Facade

by Kim Carmichael

  Done in perfect vintage Hollywood style, the area featured black marble floors, walls lined with carved wood dividers and cut mirrors and a line of chandeliers. White and silver chairs with mirrored tables were strategically placed for those patrons needing a chair, and along one wall was even a long white leather lounge.

  At the far end was a bar, and if she stood perfectly still she could almost feel the old time people dressed in their finest furs coming to see a show and having a little drink before the next act began. “I can only say, Bravo.” Her voice came out a bit breathless.

  After taking another moment to admire the space, she finally spied what she was really after, and hurried toward the signs at the other end of the lobby for the restroom, skidding to a stop inside a room of mirrors.

  Suddenly, she was faced with thousands upon thousands of reflections of her and she held out her arms and turned, watching the images of her mimic her actions.

  Since the lights continued to follow her, she bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling, the appropriate place she dubbed her ghostly follower to be located. “If you don’t mind, a bit of privacy for a moment.”

  The lights blinked off and on.

  She took the gesture as an affirmative and made quick use of the facilities, but spent an extra moment washing her hands and face, enjoying the nearly instant hot water. No one ever took the time to appreciate the little things.

  Unsure how long her ghost was going to be the hospitable host, she knew she better get going. People didn’t take kindly to loafers as she learned over and over again. Part of her wished the place was abandoned, then she could return, but someone already staked their claim.

  After one last look in the mirrors, she retraced her steps back through the theatre. Upon making it back up on the stage, she turned to the audience and bowed. “I wanted to thank you for allowing me to visit.” A thanks and her song the night before was all she had to give whoever let her stay and linger. With one last look around, she collected her items and crawled out the same door her band mates pried open to get in here in the first place.

  A blast of cold air hit her and she shook her head. Some people thought Los Angeles had no weather, but then again, they never spent days at a time out in it. The heat was hard, but the cold was unbearable and honestly she didn’t know how other people around the country did it. She knew she was lucky.

  Still, the day seemed a bit ominous. Rather than sunshine, the day was overcast with huge dark clouds hanging in the air. She better do what she needed to and make a plan. Luckily the band decided there would be no practice today.

  After making sure she closed the door nice and tight, she walked through Los Angeles. Ever since she was small she enjoyed the city, a mixture of old and new, rich and poor, and every other extreme seemed to happen in the sprawling town. For the most part she kept to a few blocks, because it was just easier that way. The stores and such got to know her and at least she could earn enough to pay her way on some necessities and make a few friends that helped her.

  She made her way up to her favorite twenty four hour gym where she would take advantage of one of those friendships. Before entering, she peeked inside, and at seeing a friendly face at the reception desk, she waved.

  Her girlfriend motioned for her to come in. “She’s not here, go ahead and do what you need.”

  “What can I do for you?” Christine smiled and headed toward the locker rooms.

  “The bathroom does need a cleaning.” Her friend gave her a mixture between a wince and a smile.

  “So do I.” Thankful for any work, Christine hurried away.

  Once finding the key to her locker, she shoved her backpack inside, then made quick work of cleaning all of the bathroom stalls and the showers. While this bathroom didn’t compare to the one back at the theatre, she appreciated sneaking a hot shower and hair wash while she finished up her duties.

  She put on her last set of clean clothes and decided to go down to the laundromat later to see if she could help anyone fluff and fold and toss her clothes in with theirs. Sometimes she could even make a little cash by sitting and watching someone’s laundry while they ran errands. There were always ways to make it as long as one was creative.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t work here?”

  At the shrill woman’s voice, Christine backed up against one of the walls. The manager of the gym hated her.

  “What is it with your type? People pay good money to come and work out here. This isn’t a rest stop for the desperate and homeless.” The manager came forward.

  “I’m not homeless.” Christine sidestepped toward her locker.

  “Do you have a home?” The woman put her hands on her hips.

  “A home is a state of mind. I get by.” With no doubt how this would end, she gathered up her backpack and the other scant few belongings she kept in there.

  “Well missy, you are going to have to get by somewhere else.” The manager pointed to the exit.

  Too many times she asked this woman for a job. She wouldn’t lower herself again. “I always do.” She grabbed her items and her lock and held her head high. If nothing else, she always made sure to earn her keep. She walked out, glancing at her friend on the way.

  “Sorry girl.” The woman rolled her eyes.

  Christine waved and headed back out on the street. The sky had turned even more ominous with a bit of mist in the air. This was not what she needed. Still, she had to continue, check her messages, get something to eat, and make a plan for later.

  She headed for her favorite stop of the day, a small copy and postal shop.

  “There you are.” Helen, the elderly woman who owned the shop, held out her arms.

  In less than an instant, Christine rushed to her and gave her a hug. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I have some paper that needs to be stacked.” Helen held her at arms’ length, then pulled her behind the counter. “But first, you have some mail and messages and you have to eat.” The woman pushed her down into a chair and thrust a plate of knish at her.

  “My favorite.” Yes, she devoured the food. Helen was an amazing cook and never forgot her.

  “Here.” Helen put a stack of papers in front of her. “That Ramon called. I know you’re going to make it big once the world hears you sing.”

  Before reading the note, she looked at her few pieces of junk mail. Simply seeing her name on official correspondence, made her feel real. Even though at the moment she didn’t need a coupon for the local bar and grill or a discount to solar panel her home, she still appreciated the sentiment. Hell, at least she didn’t have any bills.

  Finally, she glanced at the message from Ramon reminding her of practice the next day and asking if she wanted to meet up later. Though she never specifically told him or anyone of the group she didn’t have a permanent place to stay, she had a feeling he suspected by the way he always managed to pay for her food paid when he was around, and asked more than once if she wanted to crash at his place. She just didn’t want to go there and tossed the note along with the rest of her mail in the trash.

  “Let me get to work.” She gave Helen a kiss on the cheek, went to the back, and stacked up the reams of paper as the first crash of thunder rumbled the building.

  The rain followed shortly after, and Christine shook her head. Rainy nights were the worst and her chest tightened. She finished her job and joined Helen at the front. “Would you mind if I used the phone?”

  “Anything, honey.” Helen motioned toward her phone.

  She retrieved her journal out of her backpack and flipped through a few phone numbers. Many of her connections had moved on, gotten married, or simply outgrew the days of having someone show up and spend the night. She dialed the phone to three friends and got nothing but voicemails, then glanced between the rain pouring outside and the trashcan. Maybe she should give in and call Ramon.

  “Are you all right, honey?” Helen came over.

  On automatic, she
nodded. If she called Ramon she would not only be acknowledging how she lived, but also knew what he would expect. A night in the rain was better than giving in to that, and she stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you so much for everything.” She leaned in and gave Helen a hug.

  “Take this, I made too much.” Helen gave her an extra container of the knish.

  Not caring if that were true or not, she hugged the container to her chest and made her way out.

  The city of Los Angeles hated the rain. It was as if everything stopped. She never meant to be such a wanderer, but once her father died in her senior year of high school, she sort of ended up flitting around with nowhere to go and no money. It was a strange happenstance, and she managed to make it work for the most part, but along the way she’d ended up without any true address, with no family, and spending all of her time simply trying to make do. Before her father died he promised she would one day make it big, and she could only hope and pray this group with Ramon would work out.

  Hoping she could wait out the storm, she went to the library and read for a bit and searched the Internet. Her mind continued to return to the old theatre and she did some research. “The Etolie Theatre.” In its heyday it was quite the showpiece. Pictures from the lobby way back in the 1940s showed the theatre ghost was actively restoring the place to its former grandeur.

  With the library closing, the night upon her, and the rain still falling, she considered her options. Tonight might be a night to use some money and hang out in a coffee shop or shops before she got kicked out, or maybe she should get it over with and call Ramon.

  Neither truly an option, she went with her heart and her instinct. Soaking wet and almost beyond her control, she returned to the theatre. She faced the door she first snuck in and shut her eyes. If the door was locked or barricaded, she decided she would call Ramon. If the door was open, she decided it would be an invitation. Whoever was there had to know how she entered and exited.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed on the door. Since she expected it to be bolted shut, she practically tripped when it easily gave way, and she tumbled inside.

  She caught herself, closed the door and smiled when she went to the stage to find all the lights on. “Thank you.” After arranging her items in the corner, she went to the front of the stage.

  Refusing to take anything for free and unsure who she was dealing with, she repeated her offering of the night before, cleared her throat and began to sing.

  She performed a simple song. A little twenty-year-old ballad she particularly liked and remembered her parents dancing to in their tiny apartment so long ago.

  She let the notes take her away, and if she squinted her eyes in just the right way, she could practically picture an audience in front of her. As she finished, she imagined the applause and took a bow.

  Like earlier, she walked around and used the facilities, and when at last she returned to her little corner, she found a bottle of water near her backpack.

  She curled up in her space, picked up the bottle and read the note written on the label. “Always sing.” Her fingers traced the neat handwriting, her heart fluttered and she lifted the bottle. “Thank you, I hope you don’t mind if I come in out of the rain.”

  The lights flashed, and she leaned back and took in the theatre.

  Chapter Three

  Insolent girl.

  From the flies, Erik shook his head and watched his little chirping cricket make a nest in his theatre. It was almost time for his performance. Maybe he should go get some popcorn. Instead, he sat back with a glass of whiskey and waited.

  Silly, silly girl didn’t know better than to not make a residence in a place where either a crazed lunatic followed her around communicating with her with flashing lights and little notes, or a ghost. She didn’t know not to come in here and sing in that beautiful voice and expect no one to react. She didn’t even know not to come in here and float around like a gorgeous angel and not expect anyone to watch.

  Of course, he didn’t get rid of her.

  Who was the stupid one now?

  He was the one who allowed her to stay for over a week for the price of a song each day.

  He was the one who worried the second she left every day, and took comfort in the fact she left her few little treasures in the corner of his stage.

  He was the one who couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Yes, he was the fool. He needed to check himself into an institution.

  A week after she first arrived in his life, they had developed a routine, a ritual of sorts. She woke, said good morning, got ready for her day and then left for hours on end. The first two days, he simply wondered where she went. On the third day he decided to follow her, and staying in the shadows, watched her do her laundry by conniving others to allow her to throw her clothes in with theirs, and snuck into a gym where she apparently cleaned up. She was then picked up by that blond fool in her band outside some postal store and went to practice.

  Yes, he observed the rehearsal on that third day and then again on the fifth and decided the band was horrible. The screeching lead singer needed to be hanged and put out of her misery. The rest of the band was mediocre at best. Maybe that was at worst, he wasn’t really sure. All he knew was that unless Christine was singing, he either wanted to run away screaming or fall asleep.

  After her various errands and pit stops, she returned to his theatre, scurried around, and then she sang.

  Her voice echoed through his property and a calm he didn’t know existed overtook him.

  Though by now he knew she used little methods to pay her way throughout the day, including her song to him, he still felt the need to reward her with a little present, a bottle of water, a blanket and a cushion for her nest, some candles, a sweet treat. Today he had something a little more special, so she better make it a good song.

  Once she finished laying out her items, she smoothed down her hair and came to the front of the stage.

  He gulped down his drink, poured himself another glass and sat up.

  “Good evening.” She bowed.

  After another drink, he nodded.

  Then she started to sing. Her sweet notes provided the perfect complement to the whiskey, and he could only sit and stare as the beauty created a song for only his ears.

  Back in his day he would have had her with a glance and a wink. Hell, he wouldn’t have had to wink.

  His present life was one of a eunuch without the dignity of someone cutting him apart. No, the mutilation was left only for his face, but it had the same result.

  Tonight she treated him to a longer song, and though he had to admire her doing it all a cappella, he would love to hear her solo with some proper music. She should never play backup. She should always be center stage.

  All too soon her song ended and as she did every night, she took a bow.

  He fought the urge to clap, but chose instead to raise his glass, polish off another drink and got ready to swoop in.

  In keeping true to her routine, after her show, she made her way through the theatre to the bathrooms. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to dart out, he climbed down and left his nightly offering and just as fast, resumed his hiding place.

  In a few minutes she returned, this time putting her hand to her chest at his gift. “Oh.”

  She slowly leaned down and lifted the deep red satin robe. “This is beautiful.”

  In a move he didn’t anticipate, she kicked off her shoes, took off her jacket and t-shirt and then pulled off her jeans.

  At the sight of her in nothing but a white bra and matching panties he practically fell out of his perch. While he suspected she possessed some pretty amazing curves, her baggy clothes didn’t allow him to actually see any of them. Now he knew her breasts overflowed out of her bra, her waist cinched in just the right amount and her hips rounded everything out perfectly. He could barely even glance at her backside without his body having the requisite male reaction. Holy hell he couldn’t have her here knowin
g what was underneath her clothes and not want to ravage her.

  She slipped on the robe, tied the tie and returned to the front of the stage. “Thank you.”

  Once more, he lifted his glass.

  “I know you’re somewhere.” Her eyes scanned the area.

  Though he knew she couldn’t see him, he still leaned back.

  “You know what’s weird?” She continued to look up.

  As if having a conversation with her, he shook his head.

  “I don’t even know you, but I feel safe with you.” Her face lit up with a smile.

  “I would never hurt you,” he whispered to himself, but hoped somehow she could feel his words.

  “I don’t know how I will ever repay you for everything you’ve done for me,” she continued.

  Wait. Was she leaving? No. He grabbed the railing tightening his grip until his nails bent from the unforgiving metal.

  “If I make it on this Stage of Stars I can actually pay you rent.” The smile still on her face, she shrugged. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay a little longer. Until then, I’ll try to earn my way, clean up, or anything. You can leave me a note what you need.”

  At her words, he exhaled. What she didn’t know was she could stay forever, because her singing and just being able to look at her was all he needed.

  “Of course, if you wanted, you could always ask me in person.” At her suggestion she bit her lip.

  He shook his head. She just asked of him the one thing he wasn’t sure if he could give her.

  Chapter Four

  With care, Christine closed the door to the theatre and pressed her palm to the wood. Inside was her sanctuary, dare she say her home? She couldn’t remember the last time she actually used that word and meant it. Once her father died, home seemed a nebulous murky place that didn’t exist but for the lucky few. She only wished she could see the face of her benefactor. All she knew is she had to do something for him, but wasn’t sure what. Yes, she decided her friendly ghost was a him, since it matched the voice she only heard once.