Facade (3 page)

“Let me get to work.” She gave Helen a kiss on the cheek, went to the back, and stacked up the reams of paper as the first crash of thunder rumbled the building.

The rain followed shortly after, and Christine shook her head. Rainy nights were the worst and her chest tightened. She finished her job and joined Helen at the front. “Would you mind if I used the phone?”

“Anything, honey.” Helen motioned toward her phone.

She retrieved her journal out of her backpack and flipped through a few phone numbers. Many of her connections had moved on, gotten married, or simply outgrew the days of having someone show up and spend the night. She dialed the phone to three friends and got nothing but voicemails, then glanced between the rain pouring outside and the trashcan. Maybe she should give in and call Ramon.

“Are you all right, honey?” Helen came over.

On automatic, she nodded. If she called Ramon she would not only be acknowledging how she lived, but also knew what he would expect. A night in the rain was better than giving in to that, and she stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you so much for everything.” She leaned in and gave Helen a hug.

“Take this, I made too much.” Helen gave her an extra container of the knish.

Not caring if that were true or not, she hugged the container to her chest and made her way out.

The city of Los Angeles hated the rain. It was as if everything stopped. She never meant to be such a wanderer, but once her father died in her senior year of high school, she sort of ended up flitting around with nowhere to go and no money. It was a strange happenstance, and she managed to make it work for the most part, but along the way she’d ended up without any true address, with no family, and spending all of her time simply trying to make do. Before her father died he promised she would one day make it big, and she could only hope and pray this group with Ramon would work out.

Hoping she could wait out the storm, she went to the library and read for a bit and searched the Internet. Her mind continued to return to the old theatre and she did some research. “The Etolie Theatre.” In its heyday it was quite the showpiece. Pictures from the lobby way back in the 1940s showed the theatre ghost was actively restoring the place to its former grandeur.

With the library closing, the night upon her, and the rain still falling, she considered her options. Tonight might be a night to use some money and hang out in a coffee shop or shops before she got kicked out, or maybe she should get it over with and call Ramon.

Neither truly an option, she went with her heart and her instinct. Soaking wet and almost beyond her control, she returned to the theatre. She faced the door she first snuck in and shut her eyes. If the door was locked or barricaded, she decided she would call Ramon. If the door was open, she decided it would be an invitation. Whoever was there had to know how she entered and exited.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed on the door. Since she expected it to be bolted shut, she practically tripped when it easily gave way, and she tumbled inside.

She caught herself, closed the door and smiled when she went to the stage to find all the lights on. “Thank you.” After arranging her items in the corner, she went to the front of the stage.

Refusing to take anything for free and unsure who she was dealing with, she repeated her offering of the night before, cleared her throat and began to sing.

She performed a simple song. A little twenty-year-old ballad she particularly liked and remembered her parents dancing to in their tiny apartment so long ago.

She let the notes take her away, and if she squinted her eyes in just the right way, she could practically picture an audience in front of her. As she finished, she imagined the applause and took a bow.

Like earlier, she walked around and used the facilities, and when at last she returned to her little corner, she found a bottle of water near her backpack.

She curled up in her space, picked up the bottle and read the note written on the label. “Always sing.” Her fingers traced the neat handwriting, her heart fluttered and she lifted the bottle. “Thank you, I hope you don’t mind if I come in out of the rain.”

The lights flashed, and she leaned back and took in the theatre.

Chapter Three

Insolent girl.

From the flies, Erik shook his head and watched his little chirping cricket make a nest in his theatre. It was almost time for his performance. Maybe he should go get some popcorn. Instead, he sat back with a glass of whiskey and waited.

Silly, silly girl didn’t know better than to not make a residence in a place where either a crazed lunatic followed her around communicating with her with flashing lights and little notes, or a ghost. She didn’t know not to come in here and sing in that beautiful voice and expect no one to react. She didn’t even know not to come in here and float around like a gorgeous angel and not expect anyone to watch.

Of course, he didn’t get rid of her.

Who was the stupid one now?

He was the one who allowed her to stay for over a week for the price of a song each day.

He was the one who worried the second she left every day, and took comfort in the fact she left her few little treasures in the corner of his stage.

He was the one who couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Yes, he was the fool. He needed to check himself into an institution.

A week after she first arrived in his life, they had developed a routine, a ritual of sorts. She woke, said good morning, got ready for her day and then left for hours on end. The first two days, he simply wondered where she went. On the third day he decided to follow her, and staying in the shadows, watched her do her laundry by conniving others to allow her to throw her clothes in with theirs, and snuck into a gym where she apparently cleaned up. She was then picked up by that blond fool in her band outside some postal store and went to practice.

Yes, he observed the rehearsal on that third day and then again on the fifth and decided the band was horrible. The screeching lead singer needed to be hanged and put out of her misery. The rest of the band was mediocre at best. Maybe that was at worst, he wasn’t really sure. All he knew was that unless Christine was singing, he either wanted to run away screaming or fall asleep.

After her various errands and pit stops, she returned to his theatre, scurried around, and then she sang.

Her voice echoed through his property and a calm he didn’t know existed overtook him.

Though by now he knew she used little methods to pay her way throughout the day, including her song to him, he still felt the need to reward her with a little present, a bottle of water, a blanket and a cushion for her nest, some candles, a sweet treat. Today he had something a little more special, so she better make it a good song.

Once she finished laying out her items, she smoothed down her hair and came to the front of the stage.

He gulped down his drink, poured himself another glass and sat up.

“Good evening.” She bowed.

After another drink, he nodded.

Then she started to sing. Her sweet notes provided the perfect complement to the whiskey, and he could only sit and stare as the beauty created a song for only his ears.

Back in his day he would have had her with a glance and a wink. Hell, he wouldn’t have had to wink.

His present life was one of a eunuch without the dignity of someone cutting him apart. No, the mutilation was left only for his face, but it had the same result.

Tonight she treated him to a longer song, and though he had to admire her doing it all
a cappella
, he would love to hear her solo with some proper music. She should never play backup. She should always be center stage.

All too soon her song ended and as she did every night, she took a bow.

He fought the urge to clap, but chose instead to raise his glass, polish off another drink and got ready to swoop in.

In keeping true to her routine, after her show, she made her way through the theatre to the bathrooms. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to dart out, he climbed down and left his nightly offering and just as fast, resumed his hiding place.

In a few minutes she returned, this time putting her hand to her chest at his gift. “Oh.”

She slowly leaned down and lifted the deep red satin robe. “This is beautiful.”

In a move he didn’t anticipate, she kicked off her shoes, took off her jacket and t-shirt and then pulled off her jeans.

At the sight of her in nothing but a white bra and matching panties he practically fell out of his perch. While he suspected she possessed some pretty amazing curves, her baggy clothes didn’t allow him to actually see any of them. Now he knew her breasts overflowed out of her bra, her waist cinched in just the right amount and her hips rounded everything out perfectly. He could barely even glance at her backside without his body having the requisite male reaction. Holy hell he couldn’t have her here knowing what was underneath her clothes and not want to ravage her.

She slipped on the robe, tied the tie and returned to the front of the stage. “Thank you.”

Once more, he lifted his glass.

“I know you’re somewhere.” Her eyes scanned the area.

Though he knew she couldn’t see him, he still leaned back.

“You know what’s weird?” She continued to look up.

As if having a conversation with her, he shook his head.

“I don’t even know you, but I feel safe with you.” Her face lit up with a smile.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered to himself, but hoped somehow she could feel his words.

“I don’t know how I will ever repay you for everything you’ve done for me,” she continued.

Wait. Was she leaving? No. He grabbed the railing tightening his grip until his nails bent from the unforgiving metal.

“If I make it on this
Stage of Stars
I can actually pay you rent.” The smile still on her face, she shrugged. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay a little longer. Until then, I’ll try to earn my way, clean up, or anything. You can leave me a note what you need.”

At her words, he exhaled. What she didn’t know was she could stay forever, because her singing and just being able to look at her was all he needed.

“Of course, if you wanted, you could always ask me in person.” At her suggestion she bit her lip.

He shook his head. She just asked of him the one thing he wasn’t sure if he could give her.

Chapter Four

With care, Christine closed the door to the theatre and pressed her palm to the wood. Inside was her sanctuary, dare she say her home? She couldn’t remember the last time she actually used that word and meant it. Once her father died, home seemed a nebulous murky place that didn’t exist but for the lucky few. She only wished she could see the face of her benefactor. All she knew is she had to do something for him, but wasn’t sure what. Yes, she decided her friendly ghost was a him, since it matched the voice she only heard once.

She hurried to the coffee shop where Ramon would pick her up for an early practice. Right as she went to pay for her Danish and cup of coffee, her ride entered.

“I’ll be paying for this.” Ramon elbowed her and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “Maybe you can let me pay for dinner tonight as well.”

“I can get it.” Though she protested, she did smile at the attention. Ramon was sort of cute in a silly rocker kind of way with blond hair that hung in his blue eyes and full lips. Though he tried to play it down by wearing weathered jeans and vintage concert shirts, she knew Ramon came from money. It wasn’t only the Italian import that gave him away, but the other things like his designer wallet and expensive shoes that betrayed him. Between those little inconsistencies and his kind, round baby face that never possessed a bit of scruff, she always felt as if he were trying too hard to fit into a role he wanted to have in the worst way.

“So can I.” In a flash, Ramon whipped a fifty-dollar bill out of his pocket and tossed it toward the register.

While she had tried to protest him doing this exact same thing many times, her efforts were futile. “Thank you.” She watched him collect his change, and then he guided her out to his little sports car.

“Anytime and I mean that.” He opened the door for her. “I only wish back in high school we were better friends, who knows what would have happened?”

Unsure what to say, she gave him the generic smile and shrug as she slipped into the car. He shut the door and went to his side. As the story went, he was in the cool clique in high school, she was in the arty one, and they only crossed paths a couple of times in school, but many years later he heard her singing at a small club on open mic night and convinced her to sing with them. At the time, she didn’t know they already had a lead singer. She had to wonder why she was needed, but Ramon seemed convinced a backup singer would set them apart when auditioning for the
Stage of Stars
.

“Ready for practice?” He started the car and zoomed away.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” As of right now she had enough money to get her through the audition in two weeks. If they were selected, they made a small stipend and all would be fine for a time. Of course if they won, she would be more than fine. However, if they didn’t make it, she would have to go get a job. Something just told her she had to take a chance and try this before figuring out the rest of her life. Though it was scary at times, there was something freeing about being out on her own and fending for herself.

“Great.” Ramon drove through the streets of Los Angeles. Thankfully, the band never wanted to return to the theatre, and now they practiced in a loft that belonged to a friend of his father’s, but Christine’s intuition told her he probably paid for the space and used that whole interlude with her theatre as way to look tough and edgy and give their band a backstory of having to struggle for their success.

Finally at their destination, she got out of the car and followed Ramon up the three flights to their all too trendy space.