Phil shook his head, white donut sugar going everywhere. “Man, you’re in deep.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why don’t you just tell this Alaina the truth? I know you might get the old lady in trouble, but this seems more important than some business arrangement- which- if I understood your story correctly- she isn’t paying you anything by the way.”
“I didn’t do it for money. I did it to help the fundraiser. Besides, I feel bad for Mrs. DeBarr. Her own son stood her up. I don’t want to make her life any harder.”
Phil crinkled the wrapper and stuffed it in his pocket. “No offense to the rich, but how hard can life be when you’re a billionaire?”
Brett paused. He had a point.
“By the way, I called her.” Phil leaned back against a fire hydrant and crossed his hands behind his head.
“Called who?” Brett’s mind still swam with thoughts of Alaina.
“Sarah.”
Oh no, here he goes again. They’d be here all day and no one would have a sidewalk to walk on. Never mind the building they were supposed to be renovating behind them. “And?”
“She wasn’t home. The phone rang and rang, and then I got her answering machine.”
Brett crossed his arms across his chest. “So what did you say?”
Phil glanced away. “Nothing. I hung up.”
Across the street, a black limo parked in front of a taxi and the cab driver beeped, shouting profanities. Brett checked to see if he could read the license plate, but the angle made it too difficult to make anything out. He made himself focus. His friend needed him. “How’s she supposed to know you called?”
“I froze up, man. I had no idea what to say. It’s been so long.” He covered his face with his hand. “I felt like an idiot.”
Brett put a hand on his shoulder. Who was he to be telling Phil to speak up when he couldn’t even tell Alaina the truth? “It’s all right. Try again tonight. This time have what you want to say written down on a piece of paper.”
Phil nodded. “You think I’m doing the right thing?”
“All I know is you talk about her all the time. You’ll regret it if you never give it a second chance.”
The door to the limo opened, and Mrs. DeBarr stepped out wearing a leather coat, a long gray skirt and pearls as big as quarters. She walked to the street corner, then crossed over to his side. Brett gave his friend his equipment. “Hold this for me. I’ve got something to finish.”
Phil glanced at the older woman and nodded. “I got ya covered.”
Brett met Mrs. DeBarr on the corner. When she saw him, she smiled like she was greeting an old friend. “How’s my dear son this morning?” She reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek.
He leaned down for her kiss, feeling a little out of place. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t her son. “A little tired, but good.”
She led him into a coffee shop, where a line of people waited at the counter. Almost all of the tables were full. Some people sat, reading their iPads, while others chatted and laughed. Brett didn’t have time for this, but he had to ask her one thing.
He waited as she ordered a latte. Mrs. DeBarr gave the server a five and told him to keep the change. She turned back to Brett. “I take it your date went well?”
“It did.” Brett reached in his pocket and handed her the credit card. “Alaina was very happy.”
“Good.” She glanced at him. “Do you want anything? Coffee, tea, a pastry?”
“No. Thank you.”
She studied his face as she waited for her drink. “You seem preoccupied.”
Brett stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. It was now or never. He’d probably never see Mrs. DeBarr again. “It’s just that…I really like Alaina. I need to tell her the truth.”
Mrs. DeBarr blinked as though surprised. “You have feelings for her?”
“I do. And it seems like she feels the same.” Inviting him into her apartment was a big hint.
“I see.” She reached over the counter and grabbed her latte. “That does complicate matters seeing as we’ve been invited to a luncheon this Saturday.”
“We?” Brett narrowed his eyes.
“Everyone loved you. Mrs. Schuster found the bidding show to be so entertaining, she invited you to be the guest of honor at the Movers and Groovers awards luncheon to benefit cancer research. She wants you to speak about the importance of raising funds for those in need. She thinks your charisma will get people to listen.”
“I agreed to one event and one event only.” He lowered his voice so only she could hear. “I can’t keep pretending to be your son.”
Mrs. DeBarr pulled him to a quiet corner of the coffee shop. “This is for cancer research. You know how many people die of cancer each year?”
Brett shrugged. He didn’t want to know. “Why don’t you just give them the money?”
She smiled. “If only it was that easy. I can donate, and I do. But I’m only one person. Imagine ten other women like me all supporting the same cause, and then they each tell one of their friends. That makes twenty. And so on and so forth. But to get them interested in the first place, you have to get their attention. People want a social event, they want a show. You have to keep them talking, keep them involved in the cause. It’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. A life-long marathon.”
As much as her spiel made sense, Brett couldn’t be part of it. “I’m not a spokesperson, I’m a construction worker.”
She looked at him with such fondness, he almost felt like her son. “You could be so much more.”
Brett shifted on his feet, suddenly uncomfortable. “What if I don’t want to be?”
“That would be a shame.” Mrs. DeBarr turned away. “I can’t make you help me. As much as I want you to be, you’re not my son.”
A couple stood from their table in the corner.
“Goodbye, Brett.” She moved quickly and sat down in their place. After rummaging through her purse, she took the plastic cover off her latte and sipped delicately. Despite her fancy clothes and stylish hair, she looked lost and alone.
The sadness in her last words held Brett in place. This lady was not his responsibility. Yet, he felt drawn to help her. His own mother would have wanted him to. Funnily enough, she would have said the same thing about him not living up to his potential. She used to urge him to leave Maine and start a life for himself in a big city like New York. But, he’d always reassure her he was happy logging like his father. The continuation of the family business gave him pride.
Until the fire took it all away.
Brett dragged himself over to the table and sat across from Mrs. DeBarr. She looked up with one eyebrow raised, and he sighed in defeat.
“Exactly what do you want me to do?”
***
Alaina left the school and took a taxi straight to her first rehearsal at the Met. As the cab wove around parked cars and pedestrians, she took out her phone and checked for missed calls.
None.
No matter. He wouldn’t call the next day away way. That would be too desperate. Besides, he was probably busy in his office buying and selling stocks. Hopefully, he’d thought of her sometime between the Dow Jones and the FTSE.
The cab pulled up in front of the Met and she paid and stepped out to the sound of raucous construction work. Alaina stared across the street with venom. The street looked worse now than it had done before they began work. The sidewalk was all torn up, and scaffolding covered the front of the office building. Or what was left of it. Not only that, but they took up several precious parking spaces with their loading trucks.
Honestly, couldn’t they work at night when there wasn’t as much traffic?
The same broad shouldered man she’d seen yesterday looked up suddenly and froze, measuring tools in hand. Was he staring at her?
She narrowed her eyes, but his hard hat cast his face in shadow. Before she could get a closer look, he disappeared under the scaffolding.
Strange. S
he didn’t know anyone in construction. Yet, somehow he seemed familiar. If she wasn’t dating Lance, than she’d walk over and say hi. Construction workers weren’t all that bad. They’d almost completed the portion of the walkway in front of the opera house, and she had to admit it looked gorgeous. So all that noise and commotion had been worth the fuss.
Alaina checked her watch. No time to stay and find out who he was. She had the most important rehearsal of her life to attend. Normally the singers would rehearse with a pianist first, but she’d been chosen last minute, so she had to launch right into the final set of dress rehearsals complete with the costumes, the set and the orchestra.
As she entered the theater, descending through the rows and rows of red seats, a flute played an arpeggio, a few singers warmed up, and some violins tuned. Anxious nerves bubbled up inside her. Normally she didn’t get nervous for a rehearsal, but this wasn’t just any rehearsal.
A beautiful forest of fake trees inhabited by large papier mâché animals decorated the stage. A twilight backdrop with sparkling stars hung in the back. The man who played Papageno stood with his prop flute wearing a cape of feathers, practicing his moves while a girl dressed as a giant flamingo hopped around.
Bianca sat on the edge of the stage in a pink, sequined tank and skinny jeans talking with the conductor. Her gaze became chilly when she saw Alaina. Bianca ended her conversation, and the conductor walked away to speak with the concertmaster.
Alaina’s heart sped, and her throat tightened. She made a beeline for the restrooms, needing just a few moments to regroup. She threw her bags, her purse and her coat on the sink and chose a stall to sit down and slow her breathing.
The door opened and pink high heels clicked on the floor. “Hello, Alaina. I saw you come in.”
Damn. All she wanted was a few moments of peace. She hadn’t had any time to warm up because she’d been volunteering all day. “Hi, Bianca.”
“Excited for the first rehearsal?” The heels walked to the sink. She must have been putting more make-up on, because she didn’t use the faucet.
“Of course.” Alaina tried not to sound too overeager. She’d sung in rehearsals all the time, just not at the most famous opera house in the United States. Back in her Julliard days, she used to pass by the massive stone structure and daydream of singing on the grand stage, surrounded by tiers of balconies of applauding audience members.
“See you in there.” Bianca left without so much as turning on the water. Had she come in here just to taunt her?
Alaina gathered her wits and opened her stall. She washed her hands and dug in her purse to freshen her makeup. After a few touches of foundation, she dug out her lipstick. She smeared it over her lips, feeling like the tip wasn’t as sharp as the last time she’d used it. Had she jammed the cap on? It also smelled a little funny- more like chemicals and less like the usual vanilla scent. When she licked her lips, they tasted horrible.
Alaina pulled the lipstick away and read the expiration date. Nope. Still fine for the next six months. She’d only bought it a few weeks ago. Guess she wasn’t shopping at that CVS again.
She tossed the lipstick in the garbage and returned to the theater, taking a seat in the front row. The orchestra tuned while the conductor reviewed his score on the podium.
He tapped his baton on his stand and announced, “Act One.”
So they were working in order for the first dress rehearsal. She had some time to relax before she had to sing. Alaina leaned back in her seat and enjoyed the show.
The orchestra began with ominous tones as a giant serpent controlled by six people moved on the stage. The hero, Tamino, dodged the attack and began to sing. Even though the libretto was in German, Alaina understood.
“Help me, or I am lost!”
Damn, he sounded good. The tenor playing Tamino had a biography twice as long as hers with credits spanning the globe. His voice boomed through the highest balcony, pure and clear with luscious vibrato.
“There is no escape from this serpent.” Tamino ran across the stage as violins raced down 16th note runs.
“Closer and closer it comes!”
The snake dipped its head and Tamino ducked. “Someone help me!”
The lighting moved to the back of the stage where three women wearing giant headdresses in purple, blue, and red raised their right hands. “Die monster, by our power!”
Alaina’s lips tingled. She raised her finger and touched them. Numb. It didn’t even feel like it was her mouth. What was happening? She hadn’t been to the dentist lately.
Panic wrapped cool fingers around her throat. How could she pronounce the German words without any feeling in her lips? She slapped her mouth lightly, and then more firmly.
Nothing. Her lips were flabs of dead meat.
Alaina glanced at the stage. The three women still fought over which one of them stayed to watch over Tamino. She had time. Her entrance was thirty minutes into the opera- that’s if Altez decided not to go back and fix anything.
Bianca’s pink sequins caught her gaze from the edge of the stage. The blond bombshell smirked as though she was already in character as the Queen of the Night. Could she see Alaina’s panic?
Embarrassment flamed in Alaina’s cheeks. She bolted to the bathroom. Even though she felt as though she’d lost the bottom half of her face, she looked perfectly fine in the mirror. Dread crawled in her stomach like a worm, twisting. Should she call the emergency room?
The lipstick!
Alaina dug through the garbage. It must have something to do with the lipstick. Underneath some tissues, she found the lipstick alongside a tube of Mr. Numb. Alaina picked up the tube, reading the fine print on the back. “Super strong tattoo topical numbing cream anesthetic with a non-oily cream base. Numbs for up to three hours. Great for tattoos, tattoo removal, piercings, bikini waxing, etc.
Holy shit. Bianca had sabotaged her. While Alaina sat in the stall, Bianca must have smeared her lipstick in the cream. Back at Julliard, Alaina developed the habit of applying her makeup right before she performed. Bianca had always called her vain. That opera witch must have remembered and planned accordingly.
Dammit! What was going to do? Alaina tried to sing in the bathroom, and the words came out slurred, like she was some drunk from the street. Sure, she could go out there and point the finger at Bianca, but her nemesis would just deny it and everyone would think Alaina was some type of paranoid psycho. Or worse, they’d think she sabotaged herself just to get out of the first rehearsal.
Think, Alaina, think. She popped her head back into the theater. They were still rehearsing the scene with the three women. She had some time. But not three hours. In three hours everyone would be packing up.
She ran back to the restroom and washed all of the lipstick off her mouth. She hadn’t applied too much, so maybe she’d regain feeling sooner than three hours. Alaina contorted her lips, making faces in the mirror to try to wake them up. She couldn’t feel the tip of her tongue where she’d licked her lips, but she did have some feeling in the middle and back of her mouth.
She buzzed her lips together, then launched into the warm ups that didn’t use the lips muscles. Slowly, she tried a “Mi, mo, my, ma, moo” exercise she’d learned from her teacher back in high school. It sounded more like, “E, o, I, a oo.”
Alaina slammed her fist on the sink. What the hell was she going to do? What would be worse; not showing at all, or showing up and singing like an idiot?
She tiptoed back into the theater. Bianca stood on stage as the Queen of the Night, singing to Tamino. In her spidery, black gown, she looked more like a witch than any Halloween costume could ever pull off.
The conductor stopped the orchestra suddenly. “No, no, no! More dolce, more rubato. Yes, you’re an evil, headstrong woman attempting murder and you’ll stop at nothing- even using your own daughter until Sarastro is dead. But, here you’re trying to plead to Tamino to save her. You have to sound convincing.” The conductor covered his heart with his
hand. “You miss her, you’re worried about her. Tamino can’t know your true intentions.”
Alaina bit her lip. Like Bianca had any of those feelings for her. She’d be glad if Alaina fell off the stage and broke her neck. The irony was, her hatred toward Alaina shone right through her own singing and today, it was bringing her down.
Alaina took a seat, biding her time. They rehearsed the scene again and again until Bianca’ voice grew hoarse. By the time they moved on to Tamino’s meeting with Papageno, Alaina could feel the tip of her tongue against her front teeth.
“Here’s your costume, my dear.”
An older woman stood beside her holding a strapless, glimmering, white gown reminding Alaina of a cross between a wedding dress and a ballerina’s Tutu. “Hi, I’m Catherine, the head designer. I’ve made it to the specifications you gave Altez. I hope it fits.”
“It’s ‘eutiful.” Alaina covered her mouth at the mispronunciation, but the older woman didn’t seem to notice over Bianca’s screaming voice.
Alaina slipped backstage to the dressing room. After she squeezed herself into the tight bodice, she massaged her lips and tried singing again. This time the words came out better, and she heaved a sigh of relief. She checked her figure in the mirror, pleased. The dress brought out all the right curves while smoothing over the ones she didn’t want seen. The glimmering bodice blossomed into the layers and layers of light chiffon. She looked amazing.
Bianca had taken so long to get her part right, she’d thwarted her own plan.
Alaina left the bathroom and walked backstage, rehearsing her lines in her head as the three women presented Tamino with the magic flute that could bring peace on earth.
The stage director led Alaina into place beside the man playing the evil Monostatos and his lackeys. She took a deep breath as Tamino and Papageno sang their last words, and then sprang into action, running across the stage away from Monostatos.
“Your life is over.” Monostatos taunted her with a prop dagger.
“I’m not afraid of death.” Alaina’s voice rang clear, pronouncing the German words perfectly. Her confidence increased. “I am sad only for my mother. She will surely die of grief.”
A Diva in Manhattan Page 6
