Phantom: A Dark Retelling (Tattered Curtain Series)

Scarlett

“Everyone ready for the Faust auditions for Marguerite, take two?” Maggie’s timbre quakes as she calls from the auditorium.

Today’s her first official day as director since Monty quit after the “Phantom chandelier incident.” Her nerves are getting to her, I can hear it in her voice, but she practically carried the cast and crew by herself when Monty was in charge anyway. She’ll be fantastic.

Me, however? I’m not so sure.

Sol kept his promise to let me leave this morning, but not without trying to entice me back into bed with beignets. He eventually gave up on the ruse and walked me back to my dorm through his tunnels, showing me the quickest route. After I watched him leave through my mirror, I looked around my room feeling… empty. I miss the life Sol breathes into the air around me. His voice, his laugh, his touch, I’m already addicted.

I intend to keep my promise to come back to him. But with the way he’s been on my mind all day, I might as well have never left. Even preparing for this audition this afternoon, I’ve been too busy trying not to think about Sol’s earth-shattering tongue. Everything else has been an uninteresting blur.

Part of me feels like this is way too fast. But then I remember I’ve been corresponding with this man for the past year. And whether I knew or not, he’s been through it all with me. Ever since my diagnosis, it’s been routine, plans, medication, rinse, repeat. I’ve tried to do everything right for so long, and I’ve been healthy, sure. But have I really lived?

With Sol? I don’t just live, I thrive. For once, I’m going with the flow and enjoying things as they come. It’s refreshing.

One of the first things I did when I got back to my dorm this morning was check my phone after not having it with me all weekend. There were some worried texts from Maggie, stopping right after my and Sol’s performance at Masque. The last message she sent me was, y’all look good up there. Her winky face emoji at the end made me smile from ear to ear at the prospect of maybe having another friend to chat with about this stuff. Jaime’s perfect, but a girl needs as many girlfriends as she can get.

Other than Maggie, there was an endless amount of missed calls, voice mails, and messages from Rand. He’d been worried sick, poor thing, but the amount of scrolling I had to do to read all of them was tiring in and of itself. It seems like the guy didn’t even take a breath. After that, I read through a very heartfelt apology from Jilliana, which lifted a weight off my shoulders I didn’t realize I had.

But there was nothing from Jaime.

At first, I was hurt. But when I texted him and received no prompt “Bitch, WTF have you been doing?” I got pissed. That lasted for about thirty minutes, and now I’m straight up worried. We’ve never gone this long without talking. Not since he basically attached himself to my hip right after my dad died.

To top it all off, I have auditions for the female lead in Faust today and I honestly couldn’t care less. That’s weird, right? I keep trying to convince myself it’s weird, but then the part of me that loved singing in Masque the other night shows up with her logic and reminds me that this stage isn’t my dream, and what is my dream, might actually be in reach. Just downstairs, in fact.

“Hey Scarlett.” Jilliana’s gorgeous face enters my vision as she peeks into my room, the far-off lights from the stage shine on the side of her head, glowing on her flawlessly curled red hair. “Maggie called for us, but I asked her for a moment. Do you, um… do you mind if we chat?”

“Oh, sure, of course. I finally cleaned my dorm, so there’s actually space on the couch this time.” I chuckle. “Come on in.”

She nods and closes the door behind her. Instead of sitting beside me though, she stands with her back straight, wringing her fingers as she toes the ground. Jilliana and I are both seniors. I’ve seen her in too many shows to keep track and I’ve never seen her this nervous. I raise a brow when she twists a red curl around her finger until she finally huffs and meets my eyes.

“Did you um… did you get my text? I tried calling to meet for coffee, too.”

I wince. “Yeah, um, I didn’t have my phone. I just saw my texts this morning and I haven’t gotten back to people yet. I’m sorry.”

She waves me off. “Oh god, please don’t apologize. Are you… are you okay?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah? Why?”

“That’s good. That’s good. I, um, kind of saw what happened before Jaime slammed the door on us. I was so fucking worried that I was the one who made you—”

“Oh, that,” I interrupt with a nervous laugh. “Well, I’m fine. No need to be worried,” I say carefully, trying to calm her nerves with a smile, but she just shakes her head.

After taking a deep breath, she pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “I don’t apologize often. But after the way I acted—”

“Jilliana, it’s okay—”

“No,” she says firmly, her emerald-green eyes meeting my gaze. “No. Don’t let me off the hook. What I did was awful, all because I was afraid the career I had earned… the wrong way, was in jeopardy. I… I got mad at the wrong person. And there was no excuse for talking to you like that. I never… I never should’ve brought up your… disorder.” Her face scrunches up as she wrestles her emotions back into composure. “Oh god, I’m the worst.”

“Jilliana, seriously, it’s okay. I get it.”

“If you really believe that, that’s not okay. No one deserves to be talked to or about that way. It took this weekend of freedom to realize how much Monty… owned me. It makes me sick when I think about how I let him blackmail me like that.”

“You didn’t let him do anything.” I scowl. “Jilliana, he was your professor. You were in an awful position—”

She puts her hand up to stop me from consoling her further. “I don’t deserve for you to try to make me feel better and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But if you decide to give it to me, I’ll be grateful. If you can forgive me, I’d love to buy you a beignet sometime and just shoot the shit. Maybe we can even be friends.”

A smile curves my lips. “I’d like that.”

She releases a breath like she’s been holding it for days. “Yeah? Okay, amazing. Well, until then. Break a leg in auditions today.”

“About that, I’m thinking of skipping the lead auditions and telling Maggie I’m good for a lesser role, or understudy.”

Jilliana’s eyes flare wide and she points a long manicured bloodred nail at me. “Scarlett Day, don’t you fucking dare.”

My jaw drops at her reaction. “What? I thought you’d be happy—”

“Oh, hell no. As soon as I saw the email, I’ve been busting my ass all weekend, perfecting my audition. This is the first time I’ve had a chance to really prove—to myself and everyone else—that I deserve to be on this stage. If you bow out, I’ll never know if I would’ve been good enough to be the lead, fair and square. Don’t you fucking dare sell us both short.”

“Okay… so what do you want me to do?”

She huffs and props her hands on her hips. “Bring it, obviously. You’re going to sing your pretty little heart out. And then I’m going to do it better.” She smiles triumphantly as if she’s already won. Hell, with that attitude, she practically has.

What I wouldn’t give to have that confidence. Maybe once I start pursuing my own dreams, I will.

Over the past year, I’ve withdrawn more and more into my shell. The “quiet little mouse” is what Monty used to call me. But I certainly haven’t been afraid to speak my mind with Sol. If I can go toe to toe with the Phantom of the French Quarter, everyone else should be a piece of cake. That realization makes tension release in my chest and my lips lift at the corners.

“Jilliana? Scarlett? Are y’all ready?” Maggie calls again.

Jilliana holds out her hand. “Do we have a deal?”

I take hers in mine and shake. “Deal.”

“Okay, great. See you out there, Scarlett. Give it your best shot or I’ll get sick every show on purpose.”

I laugh, but cover my mouth when I hear my name called through Maggie’s megaphone, apparently thinking we just hadn’t heard her.

“Showtime.” Jilliana winks before she walks with me out of my room and to the stage. When I step out, front and center, she points at me. “Your best, Scarlett. I’m serious.”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Jilliana.” I chuckle and return her wink from earlier.

The first gentle notes of Il m’aime, one of the arias performed by the lead female character in Faust, begins to play over a speaker system and I do exactly as I promised. I bring it.

While I sing, I can’t help but glance up at box five. When I see my demon of music looking on, an actual smile widens across my lips, not just the one I’m wearing for the sake of the audition.

We never talked about it, but I’d wondered if he’d show, and now I know he wants me to see him. The stage lights are dimmer, making it easier to see the auditorium but he sits near the railing instead of blending into the shadows like the Phantom he is. A smile lifts the left corner of his lips and my heart flutters in my chest.

Hell, I debated staying in my own dorm tonight, but there’s no way I can resist going back down to him, especially since I know the way now.

Once I sing the final notes, the music cuts off abruptly and Maggie gives her obligatory claps. She’s always tried to be impartial and even if I sang the chandelier down, she’d still give the same emotionless claps.

“Very good, Miss Day. Well done. I’ll be posting my decision at the end of the week. Jilliana Cruz! You’re up!”

I give one last glance at Sol before stepping backstage and his heated gaze makes my stomach flip with excitement. When I turn around, Jilliana is wearing a playful scowl.

“Good job. You would’ve brought the house down.” Then she breaks into a cocky grin. “Challenge accepted.”

She straightens and walks past me to center stage. The same song plays again over the speakers, but Jilliana’s performance is undoubtedly better. Her acting is spot on, and I can feel her whole heart and soul pouring from her.

The way she gleams looks exactly like how I felt on stage at Masque. There will be no contest between the two of us. She’s got the lead in the bag, as she should.

My eyes flicker to the now empty box five. I’m giddy to go see him after this. I have a few classes to prepare for the rest of the week, but the perks of the senior-student life is I’m only supposed to be focused on my equivalent of a senior thesis—a.k.a. participating in this opera—and pursuing my goals for the future.

Thanks to Sol, I’ll be doing exactly that this Friday. He told me before I left this morning that he’s secured a gig for me at Masque during the Red, White, and Black Party. It’s just another step toward fulfilling my dream.

I practically glide to my room backstage to pack an overnight bag for Sol’s. As I’m humming and packing, a blur passes by my room and I look up to see the back of someone walking past my open door. I glance out and see Jaime’s frame speeding away..

“Jaims!” I call out. He continues as if he didn’t hear me until I call for him again. “Jaime! Come here. I have so much to tell—”

When my best friend turns around, I gasp at the welt on his cheek. “Jaime, oh my god, what… what happened to your face?”

The dim hallway makes it hard to see properly, so I rush to him and try to tug him into my room, but he holds up his hands, like he doesn’t want me to touch him.

“Jaime, what’s wrong? Come talk to me.”

He shakes his head and steps back before leaning against the wall. The far-off light from the stage shines down the hallway, illuminating his face, and my heart sinks into my stomach.

His bronze skin usually glows due to his meticulous skin regimen, but he looks exhausted. Not only that, but the swollen cut on his upper left cheek looks like… a skull. As if someone with a skull ring punched him in the face. The injury is almost exactly like the one Rand showed me in the cemetery of the tourist Sol supposedly beat up.

I cover my stomach as it begins to turn, as if that could take this guilt and nausea away.

“Jaime… what happened?”

He looks around before he spits back at me, “Why don’t you ask your new boyfriend?” This angry version of my happy-go-lucky friend is nothing like I’ve ever seen. He practically spits out each word as he speaks. “I’ve devoted my whole fucking life to that bastard, and I make one mistake and he does this!” He jabs his finger at the purple bruise and skull-shaped cut.

“S-Sol did this? No, no way. There has to be a mistake. He wouldn’t hurt one of my friends.”

Jaime’s loud laugh is harsh and hurts my ears. “Scarlett, he would murder for you. A punch in the face is nothing.”

He would murder for you.

Those words hit me hard, making me stagger back. It was a fact I knew and had told myself I was okay with. I trusted that he only punished people who deserved it. But Jaime? What the hell could he do to deserve the Phantom’s justice?

I glance down the hallway, checking to see if anyone’s around, but it seems like it’s just the two of us for now. I whisper anyway. “Why would Sol hurt you, though? You’re my best friend.”

“I don’t know. You tell me. All I know is last night, I was getting drunk on Bourbon with some of the cast one second. The next, I was thrown into an alley and got the shit beat out of me by my own boss. Or one of his other followers. I’ve been loyal for years and this is how he repays me? He’s supposed to protect his shadows, not hurt us,” he hisses.

My eyes widen and that twist in my stomach hardens to lead as my suspicions from yesterday are finally confirmed. I still hadn’t figured out how I was going to broach the subject, but it looks like Jaime doesn’t have that problem.

“You’re a shadow?”

“Yup.” Jaime’s voice increases as he gets more upset. “I’ve been his loyal guard dog for over a year, making sure you’re—”

His mouth snaps shut and his brown eyes widen.

My heart stops.

“What about… me?”

Jaime shakes his head. “N-nothing. It’s nothing. Forget about it, Scarlo. I’m an actor. I’m just being dramatic. Telenovela at its finest.”

He turns like he’s going to actually walk away from this conversation, but I clutch his forearm and stand in his way.

“Jaime Rodrigo Dominguez, you tell me right now what the fuck you’re talking about.”

He winces, looking contrite and like he’d rather be anywhere else. But I don’t give in. Not this time.

“Okay, let’s go to your—”

“No,” I answer, knowing that the Phantom could be just one mirror away. “You tell me right here.”

He scratches at his five o’clock shadow that’s usually never there before sighing. His shoulders sag against the wall as he meets my eyes.

“It all started when your dad died.”