The Phantom Diaries (2 page)

“How can one girl be so obnoxious?”

“Some blame it on the Legend of the Masquerade.
 
Personally, I think she’s just nuts.”

“The Legend?” Now I was intrigued.

“Roberta hasn’t told you about the Legend yet?”

An excited thrill ran through me and I silently berated Roberta for not letting me in on this juicy bit of information. A legend in New York. It was almost as exciting as VooDoo in New Orleans.

“I’ll admit she’d warned me about Marie, though I still wouldn’t have expected such a reaction, but she said nothing about a legend.

“Well, when The Masquerade first ran in Paris, it was hugely successful. It was the talk of the opera world and was touted as being a work of musical genius. Kristine, the lead in the opera, was said to be the next big thing. Then a story leaked that she’d been involved with the Phantom composer and her lover was not too happy about it. Turned out the Phantom had been accused of murder and he just disappeared one night. No one ever saw him again. And poor Kristin died heartbroken because her lover refused to marry her following the scandal.”

It was all so unbelievably romantic.

“Some are already taking bets on what scandal Marie will create. Personally, I think she’s having an affair with more than one man involved with this production. How else could she have gotten this job?”

“I don’t know, but I got this job thanks to my mom and I better hurry back or I’ll lose it.”

I returned to the wardrobe department while Judy set off for rehearsal. A few notes continued to make their way up, but not enough for me to judge the quality of the diva’s voice. By the time I resumed my seat, I put Marie out of my mind and concentrated on the length of lace that still had to be stitched to that petticoat.

An hour later, Roberta got to her feet. “I’m going to bring our lovely leading lady the costume for her opening number,” she declared as she thrust the heavy garment over her shoulder. “Come along, Annette, in case she needs any adjustments.”

I turned to her in disbelief. Did she really want me to go back down there and face that tigress? I wanted to protest, but she was already halfway out the door. Reluctantly, I got up and dragged my feet to follow behind her.

“And bring your pin cushion.”

I’d come to think the pincushion attached to my wrist was a permanent fixture. Were it not for the fact that it didn’t easily slip into the sleeve of my leather jacket, I probably would have absentmindedly left with it every night. It was bad enough I sometimes took the subway with lint, lengths of thread and tuffs of fur clinging to my pants, without having this bright red pin cushion advertising to everyone what I did for a living.

Not that I was ashamed of my line of profession. I was actually quite proud. I just didn’t want to walk about town with remnants of my work on my sleeve, as it were.

Chatting about trousers that needed mending, overcoats to embellish and bejeweled ball gowns that had yet to be assembled at all, Roberta led me down to the dressing rooms. The corridors were brightly lit and Marie’s door was clearly identified. Though curious to see the inside of the dressing room, I remained in the hall as Roberta brought the dress in to be fitted.

Marie was curt, even with Roberta.
 
“Really, Roberta. Did you know that we have a show starting soon and that I still have hours of rehearsal and that waiting for you to finally make your way here isn’t really in my plans.”

“Is that so, dear?” Roberta hardly seemed fazed by Marie’s outburst. “Here you go.
 
I’ll help you get this on.”

I heard the rustling of luxurious fabrics, and few groans and grunts then the sound no seamstress ever wants to hear.

“My God! What did you do?” Marie shouted.

“You pulled up too quickly.”

“No. You made the damn thing too tight,” Marie screeched.

I peeked in to see a large tear at the back of the dress and Marie’s bare back. Roberta glanced at me and waved me in.

Damn it.

Not wanting Marie to hear me enter, I didn’t risk pushing the door open and simply slid in through the tight opening where the door was barely ajar. I silently stood there, dreading Marie’s wrath.

“I don’t understand,” Roberta said. “I took your measurements just days ago and I’ve adhered to them in the most stringent way. I never miss a measurement. If anything, I usually leave a little leeway.”

Marie turned and shot Roberta such a venomous glare. I shuddered.

“Are you insinuating I’ve gained weight in the past few days?”

“No, absolutely not.”

Her venom was then aimed at me. “You.
 
The hillbilly from the south. I bet you worked on this piece of crap and got the measurements all wrong.” She stepped out of the garment and kicked it away. “Go back and get it right this time.”

Not bothering to cover her nude body, she turned to the mirror in the corner and almost smiled at her reflection. I’d never seen someone so enamored with their own beauty. She whipped her head around towards us and she spat, “Are you still there? What are you waiting for? Fix that stupid thing.”

Roberta and I hurried out and while I felt my nerves frazzle like never before, I glimpsed Roberta chuckling. She shot me a funny face, made an obscene gesture towards Marie’s door and led me back to the stairs.

By the time we reached the landing, we were howling with laughter.

“The only way to deal with that girl is to laugh it off,” Roberta said. “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I’ve never seen someone be so nasty.” I smiled, happy to be sharing this moment with her. Had I been alone with Marie, no doubt I would have left the dressing room in tears.

After three hours spent mending the tight garment, Roberta sent me to see Marie again. Finding her dressing room empty, I laid the heavy gown on the back of a chair and went in search of her in the auditorium.

On opening the door, I heard her lamentations aimed at the orchestra pit.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Renfrew? There is no modulation after the first verse. And who gave you permission to change the key. This was supposed to be in B minor. What key are you giving me?”

Renfrew, the piano player who already seemed out of patience, inspected the music sheets. “The B minor has been scratched out and replaced with C minor.” He pointed to the second sheet. “And right here, there
is
a modulation.”

Marie bundled her fists together and pounded them into her thighs. Her face reddened to an almost purple hue. A tense hush fell over the stage and the entire auditorium. The few cast members in attendance shifted their gaze between Marie and Renfrew with nervous anticipation.

A stage hand, unaware of the goings-on, crossed the stage and inspected the scattered contents of the set.

“What the hell are you doing?” Marie turned away from the Renfrew and pointed her anger at the hapless worker.

Renfrew, stood, rolled his eyes to the ceiling high above and ran his hand over the sweaty top of his bald head. The day of rehearsal had been long and it was evident in his face.

The stage hand, unperturbed by Miss Diva’s ire, was calm as could be as he continued with his inspection.

“Hey! You!” Marie called out. “Broadway reject! I’m rehearsing here.”

He turned a cool eye her way, smirked then turned to Tom, the stage director, who appeared from side stage. “Tom, it’s even worse than I thought. In addition to the gold sword, we’re missing the candelabrum and the emerald encrusted dagger.”

“Have you checked the prop room?”

“Three times. They were all there this morning and now…”

“Could you guys wrap this up some other time? I’m in the middle of my most complex...”

“Is someone in the rehearsal hall?” Tom coldly asked. “There’s nothing keeping you from going there instead of taking up the whole stage here. We’ve got work to do as well.”

Marie turned on her heel, pointed to Renfrew and shouted, “B minor, no modulation!”

The music began, in B minor, and Marie began singing. “
My heart shall ache / my love will not be enough / I’ll never wake / and feel able to lust.
”

Despite the words of love, the melody came out hard and unemotional. Her voice seemed to have a vague capacity to be sweet and carry far up to the furthest balcony, but the coldness of her heart didn’t allow for the sweetness to flow through the melody.

Marie’s angry voice was soon joined by a faint murmur that seemed to come from high above. She glanced up, her eyes blazing with annoyance. “
I gave all I had / my heart was yours to hold / now I’m alone outside / I’ve never been so cold.”
The melody was almost lost behind the grating tone of her voice.

A slight rumbling shook under my feet and I glanced at the stage director, certain he was testing the stage sets. Nothing was moving. The rumbling increased, groaned ominously and rose high into the air, setting every hair on my back on alert. My fingers reached for my cross of rubies and worked feverishly over the stones.

Renfrew stopped and the stage hand froze.

My breathing stopped.

Marie’s solitary note rang from her throat, coarse and pained, as though she’d not heard a thing. Only when she realized the music had ceased did she stop.

The rumbling became an audible growl that seemed to seep over the stage from every crack in the wall. I had to cover my ears as the groans became a roar that seemed to consume the air in the auditorium

My legs went numb, though I desperately wanted to run away.

“What is that?” Marie’s shout echoed throughout the cavernous auditorium and returned to her on echo after echo.

As suddenly as it had begun, the sound stopped and all was silent.

“I think the guys are testing the lift.” Tom’s eyes were far more concerned than his words let on.

“Urgh,” Marie grunted. “Start again,” she ordered Renfrew.

Again the melody filled the air accompanied by Marie’s hardened voice.

Again, the rumbling shook my feet and slowly filled the air.

“What the hell is that?” Marie screamed into the air.

“I’ll go check where it could be coming from.” Tom left the stage for a few moments, and throughout his inspection, the auditorium remained silent.

After a thorough check, nothing was found.

The piano rang in the air and Marie, more tentatively this time, began singing again. No slow build up of a rumble warned of the growl to come this time. A tremendous roar simply filled the auditorium, drowning out Marie and Renfrew and chilling the air.

October 15
^th
, 2009

Dear Diary,

Most of the night was spent dreaming of this Phantom. I would never admit it to anyone, but I believe I’m enamored with this legendary figure. The strange goings-on at the Opera House are eerie, but I’m always eager to go back. Just being near that stage is enough to make me dream of a day when I’ll be talented enough to set foot on that shiny floor with the spotlight on me.

“Hey, Judy,” I said as I grabbed a very needed third cup of coffee. “What’s going on? Everyone seems so on edge.”

From the moment I’d entered the Opera House, I felt the tension. Directors and coordinators spoke in hushed tones in corridors. Singers gazed nervously about as though expecting the end of the world.

“Did you hear about what happened at rehearsal yesterday?”

“Yeah, kind of creepy, isn’t it? I still have goose bumps just thinking about it.” Was that what had everyone so skittish?

“Marie left the show.”

“Are you serious?” Though I knew Marie had been angered by the strange sounds, her departure seemed so out of character for such a strong girl.

“Whatever that noise was, it spooked her out so much, they cancelled the rehearsal and she just walked out.”

“Well, maybe she’ll show up,” I optimistically chirped.

After dropping three spoons of sugar into her black coffee, Judy glanced up at me. “Even if she did, they’ve postponed the show.”

“They didn’t.” A postponement could mean death to the show.

“They did.”

A lean young man with sunny curls and an infectious grin came up and playfully punched Judy in the arm. “Hey, Prancer. You sticking around here long?”

I glanced at him and he nodded in greeting.

“Just long enough to swallow a few of these down.” She turned to me. “Annette, do you know Chace?”

“Nope.” I stuck my hand out and he took it in a very genteel fashion.

“Nice to meet you, Annette. You a dancer like Prancer here?”

I guffawed and brought my hand to my mouth. Me, a dancer. Hardly. “No, I’m in wardrobe.”

He gave me a playful up and down glance.
 
“And a nice wardrobe it is.”