Facade (11 page)

The dichotomy between her night and his night brought tears to her eyes, ones she refused to allow him to see fall. She wished he’d just let her leave, as there was no way she could live with him now.

Erik stopped. “Here we are.”

Caught up in her thoughts, she barely noticed where they were headed, and she looked up at a majestic, ornate old-fashioned church. “Why are we here?”

“Research.” Still keeping hold of her, he guided her through a back door and up at least two flights of stairs. At last, they came to a balcony that opened over one of the most beautiful churches she could ever imagine.

“Oh, my.” She took in the silent space. Gold velvet chairs, lush red carpeting, intricate gilded carvings in the walls and stained glass allowed her to not only feel the reverence here, but also the power.

With soft steps she went to the front of the balcony, but rather than taking a seat, she kneeled down and peered over the railing. The last time she was in a church it was also to say goodbye. At last, a tear fell and she shut her eyes, saying a prayer to herself. She wasn’t scared of being out on the street, but she was terrified of a life without Erik.

Erik kneeled down next to her. “I never used to go to church, in fact I never stepped inside one until a few years ago, but one day I walked in here. There is a solace to be found in a place of worship.”

She kept her head down and continued to stare out at the grandeur below. “I wonder if this is how angels see the world.”

“I didn’t know what an angel looked like until you entered my theatre.” He moved closer to her.

No. She ground her teeth together. These were the kinds of words that resulted in last night. She had to stay strong. “Why are we here, Erik?”

“Shh.” He pointed out into the church.

A small door opened, and a choir stepped out and took their spots row by row.

“Watch.” He inched even closer, until their bodies touched.

A conductor went to the front, and then the organ music started. Ethereal voices rose though the sacred space. They sang songs praising life, God, the world, spoke of love and how nothing was ever lost.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there kneeled on the floor in the balcony of a church listening to the beautiful music, but she knew she could stay here forever, surviving only on the beauty and the art and the messages they told.

“Hymns are all about worship and emotion,” Erik whispered. “They are about faith and hope and no matter what you sing, if you can convey that, then you have a hymn.”

A lesson. After making love to her, after ignoring her, after crushing her, the man gave her a lesson. “Then I may as well quit now, because that’s not going to happen anytime soon. I don’t have any faith or hope left.”

“Christine.” His voice came out with a condescending air.

“Don’t.” She stopped him cold and once more faced front. “I don’t need to hear how you don’t want me. I don’t need to hear your excuses, save it. I get it.”

“I don’t want you? Nothing can be further from the truth.” Though he tried to keep his voice low, it came out harsh, truncated. “I’m not like other men.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Needing any kind of support, she tightened her hold on the railing. “You are exactly like every other man. Trust me.”

In a sudden move, he took her by the shoulders. “Look at me.”

Never flinching, she stared into his face.

He shook his head. “How can you stand the sight of me?”

“I don’t see it. I didn’t care. I only wanted you.” She never broke eye contact. “No matter what’s under your mask, I only wanted you.”

“I told you never to mention my mask.” He pressed his lips together.

No way would she let him off easy. “That was before you made love to me.”

He leaned in, putting the mask right in her face. “You can’t make me better, Christine.”

“I don’t want to make you better. Don’t you see? I wanted you to make me better.” She raised her voice—she had to make him hear her. Part of her wanted to rip the damn thing off, but she would never do either of them that disservice. Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw a couple of the people in the choir look their way.

As if he just ran five blocks, Erik panted. “You’re my angel. Forgive me.” He pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her.

“Of course.” She had no choice but to forgive him and hid her face in his neck. All she knew was she couldn’t be safe anywhere as long as she was in his arms.

“Are you sure you can handle this, Christine?” His breath brushed against her ear.

In order to see all of him, she leaned back. “If you don’t push me away.”

“What happens when you win?” His eyes searched hers. “You won’t need me.”

“Yes, I will.” At him admitting his own insecurities, she smiled. “I don’t have a bank account, so I need a place to deposit the checks.”

“Promise me you will never lie to me.” He pulled her closer. “I need to know you’ll never lie to me.”

A church seemed the perfect place to make these vows. “Promise me you won’t shut me out.”

“Let’s go home.” Erik stood, helped her up and took her hand.

Once more, she let him take control.

Chapter Thirteen

“Christine, sit right here and let’s get you ready.” One of the production assistants guided her to a hair and makeup chair.

“I have a note for you.” Christine handed the man one of several envelopes she brought with her.

“Note?” The man tore the envelope open and read aloud. “Dear Production Assistant, we are providing a new mix of Christine’s music. In an effort to be kind, I will only say that the music you provided is subpar. As other acts have their own bands, we don’t see this as any issue whatsoever. Also, please ensure Christine is kept away from any of your pyrotechnics. All my best regards, Christine Day’s manager.”

“Here’s the music.” In keeping to Erik’s stringent instructions, she held up a flash drive. She’d spent all day watching him remix the music for her hymn. The most impressive part was that he personally played each instrument, including a violin and a flute. If anyone thought Erik wasn’t extraordinary, they would be wrong.

After the chaos of the rehearsal a couple of days before, Christine thought it would be better today. In an effort to keep the show as raw as possible, all she did at the rehearsal was sing her song, get a set list of when she would be performing, and leave. This led to two things. First, there was complete and utter disarray backstage as they now got ready for their live filming. Second, Erik most definitely decided he could stage, direct and produce this production much better than the people actually paid to do it.

In slow motion, the man took the offering. “All right. Let’s get you ready.” Once more, he motioned to the chair and walked away shaking his head.

Christine sat and two women descended upon her. Before they had the chance to touch her, she held up her hand and produced another letter. “I have something for you from my manager.”

One of the women plucked the note away and read. “To whomever this may concern, Christine’s hair and makeup has already been tended to. We would appreciate if it not be touched as it is right for both the stage and film and designed not to have the garish look of your other contestants who have suffered at the hands of your team. With only the highest respect for your craft, Christine Day’s Manager. P.S. I would appreciate your assistance in making sure Ms. Day stays away from any of your fire, smoke and brimstone.”

The two women looked at each other. One shrugged, the other with the note patted Christine’s shoulder. “You can go to wardrobe now.”

On her way to the next stop, she passed the stage as a huge flash of light made her stop. The show had begun with a huge flame and puff of smoke, the same one Erik told her three times to stay away from.

Before even bothering to set foot in the dressing room, she handed the official looking person Erik’s note.

The woman blinked and took the envelope.

“Dear Wardrobe Mistress,” she read aloud. “Christine is in costume already. She will be in costume every week before arriving for filming, therefore there is no need for your service. However, we thank you for your time. I appreciate your understanding. On another note, I would also appreciate you ensuring she stays away from any of your flashy fire and may I also add it’s unnecessary as the talent doesn’t need to breathe in any of those chemicals. Christine Day’s Manager.”

At the woman narrowing her eyes, Christine smiled. “My manager is very strict.” At her own word choice, her cheeks heated. Erik wasn’t only strict in regards to her performance, but in the bedroom as well. Not that she didn’t enjoy that.

“I see this.” The woman put her hand on her hip.

Where her theatre ghost was attentive before, since the morning of the church he had been over the top, and in all honesty, Christine basked in everything Erik doled out.

“So, you are going to wear a cloak on stage?”

“This is one typically worn by women going to the opera.” In truth, she really loved the deep violet cloak, and keeping true to her promise to Erik, she wouldn’t open it until the moment up on stage.

“Are you going to the opera?” The woman huffed.

“Not today.” Though she and Erik watched one the other night in her bed. There was something very old fashioned about him, something she liked.

“Suit yourself, it’s your competition. If you can get through the hymn in that get-up then I suppose you can get through anything.” With a shrug, the woman turned. “Go take your place.”

Since she had no more notes to hand out, Christine went to the wing of the theatre with the other awaiting acts. Tonight the auditorium was full, with the electricity of a show in progress sizzling through the air. This was it, the show was really happening. Somewhere out there was Erik. He promised he would be there, and after dropping her off, and kissing her three times, then telling her to break a leg, he told her to meet him at the same trap door they escaped through last time. There were some definite things she needed to get used to in being with Erik, but they were all concessions she happily made.

Another girl in a western hat, jeans and a plaid shirt smiled at her. “I got country.”

“Hymn.” Christine nodded.

“They’re going to do one of the groups next.” The girl whispered. “You missed that Chimera band with hip hop, they were amazing. The judges loved them.

Christine watched as the lights came up, and her heart seized. Her old group was up.

The emcee, a man famous for basically being a host, crossed the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, our third band of the night, Rat Race, singing a pop song.”

Applause rang through the space.

“They got the easy genre.” The girl next to her continued to give commentary.

Christine wrapped her cloak around her tighter and listened. They went with the same tune they had been practicing all along giving them a definite edge over everyone who had to learn a new song during the week. Carly sounded good, as if she learned to temper her voice a bit, and the band was together.

The only upside to them being on before her was maybe they would leave before she went on stage. She really didn’t need to cross paths with any of them.

They ended their song to more applause and waited for the evaluation.

Justin White, the pop star started first. “You guys are giving me a run for my money, good job.”

The band huddled together and Carly hugged Ramon.

Perry Ross, the songwriter, gave them a thumbs-up. “You can work on your tones a little, but all and all, excellent work.”

“They’ve ripped everyone else to shreds.” The country singer shook her head.

Lastly, Michelle Mitchel stood. “This is the sort of talent we look for when producing records.”

The emcee announced a break and the audience clapped again.

The production assistant from earlier ran over. “Christine, since you were ready early we’re putting you on next. We have the music you requested all set.”

Though she wasn’t nearly as nervous as for her audition, at the announcement she would be next, her breath caught.

Rat Race left the stage and headed in the opposite direction.

All right, at least she didn’t have to pass them, but if they didn’t know before, they would now know she made it as well.

“All right Christine, take your mark, after you’re introduced, your music will start.” The production assistant prodded her forward. She managed to complete the final touch to her costume and put her hood over her head.

Clapping resonated around her as she took her place at the microphone. Where last time she could see the people in the audience, with the lights and the cameras, everything in the distance was nothing but darkness. Erik had to be there.

The emcee joined her on stage. “Join me in welcoming our fourth singer tonight, Christine Day, with a hymn.”

Her music started.

Rather than picturing the world watching her in high definition, she chose to envision how Erik recorded each one of these notes for her. The music was made for her, and she knew each one of her actions by heart. At her cue, she pictured Erik directing her and looked up as if searching for heaven, and began to sing.

Emotion, hymns were about the emotion, about reaching a higher place, and since that morning in the church, she felt that every time she practiced with Erik. As she sang she forgot about everyone, everything except for the way he looked at her every time she finished the song, about how he treated her like a fragile piece of glass, how every time he kissed her it was as if he were worshipping her. All she could do was make all that she felt come out in her voice.

In keeping with the drama of the piece, right as she went into the chorus, with a bit of flourish, she opened her cloak holding her arms out, not only to reveal the gold silk interior of the cloak, but her matching form-fitting dress.

The audience clapped, and she used their approval to lift her up, continue on, and hit every note.

When at last her song ended, she lowered her arms, the cloak closed and she looked down, staying in that position as the applause continued and the emcee joined her once again.