Facade (2 page)

Of course, it could never be the other way around.

The fact he even had the thought of looking into her eyes, told him he had to end this whole second-rate performance. He could get rid of them in less than thirty seconds.

After the song ended, he straightened up, took a breath and used one of the oldest tricks in the book by throwing his voice across the room. He learned the trick as far back as elementary school when he used to drive his teachers insane. It was good times.

“Get out!” His words echoed through the area.

“What was that?” The angry one screamed and ran to the boys.

All the boys looked up to the ceiling, nowhere even remotely close to where his voice landed. Fools.

Rather than freak out, Christine wrapped her arms around her shoulders and looked across the stage as if trying to figure out the mystery.

“It was nothing. You’re hearing things.” As if ready to start another song, the slime ball lifted his guitar.

“If I’m hearing things how come you all heard it too?” The woman shook her head.

Apparently, these hooligans didn’t know how to take a hint. Erik crawled across the fly ledge, did a quick calculation of his next move, and with a full-fledged smile, hit the lever holding up the curtain.

In a rush, the curtain smashed to the stage.

The angry one screamed. The drummer dropped his sticks. The one guitar player ran for the exit and slimy followed before turning back in, looking at the girls.

Christine put her hand to her chest and turned around the space, and for one quick second looked up right to where he had hidden.

Erik’s breath caught. He finally got to see her face, and what a treat. The only word to describe her would be perfection. Heart shaped face, perfect skin, pink lips, huge, hopeful eyes.

At last, his actions had the desired result.

“We should get out of here.” The slime ball pushed the quote unquote lead singer toward the exit.

“We can’t practice in this rundown, dilapidated theatre anyway. The acoustics suck.” The class act singer actually had the gall to flip off his theatre before scurrying off like a cockroach.

The drummer gathered his items and left.

“Christine, come on.” Slimy collected the rest of the equipment.

“It’s not rundown and dilapidated.” The angel’s voice sounded far away and dreamy.

“It’s haunted that’s for sure.” The boy pulled on Christine’s sleeve.

“I don’t think so.” As if coming out of a trance, she blinked, but then helped the slime with one of the amplifiers and dashed away.

Erik shook his head. He sort of wished she decided to stay, but that would be impossible. A song and a look in the darkness was all he would get. He wasn’t in the position to even say hello to her.

For quite some time he stared down at the empty stage. He purchased the old theatre in Hollywood after the accident for a great price and made it his project to rehabilitate the property. He had nothing but time on his side now. Or, maybe he was simply stagnant.

Christine’s face still in his mind, he pulled the curtain up and did the only thing he could, immerse himself in his work and try to forget he even saw something as lovely as her.

He didn’t know how long he worked on fixing one of the pulley systems because in truth, it didn’t matter, but then he heard yet another ruckus.

His game must have been off today. It was more than evident he needed to recheck all the entries into his domain rather than fool around in the space above the stage. Before he attacked, he returned to the vantage place he’d used for his earlier performance, nearly tripping and falling at the sight of the backup singer returning solo.

He forced himself to remain still and figure out what she wanted.

First, she put a backpack down in the corner. Then, she walked around the stage, taking in the theatre.

At center stage, she bowed to what she assumed to be an empty theatre and then burst into song.

At her voice, her pure voice without any of the horrible distractions, he grabbed the railing and held on. True, clear innocence swirled around him. Her timing was perfect, rhythm spot on. With a bit of training she could be magnificent.

His breath coming in short gasps, he could only stare down at the beauty and listen to her sing. How long at it been since he heard music just for the sake of music, for the art? When, at last, her song ended, he shut his eyes and tried to hold on to any notes lingering in the air.

Once more she bowed.

Though he wanted to clap, he refrained.

Again, she walked around the stage, this time running her fingers along a few of the props he kept there. “The curtain’s gone.” She looked up to the ceiling. “The lights are on. I’m not alone.”

Well, well she was the little smart one.

She returned to her backpack, unzipped it and pulled out a large coat, a book and a flashlight and sat down in the corner. “If there’s a ghost here, may I ask that I can stay for just tonight? And, if it’s not too much trouble to leave the lights on? Please don’t hurt me. I think your theatre is beautiful.”

Erik shook his head and stared down at her, adjusting the mask that covered the ravaged, disgusting side of his face. “I would never harm you,” he whispered. “And it is you who are beautiful.” He had to make sure she never saw him.

Chapter Two

Christine stretched and opened her eyes. Like a dream, the glorious old-fashioned theatre encompassed her.

As she requested, the ghost or whoever owned the theatre, left the lights on for her, but must have adjusted them at some point. The large overhead lights weren’t blaring down on her. Instead, soft lights illuminated the stage making her feel as if she were sleeping on a gold pillow of light.

Leaving her backpack in her corner, she stood and tiptoed to the edge of the stage. Now she could make out red velvet chairs where the audience would sit, the balcony, as well the little niches for the old time box seats.

Oh, the theatre was magnificent, indeed. She climbed down and looked up at all the art deco finishes, the painted ceiling and the detailed woodwork. Off to one side, was a huge chandelier. The lack of cobwebs or dust told her someone or something was working here. No doubt it had to be the same entity that told her band to get out the day before. Even with the eerie yell, she didn’t think the message was for her, though she didn’t know why.

As if by magic, the lights on the floor suddenly switched on, bathing the space in a warm red glow. “Thank you. I don’t much like the dark.”

In a flash, lights along the side walls turned on.

With careful steps, she walked through the theatre admiring the little details no one ever bothered putting into modern architecture anymore.

At last, she made her way to the front of the theatre. She pushed open the large doors and gasped when once again the theatre ghost, or whatever, lit the lobby for her.

Obviously this part of the theatre had already been renovated. “Oh, my God.”

Done in perfect vintage Hollywood style, the area featured black marble floors, walls lined with carved wood dividers and cut mirrors and a line of chandeliers. White and silver chairs with mirrored tables were strategically placed for those patrons needing a chair, and along one wall was even a long white leather lounge.

At the far end was a bar, and if she stood perfectly still she could almost feel the old time people dressed in their finest furs coming to see a show and having a little drink before the next act began. “I can only say,
Bravo
.” Her voice came out a bit breathless.

After taking another moment to admire the space, she finally spied what she was really after, and hurried toward the signs at the other end of the lobby for the restroom, skidding to a stop inside a room of mirrors.

Suddenly, she was faced with thousands upon thousands of reflections of her and she held out her arms and turned, watching the images of her mimic her actions.

Since the lights continued to follow her, she bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling, the appropriate place she dubbed her ghostly follower to be located. “If you don’t mind, a bit of privacy for a moment.”

The lights blinked off and on.

She took the gesture as an affirmative and made quick use of the facilities, but spent an extra moment washing her hands and face, enjoying the nearly instant hot water. No one ever took the time to appreciate the little things.

Unsure how long her ghost was going to be the hospitable host, she knew she better get going. People didn’t take kindly to loafers as she learned over and over again. Part of her wished the place was abandoned, then she could return, but someone already staked their claim.

After one last look in the mirrors, she retraced her steps back through the theatre. Upon making it back up on the stage, she turned to the audience and bowed. “I wanted to thank you for allowing me to visit.” A thanks and her song the night before was all she had to give whoever let her stay and linger. With one last look around, she collected her items and crawled out the same door her band mates pried open to get in here in the first place.

A blast of cold air hit her and she shook her head. Some people thought Los Angeles had no weather, but then again, they never spent days at a time out in it. The heat was hard, but the cold was unbearable and honestly she didn’t know how other people around the country did it. She knew she was lucky.

Still, the day seemed a bit ominous. Rather than sunshine, the day was overcast with huge dark clouds hanging in the air. She better do what she needed to and make a plan. Luckily the band decided there would be no practice today.

After making sure she closed the door nice and tight, she walked through Los Angeles. Ever since she was small she enjoyed the city, a mixture of old and new, rich and poor, and every other extreme seemed to happen in the sprawling town. For the most part she kept to a few blocks, because it was just easier that way. The stores and such got to know her and at least she could earn enough to pay her way on some necessities and make a few friends that helped her.

She made her way up to her favorite twenty four hour gym where she would take advantage of one of those friendships. Before entering, she peeked inside, and at seeing a friendly face at the reception desk, she waved.

Her girlfriend motioned for her to come in. “She’s not here, go ahead and do what you need.”

“What can I do for you?” Christine smiled and headed toward the locker rooms.

“The bathroom does need a cleaning.” Her friend gave her a mixture between a wince and a smile.

“So do I.” Thankful for any work, Christine hurried away.

Once finding the key to her locker, she shoved her backpack inside, then made quick work of cleaning all of the bathroom stalls and the showers. While this bathroom didn’t compare to the one back at the theatre, she appreciated sneaking a hot shower and hair wash while she finished up her duties.

She put on her last set of clean clothes and decided to go down to the laundromat later to see if she could help anyone fluff and fold and toss her clothes in with theirs. Sometimes she could even make a little cash by sitting and watching someone’s laundry while they ran errands. There were always ways to make it as long as one was creative.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t work here?”

At the shrill woman’s voice, Christine backed up against one of the walls. The manager of the gym hated her.

“What is it with your type? People pay good money to come and work out here. This isn’t a rest stop for the desperate and homeless.” The manager came forward.

“I’m not homeless.” Christine sidestepped toward her locker.

“Do you have a home?” The woman put her hands on her hips.

“A home is a state of mind. I get by.” With no doubt how this would end, she gathered up her backpack and the other scant few belongings she kept in there.

“Well missy, you are going to have to get by somewhere else.” The manager pointed to the exit.

Too many times she asked this woman for a job. She wouldn’t lower herself again. “I always do.” She grabbed her items and her lock and held her head high. If nothing else, she always made sure to earn her keep. She walked out, glancing at her friend on the way.

“Sorry girl.” The woman rolled her eyes.

Christine waved and headed back out on the street. The sky had turned even more ominous with a bit of mist in the air. This was not what she needed. Still, she had to continue, check her messages, get something to eat, and make a plan for later.

She headed for her favorite stop of the day, a small copy and postal shop.

“There you are.” Helen, the elderly woman who owned the shop, held out her arms.

In less than an instant, Christine rushed to her and gave her a hug. “What can I do for you today?”

“I have some paper that needs to be stacked.” Helen held her at arms’ length, then pulled her behind the counter. “But first, you have some mail and messages and you have to eat.” The woman pushed her down into a chair and thrust a plate of knish at her.

“My favorite.” Yes, she devoured the food. Helen was an amazing cook and never forgot her.

“Here.” Helen put a stack of papers in front of her. “That Ramon called. I know you’re going to make it big once the world hears you sing.”

Before reading the note, she looked at her few pieces of junk mail. Simply seeing her name on official correspondence, made her feel real. Even though at the moment she didn’t need a coupon for the local bar and grill or a discount to solar panel her home, she still appreciated the sentiment. Hell, at least she didn’t have any bills.

Finally, she glanced at the message from Ramon reminding her of practice the next day and asking if she wanted to meet up later. Though she never specifically told him or anyone of the group she didn’t have a permanent place to stay, she had a feeling he suspected by the way he always managed to pay for her food paid when he was around, and asked more than once if she wanted to crash at his place. She just didn’t want to go there and tossed the note along with the rest of her mail in the trash.