Of Masks And Roses

A Carlotta Intervention

Author's Note: Hey everyone! Just to let you all know there is a song in this fic. It's called Grande Amore by Il Volo on piano. You can easily find it on youtube if you want to listen to it while she plays it. Thank you sm for reading and let me know what you all think!

xXx

The sunlight streaming through the windows that cold, November morning woke me from my peaceful slumber. I yawned and despite the ache in my muscles I slowly turned away, groaning sleepily. I popped an eye open and scowled.

"Noooo," I moaned to myself as I shuffled under my covers, "I don't wanna get up." For the past few weeks the managers and Monsieur Bayard have been working me non stop. After working a whole 10 hour shift, my feet would be so sore, and my legs would be so tired that I would barely have time to work on the song with Erik, let alone remind myself to start to go to his lair. A couple nights I would find myself asleep in my bed, with Erik standing over me and angrily telling me that I have been two hours late. And what makes it worse is that Jacob Baseeri still won't stop his pestering with me. Each day it seems like he becomes more and more determined to get me fired. These past couple of weeks have been hell for me, but there is no way in the world I am leaving this opera house. This is my home now, and the antics of one guy won't keep me from doing, or losing my job.

Sighing, I rolled back over and checked the tiny, wind-up clock on my desk.

7:15am

Rubbing my eyes I sat up and placed my feet on the cold floor, hissing slightly at the icy feeling penetrating my feet. Slowly I stood up, my joints and ligaments popping as I walked over to my closet, picking out a pair of brown slacks (which I had finally bought a few weeks ago with great happiness, ready to turn my work dresses into plain and simple dresses for my days off), and a white shirt, since I will be working on my hands and knees, and building a handful of props.

After putting up my hair into a bun and washing my face, I left my room and headed down into the auditorium, mentally preparing myself for another hard day's work.

xXx

"Ah, Mademoiselle Moore," exclaimed Monsieur Bayard as I walked up to him, "Just in time. I need you and Frank to finish building prop number 12, and then once you're done whoever is around can help you two carry it to the painters. Once you two are done come to me and I'll give you two your next assignment. Un, deux, trois, allez!"

Nodding at Frank in acknowledgement, we both walked over to the prop section and began to build the prop. With hammers and nails in our hands, together we worked. But after a while I glanced up and spotted Jacob leering at me as he worked on his own prop. I rolled my eyes at him and hammered harder.

"Um, Frank, can I ask you a question?" I asked after a moment, looking up at him.

He nodded as he hammered, "Of course, speak away, miss."

"What do you think of Jacob Baseeri? Is he... nice? To you?"

Frank glanced up at me, then went back down to his hammering, "Oh, I dunno," he mumbled, shrugging, "He's nice enough. Personally, I think he's kind of an asshole. Whenever he works around me, all he does while he works is talk about himself, or bitches about you. And Carlotta, but everyone bitches about her."

I chuckled and grabbed a nail, "True."

Frank stood up straight, "Just wondering, but why is he so rude to you?"

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, "I think he's trying to get me fired. Keeps messing up my job and untying my lines to get me in trouble. He thinks that a job as a stagehand is strictly a man's job and I need to be put in place. I think it's a load of crap."