Page 17 of Angel's Kiss
Bosarge sighed and nodded. “Obviously after hearing you sing a soprano role like Marguerite, it’s absurd to keep you as a mezzo understudy, so we’ll be finding a different cover for Madame Valerius. For all her roles.” Bosarge’s usually sparkling eyes were dull as they avoided Christine’s.
“Including Siébel,” Carlotta finished with a wicked grin.
“But I can sing the roles!” Christine protested, her heart racing in panic. “You’ve heard me. You don’t need to—”
“It’s not what suits you. Some time in the correct section of the chorus should do you some good,” Bosarge cut her off. “Though I will need to have Monsieur Gabriel take some time with you to make sure you are better able to blend with your fellow choristers.”
“The audience pays to hear the principals, not one voice sticking out in all the crowd scenes,” Carlotta practically purred. Christine’s face went scarlet.
“I didn’t know I—”
“Did everyone hear the news?” Carlotta announced to the curious crowd. “You all have the day off and the rest of the week!”
“That’s not strictly the case!” Gabriel corrected as he rushed to the diva’s side while the chorus erupted in murmurs. “Youwillbe needed on Friday for the run-through ofFaust. We do apologize for the sudden change and the inconvenience, but—”
“Dismissed!” Carlotta trilled. The chorus began to filter off the stage, half of them giving Christine looks of contempt, the other half looks of pity. She wanted to fall through the stage’s trapdoors and disappear forever. “Did you not hear me, little one?” Christine looked up to see Carlotta sneering at her. “You need to leave before you get in the way.”
“Oh, shove off, you loathsome bitch.” It was Adèle who said it, taking Christine by the elbow to lead away. “I can’t believe she did that.”
“I can,” Christine muttered, her embarrassment and fury roiling under her skin. “I humiliated her twice. I’m surprised she didn’t fire me.”
“She may be biding her time. Or not able to yet, given that you have so many supporters.”
“Ha,” Christine replied. “I thought Bosarge respected my voice and he—” She stopped, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. “Gabriel too.”
“Shush, don’t believe what Carlotta’s made them say or think. Gabriel believes in you, and so do I, which is why we need you to meet us for supper tonight.”
“Supper?” A new panic joined the melee in Christine’s stomach. She couldn’t go to supper and she couldn’t tell Adèle why.
“We’re dining with Monsieur Cravalho from theOpéra Comique. He heard you at New Year’s and may have a place for you there!” Adèle said it with such enthusiasm, but it only made Christine sicker.
“A place at theComique?” Did Adèle really think that Paris’s secondary opera house was what Christine wanted?
“They’ll be mountingCarmenagain in the fall! And their Micaëla is willing to share the role! You’d be perfect.”
Christine nodded, numb. “It’s January. What would I do until then? Would I be stuck in the chorus there too?”
“You would pay your dues the way all singers your age must,” Adèle replied with a scowl. “Christine, you may need to accept this place is a dead end as long as Carlotta is here.”
“I’ll consider your invitation,” Christine snapped back. “I may not be there at supper. I’m...meeting a friend.”
Adèle scoffed. “The friend you’ve been with all week? Do you live there now?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Christine declared and stalked off stage into the buzzing backstage corridors. She wanted to be back in Erik’s home, where it was quiet and no one could see her. She was beginning to understand why Erik kept to his shadows. Life was easier when you didn’t have to deal with cruel, stupid, vain people.
She wished she knew how to find her way back.
––––––––
Erik heard his managersbefore he was even in place under the floorboards, curled carefully in the hidden space beneath the trap door directly behind Richard’s desk. The tone of the voices was not promising.
“I am the artistic director; these are my decisions!” Moncharmin was saying.
“The career of one upjumped chorus girl is hardly a decision that affects the artistic integrity of the company,” Richard replied with derision in his voice that made Erik’s blood boil.
“We were in agreement that Mademoiselle Daaé was a better fit for Gilda!” It was either a stroke of luck or a cruel trick of fate that Erik had arrived to hear exactly what he needed to.
“I recall no such agreement,” Richard replied. “Do calm down, Armand. I can assure you that this decision had nothing to do with art.”
