Page 35

The Music of the Night

Charlie

As I approach the theater, I spot Harrison leaning against the wall in a fitted leather jacket and dark jeans. It should be a crime to look as good as he does right now.

When he sees me, he pushes off the wall and strolls my way. “You clean up nice, McManus.”

My cheeks flush as I glance down at my suit. “Are you sure it’s not too much? I figured, you know, it’s The Phantom of the Opera . I wanted to dress the part.”

Harrison chuckles. “Charlie, you’re adorably clueless. This isn’t the Met Gala. It’s a regular night at the theater.”

I glance around, noticing for the first time that everyone else is dressed the same as Harrison—jeans, jackets, even sneakers. “Oh, man. I look like a buffoon.”

“Nah, you look great,” he assures me. “Besides, you’re gonna be the best-dressed guy in the room. And trust me, that’s not always a bad thing.”

I grin. “Thanks, H. How’s Danielle? Still puking her guts out?”

Harrison nods solemnly. “Last I heard. She’s devastated to miss it, but I’m sure she’ll drag me to another show soon enough.”

“Lucky for me, I guess. I always wanted to see this one, but Danny Boy isn’t a musical kind of guy.”

Harrison reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two tickets. He hands one over to me with a flourish. “Your ticket, good sir,” he says in a posh British accent.

“Thanks.” I examine it closely, hoping like hell it’s not counterfeit. “So, what’s it about, anyway?” I gesture to the marquee.

Harrison raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know the story?”

“I tried to watch the movie the other day, but I fell asleep five minutes in. And that’s saying something because I have a massive crush on Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum.”

Harrison smirks and shakes his head.

“Come on, H, give me the CliffsNotes version. I want to have a clue before we go in.”

He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. “All right. It’s about a disfigured musical genius who lives in the catacombs beneath the Paris Opera House.

He falls in love with a young soprano named Christine and becomes her mysterious mentor, helping her rise to stardom.

However, there’s a love triangle because Christine is also in love with the handsome nobleman, Raoul. ”

I nod, trying to picture it all. “It sounds like Beauty and the Beast, but with more singing.”

“Something like that,” Harrison says. “It’s full of passion, unrequited love, and some of the best tunes ever written. The Phantom isn’t just some creepy stalker; he’s a tragic figure. You end up sympathizing with him by the end of it.”

The theater doors open. Harrison and I hang back for a moment, letting the crowd thin out.

“It sounds intense,” I say. “I hope I stay awake.”

Harrison laughs. “If you don’t, I’ll be sure to poke you with something sharp.”

“Promise?” I say, waggling my eyebrows.

We enter the lavish theater, and I gawk at our surroundings. The plush red carpets, the gleaming gold accents, the intricate carvings on the walls—it’s as if I’ve stepped into a fairy tale.

Harrison, of course, is right at home, striding confidently through the crowd with his hands in his pockets. I follow close behind while trying not to trip over my own feet. It’s been a while since I’ve worn dress shoes.

An usher scans our tickets, hands us our playbills, and says, “Enjoy the show.”

“Orchestra, Row F,” I read off the ticket before checking the letters on the armrests. “I guess Danielle really wanted good seats for this one.”

“She has connections,” Harrison says with a shrug, though I can tell he’s pleased. “But yeah, she doesn’t mess around when it comes to the theater.”

We find our row and begin the awkward sidestep shuffle past the people already seated. I mutter apologies each time my knees knock against the back of someone’s head, and my butt collides with a face.

“These seats are tiny,” I whisper to Harrison, who navigates the human obstacle course with far more ease. “Were they designed for hobbits?”

He stifles a laugh. “Welcome to Broadway, McManus. Believe it or not, this theater is one of the more spacious ones.”

Plopping down in our seats in the middle of the row, I stretch out my legs, only to find them wedged firmly against the seat in front of me. I shift from side to side, then attempt a half-hearted slouch.

“I’m going to get deep vein thrombosis,” I grumble. “This is cruel and unusual punishment for anyone over six feet tall.”

Harrison pats my knee sympathetically. “Want me to switch with you? Maybe it’ll be more comfortable from my angle.”

I blow out an exaggerated sigh and resign myself to my fate. “I’m just saying, if the show isn’t amazing, I’m holding you personally responsible for my suffering.”

“You’ll love it,” Harrison says confidently. “And if you don’t, at least you’ll have something new to complain about other than how you don’t fit in.”

Ouch. That one stings more than he probably intended, but before I can respond, the lights dim, and a hush falls over the audience.

The orchestra comes to life with a dramatic flourish, and my attention snaps to the stage. The sound of the organ playing a haunting melody that I recognize from countless parodies and homages sends shivers down my spine.

I lean forward in my seat, all discomfort forgotten, as the magnificent chandelier rises off the stage. Beams of light shoot out in all directions, casting sparkling halos across the theater as it comes to a stop above us, a glittering sword of Damocles.

I’m spellbound.

As the curtain falls on act one, I leap to my feet and clap so hard my hands sting.

My cheeks ache from the wide-ass smile plastered across my face.

The music, the costumes, the sets—it’s all much more than I could have ever imagined.

I’ve been transported to another world where anything is possible and love conquers all.

Harrison stands beside me, his applause more restrained but no less enthusiastic. He studies me with a knowing smile. “I take it you’re enjoying yourself?”

“Enjoying myself?” I echo incredulously. “H, this is magic . Pure magic. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this show my whole life!”

He chuckles, guiding me out of the row and into the crowded aisle as people file out for intermission. “Welcome to the wonderful world of musical theater, McManus. It’s a beautiful, magical place.”

We head to the lobby, where I can’t stop spinning around. Everything is elegant, and I half-expect to see princesses and talking animals waltz by at any moment.

Harrison places his hand on the small of my back—his hand dangerously low to the top of my ass—and steers me over to a relatively quiet corner. “Are you following the story all right?”

I nod eagerly. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you have a favorite song yet?”

“I do. The Music of the Night. ”

“Great choice,” Harrison says with a smile. “Mine’s The Phantom of the Opera. That organ at the top of the number just does something to me, you know?”

I nod. “I can relate to the Phantom in a way. Not the stalking part,” I add quickly, seeing Harrison’s raised eyebrows. “But the feeling of being an outsider, of not quite fitting in…”

My voice trails off as I realize how vulnerable I sound. I glance away, suddenly fascinated by a couple of young kids pretending to be the Phantom, a hand over half of their faces.

Harrison’s fingers brush against my hand, bringing my attention back to him. “Charlie?”

I inhale deeply, gathering my courage to say something I’ve never said out loud.

“Sometimes I feel as if I came from another planet. You and Danny Boy grew up attending fancy parties, art galleries, and Broadway shows. Meanwhile, I was back in Bomont, milking cows at the crack of dawn and getting excited about the county fair. ”

“Charlie, that doesn’t matter?—”

I place a finger on his lips, not letting him finish his thought. I’m on a roll now.

“It does matter. I’ll always be the guy who doesn’t quite fit in.

The one who wears a ridiculous penguin suit to a casual night at the theater because it’s the nicest thing I own, and I don’t know any better.

” I gesture to my outfit, suddenly self-conscious about how it stretches too tightly across my broad shoulders and how the pants are a smidge too short.

“You and Daniel know all the right things to say, the right way to dress, the right forks to use at dinners. But me? I’m constantly second-guessing myself, terrified that I’m going to do or say something that reveals me for the country bumpkin I am. ”

My face reddens with shame and frustration, but I can’t stop the torrent of words.

The floodgates have opened, releasing all the pent-up insecurities I’ve been bottling for months.

I blink rapidly, trying to keep the sudden sting of tears at bay.

I didn’t mean to unload like this, not today, at least.

Harrison is quiet for some time, his expression not giving anything away.

Then, slowly, he reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together.

His palm is warm and grounds me in the midst of my emotional upheaval.

“Charlie. I had no idea you felt this way. I’m sorry if we’ve ever done anything to make you feel differently. ”

I shake my head vehemently and squeeze his hand. “No, no, you and Daniel have never made me feel different. Not once. It’s more my hang-ups, you know?”

He lifts our joined hands and presses a feather-light kiss to my knuckles. “Charlie, I—” The lights flicker, letting us know act two is about to start. “To be continued.”

The night air nips at my skin, and I notice Harrison shivering slightly in his thin leather jacket. Without a second thought, I shrug off my suit jacket and drape it over his shoulders.

Harrison glances up at me, surprised by the gesture. “Thanks, McManus. But won’t you be cold?”

“Nah, I’m used to chilly Pennsylvania nights. This is nothing.”