It had been a fairly lean night at Mama V's, the day after Erik had expressed his wish that Christine never wear her stage makeup to his home again. He had been clear on that demand, leaving Christine to wonder with a great amount of trepidation what other demands he might have in mind to impress upon her.
She strode into the back dressing room, finishing her shift, just as Summer and Crystal were about to end the night with their last dances. Diamond's hard exterior faded instantly from her mind once she was free from the audience, leaving Christine to change out of the painfully tight silver sequined ensemble of thong and miniscule bra. She was tired but her night was far from over.
There was still Erik, and her stomach gave a low growl of anticipation for his culinary skill- his meals were more or less the only meals she ate anymore, as if by ingesting his food she was somehow taking a piece of his life with her, a life of wealth and elegance; above all, a life of freedom.
Every night, the freedom tasted more wonderful than it had the night before, but always entirely out of reach.
"You skipped dinner again, didn't you?"
Christine sank into her chair before the counter and quirked an eyebrow at Tawny in the mirror's reflection. "How could you tell?"
"I'm not deaf. I could hear your stomach from across the room. You need to stop starving yourself, it's not good for you,"
At that comment, Christine couldn't help but laugh. "Not good for me? Then what do you call this?" She asked, waving her arm to encompass the club around them. "We have strangers grabbing at us all night long, this isn't a health spa. If I starve that's probably the best thing I could do for my body right now!"
Tawny frowned and ignored Christine's bizarre outburst. "Just promise me you'll grab a bite when you get home, all right? You're too skinny,"
Christine ignored her and smeared the cleansing cream over her face to remove the makeup that Erik so reviled.
She will be here soon…
Erik realized that he'd been pacing for the past several minutes, treading back and forth in front of his window wall, wringing his hands together like a nervous boy. What a fool! He knew that he was acting like an idiot- in fact he'd acted like an idiot from the moment Christine had crossed his doorstep with her lovely face covered in that detestable whore paint.
He knew he'd behaved terribly towards her, his voice had been domineering and bordering on cruel. What right did he have to speak to her in such a way? They had been making such headway together- Erik had not learned the depths of her soul or even what she enjoyed doing in her off time. So far, the girl had been a closed book about her life outside of the general small talk, what authors, music and movies she liked, etc., etc…
He wanted more, always more.
'I want everything, and here I am wanting a poor slip of a troubled girl…I wish that I had more courage. If Christine were one of my usual society women, of a more presentable age and circle, things would be different- but I don't want a usual society woman…'
Damage had been caused, tonight it would be repaired and they could move forward together, one step at a time.
The doorbell rang. She was there.
Erik opened the door and smiled to see that her face was bare and beautiful, the way he hoped she would have it remain. Was he wrong to want to lure her away from the club? He didn't think so. If he had been a normal man there could have been other ways for him to express his feelings- but Erik had never been a normal man, which invariably could work for or against him.
She was there, shivering as usual. Erik stepped aside and let her in to warm herself by the fire. "Cold out tonight?"
Her hands were rubbing together furiously to bring feeling back into her numb fingers, and Christine shot him a playful smile. "Not just tonight, it's more like every night!"
Moment of truth. Erik took a deep breath and looked into her bold blue eyes. "I have the remedy for that,"
She tilted her head and quirked a brow at him. "Dinner?"
A small shake of his head. "No, much better than that. I have a surprise for you, but it can wait until after we eat,"
She nodded. "Um…thank you, Erik, but you really didn't have to do anything for me,"
He knew what she meant, but rather than get into anything too heavy, Erik decided to put it off. The rest of his life was dramatic enough; Christine was his escape from all the stress and frustration. He brought out two glasses and issued a selection. "Yes, I did. If not me, then who? But the surprise can wait. Would you like red or white tonight…champagne, maybe?"
A flip of her rough platinum mane. "Why? Are we celebrating something?"
Erik shrugged, refused to drop his gaze in a show of his burgeoning courage. "That depends entirely on you, my dear Christine. You remember the production?"
He had often spoken of his operas, most recently the latest production. It had been particularly difficult to arrange the set design and lighting, there had also been problems with the costume arrangement and the flight schedules for the lead vocalists flying in from Vienna.
Christine smiled, "How could I forget?"
Erik lifted the corner of his mouth to return her proud grin and then poured her a glass of bubbling champagne, a fine blush. "Well, as of 2:30 this afternoon, the entire thing came together, all at once." He paused for effect. "It was beautiful. My part is over now, I leave all of the business details in the hands of capable managers. They will advertise, they will do everything in their power to raise ticket sales. I would help them by buying, but as an employee there are certain benefits to be enjoyed,"
"What do you mean?"
Erik brought an envelope from the breast pocket of his jacket. "Free tickets. They usually only send one, but this time I requested two. Would you accompany me, and put this second ticket to use?"
Christine was caught off guard. Was he actually asking her out on a date?
Catching her look, Erik continued smoothly. "I don't need an answer now. Think about it first, but I'll need to know at the end of the week. Now, I hope you're hungry, tonight it's smoked salmon steaks."
I'm always hungry, she thought even as her stomach gave a low rumble. A glint reached Erik's eyes but he did not remark on it.
They talked of the usual, in the usual way that they had developed over the past few weeks. Christine listened intently as Erik told her the story (which was truly very remarkable) of how all the problems facing the opera production seemed to evaporate at once earlier in the day.
She had forgiven him, of course, for his words from the night before.
There were precious few things that Christine could not forgive, and Erik's outburst had amounted to nothing in her eyes. So he detested the sight of her in stage makeup. She could understand. She hated herself more than he ever could.
As he spoke and refilled her wineglass, Christine studied him. Here was a strange man that had taken a special interest in her- so far he had required nothing of her but conversation over dinner, and without question he regularly paid her $500 for each night of her company. She presumed him scarred beneath his mask, but there was another part of her that wondered if Erik were not merely an eccentric, the mask being bizarre but unnecessary.
Erik wanted more from her now; he wanted her company outside of his home and in attendance at the opera. Inwardly, she shrugged to herself. To spend a bit more time with the man, in a public place would be safe. She surmised that if Erik had wished to hurt her by now, he would have done so in the first days of their arranged meeting. Now, however, she was a known face in the lobby. And, she had to admit that she had come to trust Erik, at least a little…
Besides, she had so enjoyed her one experience of the opera that she could find no real reason to refuse him.
"I'll go," she said abruptly.
Erik blinked. "Where?"
She smiled at him and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I meant that I'll go with you to the opera. After hearing so much about it, I'd be crazy not to go see what took so much of your effort."
His expression was blank for a moment, frank surprise written across the exposed side of his face. Then, a quirk of a brow, a lift of the lips. "You truly want to go with me?"
Christine felt something twist in her chest at his question. "I…yeah, yes, I really want to go. I think it'll be fun,"
Erik came alive at that, and he took her hands. "Oh, Christine. Yes. It will be wonderful, I can promise you that!"
He was excited, and she had to wonder what he had in store. "The opera?"
He stood up and brought her with him, leading her by the hand over to his wall of windows. "My opera. Yes, of course, but more than that. Dinner, anywhere you want. I always hire a car when I see performances, we could go to see Times Square before the opera…"
As Erik described the elaborate night he could offer her, Christine could only watch his face in the reflection of the glass. He was so happy and excited, obviously thrilled that she had agreed to come out with him. She wondered if this plan of his had been in the works for a very long time or if it had occurred to him at the same time that his troubles with the production had been resolved.
Either way, Christine knew that Erik intended it to be a night to remember.
Too soon, their time together was over. Erik called the cab, almost forgetting about the gift that he'd promised to Christine.
She'd already zipped up her sweatshirt and had started towards the door. Erik called to her, "Wait up a minute, Christine. I have something for you,"
She stopped and watched as Erik disappeared down a hallway, only to reappear a moment later. The man raised his brow at her and a sort of embarrassed smirk passed over his mouth. "Since you are always cold and resistant to buy one for yourself, I thought I should take the liberty," he said as he opened a garment bag to reveal a fine winter coat of black brushed wool.
Christine's breath caught in her throat at the sight of it. It would reach to the middle of her thighs, the broad hood would offer protection from the snow and the rain. For the complete set, Erik revealed the pair of gloves and long scarf; both the gloves and the scarf were scarlet wool, the ends of the scarf were embroidered in fine gold thread with Christine's initials.
"I…you didn't have to do this," she began.
Erik shook his head and approached her with the coat. Effortlessly, he stepped behind her and slipped the wool over her arms. He leaned down and brought his mouth close to her ear, but he was careful not to touch her. "You say that I didn't have to do this for you, but it was worth it to know that you will be warm from now on."
Erik stepped back and put his hands on her shoulders, then he guided her to face him. He held up the scarf and Christine twined it around her neck for added protection, and then slipped on the gloves. In the warmth of his apartment, she almost felt hot.
He could see tears gathering in the corner of her eyes; he wanted her gratitude, but never her upset! Hesitantly, he brought a hand to her face and brushed a tear with the pad of his thumb. He allowed himself a moment to revel in the warmth of her skin, the soft downy curve of her cheekbone. "Come now, Christine. No tears on such a happy night."
He put a hand on her lower back and guided her from his apartment and down to the lobby. They stood just outside of the building and Erik watched with a great deal of satisfaction as Christine smiled. She was warm, because of him, and soon, she would be safe and provided for because of him.
The cab swept up to the curb, and Erik moved to face her. Before he could speak or even move to slip the cab fare into her hand, Christine stepped in close and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The cab had already gone before Erik recovered enough to touch the spot where her lips had graced him, and he shouted his triumph to the pitch-black sky.