“Note?” The man tore the envelope open and read aloud. “Dear Production Assistant, we are providing a new mix of Christine’s music. In an effort to be kind, I will only say that the music you provided is subpar. As other acts have their own bands, we don’t see this as any issue whatsoever. Also, please ensure Christine is kept away from any of your pyrotechnics. All my best regards, Christine Day’s manager.”
“Here’s the music.” In keeping to Erik’s stringent instructions, she held up a flash drive. She’d spent all day watching him remix the music for her hymn. The most impressive part was that he personally played each instrument, including a violin and a flute. If anyone thought Erik wasn’t extraordinary, they would be wrong.
After the chaos of the rehearsal a couple of days before, Christine thought it would be better today. In an effort to keep the show as raw as possible, all she did at the rehearsal was sing her song, get a set list of when she would be performing, and leave. This led to two things. First, there was complete and utter disarray backstage as they now got ready for their live filming. Second, Erik most definitely decided he could stage, direct and produce this production much better than the people actually paid to do it.
In slow motion, the man took the offering. “All right. Let’s get you ready.” Once more, he motioned to the chair and walked away shaking his head.
Christine sat and two women descended upon her. Before they had the chance to touch her, she held up her hand and produced another letter. “I have something for you from my manager.”
One of the women plucked the note away and read. “To whomever this may concern, Christine’s hair and makeup has already been tended to. We would appreciate if it not be touched as it is right for both the stage and film and designed not to have the garish look of your other contestants who have suffered at the hands of your team. With only the highest respect for your craft, Christine Day’s Manager. P.S. I would appreciate your assistance in making sure Ms. Day stays away from any of your fire, smoke and brimstone.”
The two women looked at each other. One shrugged, the other with the note patted Christine’s shoulder. “You can go to wardrobe now.”
On her way to the next stop, she passed the stage as a huge flash of light made her stop. The show had begun with a huge flame and puff of smoke, the same one Erik told her three times to stay away from.
Before even bothering to set foot in the dressing room, she handed the official looking person Erik’s note.
The woman blinked and took the envelope.
“Dear Wardrobe Mistress,” she read aloud. “Christine is in costume already. She will be in costume every week before arriving for filming, therefore there is no need for your service. However, we thank you for your time. I appreciate your understanding. On another note, I would also appreciate you ensuring she stays away from any of your flashy fire and may I also add it’s unnecessary as the talent doesn’t need to breathe in any of those chemicals. Christine Day’s Manager.”
At the woman narrowing her eyes, Christine smiled. “My manager is very strict.” At her own word choice, her cheeks heated. Erik wasn’t only strict in regards to her performance, but in the bedroom as well. Not that she didn’t enjoy that.
“I see this.” The woman put her hand on her hip.
Where her theatre ghost was attentive before, since the morning of the church he had been over the top, and in all honesty, Christine basked in everything Erik doled out.
“So, you are going to wear a cloak on stage?”
“This is one typically worn by women going to the opera.” In truth, she really loved the deep violet cloak, and keeping true to her promise to Erik, she wouldn’t open it until the moment up on stage.
“Are you going to the opera?” The woman huffed.
“Not today.” Though she and Erik watched one the other night in her bed. There was something very old fashioned about him, something she liked.
“Suit yourself, it’s your competition. If you can get through the hymn in that get-up then I suppose you can get through anything.” With a shrug, the woman turned. “Go take your place.”
Since she had no more notes to hand out, Christine went to the wing of the theatre with the other awaiting acts. Tonight the auditorium was full, with the electricity of a show in progress sizzling through the air. This was it, the show was really happening. Somewhere out there was Erik. He promised he would be there, and after dropping her off, and kissing her three times, then telling her to break a leg, he told her to meet him at the same trap door they escaped through last time. There were some definite things she needed to get used to in being with Erik, but they were all concessions she happily made.
Another girl in a western hat, jeans and a plaid shirt smiled at her. “I got country.”
“Hymn.” Christine nodded.
“They’re going to do one of the groups next.” The girl whispered. “You missed that Chimera band with hip hop, they were amazing. The judges loved them.
Christine watched as the lights came up, and her heart seized. Her old group was up.
The emcee, a man famous for basically being a host, crossed the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, our third band of the night, Rat Race, singing a pop song.”
Applause rang through the space.
“They got the easy genre.” The girl next to her continued to give commentary.
Christine wrapped her cloak around her tighter and listened. They went with the same tune they had been practicing all along giving them a definite edge over everyone who had to learn a new song during the week. Carly sounded good, as if she learned to temper her voice a bit, and the band was together.
The only upside to them being on before her was maybe they would leave before she went on stage. She really didn’t need to cross paths with any of them.
They ended their song to more applause and waited for the evaluation.
Justin White, the pop star started first. “You guys are giving me a run for my money, good job.”
The band huddled together and Carly hugged Ramon.
Perry Ross, the songwriter, gave them a thumbs-up. “You can work on your tones a little, but all and all, excellent work.”
“They’ve ripped everyone else to shreds.” The country singer shook her head.
Lastly, Michelle Mitchel stood. “This is the sort of talent we look for when producing records.”
The emcee announced a break and the audience clapped again.
The production assistant from earlier ran over. “Christine, since you were ready early we’re putting you on next. We have the music you requested all set.”
Though she wasn’t nearly as nervous as for her audition, at the announcement she would be next, her breath caught.
Rat Race left the stage and headed in the opposite direction.
All right, at least she didn’t have to pass them, but if they didn’t know before, they would now know she made it as well.
“All right Christine, take your mark, after you’re introduced, your music will start.” The production assistant prodded her forward. She managed to complete the final touch to her costume and put her hood over her head.
Clapping resonated around her as she took her place at the microphone. Where last time she could see the people in the audience, with the lights and the cameras, everything in the distance was nothing but darkness. Erik had to be there.
The emcee joined her on stage. “Join me in welcoming our fourth singer tonight, Christine Day, with a hymn.”
Her music started.
Rather than picturing the world watching her in high definition, she chose to envision how Erik recorded each one of these notes for her. The music was made for her, and she knew each one of her actions by heart. At her cue, she pictured Erik directing her and looked up as if searching for heaven, and began to sing.
Emotion, hymns were about the emotion, about reaching a higher place, and since that morning in the church, she felt that every time she practiced with Erik. As she sang she
forgot about everyone, everything except for the way he looked at her every time she finished the song, about how he treated her like a fragile piece of glass, how every time he kissed her it was as if he were worshipping her. All she could do was make all that she felt come out in her voice.
In keeping with the drama of the piece, right as she went into the chorus, with a bit of flourish, she opened her cloak holding her arms out, not only to reveal the gold silk interior of the cloak, but her matching form-fitting dress.
The audience clapped, and she used their approval to lift her up, continue on, and hit every note.
When at last her song ended, she lowered her arms, the cloak closed and she looked down, staying in that position as the applause continued and the emcee joined her once again.
“I must say Miss Day, you have a flair for the drama.” The emcee put his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s see what the judges think.”
This time, Michelle went first. “Though this is not my typical genre, if you were singing, I may add it to my label. Excellent work.”
Christine couldn’t stop a smile and focused on Perry.
He stood and held out his arms. “I have nothing to say. I’m ready to cry.”
Waiting for the last verdict, she held her breath.
Justin tilted back in his chair, turned to the audience, then back to her. “Anytime you want to collaborate, let me know.”
“Thank you, Christine. After the commercial break, our next singer will be up.” The emcee motioned off camera and the theme music for the show rang though the theatre.
She gave one last look out at the audience and bowed, hoping Erik knew that bow was for him. There was one last judge who needed to weigh in, but she would have to wait until later.
As Rat Race did before her, she exited the stage. With each step she took, the twisting in her stomach amplified. No doubt she was about ready to be faced with a confrontation now.
By the time she made it backstage, she was practically trembling, but was only met with another production assistant. “Go back to the green room and wait for the elimination. The other contestants are there now.”
Right, the green room, the elimination round, she wasn’t out of the woods yet. That’s where everyone went. She exhaled and headed in the direction of the green rooms, but right before joining everyone else, she veered and went toward the darkness to buy some time.
Chapter Fourteen
“You did it.” Nash grunted and hoisted himself behind some props way back of the stage. “Only you could make a hymn a hit.”
“It’s not a hit, and Christine did it, but I have to say she did magnificent, and the music wasn’t all bad either.” Erik let out a low chuckle as he assisted Nash into their hiding place. While he had managed to watch the performance from an old box seat in the theatre, in order to smuggle Christine out without a scene, they needed to save the drama for the stage.
“I think you make quite a duo.” Nash patted his back. “I like to think I aided in the coming together, so to speak.”
Not wanting to dignify Nash’s crude reference to condoms, he watched the last group finish. They only had to get through the elimination and then they could go home and go to bed.
“So are you going to tell me anything?” Nash poked him with his cane.
Erik shooed him away. “There’s nothing to say, everything about her is incredible. Everything.” Where he used to abhor lying in bed, now his favorite time of day was right before she woke up and he could watch her cuddled up on his chest sound asleep, her breath hitting his skin in little puffs, calm, trusting, beautiful. “You know she fits me, she understands me, she doesn’t push, but she pushes at the right times.”
He faced his friend. “She lets me take the lead. In fact, she likes it, but she’s not a pushover and knows when to stand her ground. I trust her. She’s genuine, she’s been nothing but real and truthful, and I couldn’t ask for anything more from anyone.”
“For someone who didn’t have anything to say, you have said a lot.” Nash gave him a grin.
“I’m trying not to think about the end. Sometimes I catch myself forgetting this is only finite.” He sighed and returned to looking out at the stage. The contestants were lining up with the groups on one side and the solo singers on the other.
Though he was not at the most advantageous vantage point, he could make out Christine and had full view of that horrid group she was once part of. The screeching woman and the useless man leaned and stared at Christine, then the entire group did the same. From what Erik could see, Christine seemed to turn away. If these low lives were bothering her in any way, shape or form they would pay.
“The world is finite, but I think or pray some things could be infinite. Why don’t you see where this takes you?” Nash whispered.
Many things were supposed to be infinite, or at least as infinite as their finite existence, things like faces, careers, love. He inhaled. “They’re doing the eliminations.”
These reality shows all seemed the same with the elimination countdowns. Each one tried to put their own spin on things, but essentially, they were all variations on the same theme. Before they began, they flared the flames again and Erik winced and turned to Nash. “Those really aren’t necessary.”
His friend patted his shoulder. “They’re safe enough.”
“That’s what I thought.” No one loved the fire more than he did until it consumed him.
Nash lifted his chin toward the stage. “They’re announcing the losers.”
The emcee, who reminded Erik more of a weasel than a talent, motioned toward the bands. “The group leaving us tonight is Water Song.”
Erik shrugged. The ones leaving were forgettable at best. Not bad, not good, nothing.
The group came forward, shook hands with the emcee and made their way off the stage.
While the emcee then went over to the solo acts, Erik focused on Rat Race. They continued to look over at Christine and talk among themselves. Maybe he was being paranoid, what else did he expect with their history? Still, he noted to keep his eyes out for them.
After a ton of fanfare and recapping the night’s performances, the emcee finally got to the task at hand. “All right, we had some wonderful acts tonight, but unfortunately someone has to go home.”
“One hundred says it’s the one who sang the country song.” Nash leaned in.
Erik pursed his lips. The country singer was melted vanilla ice cream, but she had a sticky sweetness about her. “All right. I’ll go with the boy who sang the ballad.” May as well keep it interesting.
“Bet. He’s too much of a pretty boy.” Nash shook his hand.
“Tonight, the singer leaving us will be Marla Needle, our pop singer.” The emcee went over and put his arm around the girl.
“I forgot there was a pop singer.” Nash laughed.
“Me, too. That’s probably why she was eliminated.” By the judges’ reaction, he knew it wasn’t going to be Christine. Now they only needed to keep the momentum. Erik tilted his head in Nash’s direction. “Go get the car. Hopefully it won’t be too much longer.”
“When do you think I’ll be able to meet Christine?” Nash got out of his hiding space. “Why don’t you give her some of what she gave you and tell her who you really are.”
“Why don’t you go get the car?” Erik pointed in the direction of the exit. “Take the way I told you.
“Fine.” Nash hobbled away.
Erik remained hidden, but without Nash there, he was able to maneuver himself to where the contestants would leave. Once he saw Christine say her goodbyes, he would rush to their meeting spot.
While he waited, he considered Nash’s question. Would he ever tell Christine who he was? His stomach twisted. Right now he was only Erik, the man, her lover with the destroyed face. When she left his life, he would still have his identity intact, would never have to worry about being found.
If she knew he was Erik Renevant, lead singer of the one-time super group Spect
re, he would forever be exposed. Worse yet, would she look at him and wonder what she could have had if he didn’t ruin his face? Would she always see what he was?
Too many thoughts crowded in his mind, but they all stopped the second he spotted Christine. Even before his life changed, he would have wanted her.
The solo acts lined up, and the director of the whole shebang went to Christine. “Good work on making it to week two. We will follow the same procedure as last week. Here’s your assignment.” He handed her a yellow card. “Broadway Musical.”
Though hoping for ballad or a rock song, Erik practically high fived the universe. This would be easy.
In the shadows, he followed Christine. Right before he was going to crawl down to his place to meet his girl, someone barked her name.
“Christine.”
Erik leaned over to find the blond bothersome boy blocking her way, and he balled his hand in a fist, priming himself to act if need be.
“I’m sort of in a rush, but good luck in the competition.” Christine wrapped her cloak around her.
Erik nodded. Good girl, get rid of him and come to me.
“Yeah, how long have you been in one?” The boy had the gall to cross his arms.
“What do you mean?” Her soft voice barely reached his ears.
“Have you been in so much of a rush that you forgot to tell me or anyone else you quit the band?”
Erik shook his head. What was this fool speaking about?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.” She took a step back.
“So just disappearing without a word, making me wonder, and then showing up here as our competition was the way you decided to break the news?”
Unfortunately, Erik heard his words loud and clear. He specifically told Christine to break off ties with these people. She never told them?
“Did you have this planned all along?”
At the boy’s question, Erik focused on Christine. He asked, no he begged her to tell him the truth, how many opportunities did he give her to say something, anything?
“No, things just happened.” Her shoulders slumped down as if she was trying to make herself as small as possible.
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