Page 26 of Phantom
“What is all this supposed to prove, Scarlett?” she spits out bitterly, straightening her posture when she seems to realize we have an audience. “Because all I’m seeing is a jealous psycho coming for my spot. The spotlightIearned.”
It’s on my tongue to be vindictive and correct her, but that would undoubtedly make things worse.
“I swear, I had nothing to do with Monty’s message. That’s what I was trying to show you. That I’ve been receiving my own letters, too—”
“What’s going on?” Jaime appears from backstage with Maggie not too far behind. “Jilliana, what the hell are you going on about now?”
“We’ve got rehearsals and not a lot of time to make this show flawless,” Maggie joins in. “Let’s get back to our places, people.”
Reinforcements. Thank goodness.
“Oh, great. Let’s ask her best friend, shall we? Jaime, why don’t you fill us in?” Jilliana turns around in a circle like an announcer for a fight, stopping at Jaime. “Maybe you can tell us who blackmailed Monty. I’m sure Scarlett’s bragged all about her littlesecret admirer.”
“Her what?” Jaime snorts before Jilliana’s eyes narrow and he realizes just how pissed she is.
She slaps a torn sheet of music and the envelope into Jaime’s chest. He catches them and a bewildered expression wrinkles his face as she questions him.
“Looks just like the so-called Phantom’s, right?”
Jaime chews his lip as he inspects the sheets, and Maggie reads around his shoulder. When Jaime turns over the envelope to the seal, his eyes flare with recognition and flick to me. Either confusion or indecision wrinkles his brow, neither of which is good for me.
“So?” Jilliana asks, her hand propped on her hip. “Tell us all about her little admirer. I’ll be the first to apologize if you can tell me who wrote these. Who threatened Monty and sentherlove notes?”
Jaime gulps and his grimace shows how concerned and uncertain he is. My chest aches as soon as I realize he’s not going to stick up for me. And why would he? I never told him about the letters because I was afraid of the exact look he’s giving me right now. His face is one I vaguely remember him making only once before, right before the cops took me to the hospital.
“Um, Scarlett, are you feeling okay?” he asks quietly. “I know you were excited last night—”
Maggie winces. “I’m sure there’s another explanation—”
“Oh that’sright.How could I forget the most important thing about our little Miss Perfect Scarlett? You’re bipolar, aren’t you? Doesn’t that mean you’re crazy as fuck?”
“Jilliana, shut the fuck up. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jaime reprimands while he glances nervously at Maggie.
But Jilliana barrels ahead, like she’s finally found the missing clue to her mystery. “You’ve even been committed once before. You went cuckoo bananas and the cops had to take you in. What does your psychiatrist have to say about you sending yourself little love notes to brag to all your friends? Did you somehow make Jacques hang himself, too? I know he had a thing for you.”
Have I gone crazy again?
The question rings in my mind and the burning tears finally leak from the well of my eyes, trailing down my cheeks. I let them fall, refusing to call any more attention to them by wiping them away.
“Scarlo—”
“Aw… Scarlett,” Jilliana interrupts my friend and mocks me with a fake pout. “There’s no reason to get soemotional. They’re just questions. I just want to know why you’re writing these notes to yourself and blackmailing Monty.”
Am I writing these notes to myself? Is it all in my head?
I shake away the thought because itcan’tbe true. I know how to write music, but I’ve never been as talented as my demon. Or maybe I have been and I’m just realizing it now in a manic state?
“No,” I say out loud and focus on Jilliana. “I didn’t blackmail Monty. Obviously Jacques was having trouble of his own, and I didn’t send these notes and music to myself—”
“Then who did?” Jilliana asks as she crosses her arms.
“I… I don’t know.”
No way in hell am I going to explain my theories that sound wild even to me. That my demon of music wrote them for me, or that he’s the muse my father promised me,orthat I dreamed he and Sol Bordeaux were one and the same in a drug-induced stupor and that I had the best orgasm of my fucking life with only my fingers and a dream.
Shit. Maybe she’s right.
“All right, that’s enough of that,” Maggie yells over the crowd’s growing whispers. “Everyone, we have alotto do in very little time, alright? All this will get sorted out soon.”
