Thanks for the great reviews on those chapters guys! I'm glad you're enjoying this! As many of you noted, I'm trying to keep it both sweet and dark at the same time. To those who are curious about Erik's secret, it will be revealed with time and will have much more significance later in the story.
Comments and constructive criticism about the pace of the story, the characterizations, etc. are all welcome. After this chapter, we'll be at about the place where the book begins. As I said earlier, this may end up being a fairly long story.
Read and Review!
As soon as she entered the lounge, Christine placed her purse upon a small coffee table and flicked on the light. From outside, she could hear the voices of the stage crew. Her shoulders tensed, for she continued to fear that someone would come in and discover her supposedly talking to herself. And then what? If she wanted to continue to hear her instructor's seemingly divine voice, she would have to lie.
Christine inhaled deeply and waited several moments, her eyes wandering around the vacant room. She ignored the feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach and finally spoke. "Hello? Sir?"
"Christine," the voice greeted, slightly startling her as it always did. "Are you ready to begin?"
Her muscles relaxed at the sound. "Yes. I am." She hesitated and wrung her hands. "It's that..."
"That what?" it enquired gently.
"Did you put that money into my purse?" she stuttered out, hoping he wouldn't think her insane. "I found thousands of dollars inside my billfold. I'm sorry. I wanted to make sure it wasn't a mistake."
The voice laughed. "You should learn to accept gifts, Christine. Were you not in need of funds?"
She glanced up with slight surprise. "No. I was very grateful for it. But-but why would you...? I mean, why do you want to help me?"
"I never said that I was the one to give it to you, did I?" the voice challenged. "Stop fretting and accept it as a gift from a friend. Let us begin."
"Yes, sir," Christine quickly replied, knowing that another inquiry would anger him. She didn't dare ask him about the groceries. Besides, that would have been ridiculous. Surely this-this mysterious instructor could not know her precise purchases and habits.
Placing the strange thoughts from her mind, Christine corrected her posture and followed along with the piano, immediately noticing that her voice was becoming stronger. She had spent hours practicing in the empty apartment, attempting to learn the lines and music to the level of perfection that her instructor seemed to demand. As her voice made it up to the higher notes of the piano, she couldn't help but smile a little.
"That was done very well," the voice said with satisfaction, as the last piano note faded into silence.
"Thank you," she said, looking upward. "You've helped me so much. The vocal exercises you told me to do were great!"
"I simply work with what I'm given, Christine. Now, have you learned the lines? After rehearsals have progressed past being pointless social events, you will need to observe the cast. Our lessons will have to be changed to a different time."
She nodded but bit her lip. "I have learned most of the lines. But it may be difficult to come in at different times. I go back to work again next week. Maybe-" She was quickly interrupted.
"If you want to succeed, you will have to devote a great deal of time to this. Are you still not able to pay your bills? I'm sure arrangements can be made."
That sharp edge had returned to the voice, and Christine flinched as her gaze drifted to the floor. A feeling of something akin to shame went through her. "I can pay them now. But the money won't last forever. Plus there's college tuition. I promise I'll still come here as much as I can. I'll devote all my free time to it!" For a second, she realized that she was almost begging. As the voice took on a soothing quality, though, her mind was swept away from her again.
"We will see how everything comes around," it said gently. "Remember that you will never be alone, Christine, and that most problems can be solved very easily. Whatever you need, you will likely get."
"Thank you," she whispered, her blue eyes glazing over slightly.
"Let's begin with the same song as last time."
The piano played, and she sang.
"You've been really distant these last couple of weeks."
"Mmhm."
"Christine?" Meg tilted her head and gave her friend a curious look. Behind them, the cast was preparing for another day of rehearsals. The smell of freshly cut wood drifted into the air as the scenery and props were created, and the din of people murmuring their lines to themselves or discussing plans sounded throughout the room. Someone sung out an extremely high note, causing the rest of the room to cringe and then laugh. Overall, the mood was positive, and the production was on schedule. Several of the guest actors from New York had made appearances, helping everyone else to improve in their work.
Christine had been watching some of the rehearsals for the past few weeks, learning the stage directions and cues. She still felt somewhat purposeless sitting in the background while everyone else prepared. Only the odd promises of her instructor kept her returning. At the moment, she was staring out into the empty rows of red chairs with a blank expression, only turning around as her friend repeated her name. "Christine?"
"Oh. I'm sorry, Meg. I was thinking about something." She rubbed a hand over her shadowed eyes and yawned, feeling strangely tired all of a sudden.
"You're sure you're okay? You don't talk to me that much anymore. And you always leave so early. Where do you go?"
Christine shifted awkwardly. "I'm fine, Meg. Just busy. Taking some time to myself." Her friend continued to stare at her with an unconvinced expression. She was relieved when they were both distracted by an argument on the other side of the room between Charlotte Gregory and Trevor Purcell, a senior from a nearby private college playing Magnolia's lover.
"If you don't know your lines, then why bother rehearsing it!" snapped Charlotte. "It's a waste of time."
Trevor scowled and drew back. "What is your problem? I stumbled over one word in the entire scene. The play isn't even for a couple more weeks." He shook his head and walked toward some of his friends with a look of disgust. A technical assistant muttered something obscene, and all five of them chuckled. Charlotte rolled her eyes and whirled around.
Meg shook her head. "This would be so much more fun if she wasn't here. I don't know how those two are ever going to do a love scene." She shrugged it off and held up a prop that was painted blue to look like a river. "I hope this works well enough. It got a little smeared earlier."
Christine smiled, glad Meg had forgotten their little fight. "It looks great, Meg! The set is going to be gorgeous." She then glanced down, pulling back her sweater sleeve to check her watch and wondering if it was time to go to her lesson. The voice had said to stay for rehearsals, and, except for a few of the dancers, most people were starting to pack up. Mr. Remy stood in the background, going over some final notes with his usual anxious expression. "I think I'd better get going," Christine began before being interrupted by Charlotte's angry voice. She looked up.
"Who gave me this?" Charlotte asked, looking around the room and waving a piece of paper in the air. Her enraged green eyes fell on Trevor.
"Gave you what?" he asked with annoyance.
She let out a grunt of anger and looked down to read the contents of the note aloud. "Dear Ms. Gregory. It would be in your best interest to forfeit the role of Magnolia to someone more deserving. They say the flu season is quite nasty this year. Best regards."
Everyone in the room erupted into laughter. Meg walked over and glanced at the note. "It looks like a five-year-old wrote it in red marker," she said with a grin. "My little cousin has better handwriting."
"It's still a threat!" raged Charlotte. "Now who wrote this?"
"Calm down, Ms. Gregory," said Mr. Remy from across the room. "It would be much appreciated if someone would fess up, but I don't think it's anything more than a harmless joke."
"Yeah," said Trevor. "Besides...they're threatening you with the flu? That's stupid." The others murmured in agreement, smirking at Charlotte's fit.
With an angry sigh, Charlotte snatched up her purse and stormed out of the room. Two of her friends quickly trailed behind her with calls of reassurance. Mr. Remy sighed. "I think that's enough for today. And guys? No more jokes like that. I'll have to start showing the police if we see any more threats. Understood?"
Everyone nodded and began to gather up their belongings. A general feeling of unease hung in the air, broken every once in a while by a stray joke or laugh. Christine quietly backed unnoticed out of the room, happy to see that Meg was occupied with some other girls. Darting down the familiar corridor, she walked into the lounge and shut the door.
"Hello," she calmly said as she entered. After a while, talking to the ceiling had become almost natural. The voice was simply a part of the room. She would have been more disconcerted if it hadn't replied.
"Good evening, Christine. Did you enjoy rehearsals?"
"Yes," she said, slowly lowering herself onto one of the plush blue couches and folding her hands into her lap. "Except for this girl named Charlotte, everyone seems nice." Christine laughed. "Someone sent her a threatening letter. It was a joke, but she was furious."
"We tend to get what we deserve," it replied, with what almost sounded like amusement. "Have you been practicing?"
"I practice every chance I get. Mrs. Valerius has been going through some new tests, so I've had to go visit her. And work has started again, so that takes up time." She bit her lip and hesitated. "I may not be able to come for a week or two. My boss wants me to work some overtime." Christine shifted, feeling the tension increase in the room.
"Tell him that you can't." It was an order, not a suggestion.
"What?" She swallowed. "I don't really have a choice. He hasn't been too happy with me lately, and I really need the money."
"I told you that everything would be taken care of. You must make this your first priority, Christine."
The spell over her seemed to break at that moment. "But I'm not even going to be in the show. I'm an understudy! Why is this so important?"
She waited for a response, almost swearing that she could hear an angry sigh. Then there was silence. "Hello?"
Christine was greeted with nothing except the distant echoes of voices in the corridor. Her heart began to pound in the emptiness. "Sir? I'm sorry, but I...I have to work." Christine waited, turning in a circle as if to search her companion out. "Please say something. Please."
The quiet was nearly unbearable. She found herself almost desperate to hear the voice. If she lost it, what would be left? Who would be there for her? "Hello? Please say something."
Nothing. She waited for several more minutes.
"I'm sorry," she finally whispered with a trembling lip. Hearing no reply, she picked up her purse and left the room.
Christine tapped the eraser of her pencil against the top of the front desk, looking up at the sound of drizzle against the glass window pane of the hotel. As each second ticked by on the wall clock, she seemed to feel more somber. She now noticed that it was six p.m., the time her lesson would have begun. The voice was likely waiting for her, unless it really had disappeared after that day last week.
For a moment, she puzzled over why it was just 'the voice.' Surely there had to be someone talking, and yet sometimes it seemed as though her instructor really were nothing by a voice. Somehow, it didn't matter. She wanted...no, needed to hear it. The hotel, which usually had been a place of comfort, now seemed small and confining.
"Miss?" came an irritated voice.
She looked up at an elderly female guest. "Huh? I'm sorry. Can I help you?"
"Yes. The heater is broken in our room. It's absolutely freezing in there!"
Christine nodded and attempted to focus. "I'll get someone to check it in a minute."
The lady narrowed her eyes and continued to stand there. "Well don't you want to know the room number?"
"Oh! Yeah." Christine blushed in embarrassment and quickly jotted it down. The lady walked off, muttering about irresponsible young employees. As Christine brushed the hair out of her face and attempted to get organized, she saw her boss staring at her from the lobby with disapproval.
"Everything okay?" Daniel asked, arms folded. "You've been kind of inattentive lately. Two of the guests have complained that their bills weren't correctly figured."
"Yeah. I've been busy." Her eyes inadvertently wondered to the clock, and another feeling of anxiety overtook her.
"Christine, I..." The phone spared her from any more of Daniel's criticism. "Apollo Hotel. How may I help you?" her boss asked, picking up a pen. His face twisted in irritation. "Yes. I'll get her." He handed the phone to Christine and stood back. Two new guests came up to the front desk, and he attended to them as Christine talked.
"Hello?" she asked, fearing it to be the hospital.
"Christine?" came Meg's uncertain voice.
"Meg? What's wrong?"
"I know you're at work, but I had to tell you. My mom got back from the theater this afternoon. Guess what she told me? Charlotte is really sick!"
"What?" Christine replied, louder than she meant to. "What's wrong with her?"
"They don't know! They think it might be some weird foreign disease! They're like quarantining her!" Meg sighed. "I almost feel bad for some of the things I said."
Christine paused. "She wasn't very nice, Meg. But that is terrible. What are they going to do when the show opens?" Daniel was now looking at her with a frown, and she shifted uncomfortably at the front desk.
"That's kind of the good part," replied Meg. "You're the understudy. You get to be in the show until she's well, which could take several weeks, from what I've heard."
Her heart skipped a beat. "You're right," she murmured. "I would have to fill in..."
"Christine," said Daniel from beside her. "Maybe you can finish this conversation later? It's starting to get busy."
"I'm sure you'll be ready," said Meg. "I heard you practicing once. You're really good!"
"Thanks, Meg," she replied, still in somewhat of a daze. "Anyway, I need to go now. I'll call you tonight."
"Okay!" replied her friend cheerfully. "Talk to you later."
Christine hung up and looked at the clock on the wall for the millionth time. He would still be waiting for her. And now that she was going to be on the stage, she desperately needed to talk to him. Her heart throbbed.
"Christine," said Daniel, interrupting her thoughts. "You haven't done any of the filing. Are you sure you're okay? This really isn't like you."
She shook her head. "I know. I'm fine. I'm just...the accident." What if he refused to help her anymore if she didn't come?
"Christine?"
She turned back to her manager and took a breath. "I'm sorry. I have to go right now. It's-it's an emergency." Picking up her backpack, she swung it over her shoulder and gathered up her coat. A notebook and several pencils fell to the floor, but she chose to leave them there.
"Christine!" Daniel exclaimed. "You can't walk out of here whenever you want. Now either explain this, or I'll be forced to have someone replace you." Several of the awaiting guests glanced over in curiosity. "Christine?"
She waved her hand and jogged out the double doors. "I'm sorry! I have to go." Stepping out into the rainy evening, Christine didn't notice the icy November air that nipped at her cheeks. She continued forward, toward the darkening sky and away from the confines of the brightly lit Apollo hotel.