Author's Note: I do not own Phantom of the Opera
35
The following weekend brought an All Hallows gala at Carlotta's residence, a large, extravagant, yet fairly private affair consisting of Carlotta's extensive network of cousins, a few select members of Piangi's side of the family, and Kayla. Despite the occasion, costumes were for-gone in favour of stylish yet comfortable wear that allowed them all to pass the evening in relative comfort. The former was a blessing as the majority of the gala's activities consisted of eating.
It was here that Kayla finally was able to speak to Piangi. She was sprawled out on a couch in the sitting room, nursing a flute of moscato champagne and a chocolate cake hangover, when she raised her head and saw that the large Italian man had taken up residence on the settee opposite. "Oh. Hi," she greeted lazily.
"Ciao, little signorina," Piangi responded kindly. He was a mass of a man, broad and strong with a dark goatee and curly, though thinning dark hair.
Kayla flopped back down, her head thumping on the arm of the couch. "Ow. How are you enjoying the party, Piangi?"
"It is very extravagant, my wi – Carlotta knows how to throw a party."
Kayla raised her head again and glared at Piangi. "What pray tell was with that word change?"
Piangi flushed beet red. "What word change? Dere was nothing."
"You started to call Carlotta your wife," Kayla pointed out mercilessly. If it was even possible, Piangi turned even redder. "Is there something you'd wish to discuss about that particular technicality?"
Piangi looked down at the floor and mumbled.
Kayla held back a snort of laughter. "I'm sorry, you're going to have to speak up," she teased.
Lifting his face again, Piangi muttered, "You are 'er friend. I wanted advice."
"Oh, calm down, I'm teasing. Sit, I'll listen." She pointed her finger energetically at the armchair closest to the couch. Heaving himself off the settee, Piangi shuffled over to the seat Kayla had indicated. When he was seated, she struggled to a seated position and stared at him attentively. "Okay, what's up?"
Turned out Piangi wanted proposal advice. Kayla felt woefully unprepared to give such advice, as the only relationship she had ever been in was a boyfriend for three weeks in grade twelve who had dropped her for one of the cheerleaders. She was no expert in the intricacies of romantic pursuit. A ring was produced for her examination out of his pocket, a deep, almost black violet box containing an incredibly large diamond, flanked by two pearls and set in in delicate swirls of gold. "And any wedding band you have in mind?" Kayla held the box delicately in her palm, entranced by the light flickering over the smooth iridescent pearls and the spectrum of sparkling shades dancing through the diamond. Piangi coughed. Looking up, she spotted the simple gold ring held carefully in his hand. "Dear heavens, you're prepared, aren't cha? How long have you been planning this?" Piangi shrugged. Kayla took a quick glance to the door to check that no one was approaching. "Well you've waited long enough, buddy. These are beautiful. If you like it, put a ring on it," she quoted surreptitiously as she snapped the box shut and handed it back to Piangi.
"It 'as never been da right moment," the baritone said simply.
"Well, pardon my language, but damn that to hell," she replied sharply. "In my experience, no opportunity ever comes at the right moment. Think about it. Do you want to do this publically or privately?"
Piangi hesitated. "Privately?"
She reached over and smacked the back of his head. "No hesitation, bro. No room for doubt."
"Privately."
"That's the spirit. Now, let's plan this…."
The fateful day the next week, November 6, dawned with all the glory an autumn Thursday could muster, bright orange sunrise dramatically illuminating the cold, windy streets of Paris. As there was no dress rehearsal, Kayla met the crew for breakfast at nine, and promptly thereafter scurried back up to the dorm and into the hidden door in the hallway. Practically skipping down the gloomy stone passage, she hummed to herself as she turned corners and easily bypassed traps. When she arrived at the lair, she went straight to her designated work table and sat down, pulling a good-copy Act 3 page towards her and picking up a paintbrush. "Will you do anything for me, buy a big diamond ring for me," she sang to herself as she stroked crimson lines down the bodice of Aminta's dress.
"What in this godforsaken hell are you so excited about?" Erik snapped by way of greeting as he emerged suddenly from behind the curtain to the swan room.
"Hey now, no need to be rude. There's going to be some nuptials on the horizon," she explained happily. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Erik's shoulders stiffen as he turned away to approach the organ. "Not those nuptials, you idiot. Carlotta and Piangi!"
"I doubt it. They have been living together for years, no need to change it," Erik growled sourly.
"Tell that to the giant diamond ring Piangi showed me last week!" Smiling smugly, Kayla quickly rinsed her paintbrush and snatched up an ink pen. Smoothing the grey ink across the folds of the golden brown skirt, she frowned in concentration as she focused on keeping the line perfectly straight. Setting the pen aside and grabbing a thin brush, she swiped skin tone onto Aminta's face, followed by chocolate brown over the penciled outlines of her curls.
Erik was silent for a moment. "How is it, that whenever something happens, you are always somehow involved?"
"I'm a twenty year old sucker for happy endings – actually, scratch that, almost twenty one… bloody hell I'm going to have my birthday in Paris… - and I can't keep my nose out of anyone's business."
Kayla did not see so much as sense Erik's despairing shake of his head before the deep notes of the organ violently struck her ears. Sticking her earbuds into her ears, she settled back into work, the score of Don Juan layered underneath Imagine Dragons' Shots playing at full blast.
Kayla emerged into the main levels of the Opera House two full hours later. She popped into the dining hall to grab a piece of bread and an apple and to say a brief hello to the crew before she headed upstairs for her first masquerade planning meeting with the managers. As her boots thumped pleasantly along the marble floors of the balcony above the lobby, she heard a loud shriek. Pausing, she tilted her head to the side just as her ears caught another shout. Kayla stopped walking and leaned over the railing as a crimson vision draped in rose pink careened out of one of the hallways below. "ABBOTS!" the shape screeched.
"Hi…" Kayla greeted, her lips curling into a grin of their volition.
"ABBOTS!" the diva howled again, dashing in a most unladylike fashion up the stairs, her wide skirt held up by a pristinely manicured hand.
"Congrat… OH MY CROWLEY!" Her second greeting morphed into a yelp of fear as Carlotta nearly bowled her over with the force of her embrace.
"Abbots, dio mio! Dio mio, io sono impegnato! Look at mai ring, Abbots, io sono impegnato, il mio anello è così bella…" The prima donna's voice trailed off and she started crying, mascara running in black lines down her powdered face.
"Hey, don't cry, you're okay, this is incredible…" Kayla comforted awkwardly, hugging the slightly shorter woman back and patting her shoulder consolingly. A look from over the top of Carlotta's bent head revealed a pleased looking Piangi lumbering up the stairs. "Hey, congrats my man!"
"Grazie, signorina."
"Carlotta Piangi does not 'ave da same ring to it," Carlotta stated, her voice muffled due to the fact that her face was buried in Kayla's shoulder. "So I will stay Giudicelli, but mio dio, Abbots, I am getting married!" She released Kayla and waved her hand triumphantly in the air.
"Hey, lemme see," Kayla barked, grabbing Carlotta's hand and examining the ring. The gold band and diamond and pearls shone perfectly against the background of the diva's olive skin. Staring at the beautiful ring intently, she let go of Carlotta's hand and grinned. "It is gorgeous. You have my approval and blessing and may proceed."
"You are going with me to get the dress!" Carlotta squealed, hugging Kayla again. "And you are going to be one of my bridesmaids, obviously, and you are wearing a dress, no buts, and you are going to look so pretty and dere is so much to plan!"
"Come find me later, 'kay? I'm late for a meeting with the managers, but I am flipping excited about this, and yes, I will be a bridesmaid, not that you were looking for my consent." She let go of Carlotta and walked over and shook hands with Piangi, who was unfazed by the strangeness of a man and woman shaking hands. "Congrats, I'm pleased you finally manned up," she teased. Piangi flushed and looked down at the floor.
She turned to walk away. "What on earth is going on?"
Raoul's impatient voice echoed through the gilded room. Kayla froze and ever so slowly turned her head. The Vicomte was standing by the doors, a blue scarf wrapped around his neck and a top hat settled on his tawny gold head. "I am engaged, not dat it is any of your concern," Carlotta simpered sarcastically.
"Well, you have my congratulations," Raoul returned smoothly. "Now wait just a moment, Mademoiselle Abbots." Kayla, who had hoped to sneak away undetected, resisted the incredibly strong urge to swear at him.
"The signorina is late for a meeting with da managers, and I hope you will be da gentleman I know you are and let her be," Piangi interrupted abruptly. Raoul glanced at him in dismay, and Kayla took the opportunity of his distraction to speed walk away, silently thanking the simple baritone for, in this instance, being so intuitive.
The meeting with the managers went well. The New Year's Masquerade was an undeniably reality, and Kayla provided suggestions of decorations, guests lists, and food, while the managers expertly calculated numbers and costs of such an event. The enthusiasm in the room was astounding, and Kayla left a couple of hours later with a brain full of costume ideas, images of delicious dessert trays, and the jewel-like explosions of bright fireworks. "Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade…" she warbled softly as she strolled down the hall. The crew was gathered at their standard table and Kayla went immediately to join them. A loud scraping of benches and chairs provided a soundtrack to her entrance as the ballet rats abandoned their older counterparts to flock to Kayla.
"Hello, eat up, Abbots," Jamie greeted, sliding a plate of chicken and bread and a bowl of soup down to the empty seat next to him. As soon as she was seated, Lena squeezed right in between Jamie and Kayla, pushing the older boy's food out of the way to make room for her own. The cavaliers waved from the neighbouring table, but did not move to join them, merely eating their meals mechanically and conversing in low, tired voices. Their eyes were all glazed, and a couple of the juniors actually had their heads resting on the table, the gentle rise and fall of their lean shoulders the only indication that they were still alive at all.
When the meal was nearly over, Kayla was vaguely aware of footsteps approaching down the hall. Immersed in a rather intense literary debate about whether or not Esmeralda had gone through any character development, an argument prompted by her conclusion of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which the stage crew had not completed until now, she ignored the noises. That is, until all the senior ballerinas leapt to their feet, spoons clanking onto the table and chairs screeching back. Kayla hunched her shoulders and ducked behind Jamie. "Pardon me, I don't mean to interrupt, but do any of you happen to know where I could find Mademoiselle Abbots?" Raoul's voice was soothing and trustworthy.
"Lena, I'm not here," she whispered urgently to the little girl next to her before sliding silently under the wooden table. Baptiste, sitting on her other side, and Amelia, sitting next to the fourteen year old stagehand, scooted in to fill the empty space.
"Apologies, sir, but what's it to you?" Clemens' voice was a degree away from absolute zero degrees Kelvin, barely bordering on civil. From in between the narrow gaps between the rows of leather boots and brown slippers she saw shining black military boots clomp up to the table. "I merely wanted a word with your lovely manager about some theatre business," Raoul returned silkily. "All quite mundane, I assure you."
"Abbots said that if any of us called her lovely without her express permission she'd castrate us," Dennis mumbled into his soup.
Raoul, however, laughed. "That does sound like something Kayla would say," he chuckled affectionately. Kayla's hands curled into fists.
"I beg your pardon, Vicomte, but Mademoiselle Abbots has made it perfectly clear that her birth name is not to be used in a professional setting unless she has agreed to it. Has she had such a conversation with you?" Jamie's voice had changed, the tone brisker and far more eloquent. He sounded highborn.
"Be careful of your tone when speaking to me," Raoul warned.
There was a moment of tense silence. Kayla, lying stiffly on the rough floorboards, held her breath. "Would one of you gentlemen be kind enough to inform your mistress that I wish to speak with her?"
"I will inform her, laddie, but that doesn't mean she'll cooperate. She knows her own mind, Abbots does. She won't be forced." Claude's rough brogue was two parts agreeable and one part cautioning.
"Merci, monsieurs. And as for you… Jeremy Bellard, is it?"
"Sure," Jamie smirked.
"I would advise you to learn some respect when addressing your betters. Thank you to everyone else for your cooperation."
Boot heels thumped across the floor and into the hall.
When the steps faded into nothing, Kayla heard Leonardo's voice address the room from the cavaliers' table. "Dear God, I'd love to slap that pretty face."
"He's the Vicomte!" a ballerina admonished from the dancers' table.
"So? Don't mean he get to talk shit to us and order about our manager," Rene drawled, leaning down to stare under the table at Kayla. "It's safe, you can come out now."
"What does he even want?" Jamie muttered as Kayla awkwardly slithered back up onto the bench. She had informed the set crew that she was not on good terms with Raoul and would not like to be in his presence if at all possible, and she had told them about the chase, but not how she had escaped.
"To hell with me if I know, Jeremy Bellard," Kayla replied.
"Okay, everyone has to call me that whenever the Vicomte's around," Jamie ordered the table, grinning.
"Or even better, we could call you a different name every time," Baptiste suggested shyly.
"You are a genius. It's decided. I am officially The Man with a Thousand Names," Jamie announced dramatically.
Kayla took another swallow of soup as Jean leaned across the table. "I have a plan. Remember that Coward challenge a couple weeks back?"
Jamie's eyes bulged. "With Meg?" he whispered back, glancing quickly at the ballerina table, but Meg was in the midst of her own conversation with her fellow dancers and was not paying attention.
"Exactly. We're all gonna take turns, one a day, a different line each day – you're going to have to teach us some new ones, Abbots – and try to do the same thing you did you Meg, but to Christine."
"Not that I will be involved in any of this, but how long are you young men plotting to do this for?" Germaine interjected from the head of the table.
"As long as it takes for our precious patron to lose his mind. Teach him a lesson 'bout messing with the set boys," Jean decided smugly, leaning back slightly as he relaxed.
"The senior stagehands revoke all responsibility for your downfall," Germaine threw his hands up in the air. The adolescents all shook hands over the platters of food.
"Can I try?"
"Sure Baptiste, why not."
"You guys are bloody fantastic."
"Merci, Abbots, we try."
Author's Note: I didn't have a class today! I was so pumped, so I worked extra hard to finish up this chapter. If anyone's interested, you can find the picture of Carlotta's ring on my tumblr, by searching #the dangers of buying birthday presents. I might start doing a sneak peek post before I post each chapter... Who knows.
Anyway, review or PM with questions or comments, and follow or favourite if the mood strikes you. Thank you to everyone who has read this far, and thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, or favourited in the last couple of chapters. Thank you to DetectiveOf The Opera, Guest, Guest, redhouseclan, and E-man-dy-S for their guest reviews.
So... hoped you liked it? It's already November in the story now, so I hope to get to the Masquerade fairly soon. Just some Christmas stuff, wedding planning, masquerade planning... perhaps some drama between certain characters? I've babbled on long enough.
Thank you all so much for reading! Hugs to you all!
Tierney
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