Her Phantom, His Juliet (A Pieter Kramer Fanfic)

Hell Hath No Fury

Chapter 13: Hell Hath No Fury

Disclaimer: read chapter 1

(Jazz's POV)

After the traumatic morning, the girls and I returned to the Bella home and helped ourselves with drinks. Specifically, alcohol in our blood stream. Well, only Fat Amy and I enjoyed margarita ice pops. Legacy refused to relive her sealed fate because of the peer pressure, not that I don't blame her.

My mind couldn't help but wonder how I am going to approach Beca. Should I be rational and hear her out, just as the girls suggested? Or lose my mind and beat the crap out of her... again? After all, she did cheat on my brother.

We talked and waited for Beca to come home. Minutes turned to hours. We spent time eating ice pops, while watching the news about a taxi driver getting arrested for vehicular assault in the first degree. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was the driver. The man insisted that three more girls were involved, but the police ignored him, assuming that the girls were just as victims as the old lady. Hopefully, that would be the end of their law breaking chapter, and the end of Legacy's panic attacks. Poor girl. First year as a Bella and she was already a convicted felon. There's no way she could live it down. But she decided to join the Bellas, and if she didn't know already that the Bellas had a reputation. What was our reputation? Being the best acapella group in the country with a bad shit happening to us.

But we were the Bellas.

Just like my leadership teacher in high school said, "We are all different. Whether it was based on gender, race, talent, opinion; but together, we are a tribe. A tribe that can be unstoppable. A tribe that can break down the wall of Jericho." That woman maybe from the hood, but she has words of the wise.

As Legacy was going on and on about the Worlds, Fat Amy was coming close to dozing off, nearly dropping her fourth ice pop. However, I beat her to it. My eyes closed, snuggling into the couch, falling into unconsciousness.

...

I took a bow with my cast members. The roar of applause nearly made my heart burst into my chest. I have done it. I have danced in Broadway. The second the curtain dropped, we all dismissed to go to the after party. I headed to the dresser's room to get my belongings and remove my make up.

The second the door opened, the scenery changed.

It wasn't a row of mirrors and seats, crowding the narrow space. Instead it was a room fit for one person. A star. I knew it couldn't possibly be me. I was a dancer, a backup dancer.

Its decoration was 1800's not twenty-first century. Pictures of actresses in black and white were hanging on the walls. The table was marble covered in antique jewelry, a picture of my grandmother - Marianna - dancing when she was a child, roses in a vase, and a circular mirror that revealed my change of form. There I was, standing in a ball gown not in my belly dancing attire, with a flora robe silk to the touch. My hair was permed, pulled back halfway with a headband placed on top. Pearl necklace and ruby earrings decorated my features, as well as my flawless makeup. This was familiar.

The second I looked back down on the table, the items disappeared, replaced with a black box wrapped neatly with a white bow to the side. The second I touched it, the music intensified. A melody that I knew so well. I didn't know why, but I couldn't help but open my mouth to sing.

"Beneath the opera house, I know he's there..." I opened the box to reveal a white masquerade mask with a peach bow and rose to the side as well as a gold lace around the edges of the mask. "He's with me on the stage. He's with me everywhere."