His New Muse (Phantom of the Opera/Love Never Dies)

III

 When Carwyn entered his office the next morning, a third note lay on his desk.

 
 My dear Monsieur Descoteaux,

 I must congratulate you upon a week of successful performances. This opera house shall thrive under your management.

 I must advise, however, that you fire your lead performers immediately. They are absolutely terrible, and do not do the characters justice in the least. 

                                                                                                                                               Your obedient servant,

                                                                                                                                                               O.G.

 First he takes my money, and now he insults the performers, Carwyn thought. What next?

 But perhaps O.G. was right. Carwyn did feel that the acting and singing wasn't being done the right way.

 Wonderful. He was letting it all go to his head now. He had to get out of that office.

 When Carwyn went out to the hallway to take a deep breath, he thought he saw someone in the shadows.

 "Who's there?" he asked.

 But he could see now that it was a boy, a young man.

 "Hello," he said. "You don't work here, do you?"

 The boy shook his head.

 "Then what are you doing here?" Carwyn asked. He took a step closer. "What's your name, boy?"

 He hesitated before saying softly, "Gustave."

 "How old are you?"

 "Fourteen."

 "Are you an orphan?" 

 Gustave shook his head. "I have a father."

 "Is he here?"

 "No, he-well, he...well, yes. He is." 

 "Then let me bring you to him. Where is he?"

 Carwyn stepped forward and reached out to touch the boy, but Gustave shied away and sped off.

 "Wait!" Carwyn chased the boy through the corridors, down stairs, until Gustave ran out of the opera house and into the streets of Paris.

 "What on Earth?" he said, attempting to catch his breath.

 He went back inside, where rehearsals were currently going on.

 "Monsieur Baudin, have you ever seen a boy here named Gustave?" Carwyn asked.

 The conductor frowned at him. "A boy named Gustave? No, I don't believe so."

 "Are you sure? No one here knows a boy named Gustave?"

 "No, Monsieur, there never has been."

 Carwyn nodded. "Right. Yes. Excuse me. Continue, everyone." 

 I'm going mad, he thought. I'm really, truly going mad, aren't I?

~~~~~~

 Gustave snuck back into the opera house later that day. He had not meant for Monsieur Descoteaux to see him. He couldn't let it happen again.

 "Father?" he called. "Father. I saw-"
 
 "I already know," the man at the organ said. "I heard Monsieur Descoteaux ask Monsieur Baudin if anyone knew a boy named Gustave."

 "I didn't mean for him to see me, Father."

 "I know. Do not worry, son." The man patted him gently on the shoulder. "Monsieur Descoteaux seems to believe now that he is going mad. But things will change soon enough."

~~~~~~

 When Carwyn arrived at the opera house the next day, he was told that their lead male actor was ill and could not perform.

 After a mostly restless night, it was not something the manager needed to hear.

 "Isn't there anyone else who can do it?" Carwyn asked Monsieur Baudin.

 "O.G. must know who."

 Madame Baudin stepped forward, a note in her hand.

 "Where did you get that?" Carwyn asked.

 "He left it where I would find it." She handed it to him. "He means it for you." 

 
 Dear M. Descoteaux (it read),

 I know that you are a man of musical quality. I remember your father performing here, in the very opera that is being performed now. I highly suggest you take on the role yourself tonight. Who better than you, seeing as you seem to know the works of A. Priddy so well? 

                                                                                                                                 Your obedient servant, 
                                                                                                                                            O.G.

 Carwyn looked up from the note. "I shall take Signor Muldicci's place myself tonight," he
announced.

 Monsieur Baudin raised his eyebrows. "Are you quite sure, Monsieur?"

 "Monsieur Baudin, I knew A. Priddy, and my father once performed the very same role himself. I know what I must do, and I will do it."

~~~~~~

 Carwyn returned to the dressing room alone. He felt like an absolute disappointment.

 What had he been thinking? Sure, he knew the story and the song, but he had never performed on a stage before. Not to mention he hadn't practiced his vocals in recent times as much as he should have. The audience applauded him, but he still felt he had failed.

 "Who is it?" he called when he heard a knock at the door.

 "It is Jacques. May I enter?"

 "Of course you may."

 "Ah, Carwyn." Jacques entered with a huge smile on his face. "You were astounding. I didn't know you were that talented. Why do you look sad?"

 "I wasn't good," he said. "I wasn't as good as I thought I could be. My parents would have been disappointed in me."

 "Oh, Carwyn, don't say that," Jacques protested. "If you parents were half the people you have made them sound to be, they would have been happy with that performance, to see their son in a role they created together."

 Carwyn nodded. "Perhaps. But I do think I should practice more."

 "If that is what you think. Um, Carwyn, if you would, I did come to ask if you...well, if-"

 "Yes?"

 "If you would like to go out to supper with me."

 Carwyn raised his eyebrows. "Supper? With you? Yes, I would like that. Give a few minutes, and I'll meet you outside."

 Jacques smiled. "Ah, yes. Right, then. I'll get my carriage, and I'll wait for you."

 Carwyn changed out of hiss costume and back into his own clothes. Hopefully, there was another understudy around in case Signor Muldicci wasn't better tomorrow.