Page 35 of Phantom
I dip out from underneath his grip and laugh awkwardly. “Something like that. See ya, Rand.”
I’m already turning toward Bourbon Street and back to the New French Opera House when he calls to me.
“Well in that case, I’ll text you ASAP about our next date.”
Resisting the urge to both turn around to set the record straight that thiswasn’ta date, and also run for the hills, I settle for shouting over my shoulder. “We’ll see!”
I lose myself in the crowded streets, letting the bustle of people swallow me up. My skin itches I’m so mentally irritated and all I want to do is run off this extra energy.
Am I getting up again?
Jesus.
Not everything is a symptom.Groaning outwardly, I latch on to my therapist’s mantra for when my anxiety tries to take over. My next psych appointment can’t come soon enough, but I can hold out until then.
Hopefully.
Scene 9
CHANDELIER DOWN
Sol
The rehearsal tonight is closed to the public. Thankfully, owning the building has its perks.
Monty has been dying to know whether the Phantom of the French Quarter is real and who is blackmailing him. I’ve heard he’s convinced that the Phantom will attend rehearsals, so in theory, I could be risking my anonymity by showing up. But aside from staying in the shadows of my box, I’ve made other assurances to hide my identity as well.
All the theater boxes are locked, but I stationed one of my men on this floor as security to prevent anyone from trying to break in. Another is in charge of lighting and sound in the control booth so that the lights never darken enough to reveal me to those on stage. Not to mention that when Madam G dropped off my Sazerac, she used the same hidden stairwell I did to travel through the tunnels from the speakeasy.
Along with the smoke and mirrors act, I have one more trick up my sleeve to ensure Monty behaves. The Phantom will strike tonight, which is whymyappearance must go unnoticed.
Though Ben may not approve of my fun, I have altruistic motives for harassing the director. A few weeks ago, I’d been navigating the old Prohibition tunnels when I heard rhythmic slapping and the redheaded soprano’s Tony Award–worthy fake orgasm through the walls of his office.
He’s a theater professor and director fucking a student at my family’s school. I wanted to kill him then and there for the disrespect, but I hadn’t known the extent of the circumstances yet. Maybe she was a more enthusiastic participant than she’d sounded.
But after Jilliana got the lead role despite her horrendous audition, I knew something was off. Now that I’ve spoken to my shadows doubling as stagehands, it’s clear Monty is taking advantage of the young woman. My plan of action took a more deliberate turn last night, starting with his letter.
Threatening Monty has secured Scarlett’s rightful place as Marguerite, the lead female role, but according to the performance I heard on my way to my muse’s dorm this afternoon, he still hasn’t kept his disgusting hands off the redheaded soprano.
I hadn’t had the time, or the prep, to punish him then, so I’d resumed my course, silently promising my target that I’d finish my business with him tonight. At that moment, it was more important for me to visit Scarlett’s empty dorm to try to find her medication and any information as to why she left with Rand.
If my second-in-command pulls through, I should be getting more answers on that front shortly. My impatience and nerves are firing through my veins as I wait, triggering fidgeting tendencies that I didn’t even know I possessed, and now I can’t get my knee to stop fucking bouncing.
Trying my best to focus back on the rehearsal, I study Jilliana as she adjusts to her new supporting role. She’s running through her part individually at the moment, just like Scarlett is slated to do afterward.
I tip my head over the railing to see Monty studiously ignoring Jilliana, as if pretending she doesn’t exist would erase the fact that he fucked her only hours ago. Meanwhile, Maggie is working her ass off backstage which happens to be perfect for my plan. I just need to wait for the right moment.
The faux door in the column across from me opens slightly, letting Sabine’s lithe form slip inside. Her signature black outfit and fire mask makes her almost as terrifying as me. She doesn’t sit, always preferring a ready posture.
“What do you know?” I ask, leaning forward to allow my whisper to carry.
“I spoke to my IT contact in NOLA PD. She can meet you with the videos you need.” Her velvet voice is more hushed than mine. All my shadows know my hearing is excellent. It’s had to be since the day half my vision was brutalized all those years ago.
Expecting a different conversation, my brow furrows as I try to figure out what she’s talking about until it dawns on me. “She found the footage of Laurent’s basement?”
She nods. “My contact didn’t watch more than a second to confirm, like you asked, but there’s more than just the clips he sent to taunt your brother. She’s going to compile it all before you meet, but that bastard seems to have videotaped the entire encounter. Potentially hundreds of hours of video have been collecting dust on the shelves since it was an open and shut case.”
Curiosity and rage swell in my veins. I was aware that Laurent videotaped my torture to torment Ben and trick him into agreeing to the terms of the truce, but I’d had no idea he’d recorded twenty-four seven. IthoughtI already knew everything there was to know about my kidnapping, but trying to exhaust all resources to figure out how the Chatelains and the Days are connected has me turning over every loose pebble.
