Page 13 of Phantom
I barely hide my giggle when the lamp illuminates Rand’s face. The poor guy sports a sour look, made all the more ridiculous by the red-and-yellow jester mask covering the top half of his face. I have no doubt Jaime loaned it to him, especially since Jaime, in his stunning gold feather masquerade mask, looks quite pleased with himself.
He turns slightly unfocused eyes to me and points at the flower pinned to my chest. “Pretty. From a fan?”
“Yup.” I nod quickly, thankful for the out as I pivot the conversation. “Sorry I’m late, guys. What did I miss?”
“I was just showing your dear childhood friend this skull bracelet I got in the French Quarter.” Jaime admires his leather bracelet with its metal skull totem attached. “Don’t you like it, Rand?”
“Helovesthat thing,” I whisper-yell to Rand over the music, pretending like he and I are conspiring in order to lighten whatever mood the two boys have gotten themselves into. “He even keeps it on during performances.”
“Yup. I’m loyal to the Quarter. Just remember that.” Jaime gives him a broad Cheshire smile, and I can’t help but feel lost.
“Am I missing something?” My nerves huff out in a chuckle. “Are we still talking about bracelets?”
“Yup. Skull bracelets and the French Quarter.” He pokes my ribs and I squirm away. “Outsiderswouldn’t understand.”
“Hey! No fair. Just because I didn’t grow up here full time, doesn’t mean I’m anoutsider. My dad would argue with you on that one.”
“Speaking of your dad.” Rand points his thumb toward a speaker. “A die-hard jazz and blues fan like him would’ve had a fit if he heard these covers, am I right?”
I listen to the “Billie Jean” cover by The Civil Wars for a few bars, barely resisting the urge to belt it out before shaking my head with a nostalgic grin.
“No way! He was a sucker for blues and jazz versions of popular songs. According to him, every good song has the same heart. He would’ve loved it here.” The sultry vibe in the speakeasy makes me sway in my seat and all I want to do is climb on that empty stage and take over the mic. “God,Ilove it here. I know that much. I’ve been at Bordeaux Conservatory for four years now and I don’t come down here nearly enough. It makes me want to stay forever.”
“Stay? Here? In New Orleans?” Rand asks, surprise in his voice.
I shrug. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m, um… not sure that opera is my passion anymore. I kind of want to go solo for a bit.”
Rand frowns. “Can you even do that? You know… with your condition? What if something happens and you can’t perform? There are no understudies in solo acts.”
Warmth creeps over my skin as he voices the exact fear that keeps me silent when all I want to do is sing.
“I’ve been doing well with my medication. I think I could manage it,” I hedge with zero confidence in what I’m saying. Having someone from your past tear down your future feels like your hopes are violated before they’ve even begun.
“You can definitely manage it,” Jaime insists and rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Scarlo. After that performance tonight no one doubts you could take on the world with your highC.”
“Of course. Of course,” Rand backtracks before he smiles again. “It’s just that your head’s always been in the clouds, Lettie. No harm in keeping it in check.”
“I think society is good enough at doing that all on its own.” I giggle. “But thanks for your concern.”
Rand opens his mouth to say something else, but the music dies down to a low rumble and the lights brighten. A few tables away in the corner of Masque’s lounge, Maggie stands from her seat beside her husband and raises her glass to our director, Monty, at the opposite end of the room.
“A toast!” Maggie’s purple sequin mask glints in the light as she addresses everyone. She lifts up her martini and the rest of us follow suit. “To a great closing night… and to starting the whole process all over again next week with a brand-new show.” Groans fill the room as we collectively lament over our hectic schedules here at Bordeaux Conservatory. Maggie just grins and ignores our complaints, tipping her drink toward me and Jaime instead. “Scarlett, you stole the show. I’d say you and Jaime are our new dynamic duo.”
She continues on, thanking the rest of the cast and crew, but the room buzzes with whispers. Eyes dart in my direction and I have the distinct feeling that people are talking about me even though Maggie is still giving her speech.
I shook in my heels tonight as I tried to measure up to Jilliana. Frankly, without my demon of music’s encouraging letters and help practicing, I don’t think I would’ve had the confidence to actually do it. Maybe Rand’s right. I’ve always wanted to be on the stage, but maybe I’m better as a background character.
I shake my head to get rid of my anxiety and focus back on Monty, who is preening like a peacock over Maggie’s praise until Jaime butts in.
“And don’t forget about you, Mags! Wereallycouldn’t have done it without you. An amazing direct–I mean,assistantdirector.”
Monty’s pale face reddens around his silver masquerade mask, but Maggie just rolls her eyes at Jaime’s antics and smirks.
“Just drink your tequila and try to keep your clothes on this time, okay? We don’t need to hear another country ballad coming from a naked Jaime anytime soon.”
Jaime feigns annoyance as the rest of the cast snickers at the memory. “Hey now, that wasonetime!”
The room erupts into laughter, but mine falls short when a dark shadow glides along the back wall. I’m entranced by the new arrival, a man in an all-black suit with a bone-white mask covering the right side of his face. Even stealthy, his movements are full of power that’s only enhanced by his well-over-six-foot frame. He slips into a seat on the other side of Benjamin Bordeaux, Maggie’s husband and one of the trustees of Bordeaux Conservatory of Music. I can’t make out every detail in the darkness, but I’d swear I’m looking at Ben’s mirror image, all the way down to the same skull masks.
