The Phantom Diaries (3 page)

“Chace,” Judy chastised as she slapped him soundly across the chest.

“It was a compliment,” he whined while rubbing his bicep. “Nice fitting jeans, cool shirt that complements her thick mass of dark hair. And a cool cross around her neck.
 
I give her a nine.”

“Don’t mind him, Annette. He may be a talented violinist…”

“First chair,” he injected.

“But he’s a jerk when it comes to opening his mouth.”

“But an endearing jerk,” he added.

I smiled. He did, indeed, seem endearing in addition to being rather adorable. His grin was impossible to resist. “I better get going. Roberta is probably already looking for me.”

“Hey, why don’t you meet up with us for lunch?” Chace asked. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and suddenly seemed nervous and shy.

“Sure, that would be great.” I was already looking forward to spending more time with him.

“We’ll come back and meet you here at noon.”

“Cool, see you then.” I ran off. However, when I reached wardrobe Roberta informed me I wouldn’t be working on Marie’s dress as I’d planned.

“You heard she skipped out?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

“We can’t do nothing on this dress until they find a replacement and we get that girl’s measurements.”

She found other tedious items to work on, but my mind was already on my lunch date with Judy and Chace. While he did come off slightly arrogant, there was something very appealing about him. By the time noon rolled around, I was jumping around on my seat, eager to get out, get fed, and get some air.

We ended up grabbing a hot-dog on Amsterdam and West 65
^th
and walked around the Lincoln Center. The air was cool and scented with autumn; though I had no idea what fall in New York would really smell like.

“I can’t believe the show is actually being postponed,” Judy said through a mouthful. “I don’t think this has ever happened in the history of the Met.”

“I’ve certainly never seen a show with so many troubles. You’d almost think someone doesn’t want this particular show to go on,” Chace said.

Judy and I both stopped and turned to him.

“What are you saying?” Judy asked, pointing the remaining half of her hot dog at him. “Someone is deliberately sabotaging the show?”

“Who knows?”

“But that growling,” I said, still feeling the shiver that sound had induced. “I heard it. I was there. No one was able to find where it came from. I think that Legend has something to do with this.”

“Or maybe someone just wanted to get rid of Marie.” Judy wiped mustard off the corner of her mouth. “It’s understandable.”

“Hmmm.” Chace rubbed his chin thoughtfully and scrutinized Judy with mock suspicion. “And where were you yesterday at three o’clock?”

“Hell, honey. If I’d wanted to get rid of her I wouldn’t just have fooled around with her music and some silly growling.”

“And don’t forget a dress that almost suffocated her,” I threw in.

We all laughed, but it was a nervous laugh that left us all looking down at the pavement for a moment. I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. Would the strange sounds continue?
 
Would things get worse?

The remainder of our lunch was eaten in silence and soon we were back at the doors of the Opera where Judy left with the intent to audition elsewhere. “You never know how long this postponement will drag on for,” she said as she walked away.

“And I better get back to work,” I told Chace.

“Hey, I was thinking of catching a movie later; something to cheer us up.
 
Feel like coming?”

“Sure. Could be fun.”

“I guarantee it.” He laughed at the cockiness of his words and showed me that shy grin of his.

I hurried inside and headed to my station.
 
Roberta hadn’t returned from her lunch break yet nor had any of the other seamstresses. Getting some work done without the roar of sewing machines and buzz of conversations would be a pleasant change of pace. I had only a little work left to tend to and hurried to it. But instead of finding the trousers I’d been working on, I found several music sheets lying about.

The black dots and lines scattered across the page captivated me. I held in my hand the music penned by a phantom maestro and the romantic in me was aflutter. I heard the melody before I even realized I’d begun to read the notes and was humming the haunting song.

I glanced around.
 
Still no sign of Roberta. With the excitement of a child, I ran to the staircase, took the steps two at a time and headed down below the orchestra pit where an old abandoned piano sat in the gloom of the corner.

My fingers easily found the appropriate keys and the melody that emerged made me want to weep. Overcome with emotion, I struggled a moment to find my voice. When it finally came, it was heavy with longing and inexplicable sadness. The melody grew and heightened and my voice opened up, allowing all the pain of the lyrics to spill out; the heartache of loving one so deeply, only to learn of the coldness of his heart. A chill enveloped me and I shook it off.

Just as I was about to attempt the high C, just as the emotions of the song left my eyes tearing, I felt a shadow shift behind me.

Chapter 2

My breath caught in my throat and I had to remind myself to breathe. My fingers remained frozen above the ivory keys, poised to play again. I listened and while I heard nothing, I felt something.

I glanced sidelong on either side of me, reluctant to turn around and face who or what was actually behind me. Steeling myself, I finally turned around and was hardly surprised to see a young man standing there.

“That was quite lovely,” he said with a hint of a European accent; French perhaps.

“Hello.” Nothing more came to mind.

From what I could see, he was handsome, painfully so. Dark waves of thick hair flowed to his shoulders and, in the gloom of the room, and through the mask he wore, I could just barely make out the startlingly blue eyes that stared at me. His chin was strong, his lips welcoming, tender and sensual.

“You mustn’t have heard that the show has been temporarily cancelled,” I offered. He was in costume, that of an eighteenth century aristocrat. But the elegance of his attire betrayed his strength. The breadth of his chest, the power of his arms and the sensual line of his thighs were all quite evident. “Are you a swordsman?”

What a stupid question. I immediately felt the blood rush to my face and thanked the darkness.

“Your voice carries well. The emotion you evoke is almost painful.” His voice was smooth and calm. Though he appeared to be barely older than I, he exuded confidence and despite the unusual circumstance of our encounter, I felt at ease, almost as if I knew him.

I tried to concentrate on what he was saying and on keeping my eyes from drifting down over the strong line of his shoulders. “I don’t remember seeing such a costume in the wardrobe department. It’s quite magnificent. Very authentic looking.”

He smiled and I had to reach for the piano to steady myself. A wave of warmth spread over me, ran through my hair and soothed the nape of my neck.

“Have you considered trying out for the role of Adelle?”

“The lead? Me? In the Masquerade? No. Of course not.”

“You have the rich tone and depth Marie lacked. You’re also considerably more beautiful. Marie’s appeal was flat and one-dimensional. Blond is so predictable; but the depth of darkness that surrounds your flawless skin makes a man burn to get closer.”

I swallowed and my gut turned an involuntary somersault. To emphasize his words he took a step closer and I was mesmerized by the power of his stride. His scent came to me and I wanted to inhale deeply and breathe him all in. He wasn’t artificially perfumed, but the blend of leather, linen and plain old masculinity was intoxicating.

“You could easily be the star of this show, Annette.”

He knew my name and I knew I should question how, but my eyes dipped down to his chest and the urge to put my hand to the fine fabric of his jacket was more than I could bear.

“I’m just a seamstress, not a singer. And I should get back to wardrobe. Roberta will be looking for me.” I grabbed the sheets of music and stepped around him, my heart pounding.

Heat seared up my arm as he reached out for my hand and stopped my progress. “Return at five o’clock. I’ll wait for you.”

My gaze remained on his lips, expecting to see a playful smile, flirtatious grin or victorious smirk. But his mouth remained aligned in determination and I knew I would do as he requested.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

“Eric.”

Chapter 3

October 16
^st
, 2009

Dear Diary,

I spent over two hours with Eric in that darkened room. He played the piano brilliantly and I sang with increasing confidence, but the notion of auditioning still seems absurd to me. I mentioned my odd encounter with him to Judy and she could not recall seeing such a man. Despite this, she has encouraged me to see Eric again to continue singing.

While I still refuse to even consider auditioning for this role, the thought of spending time with Eric is certainly enticing. Then again, I did have a movie date with Chace.

It was well past seven when I rushed from Opera House and headed out to meet Chace for our movie. I’d forgotten about him and felt awful. The streets were crowded and, as is always the case when one is in a rush, everyone seemed to be moving at a deliberately slow pace.

“Sorry, I got out a bit late.” I was panting and flushed by the time I arrived.

He greeted me with a patient and pleasant smile. His brow was lightly furrowed and he seemed to want to question what could have kept me, but he simply said, “No problem. We can catch the second show. Have you had dinner?”

 
I hadn’t, but barely felt my hunger. I could still smell Eric’s breath on my skin and I felt a tinge of guilt. “I guess we could grab a bite as we wait.”

“I don’t know much about New York, but I’m pretty sure we can find something nearby.”

We did, and while the atmosphere of the little bistro was static and frigid, conversation with Chace was animated and fun.

“I was in New Orleans a few years back. Fascinating city. Wild.”

“It is. I miss it. But New York does have a way of making me forget what I left behind a bit.”

Chace was also new to New York and dearly missed his hometown of Lakewood just outside of Cleveland. The youngest of three boys, he was the only one musically inclined and his father had hoped to see him go into sports, hockey in particular, as his brothers had.

“I first picked up a violin for the third grade talent show and though I just made a bunch of dreadful screeching sounds, I fell in love with it. So while my brothers were going off and slapping pucks across the ice, I was practicing and practicing until my fingers burned, not to mention my dad’s ears.”

“Is he proud of you now, your father?”

He grinned. “He reluctantly came to my first recital when I was twelve. My mother dragged him. He didn’t admit it, but I think I blew him away. He never questioned my decision after that, and he never compared me to my brothers either.”

“Ah, a father’s dream for his son. It takes a lot of guts to go against his dream and forge out your own. I guess it’s the same courage that allows someone as young as you are to actually be first chair.”

He cocked his head to the side and seemed reluctant to accept my praise. “He and my mom had planned to be here opening week. Now with the postponement I don’t know if they’ll be able to make it.”

“I’m sure they will.”

A moment of silence stretched out and was on the verge of becoming uncomfortable. I could feel his unease as his fingers tapped nervously on the edge of his empty plate.

“The movie should be about to start soon,” I offered. “Should we get going?”

He seemed relieved, but a weight was visibly on his shoulders.

Chapter 4