After a phone call and a small fortune, I make my way back inside the club. Now I just have to wait. I find a seat at the end of the bar and strike up a conversation with the bartender, Trevor.
"Can I get you another one of those beers, Mr. Destler?" He efficiently pulls caps off of a pair of bottles and hands them over the bar top.
"Erik...and yes, whenever you get a free moment." He shakes up a martini while scampering off to grab my bottle. "Thanks. Do you know if Ms. Daae has a favorite wine?"
"Christine?" His lips pinch as he thinks. "Not wine. Champagne." He rattles off a brand while he pulls a beer from the tap.
"Very good. Can you put a bottle in to chill when you get a chance?"
"Yes, sir." Champagne won't exactly go with the meal I've planned but we'll make do. I focus back on her show but my seat makes it a bit difficult to see, so I close my eyes and listen. After several numbers she calls me back to sing with her.
I am enjoying the show...but I desperately want it to be over.
I want to get to know her all over again.
I want to convince her to let me teach her.
And I most definitely want to kiss her again.
A group vacates their table and I jump on the chance to take it. I settle in and watch the rest of the show more comfortably, my chin resting on my fist. It's easy to get swept away and I sit frozen, hanging on every note. Her voice truly is one of a kind.
The pianist begins the intro to a power ballad and I can only assume this will be the final number. I finish off my beer and sit up straighter. She stands near the piano and performs flawlessly. After a short bow and a few kisses blown she takes leave of the stage. I continue to sit and wait for the rush of people paying off their tabs and signing credit card slips.
A few of the staff members start clearing and cleaning the tables and picking up empties. I take mine over to the bar and wait until the crowd has cleared.
I pass over my own credit card and while the transaction runs Trevor wraps the bottle of champagne. I thank him and leave some cash on the bar. I make my way toward the steps that lead to her dressing room.
"Come in!" I hear after I knock. I set the bottle down in the corner of het tattered couch that sits against the wall. She had already changed into a sleeveless shirt, shorts and sandals. "Hi." A warm smile brightens her face. She was wiping the excess make-up from her face. I'd never cared for all that stage make-up. "Is this ok to wear?"
"Yes, absolutely. You can wear whatever you like. It'll just be us."
"Hmmm all alone, huh? You're not going to murder me and wear me for a skin suit or something, right?" Laughter dances in her eyes.
I feign consideration, then shake my head. "No, I need you." I feel my cheeks flush. "Uh, I mean, for my, uh, show." I sputter.
"Oh yes...your show." She stands and tosses the wipe she'd been using to clean her face into the small trash can next to her vanity. "Are you sure? I could run up and change." I shake my head. "OK well then I guess I am ready." She pulls out a small hand bag from the drawer in the vanity. I grab the bottle and follow her up the steps. We exit the building and I direct her toward my penthouse.
I offer my arm, which she takes.
"Oh the breeze feels nice." She closes her eyes and leans her head back. "And it's so much quieter this time of the night."
"And less crowded. You don't have to fight for a space to walk in."
"Right?" I feel her fingers curl around my bicep, which naturally cause me to tighten it. As if to disprove us a taxi horn blares at the intersection and I laugh.
We cross the intersection and I compliment her performance.
"You really think I would be right for your show?" She glances up at me.
"Yes. I'd be happy to give you some pointers before your audition if you like."
"Oh really? Like some insider information?" Her subtle wink makes me chuckle.
"Absolutely. I'd even let you see...the score." I grin. She leans into my arm, laughing.
"So where are we going? And do they have food?"
"Just another block or so. Don't worry I won't allow you to starve."
"Ah that's right. You need me." I narrow my eyes at her, smiling. There is no doorman at this hour so I lead her to the elevator. We ascend to the rooftop where hopefully everything is set.
When the doors open there is a small table covered with a white tablecloth. A single tapered candle burns in the center. I pull out a chair for her and get her settled. I unwrap the bottle and pour her a glass of champagne.
"Oh my favorite. How'd you know?"
With a pull the cork out and pour her a glass, and myself. There is a covered silver dish to the far side of the table. With a flourish, I pull the lid off. She snorts and begins laughing at the pizza that is underneath.
I shrug, smiling. "This was the best I could do on short notice at such a time of night."
"You are very sweet." I serve her a slice and also take one for myself. "Mmmmmm." She moans, eyes fluttering shut.
We chat about her family as we eat. I discover her mother passed shortly after her birth and her father is still alive, but living in France.
"Why did he leave you here alone?"
"He doesn't really care for New York. He says it moves too fast for him. I don't think he'll stay away long though. He must be lonely over there all by himself." She finishes off her slice and takes a sip of the champagne.
"He wouldn't miss opening night with you starring in a show off Broadway would he?" I ask.
"I've never thought to ask. But, no, I don't imagine he would. He even visited for our opening at the club." We split the last slice and the horizon is just beginning to turn rosy.
"It's nearly dawn. Would you care to watch the sunrise?"
"Wow I can't believe it's that late already. That sounds lovely though."
I refill our glasses and pull her from her chair. I carry the chairs over to the east facing corner and she follows with our drinks. Already the pink of the sunrise is melting away the indigo of the night and from this height I can see the reflection on the river. Ignoring the chairs I lean against the security railing that runs around the roof's perimeter.
"I don't come up here enough."
"When's the last time you watched the sun rise?" She asks softly from beside me, staring up at me. Her face glows from the brightening sky.
"Never. I've never watched one." I thought on it and I really never had intentionally watched a sunrise in either of my lives. I avoided most daylight in my former life and during this life I never bothered. Old habits and all that.
Christine steps forward taking my arm again.
"Have you?" I gaze down at her.
"I'm not sure. One would think so but I can't recall any specific time." Her head turns back toward the sky. "It's so beautiful."
"Yes." I say as I continue to stare at her. "Beautiful." I subtly look away when she catches me, but I don't miss her faint smile.
We stand there, watching until the sun shines bright.
"Shall we?" I gesture back toward the table.
"Oh is there more?" She asks, stifling a yawn as I lead her.
"No, not really. You're tired." I set the dinner plates on top of the tray and cover everything with the lid.
"I'm not very tired." She leans down to grab her bag and I pick up the bottle.
"OK, good. I thought you'd want to see my Don Juan." I begin walking toward the elevator.
After a few moments of silence I glance over at her giving me a strange look, biting her bottom lip.
"Oh hmmm...is that what you call him?" She is fighting a grin and following behind me.
I shake me head in confusion. "Call who...oh." As realization hits me I let out a loud guffaw. "No, no." I push the elevator button and it springs open. Once she is inside I punch my code in and we descend one floor.
When the doors open and I turn the lights on, I hear her gasp. I turn to make sure she's ok.
"Is this your apartment?" Her eyes dart around.
"Yes. I'm sorry...nothing untoward, I promise. Come in, please."
She hesitates on the tile of the hallway.
"Do I...do I take my shoes off?"
"What? No...I mean if you want to, sure." I walk into the living room and open up my piano bench. She comes up behind me as I pull out my leather bound portfolio containing the original copies of my compositions, scenery sketches, costume designs.
"Is that me?" I have a rough sketch of Aminta from Past the Point of No Return. It was in fact her.
"I sure hope so." Finally I find the copy of the song and pull it from the pile. I hand it over to her.
"Wow, Erik."
"Would you like to hear it?" Her eyes are still moving across the pages.
"Yes I would love to hear it." As I settle down at the piano, she shakes her head a bit. "What it would be like to be in your brain for a day."
"That would be ill advised, my dear. Would you try singing it?"
With a uncertain grimace, she shrugs. "Sure, if you like."
"I'm not expecting perfection, it just sounds better with a soprano." She nods, nervously staring down at the notes. I begin, as Don Juan has the first section of the song. Her eyes flutter shut, dark lashes against her porcelain skin. My rich baritone fills the room as her breathing speeds up. The break in the phrase causes her eyes to open slowly again. As her notes approach she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.
"You have brought me..." she begins hesitantly. Her voice is shaky but so pure. I play along, watching her intently. Her chest still heaves slightly. As she finishes her solo section she stares at me wide-eyed. Is she remembering? Is she scandalized by the lyrics? I do not know. I stand from the piano bench and stalk over to her as I did on the flaming bridge on that fateful night.
"Past the point of no return." Her voice joins in with mine I move to stand behind her. I mimic my movements from the stage. My hand settling on her hip and sliding up her body. The song begins coming to it's end. Then in a moment of morbid curiosity I do it again. I sing their song softly in her ear.
"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime." Her face turns sharply towards mine and suddenly I feel her weight against me, her eyes rolled back into her head. I hold her up, blinking slowly in surprise. "Christine?" I whisper loudly. Her breathing has settled, but she is still breathing. My arm goes around her shoulders and the other behind her knees as I carry her to my bed.
I stare down at her after I laid her on the bed. I have no idea what to make of this. I pull the comforter over her and remove my shoes, jacket and dress shirt. I settle down next to her, not touching her in case she should wake up confused, but I want to keep an eye on her. She is lying facing me and a few of her curls have fallen over her brow. With the gentlest of hands I move them aside and I cannot help myself. I lightly brush my knuckles again her cheek then down her jaw. My thumb lightly traces her bottom lip.
I draw my hand back and just lay next to her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Erik...?"
I lift my head and hand to right my mask. Just skin, not gnarled skin. Oh right. Christine! I jerk my head over. Her eyes are still lightly closed, but her lips are trembling and her breathing once again is erratic.
"Erik!" She calls out my name, clearly caught in some sort of dream. Her features distort as if she is in some sort of pain. I reach over and run my hand down the length of her arm.
"Erik..." She whimpers and trembles. I squeeze her hand, unsure what to do. I'm not sure if waking her would be a good idea or not. Her hand trembles as well.
I recall a lullaby she used to sing when she visited the chapel at the Opera. I sing it softly to her, leaning in closely. After a few moments her breathing becomes normal again and her face relaxes. I check the clock on the nightstand, pull the blanket back over her and gently ease off the bed.
After making use of the bathroom I go to my kitchen and fill up a glass of water. I pick a couple pieces of fruit from my basket and make my way back to the bedroom. Pulling back the covers I slide back in beside her.
Apparently I fell back to sleep because I was woken by the feel of a small hand stroking my face My body flinched in reaction to it being the ruined side. My eyes flew open and met hers. She was smiling, not horrified. I smile back.
"Good morning." I say softly.
"Afternoon," she laughs.
"Is it?" I would lean up and check but I don't want her to remove her fingers from my face.
"Mmmhmm." she murmurs. Her fingers slide from my cheek then. I lean over, my face hovering above hers. Her gaze lowers to my lips and I dip down to press them against hers. I feel her fingers push into my hair as her lips part for my tongue. I kiss her briefly, my hand cradling her face. Then I pull back from her a bit. "So what happened here? Was I formally introduced to Don Juan and I don't remember?"
I glare at her, smiling. "Trust me, my dear, that is not something you would soon forget. You fainted after we sang and I brought you here to rest."
"Fainted? That's strange."
"I agree. How are you feeling now?"
She shrugs, "I feel fine."
"Good. Can I take you to breakfast? Well I guess lunch now."
"That would be great, but can I stop and change first?" She pushed the covers off of her and made a move to get out of the bed.
"Whatever you want. There is water and some fruit if you need something hold you over. And the bathroom is straight through there." I gesture toward the door.
"Thank you, Erik." I nod and slide off the bed to get something to change into. "I knew you slept in a suit."
I chuckle. "Not quite." She laughs eyeing my wrinkled dress pants then sips at her water. I hear the bathroom door shut then a moment later a shriek. I drop the hung trousers I was holding and run to the door. "What's wrong? Christine?"
"This tub looks amazing!" I raise an eyebrow at the door.
"It is. Feel free to use it and let me know if you need someone to wash your back." I hear her laughing and I retrieve my pants from the floor then choose a dress shirt. I grab a fresh undershirt and boxers and head to the second bath.
By the time I finish showering and shaving Christine is sitting on the couch admiring a framed photo of my parents and I. Her damp hair is a shade darker, and her cheeks flushed.
"Are these your parents?" She asks, smiling. I nod, smiling faintly at the photo. It was taken just before my first birthday. While most children don't have their first memory until about the age of five I can remember everything from day one. That was a very happy day. The photo shoot seemed to go on for hours but afterward I had my first taste of ice cream. It is a cherished memory for me. "You and your father are twins. And look how beautiful your mother's hair is. You were a chubby little guy huh?"
I laugh, nodding, and placing the photo back on it's shelf. "All true. Are you ready then?"
"Yes sir!" She slips her sandals on and grabs her handbag. We descend to the lobby and the doorman greets us with raised eyebrows.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Destler, Miss." I nod, and Christine greets him back.
"So, where to?" I ask, my lips curling up as she takes my arm.
"Oh I have an efficiency above the club." We head back in that direction.
"What time is your show tonight?" I ask smiling down at her.
"Not till ten and there is only one on Sundays. And Mondays and Tuesdays." Her fingers trail down my arm and wrap around mine.
"And is there a theme this evening?"
"Not really. We do requests but it is usually much less busy than Fridays and Saturdays." She talks more about the rest of the week's themes.
"What do they do on Wednesday when you aren't there?"
"Karaoke."
"Ah I see."
She laughs. "I usually end up going to watch anyways." We are quickly approaching the club.
"Well I hope this week you'll allow me to take you out after your audition and skip Karaoke." I ask as she digs through her bag looking for her key.
"I don't know. That might be a tough sell." She winks as she unlocks the door a few feet down from the club's entrance. I follow her up the three flights of steps to the second door. She leaves the door open and walks inside.
I step in behind her checking out the quality of the door. I shut it and turn around. I expected it to be small but this doesn't quite seem livable. There is a bathroom just inside the door. I believe my closet is twice the size. A two burner stove and mini fridge take up the bulk of the kitchen area. There are a couple privacy partitions dividing where the bed is from the living area. There is a subtle smell of coconut permeating throughout the room. A metal rack serves as a closet and she pulls something from it. I see her climb over the bed and pull open the drawers of a tall, thin dresser. I avert my eyes and take a seat on the couch.
"Need any help?" I ask jokingly. I hear her laugh then a moment later she appears. She chose a low cut yellow dress with a short sleeved blue cardigan. After another couple minutes in the bathroom she comes out and sits on the arm of the couch. "Where would you like to go?" I ask as my fingers running against the ends of her curls.
"I think I have just the place. It's just around the corner."
"Lead the way then."
Once we are outside again she resumes her hold on my hands and I could not be happier. I do wonder if she would have held her Phantom's hand so publicly. My mind refuses to stay in the now.
She had come back for me though, so that was something.
"Oh good, it doesn't look too crowded." She pulls me toward a small French bistro. "Should we sit outside? It's so beautiful out today."
"Yes, that sounds lovely." We are seated almost immediately on the nearly empty patio and given water and menus. Christine just sets her menu aside. "Already decided?" I ask as I peruse the menu.
"Yes, I always get the same thing here."
"Ah, I will trust your decision then." I shut the menu and set it upon hers. I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket.
"Who or what is a Fop?" She asks as I send the call to voicemail.
"A fop is a man who is overly concerned with fashion and appearance."
"Oh. I don't know anyone like that." Her eyes take in my immaculate appearance then the fact that I am sitting here in a tailored suit in the dog days of summer. She holds back laughter and pats my hand.
"It's more of a nickname." I say, flushing. I suppose you could say I had become a bit of one myself. I run my finger down the side of my water glass through the condensation.
The waiter arrived then to take our orders. Christine ordered first.
"I'll have the same as the lady."
"Very good." He takes our menus and scampers off.
"So, what will you sing for me?" I ask pulling my chair in tighter.
She names a popular, overdone audition piece. I purse my lips at her choice.
"No good? With only a few days to prepare I wanted something I am familiar with."
"Sound logic. I just hope all the sopranos don't pick the same song. We'll find you something more diverse for your call back. And I did mean what I said about giving you some pointers. If you've any free time the next couple days."
"I'm glad you have such confidence in me. I'm not sure I do. And of course I would welcome any help from you. I'd be stupid not to."
"You should have more confidence. Your pitch is near perfect. Beautiful tone. You just need some minor coaching and your voice will be perfect. And I mean you no offense, just my honest opinion."
"How could I take offense to that?" she laughs.
"We usually wrap up around four or four thirty. What time do you need to be back to the club by?"
"If I am singing I try to be there by around eight to do some warm-ups but Monday is not a singing show. So I could come a little later."
"That would give us a few hours at least. Shall I pick you up or practice there at the club?"
"Oh pick me up." I smile as the waiter delivers our meal
"Ah here we are."
I spear a piece of melon from my side of fruit salad and hear her moan as she takes her first bite.
"That good, eh?" She nods her head, slowly chewing, savoring. "I daresay this reminds you of home?" I cut into my own Croque Monsiuer.
"It does. My father used to make them every Saturday for lunch. These are almost as good." She cuts off another piece and I hear another faint moan. The sandwich is quite good and fruit is sweet.
"You must miss him. Your father."
She nods. "I do, but we speak often. He almost has video calls down, so that's nice too. You know, to be able to see that he is doing well." She pauses while she takes another bite, thankfully no moan this time. "What about your family Erik?"
"My father passed away when I was about eleven. My mother lives nearby, but I've sent her away on a long cruise while doing all these auditions. I didn't want her to feel like I was neglecting her." I finish off my fruit and cut into the sandwich again.
"I'm sorry." I nod in thanks. "Sometimes I think I'm lucky in that I don't remember my mother at all."
I consider this and shake my head. "No, I'm glad to have had the time I did with him. I'm sorry you didn't get that chance with your mother." I squeeze her hand.
The waiter comes to clear our plates and ask if want any dessert. Christine shakes her head.
"No, just the check, please." I feel the buzzing in my pocket again. Raoul again. "I'm sorry I should probably take this. The theatre manager." I pull my credit card from my wallet and walk over to an empty section of the patio.
I clear my throat.
"Yes?"
"Erik? Hey what's up buddy?"
"Nothing. What can I do for you?"
"Oh just seeing if you wanted to hit up your gym again?"
I glance at my watch. "I would love to hit you in the face again, thanks for asking. I can later this evening if that's agreeable?"
I hear him chuckle. "Sure whenever is fine with me." I agree to meet him in a few hours and head back to our table.
"I'm sorry. Nothing important after all." I glance down and see my credit card still laying on the table. "Didn't he bring the check back yet?"
"Yes. I got it."
"Why? You shouldn't have done that."
"Well you pulled last night together so well. So why not?"
"I wanted to take you to lunch. I asked you so I should pay."
"It's no big deal, Erik. Just lunch."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Don't forget to put your card away." I do just that. The waiter returns with her boxed up leftovers and we leave the bistro. I get more depressed every step closer to the club we get. I never want this day to end. "So the theatre manager is the fop?"
"Yes," I smile sheepishly.
"Well I can't wait to meet him. He must be something else."
Oh. Yeah I hadn't considered that she would be meeting the boy. That thought made my blood run cold. My smile falters. I feel her tighten her fingers on mine.
"What's wrong?"
"Just sad the day is over."
"So am I. It was lovely though. Best first date ever. Thank you for everything, Erik."
"No need to thank me, my dear. It was my pleasure." I follow her up the flights of steps once more so I can say goodbye properly. She pushes her door open and I follow her inside. I hand her the bag from the restaurant. "I've been thinking about kissing you for hours."
She sets the bag on the small section of kitchen counter.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" I slide my fingers in her curls, wrapping my hand around the nape of her neck. My thumb caresses the soft skin of her neck. I can feel her pulse race. The tip of her tongue sneaks out, wetting her lips. I lean down place a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth, then along her jaw, down her throat, My lips replace my thumb. kissing the sensitive skin of her neck. When my lips find hers again, they are open and waiting. When my tongue delves inside I hear her moan again. My hands slide down her back pulling her close against me. Her arms go around my neck and I lift her so her legs can wrap around my waist.
That was a mistake. I feel myself harden and thicken at once. I bury my face in her neck.
"I have to stop." I kiss her neck once more and set her down on the floor. My fingers caress her cheek. "I can't wait to see you again tomorrow, my dear." I feel her teeth nip my chin then her lips kiss my cheek.
"Me too." She whispers in my ear then wraps her arms around me. I rest my head against the top of hers.
"You are making it difficult to leave."
"Because I don't want you to." I imagine I'm grinning like an idiot now.
"If we keep up like this we'll be sick of each other by the end of the week. Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
"You're right, of course."
"As I usually am," I say, winking.
"Ah well there we go, the spell is broken. Be gone." she laughs. I kiss her cheek and her fingers and take my leave.