All I Ask

by KT Webb

  “Why would you wanna go there, lady?”

  Aria didn’t feel it necessary to offer an answer. All too often, cab drivers felt everything was their business. She wanted to ignore him, but she had been raised better than that. She sighed in resignation.

  “I own it.”

  The cabbie did a double-take in his rearview mirror, “You Aria Durant?”

  “I am,” she replied softly, preparing for the onslaught of questions about her dead father.

  “Cool. You know, I’m not much of a theater guy, but I seen a couple of your dad's plays. They were good. Sorry about your loss.”

  It was the least offensive response she’d gotten from a stranger in years. Aria thanked him and enjoyed the rest of the ride in silence. When she got out of the cab, the driver left her with one last bit of wisdom.

  “You gotta live your life for you. Don’t let anyone tell ya you gotta live up to yer dad’s name. That’s somethin’ I wish somebody’d told me.”

  “Thank you,” Aria waited for the cab to leave before following the edge of the building to the alley and walking through the backstage entrance.

  The air inside was cold and clear of any tension she had felt before. D’Angelo wasn’t there. It was a feeling she hadn’t expected to hit her as hard as it did. Aria had to remind herself that she wanted to be left alone. She didn’t want his mercurial presence to confuse her anymore. After their encounter the night before, it was impossible for her to simply be his pupil again. Something had started to form inside her, a feeling deep down that threatened to take her over completely. She paused on the stage for just a moment before crossing to the other side of the theater and climbing the stairs to her apartment.

  Aria saw the envelope before she reached her door. Lying on the floor directly in front of her apartment was a red rose and an envelope with her name written in scrawling script. It wasn’t a mystery who had written the note. She glanced around, gripped by the impossible hope that she would finally see him standing in the light. Of course, she was entirely alone. The thrill of his touch returned to her mind as she knelt to pick up the letter. She brought the rose to her face and inhaled the perfumed scent. When she was inside her apartment, she set her purse on the counter and wandered to the couch. Aria stared at the envelope for what felt like a lifetime. Finally, she opened it paying particular attention to her movements to keep it from tearing.

  Dearest Aria,

  I was there. You were magnificent. I will always be here when you need me.

  With my deepest affection,

  D’Angelo

  He was there? Tears prickled in her eyes. He was there. He wasn’t gone. Aria touched the page with a shaking hand. A tiny part of her mind sent off alarms; this was dangerous. She had told him to leave, and he hadn’t listened. Not only that, he was promising to be there whenever she needed him. The bottom line for Aria was that for the first time in a long time, she felt the security of knowing she would be protected and guided by someone she loved. Yes, it was time for her to admit the feeling to herself. The love she felt for D’Angelo was not expected or even welcome at first, but now she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the darkest parts of the mysterious man.

  In the many years Patrick had been directing for Broadway, he had the opportunity to work on a D’Angelo play on more than one occasion. Honestly, it had always been more of a relief to him that the composer preferred to be hands-off during the entire process. They knew he attended opening night and the occasional rehearsal because notes would be found, telling them his thoughts on their realization of his work. Usually, those notes were positive and made him feel as though he had earned the approval of one of the greatest composers to grace Broadway. Sometimes, the letters were critical; he’d even been told he would be fired if he didn’t make changes to one of the plays. Patrick had learned to take D’Angelo seriously. He may have been mysterious and unknown, but he was undoubtedly present and almost always right.

  Now that he had basically made up his mind to cast Aria Durant in the lead, he received a troubling note from the genius himself. Of course, he’d discussed the possibility with Michael Stevens, the producer, but he hadn’t made any official announcements. Aria was perfect for the role; it was as though it had been written for her. The note from D’Angelo directly contradicted his thoughts. When he arrived at the Majestic Theatre, the note was waiting for him with the typical wax seal rose, keeping others from reading its contents without destroying the small detail.

  Dear Mr. Butler,

  It has been brought to my attention that Miss Aria Durant is the forerunner for the role of Jill in the production of my play, All I Ask. While Miss Durant is a beautiful creature with the voice of an angel, I would advise against casting her in this role. I was present for auditions and know you are set on casting Mr. Overland for Ben. It would be unwise to cast her opposite Andrew Overland in a romantic role.

  I would strongly suggest that you cast Karen Moreau as the lead. Her experience acting for both stage and screen productions, combined with her vocal abilities, would make her the ideal candidate.

  Kindest Regards,

  D’Angelo

  Patrick stared at the letter. Karen Moreau was a very well-known actress who had auditioned for the role. She was his second choice for the part, but if D’Angelo felt strongly enough about who was cast that he sent a rare letter, then Patrick decided he should put serious thought into what was being suggested. After stowing the note safely in his pocket, he went in search of his stage manager. He’d had many opportunities to work with Christine and valued her opinion. If she had seen who brought the note, that might help him determine its validity.

  He found her talking to the set building crew. She was a petite young woman with the innate ability to take command of any situation. It was one of the many reasons he continued to work with her.

  “Christine, do you have a minute?”

  She turned toward him, then returned her focus to the crew, “I’ll be right back. Please make sure you follow the plans exactly. We don’t need any more incidents.”

  Patrick gestured for him to follow her into the hall, “What was that about?”

  “Oh, some moron didn’t follow directions and used shorter screws than the plans required. It wasn’t strong enough to hold the weight of the set, and we lost a days' work and a couple hundred dollars of material,” she huffed.

  “Michael will love that,” he rolled his eyes.

  “You’re telling me. So, what did you need, boss?”

  Patrick handed her the letter from D’Angelo and let her read it. He watched her face change from confusion to surprise as his own probably had. She’d also spent plenty of time working on D’Angelo productions and knew how moody the composer could be. The directors and producers who refused to follow his requests or suggestions were never offered another D’Angelo play again. Patrick and Michael were both veterans of Broadway and had never had any problems with making a change to please the composer. This time it was a little different. When Christine finished reading, she handed it back and blew out a puff of air.

  “Did you see anyone deliver it? I know you were here late last night and again early this morning,” Patrick observed.

  Christine shook her head, “Nope. But isn’t that the way with D’Angelo? He’s not exactly the type of guy to be seen if he doesn’t want to be.”

  Patrick shrugged, “I guess. So, what do you think? I really wanted to cast Durant, but I don’t want to lose this production.”

  “You’re set on casting Overland?” Christine asked half-hoping he had changed his mind.

  Patrick thought for a few moments, “I am. He’s a pretty big name himself, and after all that sensational tabloid crap that was smeared all over the internet after his last performance in London, I think he would bring some extra publicity.”

  “And you really wanted that shock-factor of him playing opposite Durant.”

  “Well, yeah, that would have been nice. But I’ll
take what I can get. Even if we don’t cast Aria as Jill, I’m sure we can get some attention just by having the Overland and Durant names associated with the production.”

  They stopped walking, and both stared at the letter as though lost in thought. Patrick valued her opinion and knew she wouldn’t put her own feelings before what was right for the play. He already knew she harbored ill-will toward both stars. Her professionalism always took priority over her personal biases.

  “Well? What’s going on in that brain of yours?” He prompted.

  “I think we do as he says but prepare Aria to take the part should anything happen with Karen. I’ve worked with her before. She’s a bit. . .demanding. You remember that time she stormed off during a performance, and we had to have an impromptu intermission. If we cast Moreau, we need to be prepared for anything,” Christine sighed.

  “That’s a good point. Technically having Aria act as an understudy isn’t going against his wishes. It’s smart,” Patrick nudged her shoulder, “See? This is why I like to keep you around, kid.”

  Christine laughed and left him to return to her supervisory responsibilities. The idea that Patrick viewed her as a “kid” was disheartening. She’d long harbored feelings for him that would likely never be realized. As far as the production, Christine wasn’t a fan of the idea of working with Karen again. The woman was unbearable at times. Aria seemed to be a sweet and unassuming girl; most of the newbies were. As far as Andrew was concerned, Christine had had enough of him just by reading the ridiculous articles about his numerous affairs and playboy attitude. He could act, he could sing, but he was a real piece of shit in the real world.

  If he were going to be taking the leading role, she’d have to keep a close eye on the girls taking part in the production. Nothing had ever been proven, but the allegations of inappropriate advances and borderline assault were enough to make Christine leery of him. It would be difficult to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  D’Angelo felt like an asshole writing the letter to Patrick Butler. The last thing he wanted was to impede Aria’s career. But just knowing that she may be cast opposite Andrew Overland after she admitted to harboring unrequited feelings for the man’s twin brother made him cringe. He felt the need to protect Aria. Sheltering her from the things that may hurt her physically was far more straightforward than keeping her from experiencing any emotional turmoil.

  He knew Butler would never tell Aria he’d written him; the man had no reason to share that information. As far as anyone knew, Aria had never met D’Angelo, let alone interacted with him. At least, no one other than Madame Rossi knew. Lena Rossi was harmless. It was she who helped him when he needed it most. He had nowhere to go, and she helped him hide away from the world he so desperately wanted to escape. She cared a great deal for Aria, and that played in D’Angelo’s favor. Making the decision to write the letter hadn’t been easy, but it became necessary as soon as Butler made it clear he wanted to cast Overland in the role of Ben.

  Andrew Overland had a history of being a slippery snake. He put on a good face, so no one ever knew for sure if he was sincere or playing a role. D’Angelo happened to be able to see right through that act. He’d dealt with men like him before; men who thought their good looks and charm would allow them to gain access to anything. The role in which he would be cast called for him to spend an awful lot of time in the personal space of his leading lady. Aria was smart but impressionable. Overland would see her as a prize to be won. He would romance her for the sake of the chase, leaving Aria brokenhearted and unable to trust even D’Angelo himself. No, he couldn’t allow that to happen. If Karen Moreau played the lead, Aria would be safe. She would go unnoticed by the predatory nature of Andrew Overland.

  A few levels above him, Aria began to sing as she practiced for the role she wouldn’t be getting. He closed his eyes, listening to the enrapturing tone of her voice. D’Angelo hadn’t spoken to her directly since she touched his face. He still felt the sting of that betrayal. The worst part was, she didn’t even understand why it was such a problem. Years of being alone and taught him that human touch was something to be treated with the utmost respect. Her unwillingness to work with him while he wore a mask to conceal his hideous deformity had prompted him to keep it off in the darkness. He’d thought he could trust her.

  There was something about having her soft hand gently caress his mutilated cheek that made him irrationally angry. No matter how much he wanted to pretend he was whole and worthy of her love, he couldn’t escape the thought that she would be disgusted if she looked at him. It wasn’t a feeling he was keen on reliving. It occurred to him that it would have been easy to take his anger out on Aria, and that was something he would never be able to forgive himself for. But in the dimly lit home he’d built for himself in the sub-basement of the theater, he could hear her. His frustration over their previous interaction evaporated; he knew that if he allowed himself to be loved by her, it would end her life.

  On the theater stage, Aria took a break from singing to review the lines they would have her read during callbacks. The scene pulled at her heart and put her in mind of all the times she’d spoken to her father even though he wasn’t there. D’Angelo was indeed a genius in both writing and composing. No matter what happened at the callbacks, she hoped he would be willing to stay in her life.

  She’d come to value his input as she sang. No one had ever helped her understand the life found in music the way he had. There was a difference between listening and experiencing. Letting go of everything else and allowing the music to possess her body and soul was one of the most transformative experiences of her life. She wasn’t ready to let that go.

  The Majestic Theatre had never felt more imposing to a girl raised on Broadway than it did when she walked through the doors for her callback. Aria followed Christine backstage to wait with the other hopeful actresses, only to discover there was only one other. Karen Moreau stood to the side, talking to someone on the phone. Instead of interacting with the other actress, Aria came face to face with a ghost from her past. They stared at one another, neither believing their eyes. So many years had passed since the days they played together while her father wrote his music. It was impossible.

  “Erik. . .” Aria’s heartbreak seeped into the word.

  The dumbfounded expression flickered with irritation then understanding. No, Aria was wrong. She realized Erik couldn't possibly be standing on the stage with her. This had to be Andrew. Her cheeks reddened.

  “I’m sorry, I. . .I meant Andrew,” she shook her head in embarrassment.

  “Can it really be little Aria Durant?” His eyes automatically sought out the scar on her arm. It was still a mystery how she survived the explosion at the Durant home with only a small burn on her arm.

  “Drew. It’s so good to see you again. How are you?”

  “I’m great now,” he blinked rapidly and shook his head, “You look just like your mom.”

  Aria smiled. It was a compliment she heard often, but one that held no meaning for her. Of course, it filled her with pride, knowing that she resembled the woman who literally gave her life to bring her child into the world. No, it was the idea that she looked like the woman so many had loved, but she would never know, that always left a bitter taste in her mouth. She realized her momentary lapse of memory may have given Andrew the same feeling; his brother was gone too.

  “Ah, I see you’ve already reunited. How I’d hoped to be present for that moment,” Patrick interrupted the staring contest they seemed to be locked in.

  Aria looked to the director for any indication of the deeper meaning that seemed to be in his words. He simply smiled at her and then back at Andrew.

  “We’ve narrowed the role of Jill down to two. You’ll audition with Drew, then we’ll have Karen take her turn,” Patrick explained.

  Aria felt her stomach flop. He must have been referring to Karen Moreau. There was no way Aria would out-perform someone like her.

  “The two of us,
on the stage together at last,” Drew whispered while he stared transfixed at the young woman from his past.

  Aria blushed. Patrick silently cursed D’Angelo for insisting he cast Karen. The chemistry he hoped would be present between Overland and Durant was definitely palpable. The director rubbed his hands together before putting an arm around the actor and actress.

  “We need to hear you sing together and see you run lines before we make any official offers. Are you ready?”

  Both Aria and Drew nodded and accepted the pages of the script from their director. Aria had reviewed some of the lines before the callback, so it wasn’t a shock to her when he handed over the pivotal scene in the play.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he called from his seat between the producer and choreographer.