Chapter 12
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for Erik to learn about the attempt to bug Christine’s apartment. He doubted Christine would have called him, but Meg cared enough about Christine’s safety to call her mother. When all was said and done, Marie and Christine were employees of the foundation, and anything affecting the opera was his business.
“She refuses to call the police, Erik. Says the notoriety would only make matters worse. I happen to think she’s right,” Marie anxiously explained. “But I hate that her privacy’s so violated.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s still at home. I would have offered to let her stay at my apartment, but it’s being renovated. I’m staying with a friend. Meg has a roommate. Christine’s considering staying with her foster mother, but she lives rather far out in Queens.” Marie paused. “I’m open to suggestions here.”
“I’ll call you back.”
Erik had wanted to reach out to Christine since the debacle of Halloween. Instead, he’d been a coward. When the video of them made the news, he justified his cowardice by assuming the best thing he could do for her was never talk to her again. The fact that he’d left her fending for herself amid a media storm of their own creation hadn’t escaped his notice, but he hoped it would go away if ignored. He was foolish to think it would be so easy. The guilt overwhelmed him, and he longed to make it right.
The phone rang once, twice. He held his breath. Would he have to send Garret there so she’d pick up her phone and talk to him?
“Hello?” she said warily.
“Christine, thank you for picking up.” He exhaled with relief. It was so good to hear her voice.
“Why are you calling, Erik?”
“I’m sending Garret to you in twenty minutes. He’s coming to take you to my place until this story blows over. I have three extra bedrooms. You can have all the privacy you need. I won’t bother you. Just…please let me help you.”
She let out a dry laugh on the other end of the phone. “Always my hero, huh? Let’s try that speech again and make it sound like an offer, not a demand.”
Erik sputtered inelegantly. She’d said as much on Halloween. “You’re right.” He paused, grasping for the right words to say. “I apologize. I’m used to having my demands met. It’s not an attractive quality. Please, Christine, Marie told me about the recording device. I’m afraid for your safety, and I’d like to offer you a place to stay until all this calms down. Can I send Garret to come get you? You can stay as long or as short as you’d like. Or, if you don’t want to stay with me, let me get you a hotel room, though the odds of you being found at a hotel are much greater.” He tried to convey how important her well-being was to him as much as he was able. He waited several breaths for her to answer.
“Fine. Thank you. Have Garret come get me.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
How had he come so far in just two short months? Back then, he never would’ve invited her to stay in his home, his domain. How would he survive with a stranger in the house, having to wear that mask all day long? He could barely stand the irritation after a three-hour outing to a nightclub. Could his doctor recommend something lighter that was less likely to irritate his skin? It’d been years since they’d even discussed options. Anytime Reza had the guts to bring up his research on the topic, Erik shut him down. After a while, even his best friend stopped trying.
There didn’t seem to be a point in being out there. His world had been enough. When did it stop being enough? He paced his apartment restlessly, at loose ends as to what he could do. He should order her dinner, but besides Veselka’s, he didn’t know what food she liked. He’d just wait until she arrived. Which guest room would she like? He was fond of the one that faced west, but it was next to his room, and he didn’t want her to think he had expectations.
And what about his schedule? Would he be able to focus with her around? Would she expect to be entertained? Erik tried to remember those early relationships from high school and college. He practically lived with a girl the summer after his sophomore year. Still, those memories were so long ago they were probably unreliable.
He’d worked himself into such a state that by the time Christine arrived, his primary goal was to escape her presence as quickly as possible. Based on her body language, she wished the same.
“Thank you for hosting me, Erik.” She had a small duffle bag and a rolling suitcase. She looked like she’d aged five years in the past two weeks. Her light-blue eyes were ringed with dark circles, suggesting sleep had been in short supply. “Where would you like me? ”
“There are three spare bedrooms. You may pick from any of them. I like the one on the river. It has the best view of the sunset.” He walked her to the wing of his apartment with the living quarters. Each room had a king-sized bed and en suite bathroom. When she showed no aversion to the recommended bedroom, he showed her how to use the television and provided the Wi-Fi password. All he could focus on was how ill at ease they were with each other. He’d dearly like to know her thoughts right now!
“Can I order you some food? Sushi? Italian? Whatever you like.”
“Thank you—that’s kind of you. Honestly, I don’t have much of an appetite right now. I need to call Val, my foster mother, and then I kind of want to go to bed.”
“My room is right next door. Please let me know if you need anything.”
She nodded absently. Whatever was going through her head right now, she’d shut him out completely. He respected her wishes and left her to her thoughts.
“Where are you staying? Why didn’t you come to Queens? Are you calling the police? Nicole says they broke federal and state laws by planting a bug in your home!” Val’s typical pattern of question firing was further exacerbated by the genuine worry Christine could hear in her voice.
“You told Nicole?” Christine moaned. She didn’t even want Val to know, but she’d called right after the discovery and Christine let the news out without thinking about the consequences. Her foster sisters were well-meaning but always recruited the opinions of strangers and friends, and Christine wanted this news kept as quiet as possible.
“She’s worried about you. Her fiancé googled New York State privacy laws, and the person who did this could get four years in prison!”
“You need to tell Nicole not to tell anyone else—her fiancé too. I don’t want this to get any bigger. I don’t want this to affect my efforts to get a job when I graduate. Did you tell Theresa?”
“No, but your sister might have. I’ll call them both and tell them to keep it quiet. I’m so sorry. We’re just worried about you.”
“I know you’re worried, Val…I’m okay.” Christine tried to calm down her foster mother, but this effort was more difficult because Christine hardly felt calm. “I’m staying at the home of a friend in the city. It’s better this way. His home has a doorman, so no one can get in. Any paps could find your house in Queens. Plus, my friend lives much closer to my office and school, so this is more convenient.”
“Which friend are you staying with? Do I know them? Is this a friend from college? Is it that girl Meg from the opera?”
“No, no one you know.” Christine spoke softly. She didn’t think Erik would listen to her conversation, but recent events made her a little more protective of her privacy. “He’s a new friend.”
“Is it that young man you told me about from your school?” Val gasped in realization. “Is it that Erik Gardner you sang with in the video?”
“I don’t want to talk about it now. I’m feeling frazzled. This whole thing is amping up my anxiety to about an eleven.”
“Are you still taking the Zoloft Dr. Jain prescribed?” Val asked, uncharacteristically solemn at this question about Christine’s mental health.
Christine panicked momentarily and tried to recall if she’d packed it in her duffle bag. Silently, she looked through her toiletries and let out a relieved sigh to find the bottle buried at the bottom of her bag.
“Yes, and I packed them.” Christine relied on the anti-anxiety medication to keep her from getting distracted by the ever-looming threat of failure. She didn’t like to think of what caused her anxiety to turn into a full-blown panic attack after her senior year of high school. Val had dragged her to the doctor in regretful dismay when Christine had felt her future imploding. Dr. Jain had listened with kind patience to the sobbing eighteen-year-old blubbering about finances, student loans, and goals and immediately put her on a low dose of medicine to help keep the worst of her nerves in check. It wasn’t a cure-all, but it helped turn down the volume on her concerns for her future.
“I understand you’d rather keep it quiet. You’ve had quite a day, and I can’t blame you. I know you’ll be careful—you’ve always been so levelheaded. It’s just a parent’s prerogative to be worried about their kids.”
“I know.” Christine tried to feel the love in Val’s concerns rather than the intensity that wouldn’t help quiet her inner turmoil. Times like this made her miss her father, who handled her anxiety with a deft hand. Val didn’t mean to worsen it, but Christine needed space to sort through her crowded emotions. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Can I take you to lunch this weekend? We can go to that sushi restaurant you like.
“Let’s touch base on Saturday. I want to keep a low profile for a bit. I promise I’ll call you.”
“Love you, kid.”
“You too. Thanks, Val.”
Christine rubbed her temples with her thumb and forefinger. She hadn’t processed the internal noise of the day, and adding in the drama of Val’s response threatened to overwhelm her. She forced herself to take several calming breaths in the style Erik had taught her weeks earlier. She looked at the sunset over the Hudson River and sat breathing quietly until her eyes grew heavy, and sleep mercifully claimed her.
The next morning, Erik followed his regular schedule. It was a Thursday. That meant breakfast, work, music, and an evening swim. Christine hadn’t woken by the time he went to his office, but at lunch, he found a crumb-covered plate in the sink—evidence she’d been awake. He was glad she was eating. Distantly, he heard a shower running. He considered waiting for her to emerge but didn’t want to hover. She could find him if she wanted to talk.
When he finished his swim, he found her drinking a glass of wine at the glass-top table in the main room. She was flipping through her phone with a miserable look on her face.
“Did you have a good swim?” she asked.
“Not really. I’ve been worried about you.”
She nodded at his comment. “I opened one of your bottles of wine. I hope you don’t mind.” She looked at the dregs of her glass. “This is much better than what I drink at home.”
“Of course I don’t mind. You can help yourself to anything. Can I get you something to eat?”
“What goes well with this wine?”
“With this wine?” He looked at the bottle of Opus One Cabernet she had opened. “Everything goes well with this wine. How about some pizza?”
“With sausage?” She gave him a shy smile.
“The only acceptable topping. May I join you?”
“I’d like that. ”
A shared pizza and two glasses of wine later, Erik and Christine were still dancing around each other with shy tentativeness.
“Marie thinks I should work from here for the next couple of weeks until the interest in this story subsides.”
“Let me know if you need anything. I can have Garret pick it up for you.”
“That’s nice of both of you. I’ll need my work laptop.”
Erik nodded. “I’ll have him get it first thing in the morning.” He looked at her as she stared forlornly into her glass. “Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”
She didn’t answer immediately but looked up at him beneath dark-blonde lashes. “A lot is going on up here.” She tapped at her forehead. “You sure you want to know?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
“I’m feeling pretty violated by the bugging incident. So there’s that. Starting a perceived feud with the world’s most successful pop star was not on my bingo card for the year. I’m thinking about my thesis defense and how I’ll get to Columbia without being noticed. The private entrance through your garage helps, though. I’m nervous about my career prospects. After Halloween, I figured you wouldn’t want me to work for Gardner anymore…and that’s probably for the best.” Her eyes glittered in the dim evening light.
“What do you want, Christine?” he asked softly, undone by the sight of unshed tears in her eyes. “What can I do?”
“I’m not sure if there’s anything to be done. I suppose I want to fast-forward through this period of my life. Mostly, I’m just afraid right now. I’m afraid all the work I’ve done will be for nothing. If that’s the case, I have to make my peace with the fact that the future I get will look decidedly different from the future I’d planned.”
“I know a thing or two about that.”
“Tell me about it.” She looked at him. “Please.”
Erik sighed. “Let’s move to the couch. These chairs are too stiff.” They were momentarily distracted by the logistics of moving their drinks to the living area. Erik turned on the fireplace, and the light bounced off the golden lowlights in her hair. Her beauty hit him like a physical blow.
“My parents met in college. People who knew them said theirs was a love story, but I never got to see it, and frankly, I’m not certain I believe it. My dad died when I was three years old, so my memories of him are vague. I remember someone roughhousing with me—but was that him? I don’t know. After he died, my mom got bitter. She was constantly trying to control everything, especially me. She always said I had a horrible temper. She’s not wrong. I do, but sometimes I have the feeling her constantly telling me how angry I was made it a self-fulfilling prophecy. Or maybe not. It’s not fair to blame her for my temper anyway. I’m not a kid anymore.”
“The one area my mom and I shared a connection in was music. When I showed aptitude for piano, she brought in the best teacher in the area for twice-weekly lessons. At five, I was being forced to practice an hour a day. At six, it was ninety minutes. I didn’t mind. She’d compliment me whenever I learned a new skill or mastered a complex piece. She’d brag about me to her friends. I was put in the competition circuit at eight years old. I knew she was disappointed in me anytime I came in less than first. I wanted her to be proud of me, so I’d redouble my efforts. I got excellent.”
“You play beautifully.”
“Thank you. She was biased toward classical music, and by the time I was ten, I snuck in jazz or pop music when I knew she was out of the house. Whenever she walked in, I’d immediately switch to something she deemed appropriate. After a while, I got resentful. I was still a normal kid. I wanted to play video games. I asked her if I could sign up for soccer, and even when she agreed after much begging, I was told not to expect her to attend any games. Unless I was extraordinary at something she deemed acceptable, it was beneath her notice.”
“So what do you do when your mother won’t pay attention to you unless you’re her little angel?” Erik asked Christine.
Christine contemplated the question and gave a sad half smile. “I’d probably raise a little hell. Is that what you did?”
Erik nodded. “By the time I was twelve, I was tired of being her show pony. Anything outside her desires for me was disregarded or lambasted. So I started causing trouble. I’d play pranks at school. I made ‘questionable’ friendship choices. I’d skip music lessons. When I did play, I played the music I wanted to play.”
“Questionable friendship choices?” She raised an eyebrow
“Ask Reza. He loves to tell that story.”
“How did she respond?”
“She got colder, more aloof. It was a game of chicken. She withheld, and I acted out, and she withheld more. I got into a fight at school and broke my nose. She made me sit in the nurse’s office for two hours while she finished her facial at the spa.” Erik saw the look of dismay on Christine’s face.
“It came to a head about a month later. We were driving to a competition, and I put on the radio. I’d recently got into REM and the song ‘Nightswimming’ came on. Do you know it?”
Christine shook her head. “No, they’re a little before my time.”
“I’ll play it for you sometime. It has this beautiful arrangement, straightforward but surprisingly complex to play, especially for smaller hands, which, at the time, mine were. It’s hard to get your hands in the right position.” Erik held his hands up in a mime of the position necessary. “Its themes are gentle and melancholy, and I was humming along to it, copying the chords on my thighs.”
“Mom turned off the radio and snapped that I shouldn’t listen to such garbage. And…it felt like a rejection of who I was. I was furious, and I was just…done. Do you know how that feels?”
“I know how that feels, Erik,” Christine said quietly. She stared at him with such understanding that his eyes welled up. He cleared his throat, blinked away the moisture, and continued.
“When we got to the recital, I was just livid. I was thirteen years old, and I’d been playing for eight years…And nothing I did made a difference. All that mattered to her was how she could use me to feel better about herself. So when they called my name to the stage, instead of playing whatever song my mother picked out, I started playing ‘Crazy Train’ by Ozzy Osbourne.”
Christine’s eyes widened, and her hand covered her mouth. It took Erik a moment to realize she was trying not to laugh and failing.
“Oh my God. I would’ve paid good money to see that! You were at this fancy-pants event—please tell me you sang along?”
“I wish I had,” he admitted, getting caught up in her glee. He’d gotten in so much trouble for that stunt. Why had no one else seen the humor?
She laughed so hard she had tears pouring out the corners of her eyes, and Erik joined her. It felt incredible to laugh like that, long and loud. It was physically healing and draining at the same time. The laughter died out in time.
Sighing, she asked, “How did she respond?”
“Well, I never had to go to another recital with her again. I didn’t even touch a piano again until my senior year of high school.”
“You said you understood what it was like to have your imagined future fail to emerge. Did you think you’d play professionally? ”
“No. I always knew my destiny was in business. I inherited a controlling interest in my father’s company. I genuinely enjoy the work, but my first love was music. For a long time, I denied that love because I associated it with my mother’s disappointment and control over me. I denied something that gave me joy to spite her. When I was older, I rediscovered my fascination with playing. I didn’t want my mother involved. It was my joy, not hers. Eventually, she found out. She reached out and tried to make peace with me. Fool that I was, I let her back into my life.”
“That’s not foolish—she’s your mother. You were hoping for a reconciliation.” She gave Erik such a sincere look of empathy that he felt ever so slightly healed. What was it about Christine that invited his confidence? That offered absolution?
“But nothing had changed. She would cheer me on when I played, but she’d fail to show up anytime I tried to engage her in anything else. I was named president of my fraternity my senior year, which was a big deal. I asked her if she wanted to join me for the formal banquet. Usually members took their partners to the event, but I wanted her to come. I wanted her to see I was respected by my friends and classmates. She said she’d be there, and predictably, she didn’t show. After the event, I drove for two hours to confront her. She admitted she’d never intended to come just to see her son as the king of some silly social club.”
“I told her she was a terrible mother. I told her if I ever had children, I’d make sure I was there for every stupid little milestone they invited me to. I thanked her for teaching me everything I needed to know about how not to be a good parent. I left, and I was so angry. My temper has always been my downfall. I got into a car accident and”—he lifted his hand to his mask—“I woke up ten days later in the hospital with Reza by my side. My mother left for Switzerland as soon as it was clear I would survive and she wouldn’t have to plan my funeral. ”
He stared at Christine, who was openly crying, albeit silently, poised on the edge of her seat as if holding herself back. But from what, he couldn’t say.
“So you see, the future I expected, the one where I could walk in public and enjoy my life, is gone. I can do great things, but I’ll always be pitied, feared, or worse. I can never get married or have children because I can’t go to the zoo with them on Sundays or attend ballet recitals or softball games. I’m no better than my mother if I can’t give them all of me.” Erik was no longer looking at her, his gaze on the fireplace.
“Erik…” she whispered and reached for his hand.
He stood quickly. “Excuse me. I’d like to be alone.”
“Goodnight, Erik,” she whispered as he walked out of the room.
Christine couldn’t sleep. How could she possibly sleep? Her heart hurt for Erik, the young boy he had been and the man he was now. Would he ever be able to move on from the emotional and physical trauma he’d endured? He was so good, so worthy of love. How could he not see his inherent value?
She thought of her petty concerns relating to her career. What a lesson in perspective and her own sense of self-importance! She’d have a life. It might be different than she expected, but it would be a life. If only Erik could see a future for himself. He deserved more than being a cursed prince in a tower.
From the living room came a pleasant series of piano notes that repeated in a gentle cadence and echoed in the high ceilings of the main room. Erik’s hauntingly beautiful voice joined the chord progression as if he were entwined in a duet with the instrument. Like a sleepwalker, she followed the music with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. This was the song he talked about—“Nightswimming.”
She’d never heard the song, but its lyrics spoke of bittersweet memories, an inability to go back in time, a grief of lost moments. She walked deliberately to his side so as not to surprise or frighten him. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon reflecting off the Hudson and the lights from New Jersey on the other side. The river was calm tonight, with cool air sitting on top of the city and little wind to rustle its smooth surface. Sitting beside him on the bench, she rested her head on his shoulder. Though it was dark, she realized he wasn’t wearing his mask.
When the song ended, she took his hand in hers.
“Erik, I’ll take whatever part of you, you’re willing to share. I just want you.”
Erik let out a shaky breath, and his lips were on hers. There was no erotic play in his approach. He clasped her jaw in both hands and pulled her to him. His tongue was in her mouth, drinking her in like a man starved while she provided sustenance. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. Were those her tears or his she tasted? She cupped his head to hers, and he gentled his kiss. His lips covered her cheeks, and she arched her neck, giving him access, and sighed as he kissed a line down her throat.
“Let me take you to bed, Christine,” he whispered with that voice which made her toes curl. One of his hands caressed her breasts through the fabric of her pajama top, and she nodded.
“Yes.” She was shameless. She greedily climbed in his lap, unwilling to stop kissing him for even a moment. He lifted her, the pressure of him against her causing her skin to prickle delightfully as if she were dizzy from lack of oxygen. He easily carried her, so used to the dark of his home. When he brought her into his room, he set her on her feet, the soft carpet fitting between her toes. He kissed her briefly before closing the door and pressing a button. A soft whirring noise clicked on, and large blackout curtains emerged from the ceiling. Now the moonlight was gone and she was in the dark with him.
She felt him as he circled her, watching from just out of reach.
“Take off your clothes,” he whispered. “Please.” She smiled to remember his promise not to order her around anymore. They’d have to revisit that requirement inside the bedroom. The idea did interesting things to her body.
Without responding, she disrobed with numb fingers, and it was too long until she stood before him, reflexively holding her arms over her chest. She couldn’t tell where he was until his long fingers caressed the skin of her back and arms. Closing her eyes, she leaned into the touch, his hard chest pressing against her shoulder blades. All his exercising had left him toned and lean, with well-defined muscles. His lips found her neck again, and she lolled her head back onto him, drunk on his touch. His fingers found her breasts and began to tease her nipples in a way that had her keening, and the pleasure-pain sensation made her knees weak. She whimpered with need.
He was silent as he continued exploring her. She was a song he was learning, and he played her more masterfully than anyone ever had before. His hand drifted down her stomach, and she shivered as her skin tingled. He was deliberately drawing out her anticipation.
“Erik, please…” she whispered, and he chuckled in her ear.
“Did you want me to touch you here?” He cupped his hand over her mound before letting one finger dip experimentally into her slit. He inhaled sharply at his discovery. “So wet already. Just wait till I taste you. I want you to come on my tongue, but first…” One digit slipped inside her. “Christ, you feel good. I’m so hard for you. ”
And he was. He curled his body around her, pressing large and hot against her back, surrendering to his body’s rhythm. He continued to stroke inside her while he gently massaged the hood of her clit with his thumb. The touches were light, not enough to get her off but enough to drive her crazy. She whined, her shoulders tensing in frustration.
“Slowly, Christine. You can have everything you want.”
“I want you!” she pleaded, and she felt his smile against her back.
“As you wish.” And he touched her in earnest, spreading her wetness to the area that begged for his touch. He knew what he was doing, balancing the pressure of his thumb so as not to hurt her. She rubbed herself wantonly against his hand, and he let her take control, setting the pace for what would get her off. Finally, he pressed against her in just the right spot, and she came with a cry, going limp with pleasure. She fell against him while he continued to pleasure her with his hand.
“That was quite the overture.” He placed her on the bed. “I hope you don’t think we’re done, Christine.” He lifted her arms one after the other, kissing all the way to the skin of her wrists. “I’m going to tie your wrists with a scarf. I trust you, but I’m not ready for you to touch my face and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. Will you trust me?”
She’d said she would accept what he was willing to give. It was pitch-black, but she swore she was looking him in the eyes when she sighed, “Yes.”
“If you need me to untie you, just ask. I’d never hurt you.”
He gave her an open-mouthed kiss, then soft fabric wrapped around her wrists. It was snug but not painful. She could still move her arms, but they were bound together. She gave them a tug.
“Are you all right?” he asked her, his lips on her forehead.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, feeling his smile in the darkness. His lips returned to hers. He was seducing her again, and she was melting under his touch. He stroked his fingers across her breasts until her nipples were stiff, and he brought his mouth to each in turn. She could feel the scar tissue on his face, an unusual sensation but no less arousing. She couldn’t believe he was building her up again so quickly after she had just come. Those long fingers she’d admired were holding her just right. When he spread her thighs and breathed across her center, she let out an inhuman sound. His lips and tongue licked all around her slit, driving her to rub herself against him so he would kiss her where she needed him most. He pressed her thighs down aggressively, ruthless in his domination of her body, and she loved it.
She was almost there when he lifted himself off her.
“I’m dying to be inside you, please,” he begged. “But I don’t have a condom.”
“It’s okay, I’m on the pill. Please, Erik, fuck me!” she begged, and he entered her, surrounding her, his muscled chest pressed against her breasts, and the rasp of his chest hair on her already sensitive nipples made her arch her back against him. His hands tangled with hers, still tied above her head, as he slid out. His cock was already slick with her juices. He pressed back into her slowly, taking slow, deliberate breaths.
“I don’t think I’m going to last long.” His mouth nuzzled her neck. “It’s been a minute.”
“We have all night to build up your endurance,” she promised him. He laughed softly, the good side of his face pressed against her cheek.
Lifting himself up on his elbows, he pressed his chest against her again, this time bringing one hand down to touch her clit. She was so acutely sensitive to him, her body almost immediately there .
“Oh my God, Erik.” Her body tightened around him instinctively. As she climaxed, he followed her, his own shout joining hers in the dark of his room. His voice at the peak of pleasure was oddly musical, and she was reminded of his serenade as she floated down on the sound. As their breathing calmed, the room’s black settled on them like a blanket. He untied her hands, caressing the skin of her wrists tenderly. With his arms around her, she slept well for the first time in weeks, lulled by the beat of his heart.