Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait between updates, but every once in awhile the site will act a little crazy and won't let me upload any documents. If I can help it, things will be back on schedule from now on.
Putting forth admirable effort, Erik steered the conversation towards neutral subjects; his hopes were that Christine would come to open up to him tonight more than she had the night before. He poured the wine and served the meal, selecting a light piece of music to set the mood.
Settling in across from her at his small dining table, Erik asked her, "So, Christine, where are you from?"
She looked up. "You know I'm not from New York?"
Erik tilted his head to the side. "You don't have the accent. I have an ear for this sort of thing. I would say much further west from here, but you haven't a twang…not Arkansas or Texas…maybe Nevada? Or Nebraska?"
His heart thrummed as she smiled and shook her head. "No. Colorado. Or, I lived there for a long time, I was raised there, but that was years ago. It feels like I've lived in a dozen other places since then," she said.
Erik raised his visible brow. "Oh, a nomad. I've been to a number of places myself, but this has been the only place that I've been able to settle. I like it here, the city…it's me,"
Christine nodded but didn't respond the way he hoped she would. He feared another night of awkward silence, so he quickly continued, "I'm sorry if that sounded silly, but it's the truth. So, originally from Colorado, where else have you lived, if I may ask?"
Christine felt her pulse flutter; so unused to genuine kindness from men that it was almost alarming to encounter it now. If Erik had suddenly become violent, she would have been afraid for her safety, but not nearly as unnerved by his consoling, gentle demeanor. There was no reason that she should expect kindness from him. She glanced away briefly and cleared her throat. "I…well, there was Dallas, Atlanta and Tallahassee. I lived in Miami before I moved here a while ago."
Erik nodded and sipped his wine. "Oh? And what did you do there?"
He regretted the question the moment he'd spoken. Christine's entire expression changed; only a moment ago she had seemed interested, absorbed in their light discussion, but the moment he asked about Miami, her eyes darkened and her cheeks began to flame. Her mouth was instantly tense and she looked away from him. Her voice even sounded different when she answered.
"That's where I started dancing." She said flatly.
Inwardly, Christine was trying to stamp down the memories of her time there, and the horrors that had lead her to the stripper stage. It was difficult. The whole of her life had just become so out of control and so dominated by the roaring demands of an audience of men that for a moment she thought she might be ill. It came over her in a rush; the leers from the audience, the groping, grabbing hands on her body, the sickening propositions offered in the back room…
Erik quickly departed towards another subject, and luckily, it was one he knew quite well. "Do you like music, Christine?"
"What? Oh, yes, well doesn't everyone?"
Erik smiled at that. "Only those without souls have no appreciation for music- namely, the man who does my taxes. Claims he prefers to listen to talk radio, can you believe that?"
Christine shook off the darker thoughts that had momentarily descended down on her. Erik's face, the visible side, at least, simply appeared thankful to have someone to talk to. Her sharp eyes roamed the planes and contours of his expression. His bright eyes were framed with slight crow's feet that she felt added character; his dark hair was brushed with a few threads of silver at the temples. She liked that. The man's tense mouth seemed a little more relaxed tonight, smiling lightly, waiting for her response.
Christine felt more of the knots in her stomach unwind, slowly but surely. "I love music, all kinds really, I don't have a favorite song or group or anything like that. I've always felt that you can't say one piece of music is better than another. How could you compare Mozart to Moby? They're just too different."
Erik nodded, feeling his affection for her grow. "I couldn't agree more. I think now more than ever it's important for one to have eclectic tastes, especially when it comes to music,"
Christine raised a brow at him. "You would say that, music is what pays your bills!"
He suddenly realized that she was teasing him a little; that she felt comfortable enough to let her guard down was akin to a breakthrough. "Oh, now I wouldn't put it that way- I love what I do. Music is paramount to me, but more than just a meal ticket, it makes up a large part of my social life as well. I often attend operas and symphonies that are not my productions, I'm just so…moved by it all."
Erik thought he might have revealed a bit too much in that last, if Christine's expression was anything to go by. "I'm sorry, that sounded strange. I just meant to say that music is mostly everything to me. It's my life, not just my job."
The girl nodded, "No, I'm sorry, I know that's what you meant. I feel like that sometimes too. Or, I used to. I don't go to the opera, but I've been to a production once. It's been ten years but I can still remember it."
"Which production?"
"Carmen. It was wonderful,"
He nodded, "I'm sure it was. I believe everyone remembers their first. My first production was something called Il Muto. It was silly, overacted, more a comedy routine than any real music, but the public enjoyed it. And that's the only part of the business that I don't like, catering to the public. I prefer to do things my way,"
Christine nodded and sipped her wine, listening to the strings of the harp on CD, coupled with a flute and piano. "As all we artists do," she said.
Erik issued a small, accomplished sigh, feeling very good and somewhat triumphant.
"I've had it with these fuckin' pigs! If I have one more old man grab on my tits, I'll take his cane and shove it right up his ass!" Cinnamon screeched as she stomped into the backstage dressing room for her break. Diamond glanced up in the mirror to watch her yank open the area refrigerator and take out a cold bottle of water. Cinnamon gulped down half the contents and groaned at the instant pain of brainfreeze.
Tawny turned to look at her, "Is it that bad out tonight?" she asked as she adjucted the straps to her thong.
Cinnamon glared, "Yes, and I'll tell you right now, I'll break off the next hand that comes anywhere near me. Who the hell do they think they are, just grabbing at you like a piece of fuckin' meat?!" She demanded as she started washing her face, roughly scrubbing the skin.
Diamond didn't pay much attention to all that was going on. Cinnamon was ranting, as usual, while Tawny, a mousy girl with a voluptuous build asked questions. There were several other girls around, all of them getting ready for the stage, just as she was. Diamond lined her lips heavily, and brushed on yet another coat of mascara. Her determination was to obscure Christine's features completely; that girl didn't belong in the club.
She didn't listen to Cinnamon's rant about the audience, it was nothing that she hadn't dealt with before. She loathed the nights on stage with an unrivaled passion, but lately she found herself willing for the nights to be over not so that she could collapse into oblivion at home, but so that she could go see Erik.
Things had been good between them so far and though she was hard pressed to admit it, Erik had managed to charm her a little. He'd coaxed her into conversation and shared parts of his life with her; from stories of his travels to the more mundane events of his day at work, where he was always chasing after one task or another. The man was interesting and gentle, intelligent; these were traits that she had forgotten could be found in men.
But as wonderful as Erik was, he was powerless to make her forget what she was to him: hired company for the evening. They might share a night of light conversation and have a meal with a glass of wine or two, but Erik always paid her handsomely at the end. It wasn't really discussed; he would only make a quick phone call before walking her down to the lobby and giving her the 'cab fare'.
Yes, Erik was not demanding sex from her in any way. He'd yet to even hug her or lightly touch anything other than her hand, her shoulder, and on one occasion, the small of her back. But he was a man, and no matter how he disguised himself, she knew that sooner or later, he would come to expect something in return for all of his kindness and generosity.
His money had been a great help. The crack in her wall was finally repaired and Christine had splurged on a new pair of everyday walking shoes, but that was as far as she was willing to go towards herself. Most of Erik's money had gone into the cookie jar with all the rest from her dancing.
Still, even though she was essentially being paid to spend time with him, a part of her longed to simply enjoy their time together for what it was. They often laughed together, or rather, she would laugh while Erik would smile and flash eyes at her. Only lately had they come into more serious discussion but more often than not they spoke of music.
"Everything is going on schedule, our next production should open within the next few weeks," he'd mentioned just the day before. He'd shown her pictures, sketches of the set designs used for the opening acts, and a few pages of the script. It had been slightly painful to her, to be reminded of what she could never achieve, but Erik knew nothing of that. He hadn't known her smile was yet another mask for the storm building within her.
"Thank you for sharing this with me," she'd said, forcing her true emotions into a lead ball in the pit of her stomach. Still, when she'd gained control of herself, shad hadn't known why there had been a strange flutter in her chest when Erik had shined his bright eyes on her.
"My pleasure, Christine…"
Diamond snapped her compact shut and shook away thoughts of Erik. One glance at the clock said that she wouldn't see him until at least another hour anyway. She'd already been on stage that night, but as usual she had the closing shift and wouldn't be leaving until very late.
Cinnamon sighed heavily, trying to calm herself down as she took her seat at the dressing counter. The older woman stared at her reflection for several long moments, and then she turned to Diamond. "I was going to be a doctor. What the hell happened to me?"
Diamond didn't know what to say, it was such a loaded question and so out of character for a woman like Cinnamon to ask. She had always been harsh and direct, this sudden vulnerability was alarming.
The other woman shook her head and looked down to her counter. A paper was there and as she looked at what it said, her hard edge returned tenfold. "Oh, that's just fuckin' perfect, the manager wants a word. I swear to God, if she starts bitchin' to me about what I said to those old guys I'll quit tonight!"
Cinnamon stormed out of the dressing area and slammed the door behind her, leaving several stunned dancers in her wake.
She would be there soon.
Erik glanced up to the clock mounted on the wall above his fireplace and tapped his foot in agitation. Christine wasn't due for a while, but he was still anxious to see her. Taking a look around his apartment, Erik thought that some definite changes were needed in his life, changes stemming from his involvement with the girl.
Their routine had been established within time they had together. Erik would prepare a meal and answer the door to her. She would be shivering, shaking from the biting cold outside and he'd step aside to let her in. For her, he always had a fire going and he'd let her warm up. Erik hated that she apparently had nothing warmer to wear than that faded, well-loved sweatshirt.
Well, that would be addressed tonight.
Rather than wine to go with their dinner, Erik chose a cognac. He didn't think it would be too strong for her, but she was smaller and lighter than him, there was no telling how hard the alcohol might hit her. Wine never seemed to impair her in any way, but if she became tipsy at all, Erik would insist that she stay overnight. Force her, if he had to, but there was no way that he would let her leave him with her senses dulled.
Erik settled into the sofa and let his gaze roam over the view from what he'd come to call his "window wall", which afforded his eyes the scope of Central Park. He absently wondered if Christine might ever agree to see him at a different time of the day, to walk the park with him.
This was how he'd often spent evenings alone; resting beside a warm fire and looking out over his city. Staring out the window wall often gave him inspiration and he was sometimes taken with the thought that he owned all before him, that the city truly was his and he was a king awaiting the arrival of his favorite courtesan.
But it was wrong to think of Christine in that way. He paid her, yes, but his flow of income was his way of encouraging her to get away from the club. At first, he'd paid her for the time spent with him in his home, bestowing upon her gratitude richly deserved. Now, however, Erik paid her, essentially, with the hopes that she would come to depend upon him fully.
Chauvinistic, misogynistic, caveman- in whatever terms described, Erik didn't care how others might disdain his secret want. He wanted Christine to stop stripping, he wanted her safe, he wanted her warm, and he wanted her to himself. He wanted her with him, available to him whenever he wanted a kind word or some conversation. Erik didn't see anything wrong with his want for Christine to become a fixture in his life, but for all of his other various accomplishments, he lacked the courage to come to her directly.
Above all else, he feared her rejection; Erik couldn't bear the thought that Christine might see him as one of the men that frequented Mama V's. He didn't want to proposition her; he wanted to offer her the place of being the one woman in his life.
That was different, wasn't it?
Erik sighed and looked down into his glass. He didn't know whether to think of it as half-empty or half-full. The doorbell rang and he set the glass down as he rose up to answer it. It was not Christine on the other side of the door.
It was Diamond.
Startled into speechlessness, Erik's jaw worked but no sound could be heard. The girl didn't seem to notice, she continued on as if nothing were different. She could not see her own face, and thus was unaware that her eyes were still ringed in dark shadow, that her cheeks were stark streaks of color, and her lips so red it appeared a great gash had been sliced across her face.
The girl smiled at him, a hideous sight, before she stepped into the apartment and went over to the fire to still her shivering and warm herself. Erik swallowed heavily and felt his stomach twist painfully at the sight of her. Where was Christine?
He felt confused and disgusted. 'Did you really let yourself forget what does before coming to you?'
It took him a moment before he realized that she was speaking to him. "…always so cold out, but it won't be forever…"
Erik blinked and cleared his throat. His mind was taunting him with the remembered sight of Diamond giving private dances, her face blurring for a moment, shifting in his mind's eye so that it was his Christine giving the sickening performance...
Ice flowed through his veins, his own resentful anger spoke for him before he could stop the words. "Wash your face," he bit out; he did not say her name. "Don't ever presume to come to me looking like this again,"
He hadn't recognized his own words, who was it that had spoken? The girl looked positively wounded at his command, but she wasted no time in disappearing into the bathroom. Moments later, he could hear the water running in the sink.
Erik put a hand to his forehead and then sighed. He went into the kitchen and stirred the bisque on the stove, his hand shaking slightly. He wasn't what most would call approachable or even friendly, but he had never been intentionally cruel. His entire life had been handicapped because of the way he looked, but through endless perseverance, he had nearly everything he'd ever wanted. All but a woman.
He'd taken bodies before, but no woman had ever taken his heart. He supposed that Christine Daae was the first to have such a hold over him, and yet he was powerless to explain himself to her. Erik sighed and bowed his head. He should not have been so demanding of her just then. He'd sounded brutal, as if he had the right to direct any part of her life.
There was no reason that he should think of himself as being above her, but Erik had only wanted to see the real Christine, not the dancing Diamond. He wanted all traces of the club gone from the girl; he knew what she did at the club, he didn't need a reminder thrown in his face. All of a sudden, Erik felt as if his home were somehow tainted, that Christine, in bringing Diamond with her, had infected the space with a disease of cheap, purchased sex.
He shook his head, muttering "Idiot," to himself over and over.
Christine watched as the last traces of her makeup went down the sink drain in a swirl of dark blue, garish pink and red. What had she been thinking, to come from the club to Erik's apartment with all of that trash on her face? She supposed that that had been the problem- she hadn't been thinking at all. She'd forgotten to wash it off at the club in her haste to come over and be with him. Stupid girl.
She stared at her reflection for a few moments and fought down the hard lump gathering in her throat. Erik had taken one look at her and demanded that she wash her face. Christine knew why. In all the time they had spent together, he had never brought up anything about the club or how she had come to be there. She wasn't a fool, she knew Erik cared for her and had most likely tried to block what she did out of his mind. This was a man and as a rule most men were possessive, be it over money, objects or people. He might like to think that she was for him alone, but how could he have possibly believed that?
Christine belonged to no one- not the paying clients of the club, and certainly not to a man like Erik.
She took a deep breath and gingerly touched the side of hr face. Delicate cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips, large eyes. Erik couldn't bear the evidence of what she did before coming to him. In a strange way, Christine felt guilty, as if she were a woman leading a double life, a wife who had been caught deceiving her husband.
The thought was ridiculous, but all the same Christine felt that she'd brought something unclean into Erik's majestic life. Why did he want her there with him? Didn't he know that she wasn't special, wasn't worth his notice, let alone his kindness?
Christine dried her face and left the bathroom to find Erik serving the dinner table. He glanced up at her and then pulled a chair out for her. She moved forward and took the seat, uttering a quiet "thank you" to him, though she kept her head down and her eyes averted.
The meal was quiet, neither of them could think of much to say. The incident had caused a rift between them, the night ruined by Christine's carelessness and Erik's apparent revulsion. She ate in silence, sipping the cognac even though she didn't care much for the taste. What did it matter? It was all ashes to her.
A few curt words, a few gestures and averted glances, it seemed that they were back to the tension of their first meeting.
Two steps backward for every step forward…
The elevator was thankfully quick and as they waited for the taxi to arrive in the lobby, Erik wondered how he could repair the damage done by his cruel words. Christine was staring out at the street through the front doors, shut off from him. He knew that he'd hurt her, knew he'd insulted her terribly.
But what could he do?
The white lights of the taxi arced over them and as one, they moved forward out of the lobby and onto the street. It was the moment that Erik hated the most, paying her for her time. It…cheapened everything between them, breaking the illusion he'd built that Christine might actually wish to be with him of her own will.
Tonight especially only magnified their situation.
Erik reached for her hand and drew her in close to him. He leaned down, almost as if to kiss her, but he brought his mouth close to her ear. "I'm sorry for being cruel tonight," he whispered. "It is not my place to speak to you in such a way, no matter the circumstances. I hope that you will still see me, and in time come to forgive me,"
It was formal, as far as apologies went, but very sincere.
Christine drew back from him and nodded, gracing him with a soft smile. She withdrew her hand from him and slipped the money into her pocket, out of sight and out of mind. She didn't want that now.
He stepped back as well; they both missed the warmth of the other, though Erik was not as troubled as Christine. Her slim frame shivered slightly as a biting wind swept through the street and over her body.
Erik lifted the visible side of his mouth, slightly crinkling his eye by way of a small, quick smile. "You should let me buy you a proper coat," he said as he put a hand over the soft curve of her shoulder. He could feel her shiver beneath his hand.
Christine said nothing in reply, but she smiled again and then got into the cab. Erik watched as it pulled away from the curb and turned a corner, vanishing from sight.