6
Erik
She came in, dressed simply in the same baggy jeans and baggier dark green sweater, her raven hair braided to the side. I would have been repulsed years ago, but I was enamored. She was holding the script and said, "Hi, we made a zillion copies, so we're good."
"Thank you," I said, reaching out for it.
She handed it to me and said with a little, beautiful smile. "Thanks again, Mr. Y. I read it last night. We're really excited. Auditions are on Monday."
She was interested in business, so I began business. "Nicole, are you casting the show?"
"Um, I'll be facilitating the auditions with Barry, and I guess I get a say," she replied.
"Good," I said. "My dear, I will trust your judgment, but I ask you to cast only the best, not people because they're your friends."
"Understood," she replied. "I, uh, don't have that many biases when it comes to my classmates, so I guarantee a good cast."
Her voice. Nervous. Beautiful. She was determined to please me, just like a certain two angels of music before her. "I trust you."
She smiled wider. "Good. Uh, I was hoping to contact you to give you status updates and stuff, so I'd need your contact information."
It was almost painful to turn her away because of my need to be anonymous. "When are rehearsals?"
"Tuesdays and Thursdays," she replied. "We might do Saturdays once in a while. If I had your contact information, I could tell you when."
"No," I said, perhaps too eagerly because she flinched. "I…I'll call you Tuesdays, tell you what you should do Thursdays."
"Okay," she replied. "School lets out at three ten, rehearsals…are supposed to end at six thirty, but last year I was Val in A Chorus Line…he'd keep us for an extra half hour or so, until all the parents complained and let him keep us all day Saturdays."
For Imani's audition for the role of Nicole Bronwyn, she sang Nothing from that show. She convinced me to have a rather buxom actress who she befriended to let her perform the character Val's song. She wasn't terrible, but she wasn't…dazzling. Imagining my Nicole…prancing on that stage…uncensored. How I wished I was there. Nicole sang? "Ah, so you do perform."
She blushed. "Yeah, but my friend Lavon was on stage crew and it looked more glamorous."
How strange! "I see," I murmured.
"Yeah, so the first rehearsal is on Thursday. You can call me…anytime, but on Thursday you should call me after six thirty so Barry doesn't steal my phone."
My poor, nervous angel. I glanced at the clock by the door. Almost showtime. "Nicole, would you like to stay for the show? I shan't be watching from my box, but I could bring you there."
Her eyes gleamed. "I would love to. I haven't in a while. I'd, uh, just have to call my aunt. I pick her up a few times a week at seven. She's a nurse."
"The show ends at six thirty," he said.
She smiled. "Ah, that's perfect. Um, how much are box seats?"
"No charge for you," I replied. "Come. I'll take you." I put the script back in its place and went to the other bookshelf. I took out my Don Juan Triumphant copy and the bookshelf opened. I looked at Nicole. Her eyes widened in amazement. It was almost amusing. "This way."
She followed me through the candlelit brick hallway until we reached another secret door that led to my Box Five. I gestured to the plush red velvet chair. "Welcome to Phantasma, Miss Lasalle-Jones."
She smiled and nervously giggled. "Thank you, Mr. Y."
I wanted nothing more to take her in my arms and tell her to call me Erik. To tell her every secret of mine, my checkered past, my inexplicable passion for her. But she wasn't ready. "I shan't be joining you," I said. "But you'll hear from me." The audience below clapped. The show was starting. I left before she could say anything.