Even though I had the entire play memorized, I was still reading over the lines. They felt good in my mouth and on my tongue.
Iwas the one singing them.
Despite the fact that Forrest was a bastard and I did not forgive him, it was such a thrill to be singing these lines, to be standing where I was, to have Christine’s costume on.
To sink my fangs into the Phantom’s throat under my ex’s jealous eyes, watching through the blood splatters to see the muscles in Forrest’s strong throat working as he swallowed hard.
Even Hieronymus and Paige were being nicer than usual, Hieronymus even begrudgingly saying I “sounded very pleasing,” which for him was quite complimentary.
Forrest prowled the stage like a wolf, watching me with jealous eyes for each scene with Francois, who was now playing the Phantom.
I ignored him completely. Francois was hot and charming, and if he wanted to get just a little bit closer than was necessary for me to chase him through a gothic graveyard? I was all for that.
At the end of the day as I was about to pull the pins out of my hair, Forrest came up to me.
“You look stunning, Birdie, and I’d love to get some promotional pictures made in the studio limo. Would you ride around with the photographer for about thirty minutes, and then my driver can take you home and you can change there? Don’t worry, I’ll have an assistant bring the costume back.”
“That seems like a lot of extra work when she should be off the clock,” Lulabel cooed at him.
“Lulabel, go away,” Forrest said through gritted teeth.
“What, so you can try to bulldoze her with your penis? No, thank you.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’m ok taking pictures. As long asyoustay here.”
His rugged face fell but he nodded.
“Now get the hell out of here,” he told his first ex-wife but Lulabel only shrugged.
“I’ve got a date with one of your stage hands anyway.”
He rolled his eyes, but kept a hand on the limo door as I climbed in.
“I’m looking forward to her leaving soon.”
“What do you want, Forrest? You’re talking about my bestie, so watch your tongue.”
“Birdie, I’ve slept with a lot of women—”
“Save it for your biographer,” I interrupted him. “I don’t need to know your horny anecdotes from the 80s.”
“I took you for granted,” he said simply, his strong arm way too close, with those veins in his hand and the way every moment made his muscles pulse. “I’m sorry. I was a complete and utter bastard.”
I tossed my curls over one shoulder.
“Don’t bother. Actually, everyone is right. Iwaswith you for your money, and now I’m on to the next sugar daddy. I have my eye on Jerry.”
A muscle throbbed in his jaw.
“What can I do to prove how much I care to you?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” I shrugged. “I can’t think of anything that would work. Goodbye now.”
For a moment I thought he’d rip the door off the limo, but he finally let me go.
“I love you so much, Birdie.”
That didn’t even get a response. The photographer had me sit in several poses in the limo, fangs in, blood dripping artistically down the front of my throat, but luckily it didn’t take too long.