Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Birdie
By the time the curtain rose, most of the cast was a nervous wreck. Hieronymus and Paige were chain-smoking cigarettes two at a time every thirty minutes, while I’d never seen Forrest look so much like a nervous wreck. Even Lulabel was anxious and as for Mortimer? He was in hysterics.
Only Percy was unflappable.
I avoided Forrest before the show started. I didn’t want to see him. Did not want to see the expression on his face. Absolutely did not want to see any pride or love.
He was my past, right? Because all the money and diamonds and offers of beach houses in the world weren’t going to convince me that he really loved me. How could I ever trust him again after what had happened? Even if he loved me now, wouldn’t Phee always be the true love of his life?
And before I knew it I was in costume and on the stage, laced up into my corset with curls cascading down my back and packets of fake blood up my sleeves.
I opened my mouth for the first note, lights bright on the stage, and it was everything I wanted and also nothing that I ever wanted to do again, when, for the second time, Phee Vanderhart interrupted my big moment.
She was dressed exactly like me, all in silver and gold as Christine, her dark hair also immaculate, woven through with tiny little diamonds.
But this time she was holding one of the prop swords out at me and it was liberally covered in fake blood.
“How dare you think you could compete with me for the role of Christine Daae? Forrest wrote that role for me. It’s my role. And he’ll always love me the best.”
But I wasn’t afraid as she stalked dramatically toward me, the audience frozen in horror.
Because I no longer envied anything about her, and I saw her for who she was. A star desperately trying to hold onto relevancy, a woman who didn’t even care that she was ruining her own children’s directorial debut.
“It’s not a competition,” I said. “Because that would imply there’s some sort of doubt about the outcome.”
“You have the voice of a little. . . milkmaid slut!” she sputtered. ”And you’re disgracing this stage with your tits. Why don’t you run along home and rut the mailman or something.”
Phee had that pointed tip at my throat and I knocked it away with a clatter just as I heard Forrest run on the stage, dressed in full black tie. Ready to rescue me, but I didn’t need it.
“Stop!” I warned him and he paused behind his ex-wife, his eyes looking agonized, glued on me.
“Why don’t you try to hit some of those notes you used to be able to?”
Phee’s face went scarlet with fury.
“I can hit every note I used to! It’s a lie that I cannot!”
And she threw back her head and just had to try to hit that high C, just had to try to outdo me with her range.
Her first note was powered with impotent rage and sounded like a pterodactyl screech, and landed well short of perfection.
Somebody in the back of the audience tittered.
“Mother, stop,” Hieronymus called out, “You’ll hurt your—”
But Phee couldn’t resist trying again and this time when she stretched for the high C her voice cracked, and she shrieked with hoarse rage.
“Why you little bitch, you tricked me into that!” she wailed, charging at me.
But before she made it, Lulabel was there from the other side, her hair curled, pink floral dress on, and her pink handbag out, walloping Phee in the stomach.
“Now I’ve had just about enough of you,” Lulabel huffed, grabbing Phee by the hair and shaking her.
Phee made a noise like a steaming kettle, clutching at her head while Lulabel dunked Phee in the fountain of blood, once, then twice, then again as she really hit her stride.
“All right,” Forrest said, plucking Phee out. “I’ve had enough of goddamn drama and hysteria to last me a lifetime. You aren’t going to ruin Birdie’s moment.”
She was drenched in blood, and he walked her out to where two police officers were waiting, motioning with his free hand for the curtains to close, and I had never been more relieved of anything in my life.
“In general I do not approve of the vulgar term ass-whipping,” Percival said, “Seeing as how I am a man of peace. But in this case, Mother, I don’t think any of the saints could blame you.”
Lulabel snapped out a compact and touched up her makeup.
“Thank you, son.”
I hugged Lulabel. “You’re always looking out for me. Thank you so much.”
Forrest came up quickly, followed by Hieronymus and Paige, and his face was gray.
“Are you having a stroke?” Lulabel put in.
“Birdie, I am so so sorry. This is my fault.”
“Absolutely it is,” Lulabel put in again.
“I should have seen her insane jealousy for what it was. We had security at every entrance, but it just wasn’t enough. I will add a lawsuit to her burgeoning criminal charges.”
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I think she’s been punished enough. Her tricks wouldn’t actually have hurt anyone, you know. She’s just petty.”
“I will make sure she is escorted off,” Hieronymus said heavily.
“I am sorry, Birdie,” Paige added. “That was—incredibly tacky of her.”
For Paige this was about the worst thing you could imagine, so I nodded my thanks.
Forrest drew me aside.
“Are you ready to raise the curtain again?”
My heartbeat had not returned to normal.
“I don’t know if I can do this. She’s right that you originally wrote this for her. It’s her role, not mine.”
There were firm, strong fingers on my chin.
“Look at me.”
Forrest pulled my chin up.
“Of course you can do this. Didn’t I change up the songs? Rearrange them so they’d showcase your voice perfectly?”
“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck me.”
“That’s not true.”
That was it. I knew that was the root and source of the problem. I didn’t want this to be only about sex. Could not ever trust him if I thought it was just sex.
“Everyone says so. Everyone says I only placed so high in the competition because you wanted to fuck me.”
He frowned, tightened his fingers on my chin.
“Obviously I want to fuck you, but listen to me. I’m obsessed with you.”
“Then why did you do it? You ruined the wedding I planned so carefully. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for that.”
Maybe this wasn’t the ideal time to let out my bitterness, right before a show, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“It wasn’t because I didn’t love you. I’m just a damn egotist, baby. Look.”
He opened his phone and flicked back through something, then turned it around.
“If you want to see something embarrassing as hell, listen to these.”
“What, voice notes?”
He pressed one and it took me a minute to recognize what it was. But then I looked at him in wonderment. It was the song I had sung the very first time we’d ever met. The very first notes of my audition.
“You were secretly recording me under the table? Pervert.”
“I knew you were extraordinary. The first moment I saw you. I wanted that smoky, sexy, goddess voice all to myself, and I shouldn’t have done that. I was being a controlling asshole. I’ll produce anything you want, baby girl. You don’t have to forgive me. I’ll do it because it’s what you want.”
“Manipulative,” I said, and he gave me a crooked grin, those laugh lines crinkling up around his eyes.
“I promise you are talented as hell and you are going to bring the house down.”
Well, he was right. I could do this.
And then Percival was next to me.
“Just imagine you’re in church,” he said.
“Er—all right.”
He grinned and me, adjusted his spectacles, and we were off.
There was nothing like a Forrest Davies-Jones production, was there?
Everything on stage was sheer perfection, the best set design in the business, the stunning replica of a gothic manor, the world-renowned orchestra.
After all the weeks of disasters, it went beautifully. Every single bloody bite.
Percy was absolutely unflappable, and to my surprise both Hieronymus and Paige were able to calm down and direct the jittery cast.
I felt Forrest’s eyes on me the whole time, warm, admiring, loving. For so many years craving his praise and approval, it felt almost surreal to be in the driver’s seat, with him working like a dog to get my praise.
And I sang my heart out, sang the lyrics I’d loved for so long, sang them exactly as I wanted to sing them, in my own style.
When the show was over, Percy and I clasped hands and bowed low.
They were applauding. Actually applauding for me.
Well, of course they were. We had killed it.
We hadn’t even been trying and we’d pulled it off anyway. I grinned at Percy and we bowed again for the audience.
They might all have come thinking it was going to be a hot mess, but it hadn’t been.
And when Forrest came out with a bouquet of flowers from our garden, each one sparkling with something he’d hidden in the petals, I felt my insides begin to melt.
“Well,” Percy said, his face shining brightly as he polished his spectacles since a little fake blood had gotten on them. “That wasn’t quite as exciting as an Easter service at high noon, but it was quite enough excitement for me.”
“You did a good job, son,” Forrest said, clasping him on the shoulder, then turning to shake Hieronymus’ hand and hug Paige.
“Th-thank you,” Hieronymus stuttered, then he awkwardly turned to me. “You were—very good, Birdie. Very different and dare I say avant-garde take. I’m sorry I ever doubted your voice. You were absolutely perfect for the role.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling my throat closing up.
“I—misjudged you,” Paige said. “I’m sorry for the role I played in the wedding and I’d love to sing with you anytime you’re in the mood.”
Lulabel looked like she was about to say something sarcastic, but I gave her a stern look and she shut her mouth with a wink at me.
“Water under the bridge,” I said. “I’ve forgotten all about it.”
“You were fabulous,” Lulabel said, taking a mint out of her purse. “Made with 100% vodka,” she added.
And then Forrest had an arm around me and was drawing me back into the darkness of the theater hallways.
“You were stunning,” he whispered against my hair, my fake blood smearing all over the front of his shirt. “And you’re going to be even more stunning in the role I’m writing for you.”
“The what?”
“Of course I’m writing a role for you. Why the hell would only Phee have one? She’s not the love of my life. You are.”
“Oh,” I breathed, caught once again under his spell.
Then he was down on his knees again.
“Birdie, my god, please forgive me. You don’t want to put an old bastard like me in an early grave.”
“Who says I don’t?”
“Please. Please.”
I examined my nails.
“What do you have to offer me, to get me to overlook your little incident?”
His big hands around my waist gripped me so tight, digging into my flesh.
“Everything. I’m going to offer you everything. Take my bank account.”
“I didn’t mean anything monetary, you imbecile. I meant what are you going to offer me emotionally?”
“How about my damn life’s work, Birdie? How about that? This role for you is going to be the best thing I’ve ever written and you and I are just getting started.”
My lips were already giving him my answer as he pulled my chin down, and I kissed him back, his tongue predatory, possessive, desperate.
“I love you so much, Birdie. You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me.”
“What about your children?”
“Yeah, like I said, you’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me.”
I laughed, because we were us again, but this time it was better than before.
“I love you too. But good luck getting me to agree to another wedding.”
Forrest stood up, gathering me in his arms, his kiss hungry, eager, his hand buried in my hair, tearing out the hairpins to send my curls flying about my face.
“Just you wait. I have a few ideas up my sleeve. . . “