Page 15 of Phantom
He’s always seen me as helpless and innocent, but he knows nothing about me now. I try to pull my hand away, but he holds tight. I relent, just to appease him.
Like I’ve always done.
Shaking my head slightly, I push the thought away, not wanting to dwell on it.
“Okay, Rand. I promise.”
He finally lets go as the crowd claps at the end of Maggie’s speech. When he looks away, I can’t stop myself as I glance at Sol again, the mysterious Phantom of the French Quarter, if Rand can be believed. His gaze feels hot on my skin and nothing like the cold nature I’ve heard he has.
“You didn’t even hear the end of Maggie’s speech, did you?” Jaime laughs at me. “You’re gonna start drooling if you don’t get it together,mi amiga.”
“Shit.” I wipe my mouth, because for once, Jaime isn’t exaggerating.
He snorts at me. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Scarlo. He’s a run-of-the-mill hot white dude—” Jaime glances between the two of us and does a double take. He curses as he straightens. “Scratch that. If a guy looked at me like that, I’d let him make me sing falsetto any day, and I’m not even into broody men. Who knew you could still eye fuck with a fake eye?”
I twist toward him. “Fakeeyes?”
Jaime shrugs. “Well only the one behind the mask.”
The dull one.
“I heard it’s got X-ray vision or some shit.”
I roll my eyes. “Psh, yeah,okay.”
Jaime shrugs. “Hey, the guy’s so rich, it could be true for all we know. But if it is, then maybe that accident wasn’t such a bad thing. Although, I’m sure that mask is hell on his complexion. I wonder what he uses—”
“What accident?” I ask, trying to keep my fellow skincare lover from getting derailed. He’s usually much better about staying on task when we gossip. Unless he’s drunk, of course. Which—I watch him lick the inside of his glass for the last remnants of liquor—okay, yeah, I should be expecting this.
He comes away with the glass, smacking his lips before finally answering me. “He and Ben are identical twins but no one’s seen Sol’s true face in years, so it’s hard to say whether they still look similar. I’m not sure what happened. It’s all very hush-hush. He might be hideous under there now for all we know.”
“Whatever he’s hiding behind his mask can’t be worse than that cold, black heart of his,” Rand mutters.
I’mdyingto ask more questions, but someone rushes in and hands Monty a letter, catching my attention. The music is still low and it’s bright enough in the speakeasy that it’s easy to hear Monty’s gasp when he opens the envelope. His shocked face pales further as he looks it over.
“Hold on,” Jaime says as he sits up and props his chin in his hands. “I smell dramaaa.”
I giggle until Monty turns the letter over. There on the back is a distinctive black wax seal that shines in the light, revealing the skull imprint.
My heart stops. I recognize it easily. I should, since it’s exactly like the one I’ve been receiving for months.
It’shisseal. My demon of music.
As Monty opens the envelope, his hands shake so badly that I can see them all the way from here. I have no idea why I do it, but I risk a glance back at Sol. I no longer feel the weight of his stare as he takes in the scene with what looks like practiced disinterest on the left side of his face. Ben’s uncovered side is looking at his brother with a hint of frustration.
“Is this a joke?” Monty yells and the light background music stops altogether.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asks from her table. Her mother, Madam G, emerges from the shadows near the bar. She’s unmistakable in her peacock-feather mask. It’s the only color she has on and her arms are crossed over her long black dress as she watches over her domain.
Monty tosses the letter onto the table before sneering. “Okay, very funny. Who the hell did this?”
Maggie leaves her seat and plucks the letter from the table. Her mother comes up behind her and reads over her shoulder as Maggie speaks.
“Uh, Monty. I don’t think this is a joke. It’s signed by the Phantom.”
Whispers erupt over the low music and a few people glance in Ben and Sol’s direction, making me wonder whether Rand is onto something after all.
“Oh, so I’m just supposed to believe that the so-calledPhantomof the French Quarter gives a fuck that Scarlett Day is chosen as the lead role for the rest of the year?” Everyone shifts their attention to me. Embarrassment heats my cheeks and I sink farther into the soft velvet booth. “Do you have something to do with this?” Monty asks me with a mean chuckle. “Did the quiet little mouse finally find her backbone?”
