?" He enquired politely.
"You seem to be an intelligent man. I'm sure you can work it out." She said sweetly.
Meg and Sorelli caught up with her as they went back to their cubicles.
"What was that about? Getting all flirty with the masked guy!" Sorelli giggled. Christine scowled.
"I was not flirting. Mr Destler lives in the apartment next to mine. I asked him about Il Muto and he said that he'd heard of it. I can't believe he didn't tell me that he wrote it."
"Oh, so that's the guy who got you to the hospital?"
"Hmm. Excuse me, I want to get these ideas down before I forget." Christine said, clearing the screensaver from her computer.
Christine spent the rest of the evening busily sketching out ideas for the posters. Eventually she came up with one that she was particularly pleased with. She set it aside, making plans to scan it into her computer and begin finishing it.
She looked at the clock and sighed. Seven thirty, she really should eat something. Too often she found herself skipping meals and was getting rather too thin. She went to the kitchen and looked unenthusiastically through the freezer before going to the cupboard. A jar of sauce and a pan of pasta would suffice, she decided. She put the pasta on the cooker and poured herself a drink, groaning as the telephone rang.
"Yes?"
"Hey Christine. Everything alright?"
"Oh, hi Stuart. Yes, everything's fine. Just making dinner." Christine said, smiling. She and Stuart had been meeting for breakfast every morning and she was warming to him. Perhaps a little too much, she thought reservedly.
"Good. Just calling to make sure you got the flowers, I forgot to ask at breakfast and you didn't mention them." He sounded nervous. Christine smiled.
"Yes, I got them. Thank you, they're beautiful."
She fingered a velvety petal of one of the flowers as she spoke.
"Good. I mean… I'm glad you like them." Stuart said happily. Christine bit her lip and then said,
"Stuart?"
"Yeah?"
"…I've got to go, the waters boiling over."
"OK, no problem. See you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
She hung up and sighed heavily. Why was she doing this? Hadn't she learnt her lesson? Well, apparently not because she was still prepared to get screwed over by the first guy who looked her way. Christine scowled and turned off the pasta. If she hadn't been hungry before, she definitely wasn't now.
Her raven hair spilled delightfully over the purity of the white pillow. Erik sighed and stroked a single, silken lock as she slept. He was lingering in that place between consciousness and sleep. It was a beautiful place to be. He could have lain forever, just holding her to him, breathing in that sweet scent of her skin.
She was a precious creature indeed. Seemingly so fragile but her soul was stronger than any he had ever known. He thanked God for being able to have her so close. For God had given one of his dearest angels to a man fit only for the deepest bowels of hell.
"Erik?" She mumbled, stirring from her slumber.
"I'm here."
"You should sleep." She said, rubbing her head against his shoulder.
"I know. I just like to watch you sleep." Erik murmured, pulling her tighter to him. She smiled sleepily.
"Weird. Go to sleep. I won't be going anywhere."
Christine woke up, gasping and sobbing. Fresh tears were on her face, strands of hair sticking to her sweating forehead. She breathed deep and let out another shuddering sob as the nightmare came back to her.
She climbed out of bed and went to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. She sipped it and found that her hands were shaking. She closed her eyes and then quickly opened them again as the face of her unknown attacker lunged out of the darkness once more. The glass clunked heavily against the metal basin as she put it down.
Christine sobbed again and sank down onto her knees by the sink, letting the tears flow. After a few minutes she pulled herself up again and splashed cold water to her face. But she knew that she would not sleep now.
She wandered slowly around the apartment, sniffing and shivering in the cold air. Had the heating turned off? Christine thought about going to check but she was still shaking and sitting down seemed like the easiest option. She sat at the piano, stroking the smooth keys. She pressed one and the sweet clearness of the note echoed around the room. She pressed another, and another, until she was playing without even realising it.
She didn't know what song it was, some piece she had learned years ago. She didn't care, she almost couldn't hear the music, so lost in it was she. It surrounded her but she barely knew of it.
The music was rich and powerful, beautifully bittersweet. And it hurt more than anything she could have experienced.
Christine stopped playing and looked down at the instrument before lowering the lid over the keys. She got to her feet and caught sight of herself in the mirror. God, she was a mess. The livid pink scar stood out horribly against her pale skin. Christine turned away, heading back to bed.
Erik lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He had heard music playing… he was sure that he had. But he had been half-asleep so he couldn't have been sure.
He couldn't have imagined that music. It had been too powerful, to passionate, not dissimilar to the sound of an animal crying out in pain. He knew that feeling all to well. He often used music in the same way, loathing himself for it afterwards. Music was to be treasured, not treated in such a coarse manner.
Nevertheless, he wondered what could have caused someone to start playing the piano at three AM.
"Urgh…" was all Christine could say as she crawled out of bed the next morning. She felt like… well, like something particularly unpleasant. But she couldn't skip work today. That new girl was joining today and Christine had already agreed to show her the ropes.
A shower, clean clothes and a hell of a lot of concealer on those bags under her eyes and Christine looked and felt ninety per cent better. She grabbed her bag, folder and jacket and closed the door, meeting Erik as he carried his rubbish to the chute.
"Morning Mr Destler." She said. He nodded to her and she went to the elevator, yawning.
Stuart was already sat in the café. He blinked as she sat down with a double cappuccino.
"Going for the heavy stuff today?"
"I didn't sleep well and I've got the new girl to look after today. So not what I need right now." Christine replied, chewing on a croissant. Stuart stuck his lower lip out.
"Aw, poor Christine."
"Thank you for your sympathy. And yes, I'm well aware that it was sarcastic." Christine said, sipping at the hot coffee. "Do you ever get that feeling when you just know that it's going to be the day from hell?"
"In which case, I'm going to give you a light at the end of the tunnel. I'll pick you up after work and take you somewhere to eat." Stuart promised. Christine smiled.
"I knew there was a reason I kept you around?"
"You mean apart from my dazzling personality?" Stuart said as they left the café.
"You might want to polish the personality thing." Christine suggested. "But I'll take you up on the dinner."
Carlotta Guidacelli was twenty-four, tall, thin, blonde and gorgeous. Christine already felt a little put out, especially as she was feeling less than fabulous. Clad in designer jeans on what had to be cellulite-free legs, Carlotta eyed her.
"You are Christine Daae?"
"That's right." Christine said, offering her hand. Carlotta shook it. "It's nice to meet you, Carlotta. You're interested in advertising?"
"I guess." She said, shrugging indifferently. "So, what is it that you do?"
"I'm working on the Il Muto project. I handle the graphics and mock-ups of posters, mostly." Christine said, putting her bag in her desk drawer.
She pulled out the file containing her sketches and spread them on the desk.
"I'm going to be showing these to Mr Firmin today before I finish them up and send them to the Hawthorn." Christine said, looking over them, rather pleased with herself. They had turned out very well. Carlotta seemed remarkably unimpressed and uninterested.
"Morning Christine!" Meg said brightly, passing the desk. She paused. "You're new?"
"Carlotta Guidacelli." Carlotta said. Meg smiled.
"Nice to meet you, Carlotta. Chris, Firmin is looking for you."
"Thanks Meg. We'd better go see him now."
She led Carlotta to Firmin's office. He called them in.
"Ah, you're here. Christine, have you got those sketches?"
"Here." He eyed them.
"Good work. I prefer this one but we'd better let the producers decide. Carlotta, lovely to see you again." He said warmly. She smiled.
"And you, Richard. My father sends his regards."
"He is in good form?"
"He was last week, when I saw him." Carlotta replied. Firmin beamed and said,
"Well, Christine's one of the best in the company, you can learn a lot from her."
"I'm sure I will."
Firmin nodded and the phone began to ring. Christine signalled for Carlotta to follow her.
"I'm not entirely sure what you to do. I'm going to be finishing these up for the rest of the day and it'll be really dull for you to just sit and watch." She thought for a moment. "I think Meg and Sorelli are going to be thinking about programme ideas today. You'd probably have something more interesting to do with them."
"Sure." Carlotta said, shrugging and looking around the office. Christine felt a rush of irritation but suppressed it.
"Good. I'll go and see what they're up to then." She said calmly.
The end of the day could not have come soon enough. Christine spilt coffee over her keyboard midmorning, soaking one of her designs which she then had to redo. She managed to get one almost finished but Firmin called her away to demand why she wasn't looking after Carlotta.
"Mr Firmin, I've just been sat at the computer all day; she would have been bored out of her mind! At least with Sorelli and Meg she can help with the input and achieve something!"
"I asked you to look after her, Christine. Do you know who her father is?"
"I have no idea." Christine said tiredly.
"He is the owner of Guidacelli Tech! They provide most of our equipment and give us generous discounts! They might even give us their next advertising campaign, but that's not likely if you shunt the owner's daughter off to one side!"
Christine ground her teeth.
"Fine. I'll keep her around tomorrow."
"Good! Now get that second design finished!" Firmin snapped, turning back to his computer screen. Christine held her breath until she had left the office, because she was afraid that if she didn't she might just snap.
What she saw when she came out of the office did nothing to improve her mood. Stuart had turned up a few minutes early and was currently chatting away to Carlotta, who had a very seductive look on her face. Christine clenched her fists and marched over.
"Hi Stuart."
"Christine! Ready for the dinner I promised you?" He smiled. Christine smiled back, feeling better already. The look of disgust on Carlotta's face helped.
"Never been readier. I'll see you tomorrow, Carlotta." She smiled sweetly and picked up her things.
A/N: Sorry for the wait. I have literally just had the week from hell and it probably shows. I am NOT happy with this chapter, but there you go. Basically, I've had to go and fight with my bank because they keep charging my money for no apparent reason, school is dragging me down, I've got a horrible cold and I'm starting a new job tomorrow.
And, just to put the icing on the cake… those who have read 'From Heaven's Mind' may remember that during the summer, I lost my aunt to cancer. Last night a close friend of mine also died of cancer. I just can't fucking believe it, if you'll excuse the language. Two loved ones in less than three months. Someone tell me that that is fair, because I sure as hell can't see how it is.
I'm begging you. Please, PLEASE donate money to cancer charities and put an end to this disease before we have to lose more people.
Katie