Phantom: Act 3 – Scene 22

Scarlett

My childhood friend’s shocked baritone reaches my ears and I whirl around to find a concerned expression furrowing his brow, coming straight for me. He envelopes me in a hug, and I pat his back while trying not to inhale his stifling gardenia scent.

“Rand? What’re you doing here?”

“I… I visit my family’s tomb on Sundays,” he explains before letting me go and towering over me barely two feet away.

His parents died in a car accident on the Pontchartrain Expressway when Rand was a teenager, and from what my dad told me when I got older, his brother hung himself not long after. So tragic.

“I’m so sorry about Laurent, Rand. I know I never talked about it—”

“How could you?” he asks with a shrug, that charming smile back on his handsome face. “We never talked about it in our emails. And then you stopped writing.”

“I’m sorry.” I wince. “When my father found out, he made me stop responding.”

A huff escapes him. “It’s too bad your father didn’t understand what we had. Loyalty.” My lips purse at his assessment until Rand backtracks. “Not to say your dad wasn’t loyal, of course, but I don’t think he’d ever had what we had.”

He steps forward and I glance around to see if anyone can see us. I know I’m doing nothing wrong, but Sol and Rand don’t like each other. There’s no way Sol will appreciate us being together like this.

“I really should go, Rand. I’m sorry—”

“Wait.” He grabs my forearm and pulls me close. His blue eyes are tense as he searches my face. “How are you? I’ve called you nonstop all weekend only to go directly to voice mail. Haven’t you been getting my messages? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick about you since I heard you overdosed.”

Ugh. That word. I hate it so much but I swallow down my pride. It is technically what I did, but it still sucks to hear it thrown back at me. But the few people who are close to me would know not to use that word.

“How did you hear about that?” I ask, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice.

Rand jolts back and shakes his head like I’ve offended him. “I care about you, Lettie. You never replied to my messages, so I had to ask people around town to find out if you were even fucking alive. What’s with this attitude all of a sudden?”

I blanch and my face grows clammy. It never occurred to me that Rand would be looking for me, but should I feel guilty about it? He’s not my keeper.

“Look, I’m fine now. I’ve been taking it easy the past couple of days. Sol took care of me—”

I try to tug my arm away, but his grip doesn’t give.

“What is he to you, Scarlett? Sol Bordeaux? I heard that you were with him,” he sneers and I recoil at the disgusted look warring with the concern on his face.

“That’s not really your business. Now, please. Let me go—”

He drops my forearm, as if he hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. “Do you even know who you’re getting in bed with? The monster he is? You’re such a good girl, Scarlett. I’d hate to see you get corrupted by someone like him.”

I’m not a good girl.

Sol claims to know the darkest parts of me and I’ve been too afraid to ask what he’s referring to. My true darkness has nothing to do with my disorder, and everything to do with the night my father was murdered. Or rather, what I did right after. If my childhood friend knew the type of rage I was capable of, he’d never call me a “good girl” again.

“He’s not a monster,” I say instead, whispering roughly as I step back. “And who I get in bed with doesn’t involve you. It never has.”

It’s a low blow, but it does the trick. He stumbles back, obviously shocked at my defense. But there’s an underlying frustration that narrows his eyes.

“Really? You don’t know anything about him. For starters, you should ask him about the real reason why I have to visit my brother’s grave. After that, maybe ask him what happened last year, when one of my men went missing after completing a simple job. Oh, and don’t forget about asking him what I found in my garden yesterday.” He seems to grow green at the memory and shakes his head. “He’s sick, Scarlett. Hell, if you need more evidence, you could even ask your so-called best friend—”

“Wait, Jaime?” My heart thunders as my suspicions rear their ugly head. “What does he have to do with all of this?”

“Or,” Rand continues without answering me, obviously on a roll with his accusations. “Just ask Sol about the tourist he beat up for no reason last night. Look—”

Before I can back away, Rand has my forearm in his unrelenting grip again. My head is reeling, so I don’t even try to get free, and just wait while he thumbs through his phone until he lands on a news article.

“Rand, what’re you doing—”

“Look.” He shoves the phone in my face and I have to blink past the sun to see the screen.

A closeup of what looks to be a very hungover tourist is front and center with a towel around his neck and an ice pack lifted to his face. There on his forehead, clear as day, is an imprint of a skull. The headline above says, Tourist attacked by Phantom… or Hurricane?, obviously suggesting that the tourist was crazy drunk and just injured himself.

“This was last night?” I ask, unsure what to think.

In the past, I would’ve believed the potent hurricane drink had been the culprit. Now… I can’t deny that the cut looks eerily similar to Sol’s ring. But when would he have gone? It’s on the tip of my tongue to say that he cuddled me all night, but I keep it to myself.

“Yes. That skull is his calling card. And the proof is there in the picture. Ask him about it. And if he doesn’t tell you the truth… well, you’ll know he doesn’t think you’re good enough to be trusted.”

I school my expression to hide all my uncertainty. Sol’s only been good to me, and I just promised myself I would stop questioning him. And this morning, I know he was more vulnerable with me than he’s ever been with anyone. I could tell. On top of all that, he’s been honest with everything I’ve confronted him about so far.

Our conversation about justice flashes across my brain. It was right before he explained his relationship with Madam G. Rand was wrong about that, could he be wrong now? Or did the tourist have what was coming to him?

“…I’ve made sure they deserve it. That’s the Phantom’s—”

“—moral code…”

I bite the inside of my cheek while my heart races. “Why are you telling me all of this, Rand?”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging as he removes his hand from my arm. But his soft palm holds mine before I realize he’s even reached for it.

“For a little over a year, I’ve been working to come back and finish what my father and brother started. To bring more jobs to New Orleans and make this city as great as it used to be. Finding out you’re still here, even after your father died, was a bonus. But, Lettie, Sol and his brother hate me and my family, for no reason. Have you wondered why Sol is interested in you all of a sudden? I told them we were childhood sweethearts. What if he’s trying to get back at me by taking you from me? I’d hoped we could pick up where we left off…”

With all my many questions, Rand’s theory is revealing uncertainties I didn’t realize I had. But at the rest of his statement, my head is shaking before he even finishes.

“Rand, there’s no ‘picking up where we left off.’ Where we left off was me at fourteen, and you in college. We were… whatever we had… it was never appropriate—”

“Well, now you’re twenty-two and you have the same age difference with Sol. What’s the big deal?”

“I’m sorry, Rand. That was a long time ago.” My heart twists when I see the disappointment in his eyes, but I’m still thankful when he lets go of me. “Things are different now.”

A frustrated huff blows out of his nose and the look of pity on his face makes my skin crawl.

“Be careful with him, Little Lettie. The Phantom of the French Quarter not only looks like a monster with his mask off. He is one. When he hurts you, call me, okay? I’ll be there for you… Just as I always have.”

Before I can argue with him, he yanks me close to him. I have to stop from folding into him by thrusting my hand into his chest. The scent of stale gardenias tickles my nose, so different than the warm, cozy sugar, whiskey, and leather I already crave. He gives me a kiss on the forehead and murmurs against my sun-heated skin.

“I’ve always cared for you, Little Lettie. My family took care of yours when they needed to. I’ll take care of you again. If you choose me, I can give you everything you’ve always wanted, you only need to say the words. You loved me once. I know you can love me again.”

“Rand, I—”

“Shh… someone’s coming. I don’t want him to hurt you. He will if he finds out you’ve been with me. Stay safe, Scarlett. I’m only a text message away.”

He lets go of me then and disappears behind a house-sized tomb.

“Scarlett? Did you get lost?” Maggie’s kind voice is stunted by the concrete, stone, and greenery and I spin to find her emerging with her daughter from behind another obelisk. “Sol sent me to get you. We’re taking Valérie back to the house to rest.”

“Right, yes… Um, sorry. I got… caught up. Let’s go.” I straighten my dress, trying to see if anything is out of place when I realize Maggie is watching me warily.

“Are you okay? I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“Nope,” I answer too quickly and point in the direction she came from. “Lead the way through this maze, will you please?”

“Right, so you don’t get lost again.” She glances behind me before turning to navigate the way through the tombs and I laugh awkwardly.

“Exactly.”

When we finally get to the hidden gate, I hear Ben and Sol’s heated discussion before I see them.

“You know she’s not one of us, Sol. She can’t be trusted and you just served our weakness on a silver platter! You can’t let this obsession ruin us—”

“Our mother isn’t a weakness. And Scarlett is more than that, Ben—” My chest lightens at Sol’s gravelly confession until he continues. “She’s the key to everything.”

I stop in my tracks and Maggie looks at me with a wince. “Listen, don’t mind them, honey.” She slides the gate Sol and I entered through to the side and glances back at me. “It was so good to see you.”

Her voice breaks the men apart and Ben makes eye contact with me for a moment before darting down to the ground. Sol oozes fury, whether at his brother or me, I don’t know.

A black BMW and Sol’s Aston Martin wait at the curb. Maggie gives me a sweaty side hug and barely prevents Marie from leaving with a chunk of my hair. I laugh as I watch them head to the BMW, where Mrs. Bordeaux sits in the front seat. Ben opens the back door for Maggie to slide in and put Marie in her car seat.

“Thank you for coming, Scarlett.” Ben waves as he lies through his teeth.

A brief smile is all I can muster.

The shadow who drove Sol’s car is nowhere to be found as Sol opens the passenger door for me.

“Come. Let’s go.”

I glance up at him. There’s a scratch on his neck, but his mask looks intact again. Defeat sags the left side of his face, and despite all my questions, my heart aches for him. I reach for his hand. It clutches mine like a lifeline, but it’s the only thing that changes in his demeanor.

“Is your mother okay?”

“She’ll be fine. This reaction isn’t… unusual. They’re going home so she can settle down in familiar surroundings.”

I nod and just before I slide into the passenger seat, Sol wraps his arm around my waist and brings me flush to his chest. My body curls into his, but I don’t miss his long inhale as he kisses the crown of my head. He pulls away and looks at me, curious.

“You smell different. Like… a garden.”

Fuck.

His eyes narrow at the no doubt guilty look I have on my face. “Scarlett, are you hiding something?”

“No, of course not.” My smile is brittle at the edges.

I don’t think Sol buys it at all but he lets it go with a nod. His face is weary and I’m almost disappointed he doesn’t catch me in my fib, but it’s for the best.

Now I can focus on figuring out what the hell is going on.