Facade by Kim Carmichael Page A

Finally, she delved into the depths of the theatre and went to Erik’s quarters, a place she’d never been before. The carved wood door was shut tight, but in keeping with the theme that she would go after what she wanted, she knocked, causing the door to open slightly. “Erik?”
    When no one answered, she pushed the door open a little wider and peeked inside the space she never had seen before.
    Dark, ornate gothic furnishings decorated the room. A four-poster bed with blood-red velvet covers took over the center of the room. There were no mirrors of any kind, and everything was exceptionally neat. “Erik?” She tried one more time and with nothing, no sound at all, backed away.
    Once more, she made her way back up to the stage, then she searched for him in the front lobby and business offices. Nothing.
    At last, she made her way into the auditorium. She was alone in her own home. Had he left her or was he sending her a message?
    She supposed she had to ride it out.
     

Chapter Nine
    Part of Erik loved watching Christine run around the theatre in search of him. Part him wanted to run to her, take her in his arms and hold her tight, thanking her and God that she’d returned at all. Thinking perhaps a bit more torture was in order, he stayed in the flies where he had been working and thinking. The girl who seemed to want him so bad had been gone for hours, and suddenly she expected him to appear.
    “Erik?” She looked around and sat down in the front seat of the auditorium.
    She was in the prime location for a performance. Maybe she needed a little show. He shimmied to what would be the center of the stage and with a little bit of his old flourish jumped down, landing right in the center of the stage. His only bit of luck was his mask stayed firmly in place
    “Erik!” Hands pressed to her chest, she leapt out of her seat.
    Well, damn if he always wasn’t one to get a standing ovation.
    “My little Cricket has conjured me. What can I do to be of service now?” Sarcasm dripped off his voice and he bowed.
    She panted to catch her breath. “Did you want to practice?”
    Now she wanted to practice. The audition was in less than forty-eight hours, and she gallivanted around doing god knew what and when she decided she needed him, she returned. “Absolutely we should practice.” He paced around the stage ending up at the piano. “I should have been more on the ball. Sorry, but I was working.”
    She joined him up on the stage. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    “Well, you did, so we may as well get on with it.” With a bit of drama, he played the intro to her song, a haunting ballad that had been popular about two years ago. He had been playing up her voice and infusing a little opera into the rock. The result was truly magnificent.
    He prepared for her to start singing, but she completely missed her cue and he turned to her. “Hello? Are you singing?”
    Her skin paled, making the blush on her cheeks stand out even more. “You taught me not to sing without warming up first.” She glanced off to one side.
    “Of course, forgive my faux pas . I was working when you showed up here wanting to practice.” His voice came out more of a snarl. He wasn’t even sure where his words were coming from. Before giving her a chance to respond, he played her first warm up scale.
    Her voice shook as she sang, and he ground his teeth together. Music shouldn’t be like this, music was joy, a respite, where they first connected, and he shouldn’t be using it to prove a point. In an abrupt move, he stopped playing and stood. “I’m not up for a lesson right now. You should have gotten here sooner.”
    “Oh, sure.” She took a moment and chewed her lower lip.
    He waited for her to walk away, facing her when she simply shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Is there anything else you require of me?”
    “When I got home, I looked for you.” She stared down at the floor.
    “While I know I’m not one for going