by Anna Adams
He abruptly stopped, pulled back, and walked swiftly towards the door.
“We’d better get back inside. We wouldn’t want to catch cold now, would we?”
Jazmine looked blankly at him, confused and puzzled.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Jazmine didn’t have a habit of beating around the bush.
“Do what?” Jonathan asked, although he knew perfectly well what she was talking about.
“You kissed me! And then you stepped abruptly away? Am I that repulsive to you?” she asked, baffled.
“You know you’re not, Jazmine,” Jonathan said.
“Then what’s wrong? I’ve been pretty obvious how I feel about you. Even Matt noticed and probably everyone else at the table for that matter. And I know you like me too.”
“Now how can you be so sure about that?” Jonathan challenged with a smile.
“I’ve noticed the way you look at me during rehearsals. And I guess this kiss is a pretty good barometer of your feelings for me,” she answered.
“I know you, Jazmine,” he answered, looking away from her. “I know your type. And I know you would smash my heart to little pieces. I don’t want to end up looking like the twenty plates I handled tonight,” he concluded.
He opened the door and went back inside, leaving Jazmine all alone. She shivered and turned towards the pile of garbage.
“You’re the witness to my very first, most painful rejection,” she said aloud, wrinkling her nose.
“Lily and Stacey would laugh if they saw me right now. Rejected by the school’s official nerd and having evening chats with a pile of disgusting trash.”
She sighed sadly and went through the heavy door that closed behind her with a loud bang.
“You look awful, Maude,” Kyra, the makeup artist said, admiring her personal work of art.
Maude was sitting in the dressing room of Morningside Theater in front of a wide mirror. Her dark natural hair was disheveled, her makeup gave her a frightening, unkempt look. She was dressed in gray, ashen rags that limply covered her body. She smiled at her reflection while Kyra crept out of the room.
She was ready.
The audience had arrived, and the Baldwins had front-row seats in the magnificent theater. Maude never felt calmer and happier. She had come such a long way, and she was finally able to do the thing she loved the most. If Mrs. Ruchet could see her now, she wouldn’t believe her eyes. That the girl she had mistreated could still stand tall and proud was amazing in itself.
There was a knock at the door. Maude hurried to the door and saw James walk towards her, her phone in his hand. She’d left it with him to keep away any kind of distraction.
“I hope you aren’t feeling too nervous. You still have twenty minutes to calm down, take some fresh air if you want.”
Maude shook her head.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“I’ve got someone on the phone here for you,” he said, smiling gently. “She wants to congratulate you before you go on stage.” He stretched out his arm towards her but Maude looked at her phone, puzzled. She didn’t know anyone who would want to congratulate her.
“Is it Victoria? Because we already spoke this evening and—”
“It isn’t Vic. Take the phone you’ll see.”
He put the phone in her hand and closed the door behind her.
Maude put the phone to her ear, but almost dropped it when she heard the voice on the other end.
“So tonight is your big night, huh?” Mrs. Ruchet snarled on the end of the receiver.
“Mrs. Ru-Ruchet,” Maude stammered helplessly.
“Who else do you expect it to be? Your mother?”
“How did you know? About tonight I mean. I—”Maude was hopeless for words. She hadn’t heard of the Ruchets once since she’d arrived in New York.
“Your producer, Mr. Batwing told us. He left us a message saying how important this was and that it would be nice if we supported you and crap like that,” Mrs. Ruchet snarled.
Maude gathered her wits together. She didn’t want Mrs. Ruchet to ruin her evening. The sooner she ended this conversation the better. That was easier said than done.
“I have to go. I have to get ready,” she lied. “I really can’t stay on the phone,” she added hurriedly.
“Oh so I see. You’re snubbing the people who raised you.”
“No, I just have to get ready. I—”
“It doesn’t matter. You know why? Because you know the clock is ticking, Cinderella.”
Maude’s heart stopped as she listened to Mrs. Ruchet’s cold words, picturing the snide smile she was wearing on her face.
“You know that soon the clock will strike twelve, and you’ll have to come back to Carvin. You haven’t forgot our little pact, have you?”
How could she forget, Maude thought bitterly, as she choked back tears.
“Let me refresh your memory in case you’ve forgotten.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” Maude replied, trying to steady her voice. She never wanted to give Mrs. Ruchet the satisfaction of sensing her distress.
“I’ll give you every penny I receive for the album. I won’t touch a cent,” Maude uttered, her voice shaking a little more with each word.
“Exactly. And?”
Maude closed her eyes and swallowed.
“And I’ll come back to live with you for ten more years, until the twins are eighteen and I’m twenty-six. I won’t leave for university or the Conservatoire de Paris, or anywhere else. I’ll stay in the basement ten years longer.”
She heard Mrs. Ruchet laugh, her terrible, and threatening laugh. Not being able to stand it any longer, Maude hurriedly hung up, her vision blurred by a flow of hot tears.
At that moment, Jazmine and Cynthia entered the dressing room excitedly wanting to see Maude one last time before she made her debut.
They stopped abruptly when they noticed Maude’s grief-stricken face.
“Maude, what’s wrong?” Cynthia cried as she hurried towards her.
Maude couldn’t answer and just shook her head as she tried to prevent the tears from flowing.
“Who was on the phone?” Jazmine asked worriedly, noticing Maude’s phone in her balled-up fist.
“I can’t go on stage,” Maude trembled. “I can’t go like this. Tell Ms. Tragent to prepare Lindsey.”
Cynthia and Jazmine shared a worried glance.
“Maude, it’s normal to have a little stage-fright before going on stage. This is your first time. You’ll be wonderful, I’m sure,” Cynthia spoke soothingly.
Maude shook her head.
“Where’s Matt?” she asked, trying miserably to wipe her tears.
She needed to see him right away. She didn’t know why, but she felt seeing his easy-going, laid-back smile might calm her and somehow reassure her.
Jazmine looked uncomfortable.
“He isn’t here . . . yet.”
“He didn’t come?” Maude asked.
“He’s going to make it, I’m sure, Maude,” Jazmine reassured hurriedly. “I’ll call him right now. I’m sure he’s on his way.”
She almost ran out of the dressing room with Maude’s phone and slammed the door behind her. The phone barely rang once before Matt answered.
“Hello?”
“Where are you? What are you doing?” Jazmine asked frantically.
“Jazmine? I’m doing as you told me to do. I’m staying away from Maude.”
“I never told you not to come for her big night, Matt!” she shrieked. “Damn it! The only time you ever listen to me, you go way overboard. I told you not to play with her feelings. I never told you not to be her friend. Get your butt over here right now!”
“What’s going on? Is she all right?” Matt asked worriedly.
“No, she isn’t all right! Just get over here as soon as you can, Mathieu Beauchamp, or I’ll tell the press that you’re going out with Lindsey, and you’ll never s
ee the end of it!”
“I’m on my way but honestly, that is the lamest threat I’ve ever heard.”
“I know. I’m completely off my game. Just hurry, please.”
Jazmine hung up and re-entered the dressing room where Cynthia was wiping Maude’s face with a tissue.”
“Matt is on his way, he’s just running a little late. Don’t worry he’ll be here on time.”
“I don’t care if he comes,” Maude stated as she got up from her seat and left the room quietly.
“I convinced her to go on stage. I don’t know if I should have. Should we call Dad?”
“I don’t think so. It’s too late now. She has to go on stage. Lindsey would be too happy. Let’s go take our seats.”
They hurried past Maude just in time to hear Ms. Tragent say, “Kyra did a great job on the makeup. You look awful!”
Jazmine squeezed Maude’s hand as she passed her and prayed fervently that Matt would arrive on time.
Suddenly, Maude was alone on stage, a broom in her hand, waiting for the curtain to rise. She heard the orchestra play the opening theme, but try as she might, she couldn’t help but hear Mrs. Ruchet’s words echo in her ear.
Ten years.
She would have to spend ten more years with the Ruchets. She had agreed to it. She even had it in writing. She had also made sure that pact was stashed in a tiny corner of her brain, where she couldn’t see it, feel it, or think about it.
Maude had enjoyed her time in New York not wanting to think of what would happen when her six-month stay was up. Could she really go back to her dreary life? Maude looked down at her rags and smiled bitterly, pushing back the tears that threatened to overflow once more. In the opera, Cinderella managed to escape her condition. Maude knew she wouldn’t be so lucky. She hated this story, she thought angrily. It was just a huge deception. This whole opera was a farce!
Suddenly the curtain pulled up and Maude faced the crowd.
The room was packed. Women wore their most exquisite evening dresses, the men accompanying them bore their best suits, small girls were fidgeting impatiently in velvet dresses like fairy queens. Every seat, every balcony was filled with people waiting to hear the renowned Cordelia Tragent’s version of La Cenerentola.
Maude’s mind went blank.
She barely noticed the Baldwins in the front row, looking worriedly at one another wondering if Maude would start singing. She glanced at the orchestra pit where the musicians, puzzled, had started the opening theme again, hoping that Maude would start singing. They didn’t realize that her heart was pounding a lot louder than their music, and that was the only rhythm she could perceive at the moment. What she did notice though, was a tall, slim, disheveled young man who had just arrived, breathlessly but quite discreetly, in a light brown trench coat. Matt hadn’t had the time to change into a tuxedo and had come to the Opera House as soon as he possibly could.
Maude came back to earth with a start and a painful, frightening realization. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t sing. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t play pretend. Mrs. Ruchet had won. So Maude did the only thing she could think of doing.
She ran off the stage.
Victoria noiselessly pushed open the door to Maude’s room. The room was filled with darkness and she could only hear the young, anguished girl sob breathlessly. She sat on the side of Maude’s bed and stroke her disheveled hair gently.
Victoria stayed by her side through the night, trying to soothe her, feeling her heart would break as she heard Maude sob.
“Oh, Victoria! I can never face Ms. Tragent again,” she cried.
“Maude, it will be okay.”
“No, it won’t,” she answered staunchly. “She’ll kick me out of her class and she won’t ever let me come back! And Ma- I mean everyone will think I’m a terrible performer.”
“Honey, it happens to everyone. The show wasn’t ruined because Lindsey went on stage to play your part.”
Maude straightened in her bed, sniffling. She would probably catch a cold after having walked under the pouring rain before finally being able to hail an unwilling taxi. Catching a cab in New York on a rainy night was nothing short of a miracle.
“That doesn’t make it any better,” she stated mournfully. “Lindsey will never let me live this down. And it’s all my fault!” she wailed.
Victoria wrapped Maude in her arms before she collapsed, formless into her heap of covers.
“It is not your fault, Maude,” she insisted. “James completely messed up one of his concerts after we’d had a fight once. It was a silly fight, but it happened just before his band’s first concert.”
“James was in a band?” Maude asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Oh yes, and it wasn’t a great one. It was long before he decided to become a producer. That evening was a fiasco, and I’m almost certain he still holds me responsible for that.”
Maude remained silent.
“James told me you had a conversation with your foster mother right before the opening act. What did she tell you?” Victoria asked gently.
Maude looked up at Victoria’s calm, concerned face and felt tempted to tell her everything. How could she ever begin to explain?
She sighed and replied, “She just told me to break a leg, which I almost achieved while running off stage.”
Victoria screened Maude’s face. “Maude, you know you can trust me, don’t you?”
“I know, Victoria. Can I get some sleep, now? I think I’m all cried out.”
“Of course. We’ll talk some more tomorrow.”
She gently kissed Maude’s forehead before tiptoeing out of the room.
James was waiting for her in their room, pacing in circles.
“How is she?” he asked when Victoria returned.
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “James Baldwin, when will you learn to listen to me? I knew something was off with her family, but this is even worse than I imagined.”
“I never thought their relationship was so damaged,” James said wearily.
“I instantly perceived she lacked care. I didn’t know she was terrified of them. I know she’s hiding something. It’s as if she’s being held prisoner in her own mind. She’s alone and frightened and they have a powerful hold over her.”
“I never should have called them. I thought it would be a good opportunity for the Ruchets to show their support. I thought they would be proud.”
He got up and took Victoria in his arms.
“All I know is I won’t let her go back over there unless I’m certain she’s safe and properly cared for,” Victoria said. “I’ll never forget Linda Milton from the shelter. I thought she was better. I turned my back for a second, and she ran back to her abusive husband. He beat her to death that same night. I will never make that mistake again, James.”
“I know, honey. That’s what I love about you.” He kissed the top of her head.
“She’s blended perfectly in this family,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine her leaving at the end of June.”
“Maybe she won’t have to,” James declared. “If her first album is a success, we could convince Alan to let Soulville sign her for a tour and a second album. She could stay with us.”
“Her album would have to be a huge success. Alan will be reeling from the fact she ran off stage tonight. He won’t understand it was just circumstantial.”
“Her album will be a success. I know it, Vic. I’ve never been so certain about anything like I am of this. We’ll start recording in a few days, and when we release her first hit single ‘Paris Versus New York City,” Alan will be willing to do anything for his new star.”
“God, I miss the days when Alan wasn’t a part of Soulville Records.”
“So do I. I wish I’d never given in to Travis Brighton’s need to expand Soulville five years ago. I should’ve held my ground, but I thought I would be able to reach more artists. Now, as one of three major shareholders of Soulville, I always need Travis to side wit
h me on important decisions. Although he’s my oldest friend, we don’t always see eye to eye, and he is far more sensitive to Alan’s financial rationale than I am.”
“Travis sided with you on the decision to sign Maude, but after what happened this evening, he might be tempted to lend an ear to what Alan has to say.” Victoria acknowledged gloomily.
“I believe in Maude. I see more potential in that girl than I’ve ever seen before. I refuse to let Soulville, the company Travis and I built together, become another Glitter Records.”
“That won’t happen,” Victoria affirmed. “Not as long as you’re there. You keep the vision alive. As long as you’re there, everything will be fine,” Victoria repeated convincingly.
Maude spent the entire following day moping in pajamas with Cynthia and Jazmine who were trying to cheer her up after the debacle.
“Maybe we could go shopping or something?” Cynthia tentatively asked after they had watched the fourth chick flick in a row.
Shopping usually made Jazmine get out of a moping state, but Maude certainly wasn’t Jazmine. She shook her head.
“I am never seeing the light of day again. Or answering my phone ever again,” she said as she looked at the twentieth missed call Thomas had left on her phone.
“Okay, let’s open another box of vanilla ice cream,” Jazmine suggested as she leapt off the couch.
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
Cynthia went to the door and when she came back to the living room, the cold and stately Ms. Tragent followed her. Maude gasped and tried, uselessly, to hide the empty ice cream boxes under the sofa. Ms. Tragent raised a stern eyebrow, and Maude left the boxes to greet her teacher.
“May I speak to you alone, Ms. Laurent?” Her question was more an order than an actual question, but Maude nodded, nevertheless.
While they went into the dining room, Maude wished she had been wearing anything other than ridiculous pajamas she wore in front of Ms. Tragent.
Her teacher, on the other hand was elegantly dressed, and not one hair strand stuck out of her tight bun. Maude tried unsuccessfully to smooth her rebellious curls down, but just succeeded in making them stick out further.