Facade (6 page)

The scent of lavender filled the air. As she lowered herself into the glorious water, she reminded herself who made this moment possible, who made her chances on the
Stage of Stars
possible, who made her current lifestyle possible.

She closed her eyes and lay back. Since Erik revealed himself to her, she swore there was something there, a connection like no other. No, actually she felt the connection before she ever saw him. Maybe it was only wishful thinking.

The water cooled and right before she was ready to emerge into the real world, the music started.

Piano music.

Erik’s music.

In a rush, she got out of the bathtub, barely dried off and put on the robe he gave her when she still took up residence on the stage.

Now completely familiar with the hallways and such under the theatre, she easily navigated her way through the passageways as his music was leading her back to him.

Rather than come up on stage, she entered the actual auditorium.

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of Erik standing at the piano. His music, a perfect blend of rock and classical, grew with passion, and he moved with the tune as his fingers quickly kissed the keys creating an intricate melody.

As if drawn to him, she tiptoed down the center aisle.

The man personified star with the way his body moved in time to the music, his head bobbed, his hair hung down into his face.

Then he did the most amazing thing.

He began to sing.

At his deep, rich, perfect voice, she pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart pummeled against her palm, and she couldn’t turn away if she tried. The man was more than a musician, he was magnificent, smart, a true talent, everything anyone could ever want. What happened to make him live alone here? He should be in front of the world.

Beyond her control, she made her way up on the stage and over to his side as he went into the second verse. All she wanted to do was touch him, make sure he was real and not something she conjured the last few days.

After singing the chorus, he motioned to her and pointed at the music.

He wanted her to sing? Interrupt the perfection? She wanted to listen to him and shook her head.

Again, he pointed to the music.

Powerless to do anything less than what he asked, she got the feel for the tune, waited for the right moment and sang the third verse.

Though she didn’t think she did the song anywhere near the justice Erik did, he must have been pleased by the way he smiled. His song spoke of love, longing and those things unattainable, the perfect message for both of them in many ways.

Yes, he had given her a few lessons, but this was the first time she felt like they were creating art, connected on a deeper level, him on the piano, her with her voice, both working toward the same goal of creating the perfect song. When they reached the chorus, his voice joined hers.

Christine fought not to stumble on the words. She didn’t want to break the magic of the way their two voices melded together, his supporting hers, taking her to new heights. It was an experience unlike any other she’d ever experienced.

They repeated the chorus and the music ended. Erik’s last note hung in the air and Christine wished she could reach out, grab it and hold it in her heart forever.

Panting, they turned to each other.

He stared into her face, then he reached forward.

Her breath hitched. Now he should kiss her. They both felt it, right?

Rather than take her into his arms, his fingertip grazed her cheek and wiped a tear she didn’t even know she’d shed.

His eyes firmly affixed on hers, he put his fingertip to his mouth.

“Erik?” She didn’t really know what question she wanted to ask.

“Beautiful.” He grazed the back of his hand along her cheek, down to her jaw and her neck.

The way he touched her roused every nerve ending in her body. She had to have him. He found her, they belonged together. “Erik.” This time she gasped his name.

“You should rest your voice.” He slid his hand down her shoulder, bowed and walked away.

Again, she was left standing on the stage alone.

Chapter Seven

“Did contracts have this many pages when we were signing them?” Erik flipped through the pages of the contract for the
Stage of Stars
.

“Maybe we were too drunk to notice.” Nash tossed his copy of the contract on the desk and lifted the whiskey bottle. “Let’s do this the right way.”

“If this wasn’t for Christine, I would join you, but I have to be of sound mind and body to make sure she doesn’t make one mistake.” Earlier today, he dubbed himself her manager when he thought she might be signing the contract without fully reading it. Now the pressure was on to make sure he did his job.

“How are her lessons coming along?” Nash helped himself to some alcohol.

“She truly is extraordinary. The other night we sang together.” He didn’t look directly at Nash.

Before Nash even took a sip, he put the glass down and stared at him. “What, pray tell, did you sing?”

“A song.” Once more, he focused on the document.

“That would be the usual choice.” Nash leaned over the desk and put his hand on top of the papers. “What song?”

Damn it, he couldn’t lie to his only friend, the only person who had been there since the beginning, the only other person who truly understood what happened because he was there. “Where It Is.”

“The first single for the never recorded third album for Spectre.” At the mention of their former band, Nash lifted the glass.

“For the first time, I sang that song and didn’t feel like something was missing.” He gave in, grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink.

“Interesting since I wasn’t there, and Upton wasn’t there and—” Nash cut himself off.

“And Phil wasn’t there.” There, Erik said the unspeakable name. The name of their bassist, the one who didn’t live through the accident. Nash, their lead guitar, ended up with a permanent limp as well as other issues, Upton, their drummer, never spoke to them or anyone again, and Erik. He sighed and tried not to think of his mask, though it was always there.

They both lifted their glasses and took a drink.

“Maybe you need to warn her about what kind of life she wants.” Nash shook his head.

“No, she deserves her dream. She’s had a hard time.” Before he took her under his wing, he did his own little background check. Her parents struggled, first her mother died, then her father, leaving her with nothing. She ended up flitting around between relatives until she graduated high school and then just went out on her own. What he admired most was she never took a handout. In her own way, she made her way. “Everyone has to live their dream.”

“What’s your dream?” Nash took his set of papers again.

Erik turned away. “We did the dream.”

“That was then. What’s your dream now?”

He closed his eyes and all he saw was Christine, the way she looked at him with trust and hope, the way she cried at their song, how she stayed and, unless he totally forgot what it was like to be a human being, how she wanted him. For the second time in his life, he had his dream. The first ended with him losing his face, what would he lose if he tried to live the second one?

“What’s your dream?” He shot the question right back to his friend.

“I think I’m dreaming that one day I’ll move on.” Nash wiped his brow.

They both sat silent, but speaking the secret language they only understood. Their group had it all, every one of the trappings of life in a top rock band and it was taken away in a literal flash, a stupid stunt he insisted on having for drama. In less than a second he was in an ER, his band and his face torn apart, one of his best friends gone forever. Everything vanished.

The only luck he possessed was that it happened before the days of instant media. Most of the world thought him dead or gone, or in another country or he simply disappeared. Every once in a while, little stories popped up here and there, but they quickly bubbled back down to the mire where they belonged.

“I can’t take her dream away for my dream.” Erik voiced his words almost before he realized he said them. “Not that it matters. We’re not together that way.” He couldn’t be with anyone.

“From what you’ve told me that’s your choice.” Nash pointed up to the monitor.

Erik diverted his attention to the screen and at the sight of Christine stood. “It’s not a choice.”

“Everything is a choice.” Nash pushed himself up and tossed the papers on the desk. “It’s a standard contract, just double check she doesn’t sign her life away if she wins.”

“That will be her life then.” Erik balled his hand in a fist.

“Maybe you could have a life, so watch the contract.” On the way out, Nash patted his back.

Erik smoothed his hair back, took a breath and left the office. Since the day they sang, he didn’t really know what to do with her. No, that was untrue, he knew what to do with her, knew what he wanted to do with her, but didn’t know if he could condemn her to a life with him and once he had her, he didn’t know if he could be without her.

He walked through the theatre and joined her on stage. “Good morning.” He noticed she’d taken to wearing a few pieces of the costumes along with her normal attire, and he liked her eclectic style.

“Good morning.” She hoisted her bag on her shoulder, but barely glanced in his direction.

“I’m going to give the contract one more read through, and then it will be ready to go. I just want to make sure you’re not giving your dream away.” When he stepped closer, the scent of the lavender soap he gave her wafted around him.

“How could auditioning for the show be giving my dream away?” She bent down and adjusted her shoe even though there were no laces.

Clearly she was agitated. “Do you dream of anything else?” He leaned back on his heels. If she said the right words now, he would take her in his arms and kiss her.

At last, she looked up at him. “What do you dream of?”

Rather than answer, he crossed his arms.

She huffed. “I’ll be back. I have some errands to run.” With one last glance at him, she charged toward the exit.

Wait, she was leaving? He followed. “Don’t you want to practice?”

“I have a few things I need to take care of.” She stopped, but didn’t face him.

“I’ll take care of it.” He longed to reach out and touch her, but restrained himself.

Shaking her head, she pressed her hand to the wall. “I just need to get my mail, and I thought maybe I would pick us up a few things at the farmer’s market.” She turned to him. “Do you want to come with me?”

If it were anyone else asking that question, he would have snapped and subsequently pushed that person out of his theatre in his life, but with her, the question was genuine. Did she not see him? “I can’t.”

“Can we practice later?” She stared into his eyes.

“I’ll be here.” Where else would he be? His haven was also his prison.

After another long look, she left through the back door.

He stood there for several moments. This would be the exact position he would be left standing in when she made her dream come true and left for good and he couldn’t go with her.

Chapter Eight

Christine stepped out onto the street and looked up into the sun shining between the trees. She hadn’t really left the theatre since she agreed to let Erik help her get on the
Stage of Stars
.

In Erik’s world, things happened by magic, or at least that’s how it seemed. Presents appeared on pillows, meals seemed to be conjured by some unknown force and hell, even money appeared in her usually empty wallet.

She breathed in the fresh air and tried to pretend she didn’t wish for that certain special scent of leather, velvet and sparkle that seemed to hover in the theatre. Though she didn’t want to leave, she had to take a break away from those golden eyes that took her all in, but denied her what she wanted most. Namely, him.

In truth, with her lifestyle, she didn’t usually have time to think about anything but getting through the day. Romance was definitely a secondary need.

Maybe romance just wasn’t important until Erik.

Deep in her heart, she thought he wanted her. The way he stared at her, took care of her, seemed to shake if on the off chance he touched her, and spoke of what she wanted to be the truth. Still, she couldn’t help thinking maybe she was reading it all wrong. Maybe he only needed her to break through his lonely existence and nothing more, or maybe she was just a project to him and she read some underlying attraction into his actions.

Head hung down, she rounded the corner to her postal place. Before entering, she looked up at the sign. For the last couple of years this was the closest place she had to a home. Now everything was different. She had a home, so to speak, but she wanted to make a home as well.

At last, she went inside.

“Christine!” Helen clapped her hands, went running to her and dragged her back behind the counter. “I was getting worried, you had so many messages, and I didn’t even know where to start looking for you.” The woman took Christine into her arms.

“I’m fine.” Christine hugged her back and shook her head. Strange how benign a hug seemed to be, but she still couldn’t get one from Erik. If anyone needed human touch, it was the two of them. In a strange way they just fit. Was she seeing this all wrong? “You said I had some messages?”

“Yes, yes.” Helen scurried over to a drawer and handed her some mail and a piece of paper. She tapped the page. “This one won’t stop calling.”

Christine read the paper. Ramon had called every day, sometimes multiple times. As the days passed, she watched the progression of his messages, first concern over her not showing up for rehearsal, then reminding her of the next rehearsal, then the messages got a little more desperate.

Please contact me and let me know you’re all right. Ramon.

His notes then took on an angry tone.

I suppose you quit and didn’t tell anyone. You could have at least told me.