Disclaimer: Based on the novel by Gaston Leroux. All Phantom related works, as well as lyrics quoted in the story, belong to their respective owners.
Chapter 8 - Indecent proposal
Carlotta couldn't deny it anymore: she had developed a rather unhealthy infatuation for the Opera Ghost. She knew well enough Erik was ugly as sin under his mask and he called her a toad and picked on her all the time, but he just made her feel so special. When someone referred to her as the Phantom's girl she beamed with pride and whenever she thought of him her heart rose and she sang like she hadn't in a very long time.
They were currently rehearsing "Othello", which was due to premiere at the beginning of December, and with Erik at her side as the Moor of Venice, she voiced out Desdemona's dramas as if they were her own.
"Bravo!" he praised her when the last note died on her lips. His yellow eyes twinkled and she bet he smiled under the full black mask he'd put on for the occasion.
There was a clapping sound, and a slightly lisping voice said, "Bravo indeed!".
Turning around, Erik eyed the person who dared intrude on their music lesson. It was a rather corpulent man of about fifty, with dark blond curly hair, plump lips, and small watery eyes.
"So you must be the infamous Opera Ghost," he addressed Erik, strolling leisurely across the Salon. "I've heard some interesting stories on your account." Truly, the gossip about the ghost, which presumably was no other than Leroux' phantom, were often so fantastic that borderline on the absurd.
"Looks like my reputation precedes me," the ghost drawled back.
"Erik," Carlotta cut in, "this is Monsieur Thibault. He's the Opera's Acting Manager."
"I know perfectly who he is," he rebuked. This pig in a suit was responsible for the season program and cast choice, as well as anything else that pertained to the artistic aspects of running an Opera House.
Thibault squinted his eyes. "I don't believe we've met before," he commented.
"We didn't, but you could expect Erik to know the people who run his Opera House."
In fact, while he may have remained oblivious to the matters of the Opera while he was a real ghost, ever since he was reborn Erik took the time to learn as much as he could about the people at Palais Garnier and he knew enough about Thibault to despise him already.
"I must say," the Manager went on, poring over Erik's dark silhouette, "I expected you to be more…" he stopped to search for the right term, "spooky."
After all he'd heard on his account, he thought the Phantom would be something out of a horror movie while being very lean, he wasn't exactly skeletal, his skin was simply pale rather than yellow and his eyes looked as if he were just wearing a pair of those crazy contacts you could buy online. If you added that he wore regular pants, a sweater and a pair of Adidas sneakers, save for the mask that covered his entire face or what was left of it, he looked like just any other guy.
"Is there any particular reason why you decided to interrupt us?" Erik asked not even trying to sound polite.
"Why the vocal talent of this lovely young lady of course!" Thibault exclaimed in delight, turning to Carlotta. He'd always known the Italian had quite the voice. It had been the reason why he'd appointed her as la Debonnaire's emergency understudy, but tonight she put up a performance worthy of a leading lady.
"It's all thanks to Erik," the soprano said, glancing at the ghost with suspicious warmth.
Watching the scene the Manager was pervaded with a funny sense of deja vu. "Mon Dieu," he chuckled, "should I expect any dropping chandeliers in the next future?"
"I have never exactly dropped it in the first place," Erik replied stepping closer to Carlotta and placing his skinny palms on her shoulders in an almost possessive gesture, "but shall I ever need to resort to such drastic means of persuasion, it could be easily arranged."
Thibault broke into a hysterical laugh. "That won't be necessary," he said, retracting slowly towards the door. "After hearing Mademoiselle Giudicelli sing tonight I'm seriously considering giving her the lead."
To be absolutely honest, he'd been considering it for a couple of weeks already. Ever since the opening night of "Rigoletto" when she appeared at the later reception all wrapped up in white lace, immediately stealing everyone's attention, he'd been wondering whether she might be material for a prima donna. She was young, beautiful, with talent to sell, and he now also had a strong suspicion she might be the kind of girl willing to do just about anything for fame, even mingle with that abomination of the phantom.
"I shouldn't interrupt you any further," he said, leaving the Salon du Chant. "Sing like that on the audition," he addressed Carlotta, "and you might actually become the new Desdemona."
When they were left alone, Erik growled, "Can I punjab him?"
"No," Carlotta replied in a tone which suggested she'd gladly do it herself. There was just something about Thibault that filled her with skin-crawling disgust, and judging from Erik's reaction to him, he shared the feeling.
"Come, I'll walk you to your dressing room," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her towards the door.
She didn't shy away, instead placing her own arm around his waist as they walked through the now dark hallways. It was happening quite often lately, that mutual exchange of some small affectionate gestures, and he was slowly wrapping his mind around the idea that someone, a woman none the less, might enjoy being touched by him as if he were just another human being and not some hideous monster.
They have reached the dressing room and while Carlotta put on her boots, coat, and scarf, Erik just waited, ogling her iPhone that lay on the vanity. He knew that she and Antonio had been exchanging some messages and wondered whether there were any new ones he might want to read. From what he'd learned so far the two of them used to be a couple until Carlotta's sudden decision to move to Paris put an end to their relationship. Judging by their text exchange on WhatsApp he was still in love with her but she seemed to be over it, to his great relief.
When Carlotta was ready to go, he insisted on escorting her out despite the biting winter cold.
"You don't have to walk me all the way down," she said.
He put up a hurt face. "If you wish to get rid of Erik's company, all you need to do is say so."
"Ma dai!" She rolled her eyes. I'm just worried you're gonna catch a cold."
"I have never caught a cold in my entire life," he said, trying his best not to shiver in only his sweater.
"Right," she sneered. "At least put this on." She took her scarf off and wrapped it around his neck.
"No," he objected, tugging at the offending garment, "you have to keep your throat warm unless you want to croak like a real toad," but when she gave him a glare, fixing her coat collar up so her neck was entirely covered, he eventually gave up.
In a few minutes, they reached the station and Erik followed Carlotta all the way down into the harshly lit platform, not caring if anyone noticed his mask or asked him for a ticket which he obviously didn't have. Their earlier run-in with Thibault had awoken in him some sort of protective instinct towards the little toad and he wanted to make sure she got home safe and sound.
"Take care of yourself," he told her over the noise of the train rolling into the platform and when she made a tentative move towards him he took the hint and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"See you tomorrow," she cheered jumping onto the train at the last moment before the doors closed.
He'd forgotten to give her back her scarf and walking back to the Opera he wrapped it tighter around his neck and face, smelling her perfume still lingering around the soft material. He later left it in her dressing room so she could collect it the next day, but the intoxicating scent seemed to stay with him even after he descended into the cellars.
That night he dreamt of her and waking up in the morning showing evident signs of arousal he was overwhelmed by a stinging sense of guilt. Carlotta had never been anything but nice to him and he hated himself for even thinking about hurting her like that. Without dwindling much he prepared himself a bath and jumped right in, the icy water effectively cooling his hot spirits down. When he eventually got out he was trembling like a leaf.
"Told you you'd catch a cold!" Carlotta scolded him when by lunch the shivers didn't pass and he suspected that had he had a nose he'd be sneezing every minute.
"It's nothing," he assured her, thanking his luck for having a legitimate excuse for getting sick. The last thing he wanted was to explain to her why would he need to take a cold bath.
Carlotta felt honestly bad about Erik. She couldn't help thinking he'd gotten sick because of her so intent on making it up for him somehow, once she was done with work, she made a quick run to the closest drugstore to get him something.
She was running late for her appointed lesson and waiting for her in the Salon du Chant, Erik was getting more and more anxious. Strange thoughts began popping into his mind, many of them involving Thibault, but then Carlotta finally walked in, a steaming mug in hand.
"Drink this," she ordered.
He eyed the mug suspiciously. "What is this?" he asked. The contents looked like a yellow tea and smelled faintly of lemon and cannelle and something else he couldn't quite discern.
"Fervex," she said. "For your cold."
"I'm fine," he argued.
She crossed her arms. "You're sick," she said in an indisputable tone, "and I'd rather not catch it from you, so be a good boy and take your medicine."
That was an argument Erik couldn't refute so with a sour face he forced some of the drink down his throat.
"I'll leave you the remaining packets," Carlotta continued. "You should take two per day and possibly lay in bed for some time. Do you have any warm blankets downstairs? If not then perhaps," she paused in hesitation, "perhaps you could come stay at my place until you get better?"
Erik almost splurted out his drink. "I have the blankets," he lied. He used to have many but they stunk of old and he didn't even dare imagine what was going on with them when he was dead so he just threw them away. He'd have to arrange himself with what he currently had.
"Perhaps we'd better suspend our lessons for a few days," he suggested, "you know, just to make sure you don't get sick too."
Carlotta agreed and for the next few days, he only watched over her from afar, wrapped in three sweaters and a cloak and sipping on his Fervex. The stuff was kind of tasty and if he drank a lot it made him feel blissfully dizzy. Taking a packet every other hour by the end of the week he had the drugstore nearby literally run out of it. Thanks to the numbing properties of the drug he slept like a log and inadvertently slept through the final audition for "Othello".
La Debonnaire showed up but when she had a fainting episode in the middle of the aria Thibault advised her she gave up on pretending she was still prima donna and just went home to rest. Julianne was next and she sang really well, proving herself to be an excellent candidate for the role. Finally, it was Carlotta's turn and pretending her song could reach Erik even in the depths below she gave the best of herself.
When the auditions ended Thibault announced he'd post the names of the chosen cast within the day and everyone was dismissed.
As people were leaving the stage the manager approached Carlotta and said quietly, "Would you please join me in my office. I'd like to discuss your future career with you."
A cold shiver run down Carlotta's spine but she nodded yes and followed Thibault upstairs.
"I must say I'm rather impressed by the recent improvement of your singing skills," he said, offering her a chair.
"Thank you Monsieur," she replied politely, sitting down. "I have been working on my singing a lot lately."
"You've been taking lessons from the Phantom?" Thibault laughed.
Carlotta seemed offended by his humor. "He really is a musical genius Monsieur," she assured. "He can play several instruments like a virtuoso and his voice is plain mind-blowing. If you only allowed him a chance to perform-"
"Hush," Thibault didn't let her finish. "We're not here to talk about our masked friend but about you ma cherie." Pacing slowly around the desk, he continued, "Julianne is an excellent performer but you are just as good, if not better. You could be the primadonna," he was now standing behind her chair, "all you really have to do…" he placed his hands on her shoulders like the ghost had done a few days earlier, "... is ask."
Carlotta had to suppress a repulsed shiver when she felt the Manager's sweaty palms graze her skin. "I would obviously like to take the lead," she said as diplomatically as possible, "but only when I sing well enough to deserve it."
Thibault laughed and his hands squeezed tighter. "You must know Mademoiselle," he whispered hovering above her ear, "that it doesn't just take a great voice to be a diva. Sometimes it's necessary to employ a little persuasion."
Carlotta swallowed hard. She knew exactly what kind of persuasion Thibault was on about. She'd heard rumors about Julianne sleeping with him in order to get and keep her position but she never believed them. She could sing magnificently so why would she need to resort to such means? Well, now she knew exactly why! As for her, she'd rather die a mere chorus girl than have sex with that pig!
"If my performance tonight hasn't persuaded you enough," she said with a cold calm, slipping out of her chair, "then I don't think anything else should."
"You were both equally good," Thibault said, squinting his eyes in rising anger. "Which one of you will sing the lead relies exclusively on my personal fancy."
"Chose the one you like better then," Carlotta spat before running out of the office.
Just as she expected Julianne had been assigned to sing Desdemona but knowing what it had likely cost her Carlotta didn't feel envious. It only pained her to see Erik's disappointed face when she told him she didn't make it.
"What happened?" he asked when he finally emerged from his hideout just to find out the audition was long over.
"I think I must have caught a little bit of cold too," she lied, speaking in a slightly nasal voice on purpose and even faking some sniffing to back it up. "I couldn't utter one clear note."
Erik's face fell. "Erik is so sorry," he muttered. "It's all his fault. Hadn't he let himself think of you in such improper ways he wouldn't have gotten sick and transmitted it to you"
She didn't even dare inquire what improper ways he was talking about, hating herself for making him feel guilty in the first place when he was without fault, but she couldn't tell him what had really happened. If he found out he'd surely go and kill Thibault on the spot and with that get himself rotting in jail for aggravated murder. She couldn't allow it. She'd hurt him, lie to him, anything to make sure he was out of harm's way.
How did you like Erik getting sick and high on Fervex? Honestly, this stuff really works like that cause every time I catch a cold I drink lots of it and then wander around looking and feeling as if I were stoned xD
Next chapter: Carlotta takes Erik on a whole new adventure. He'd have his new share of first-timers, meet some new people and a lovely kitten. Stay tuned!