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Chapter I
It was a warm day of the summer of 1915. Outside her bedroom window, Phoebe Halliwell could see people walking about, obviously enjoying the pleasant weather. She longed to be out there with them, but thought forlornly that she wouldn't fit in with them. Even so, it didn't keep Phoebe from wanting more than these four walls, which seemed to be closing in on her. With deep sighs, she watched a group of boys, most of them fifteen and sixteen years old, coming out of the orphanage that stood across from their house. They were scouting the street mostly for some pretty girls, or so her father would have said. That's what boys their age did most of the time, he had assured Phoebe.
She was very much aware that she would be the last one to catch their interest, even if she'd been allowed to go out. She remembered bitterly how her mother used to tell her how pretty she was. At the time, Phoebe had believed her. As she grew up and mostly after her mother passed away, the now fourteen years old had come to realize that her looks were not all that great. She was overweight and awkward. Most probably because her father wouldn't let her play outside and that she spent most of her time in this room. Along with the occasional visits from her Cousin Paige, her singing constituted her only distraction from what she considered a very gloomy life. Sometimes Phoebe wondered if she had not let herself go in reaction to her father's reproaches. Maybe once she had been this beautiful girl her mother saw in her… However, she preferred not to dwell on this, as it would only have increased her bitterness toward her present appearance.
Victor Halliwell was obsessed with protecting his daughter's virtue at all cost. If that wasn't a bad thing per say, the manner in which he did it was causing Phoebe great suffering and insecurities. Their household had never been very lively, as her family had few friends. It was most probably because her father was a rather bitter and severe man… She was only nine when her mother died, and if she had somewhat known of her father's strangeness before, until her passing, Phoebe's mother had served as a damper between them. After Phoebe and her father were left with only each other and a few servants, she soon understood the depth of the man's disturbance.
At the time, she was only playing with dolls like any other little girl her age. Yet, her father told her that she was some kind of a tramp who would bring shame on his family. This went on and on, with him continuously watching her, and even having the servants doing the same as if she was some kind of a dangerous creature. Granted, she didn't want for anything and at least, she was grateful for that. In spite of his strange behaviour at home, Victor Halliwell was still a savvy businessman and they lived in an affluent part of Chicago. Yet, all the money in the world couldn't fill the void that her life had become. As she looked back toward the building which housed the orphanage, Phoebe was reminded of her father's new obsession. The institution was a sore subject for him. Indeed, this orphanage seemed somewhat incongruous in a neighbourhood like theirs. Until three years ago, a rich eccentric had lived there. Then after he passed away, he'd left his fortune, along with his impressive house, to the city for the benefit of orphans with some special talent. In Victor's mind, their only talent was the mostly male population of the orphanage's ambition to bed a rich girl and live the good life afterward. It certainly had not helped Phoebe in getting more freedom. Victor didn't miss a chance to cause trouble and complain about the noise or the very presence of those kids on their street; mostly she knew, because he was afraid that they would come after his daughter. Phoebe thought this increasingly laughable, and yet it was hurtful.
For in spite of her fear of inadequacy, Phoebe's budding sexuality tried to express itself. At this moment, she was looking closely at the boys, even as they strolled away, wondering if Paul was among them. The simple thought of the handsome boy was enough to cause a stir inside of her, which she knew deep down, was only a shameful sensation, but she couldn't help the need that mounted in her. Her father would have considered those thoughts worthy of a lashing, no doubt. This was only a figurative threat of course since in spite of his severity, Victor had never lifted a hand on to her. Still, his verbal abuse of her had a negative effect on Phoebe. She was a bright girl, but the undue pressure her father exercised on her psyche was only adding to her complexes. She had come to believe that if Victor was wrong about those boys, in revenge he might just be right about her dispositions. To her, it was all the more obvious now that her adolescent hormones were unleashed. The more interested she became in those boys, the more ashamed she felt. Yet, she couldn't help the urges that came forth at any given moment, but most of all when she thought about Paul. She only knew his name because the other boys had called him that. He was tall with dark, almost black hair. Even as youthful as he was, there was something so virile about the way he carried himself that Phoebe believed he was the quintessence of maleness. As her hand came to caress her own nascent bosoms through the rough woollen dress, she was imagining the boy touching her in this manner. Then, with some disappointment, she realized that she wouldn't even get to see him, as he wasn't outside with the others.
Almost immediately however, the music she had come to love and wait for every day floated out from the orphanage. The music was the only thing that made her feel truly good anymore. She liked to envision it was Paul who played so beautifully. Until now, she had not seen him out when the music played and it seemed to confirm her impression. Every time she heard the melodious sound, she felt urged to sing along. Whoever played the piano like this, she believed they must have a deep soul, filled with intense emotions. If these melodies caused an even greater stir inside of her, no shame accompanied it. The sensations that came from the music were different, deeper. She liked to believe that it was something akin to the pure love that most girls dream about. When she combined this emotion with the shameful attraction she had for the tall boy, she believed it balanced out somehow. It was probably why she persisted with those dreams of a relationship, and occasionally managed to forget the shame, which she lived with day and night otherwise.
Even as she was about to give in to her urge to sing however, she heard her father's heavy footsteps in the hallway. No doubts, he'd heard the music too. Unlike Phoebe, Victor thought this a perversion…another attempt at his daughter's virtue. Phoebe knew that if he heard her singing, he would again go to the orphanage and try to make the music stop. Sighing, she went to sit on her bed and hoped that he would go away soon.
Across the street, in the study, a gangly boy of sixteen was concentrating on the grand piano the institute received along with the inheritance. He was emaciated and his body seemed about to break at the slightest strain. Beside him stood the tall and dark boy who had caught Phoebe's fancy. Paul had his eyes closed and seemed enthralled by the music, but the gangly boy didn't pay him any attention, so taken he was with his instrument. Unlike most people, Paul saw past the frail person that Cole appeared to be and knew that his friend was in total control when playing. He could also sense a deep inner strength in him at those times.
Cole and he became friends almost from the first moment they had met, which was about three months ago. Neither one knew exactly what had clicked between them, but Paul liked to think that it was one of those predestined things. Jokingly, Paul often said that their coming here almost at the same time had been the real reason for it, while Cole told him that for Paul he was mostly very convenient. In reality, they did get along on most things except for Paul's dispositions about school work and girls. While Cole was brought to this special orphanage because of his talent at the piano, Paul was selected for his writings, to which he admitted often, he would never be as dedicated as Cole was to his music. For his part, Paul had other ideas on how to spend those years in such a pleasant neighbourhood. Mostly he was interested in the pretty girls living around this place. Nature had been sweet to him. For a boy of seventeen, he had the body of a man already. Those girls, they all fell for his good looks, and Paul was very much willing to offer himself to all of them. He often claimed that a boy like him couldn't belong to one girl; it would have been a crime. Cole thought that his ideas were somewhat lacking in respect for the females of the species, but Paul just laughed and told him that if he could do the same, he most certainly would. In spite of his reticence at his friend's behaviour, Cole covered for Paul when he sneaked out, although he readily refused to follow his friend on those occasions.
Cole, on the other hand, was shy by nature, or maybe it was his disproportionate body that caused him to be so insecure. If Paul didn't insist too much for Cole to sneaking out, he was unrelenting about Cole coming along at those times where they were actually allowed to. Paul hoped to emancipate his shy friend. However, Cole mostly stood in the background. Once or twice, Paul had attempted to match him with girls, but these had turned up their noses at him, which had only pushed Cole deeper into isolation. The other boys that often hung out with Paul also wondered what could be so interesting about the strange reclusive boy. However, Paul's popularity wasn't diminished in the least by his friendship with Cole. His feminine conquests alone had made him somewhat of a hero to the others.
What's more, he cared little for what they thought. When they picked on Cole, Paul invariably shooed them away, effectively making himself Cole's protector. In return, along with covering for him during his numerous escapades, Cole was also a great help to Paul. In fact, the only way Paul managed to stay at the institute was that Cole encouraged him in his writings, for which he was infinitely grateful.
Paul was there in his musings when Cole struck the last note. He opened his eyes and saw that his friend was looking curiously out the window.
"The angel wasn't singing this time…"
Cole seemed embarrassed at his friend's comment.
"Oh come on, Cole. Don't you think I know you get this sick little thrill when she sings? Why don't you try your luck with her in person?"
Cole cast another furtive glance toward the window before answering.
"I don't even know what she looks like…and she probably would laugh at me anyway…"
"Well, she seems quite taken with your music…"
"If she knew what I look like, I don't think she'd sing again. She probably thinks it's you or one of the other boys…"
"You're such an ass, Cole Turner. Just when are you gonna grow a backbone?"
"I don't need a girl anyway," Cole protested mildly while he stood up and paced nervously. "I only need my music to be happy…It doesn't mean I'm not just as good as you are," he added in a rare moment of defiance.
"You don't need girls, but you're possessed by a voice…" Paul reiterated with a smirk, not at all impressed by his friend's outburst.
Cole averted his eyes and didn't bother to reply. Paul always had the last word anyway. He wondered often how he could have befriended this boy. Paul was so arrogant and irreverent. Yet, whenever he got despairing of seeing a sensible person under this façade, Cole only had to read some of his poetry. Deep down, he knew that Paul had the soul of an artist, and it justified their friendship amply. After all, they were connecting through their art first and foremost. In the same vein, he had almost convinced himself that his interest in the singing girl was only on an artistic level. However, sometimes in the deep of night, when sleep didn't come, he caught himself imagining what she looked like; what it would feel like to hold her in his arms. Cole had made himself a pretty clear mental picture of her. In his mind's eye, she was as beautiful and fresh as a spring day. Sometimes, he also wondered if this wasn't the reason for his reticence at seeing the real her. This and the fact that Cole worried about rejection… At least, in those waking dreams, he was her knight in shining armour. She would look at him with her hazelnut eyes and he would see adoration in them, which he would return in spades.
He had actually been tempted to do just what Paul suggested, and more than once. He had even managed to go out and halfway across the street a few times before losing his nerve. Instead, he would turn back and spent those nights at the piano, at least gratified that she sang for him, even if she didn't know who he was.
Paul realized that Cole was again lost in his dream world, which happened quite often. Most of the time, he didn't mind at all. Right this moment however, he had something of a concern that he wanted to discuss with him.
"Hey," Paul called to Cole. "I heard that you're getting an audition? Anything serious…?"
This was one of those rare moments where Cole remembered that Paul was just as much a boy as he was. He knew exactly what concerned his friend and in all honesty, it made him feel good to be needed.
"Yeah, but you don't have to worry about me going anywhere. Even if this pans out, I won't be out of here anytime soon…"
"So…it's nothing big," Paul questioned in a falsely casual tone of voice.
"Well, yes it is…but it's only the first step…"
Paul realized that he was being selfish. Cole had been hoping to be discovered for so long and he had no right to try holding him back, even though, he knew he would suffer if Cole left. If it wasn't only for all the help Cole provided for him, he knew that he would also miss him as a friend.
"That still sounds interesting," Paul then said with a little more enthusiasm.
"Yeah… but I'm scared. What if I blow it?"
"I wouldn't worry about that. I'm sure that they're gonna be very impressed…are you up to going out now?" Paul questioned then.
"No…I have an idea for a new melody and I thought I'd work on it. Maybe I can also present them with it at the audition…"
"Well then I'll leave you to your work. I wanna hear it as soon as you're done though…"
Paul was already on his way out when Cole called back to him.
"Don't go anywhere else but your room. Remember…Mr. Pringle expects your essay in the morning."
"Slave driver," Paul uttered lightly.
Cole almost laughed at his friend's protest, but he was already thinking of his work and, as soon as Paul left, he sat back at the piano with his hands ready to strike the keys. However, before doing so, he cast another longing glance at the opened window. This melody had been floating in his mind for a while and it mostly came to him when he thought of her. Cole imagined that just like he saw her as a kindred spirit, she might be feeling the same about him. Even if it was wishful thinking, he wondered if she'd know she had inspired the piece when she heard it. Cole also worried that she might hate it. It wasn't his usual music. Neither modern nor classic, but rather a languorous sound, filled with nostalgia and need. It was a sound he thought would compliment her wonderful voice, was she to put words to it and sing for him. He had no idea if she would, but he nonetheless hoped that she might. If she did, then she would be connecting with him through this creation. Sighing longingly, he finally began playing.
Phoebe's father had left only a few moments ago, and not before the music stopped. She listened to his footsteps moving away and sighed with some relief when she heard the door to his office opening and closing. When he went there, he usually stayed in for the rest of the day and sometimes late into the night. She knew for sure that once the door was closed, he couldn't even hear her singing. Now all she had to hope for was for the music to start again. It wasn't long before she got her wish. However, the sound was different, hesitant even, as if the musician had not really known the piece. Frustrated she sat once again, and listened intently even to this work in progress. It didn't take long before the music took form, and if at first she was puzzled by the new sound, it soon captured her completely. She felt such longing in it and the deep need for love and affection that was inside of her responded to this more than ever. When the music stopped, Phoebe felt lost and almost wished she could will it to continue. She went to sleep humming the tune that night, putting words to it already.
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⃟⃟
Not the Stars, nor the Moon
Neither the Light of Day,
Nor the Sun all so Bright,
Could touch my Mind, my Heart, my Soul.
For Joy was but a dream
That is until your Music reached for me
Chorus:
Now, You are the Music to my Mind,
You are the Music to my Heart,
You are the Music to my Soul,
Now, Love is the Music of my Mind,
Love is the Music of my Heart,
All Through my Soul, your Music reached for Me.
Now I long for your Love,
Now, I crave for your Light,
To lighten my heavy heart,
Filled with the Loss, the Ache, the Pain
For Love was but a dream,
That is until your Music reached for me.
Chorus
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Paul was just writing the last line of his essay, and he felt pretty good about it. He knew that Cole would come in soon and ask him if he was done, actually expecting Paul to need another push. This time, he had been faster and he smiled contentedly. As the thought of his friend came to him, he reflected on Cole's strange obsession with the girl who seemed like a singing ghost to everyone. For the three months they had been in this neighbourhood, no one had seen her out of that house. The only girl they had seen there was obviously only an occasional visitor. Paul had noticed her, as she was a pretty thing, but too young for him. Today, he had seen this longing look on Cole's face again and knew how much he wished to know the elusive girl, no matter what he said. Paul was very much aware of Cole's problems with girls and realized that he'd probably never make his move. That's when a crazy idea came to him. What if he wrote a note to that girl, in Cole's name? Maybe, she would care to know the boy with whom she had shared music all this time. Impulsively, Paul pulled a piece of paper from the typewriter and began composing a poem he thought would impress her. Then, he ended the note in this manner:
I dare hope that you will honor my request to meet you in person. I have been admiring your crystalline voice for so long. You might know me from the music to which you so gracefully lend your voice. If you're so inclined, I will be waiting for you outside your house tonight after dark.
Your most devoted admirer
For the longest time, he stared at the note, wondering if he would really send it. What had seemed a good idea at first now felt ridiculous to him. A knock on the door startled him, and he put the note down next to his essay. Outside were two young boys that he guessed wanted him to sneak out with them.
"I'm not going anywhere tonight," he immediately said before they even got to ask.
"Oh come on, Paul…you didn't come with us this afternoon and you missed on some pretty morsels…"
Paul gave the boy a somewhat annoyed look but this one didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he came in without waiting to be invited, looking around curiously.
"Hey, where's the pole you carry around everywhere?"
"If this rather rude description refers to my friend, I'll ask you to take it back…"
"Oh alright, sorry…" the boy replied grudgingly, "but you gotta admit, he's a freak…"
"Not helping," Paul snapped irritably.
The second boy entered in turn and Paul sighed.
"Don't you have better things to do than coming here and bothering me?"
Again the boys ignored his bad mood, and the first one even began looking through Paul's essay.
"Hey, you've been working!"
"What a novel idea! Maybe you should give it a try too?"
"Since when have you become such a stickler? I think this Cole's got a bad influence on you, Paul."
Paul's mood darkened as he saw the boy scrutinizing his work. He had a thing about his writings and disliked the way these boys minimized his work, just as much as he hated the way they treated Cole.
"Get outta here," Paul exclaimed almost angrily as he went toward the boy and pushed him away from the desk. In doing so, he didn't notice the second one catching sight of the note. The second boy gave a furtive glance toward Paul and, as this one was busy pushing his friend out, he pocketed the note. Only then did Paul notice that he was still standing there.
"Hey I said I had enough visitors for the night. Get out!"
"Don't panic, I'm going," the boy said as he hurried out.
By the time Paul managed to get rid of them, he had forgotten about the note and didn't notice its absence.
When Cole came back and gave an appreciative glance toward the neatly disposed stack of papers that composed Paul's essay, he smiled teasingly.
"Hey, you're all done? And here I thought I'd have to get out the whip…"
"I'd like to see you try," Paul said with an amused smile. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna crash… so if you read this and find something to criticize…keep it till the morning."
In saying so, Paul lied on the bed and, as far as Cole could tell, he fell asleep almost immediately.
Even if he was really tired himself, Cole still skimmed the essay and found that as usual, his friend had done wonderfully. Paul was selling himself short in Cole's opinion. He had a great talent and this even though he always waited until the last minute to finish his work. Cole envied this as he had to work hard at his own craft. However, unlike Paul, he loved to put efforts into his music. The time he spent at the piano never seemed wasted to him.
When Cole finally went to sleep, he could still hear the melody he had practiced all evening in his mind and he dreamt of the beautiful girl he would probably never meet.
While they slept, the boys who had visited Paul sealed Cole and Phoebe's fate with a plan they thought would only be a good prank…
Cole woke up with the tune still playing in his mind. A smile floated on his lips as he went to the sink for his morning ablutions. Only when he was done did he notice an envelope that had been slipped under the door with his name on it. His smile vanished as he gingerly picked up the envelope and cast a wary look at his sleeping friend. Who could be writing to him? He suddenly thought that it might be from one of the teachers. This made him even more nervous, considering that he worried about his upcoming audition. He went to sit on his bed and fidgeted with the envelope for the longest time. So much so that before he could make himself open it, Paul was stirring. Cole immediately put the envelope under his pillow self- consciously. Fearing bad news, he preferred to be alone when he opened it.
"Hey," Paul called to him, "how was it?"
For an instant, Cole froze, wondering if Paul had seen the envelope. Then he remembered the essay and breathed easier.
"As usual, it's very good…"
"You know, I'm starting to believe you're only saying this to make me happy…"
"No really, it was excellent. You should believe in yourself…I know I do…"
"Well, all that matters is that Mr. Pringle likes it…"
"I wouldn't worry about that."
Paul got up then and suddenly gave a pointed look toward the desk. He had just remembered the note and wondered if Cole had seen it.
"Did you find something else last night," he asked hesitantly, unsure about his friend's reaction if he were to read it.
"What do you mean? Did you write something else?"
Paul didn't answer right away, instead looking around and behind the desk.
"What are you looking for?"
Paul shrugged uncertainly, thinking that maybe he had thrown the note after all and frankly, he wasn't in the mood to check the wastebasket with Cole around. It was better if his friend didn't know of his foolishness. Besides, it really didn't matter anymore since he wouldn't send it anyway.
"Nah nothing… I just had this first draft there, but I guess I threw it out and forgot about it…"
Cole had no reason to suspect his friend's affirmation, and besides, he was too concerned about the letter to notice Paul's uneasiness. He gave another furtive look at his pillow and then turned toward his friend.
"We should really get dressed or we won't get breakfast this morning…"
"Yeah," Paul answered distractedly.
Cole had to wait until noon before he could come back to his room and this time, he opened the envelope resolutely. However, the note was apparently from the girl across the street. He sat heavily on the bed at this and thought that he couldn't breathe anymore. She was telling him that she was a prisoner in her own house and so wished that he could come to her. He wondered to no end how this note could have arrived for him and this, coupled with his insecurities, had him put the note aside and try to forget about it. This looked so much like a twisted prank that he believed it to be so, even though he wanted it to be real. That night he practiced again and, after a while, the girl began singing to his utter delight. Just like he had dared hope, she had put words to his music. Much more than this, he felt the lyrics reflected the way he felt while playing it. He could hear such longing in them that he believed she was calling to him in this manner. Later on, rather than going to bed directly, he sneaked out on his own for the first time, in the same manner as Paul did for his own escapades, and he went to sit in the dark, watching the house, while he began to wonder if she was truly a prisoner…
For the next three days, he did the same thing. Every night, he sat outside watching the house, convincing himself that she had sent someone with the note. Maybe she wanted him to free her, he wondered with the romantic notion that only adolescents could have. When Paul asked him where he was going every night, Cole couldn't bring himself to tell him about his delusions, and instead he pretended to have some reading to do. Since Paul had no reason to believe his friend would lie to him, he accepted this explanation. At least, until that third fateful night…
Cole had been watching the house for over an hour and, the same as every night, he was trying to work up the courage to go see her, no matter that he still had doubts about the note. Just under her window, there was a thick vine hanging off a wooden lattice, which he thought could carry his weight. He had visualized himself climbing this many times in the last three days, just like he'd read about in books. That night, he finally decided that he had to try. Unbeknownst to him, the boys, who had actually sent the note, were watching him intensely along with a few of their friends. They had almost given up on him doing anything about it, but when he started toward the girl's house, they followed, expecting that they would finally get a good laugh.
Meanwhile, Paul had just finished a poem and he regretted not having Cole around to show it to him. At long last, he decided that Cole wouldn't mind stopping his studies to read one little poem and he went to look for him. He went to the library first and not finding him there, Paul looked everywhere he thought Cole could be which brought him to the study. Dejectedly, he looked around in wonderment when he didn't find him there either. "Where could he be hiding," he asked himself, as he had a few times since his search began. Then, on an impulse, he turned toward the window that faced the girl's house. At first, he didn't believe his eyes and he went closer, bending halfway out the opened window. Then, he knew that he had been right. In spite of the late hour, the street lamps gave enough light for him to recognize Cole just starting to climb on the lattice. At first, Paul smiled and told himself, "good for him." However, as he looked around, he noticed the group of boys hiding behind a bush and obviously watching Cole. A sinking feeling began to snake its way inside of him. It was one thing for Cole to risk rejection…It was a whole another thing for him to face the mockery of those cruel boys if it happened. And even if the girl agreed to see him, they would still spoil his moment. Paul couldn't let that happen, and he ran out of the study.
Victor got out of his office and the first thing he did was to give a scornful look at the orphanage through the front window. Even as he watched, he saw a tall boy coming from behind the building and heading toward his house. Immediately, blind rage gripped his insides. Without hesitation, he climbed the stairs leading to his daughter's bedroom.
Earlier, Phoebe had realized that someone was tugging on the vine and if at first she was scared, she soon imagined that it was Paul coming for her. In her hand, she was clutching Paul's note, which had been thrown in her room through the window a few days before. Her first reaction to it was that it was only a cruel joke by boys who'd heard her singing. Phoebe had put it aside, not even bothering to check if the boy had actually showed up that night. However as days went by, she had begun wondering what she might have missed, and that night it seemed that he was actually coming to her. She was now waiting, fearful that he would be disappointed in her, yet at the same time she was hopeful that he would see through her appearance… Curiosity quickly got the best of her and she went to the window, trying to bend over and see who was there. However, before she could see who her visitor was, she noticed a group of boys watching her window and she suddenly became angry.
"Go away! Leave me alone," she exclaimed then, as she pulled away from the window. Then, she heard the heavy steps of her father coming quickly toward her room. Victor crashed into the room before she knew it and almost ran to the window. Like Phoebe before, he also noticed someone climbing on the lattice and he reacted by pushing it until in his rage, he managed to dislodge it. Panicked, Phoebe went after him.
"Go away," she repeated, for her father this time. However he didn't let go until he had completely pushed the trellis off the wall.
Meanwhile, Cole had heard her screams, and now despair was invading him as he thought the harsh words were meant for him. He hesitated more than halfway up the lattice, wondering what he should do. Then when he realized that the whole thing was about to give, he tried to climb down, but it was too late. Before he could do anything about it, he felt himself falling inexorably and then, on a reflex, he let go of the trellis and tried to protect himself by putting his hands in front of him. When he hit the ground, the blinding pain in his arms almost knocked him out. So much so that when the lattice fell over him, it barely registered. However, even through the pain, he looked up at the girl's window and thought that he saw someone. The vine and the semi-darkness prevented him from getting a good look at who it was, but he was certain that they were looking down at him, and then suddenly disappeared while the window closed with a loud thud. Afterward, he heard Paul calling to him anxiously. He glanced back to see his friend running toward him. Paul had stopped to scold the boys and convince them to leave, and then he had seen Cole falling heavily toward the ground.
As the pain in his arms increased with every moment, Cole finally dared glancing at them and he suddenly felt like screaming. Both his wrists were twisted in an unnatural position. When Paul got near him, the appalled look on his face only added to Cole's despair, as the depth of this tragedy sank into him. Paul glared angrily toward the house while getting the lattice off his friend. However, he soon returned his full attention to Cole, as he pulled him up, determined to get help for him. Meanwhile, the boys, who had been the cause of this horror, had long run away when they had realized what they'd done.
Paul was trying hard to carry him off the property, when he felt Cole becoming limp in his arms and knew that he had passed out. In a way, even if it made things harder for him, he was almost grateful for this. He could only imagine how terrible his friend felt. He had almost made it off the premises when an irate male voice startled him.
"You little bastards," Victor was now screaming while coming toward them, "I'll have this place shut down. That'll teach you to shame my family and this entire neighbourhood."
Paul looked back quickly and saw a gun in the man's hand. Out of fear, he tried moving faster. Victor didn't seem to care that he had hurt one of them and even through his fear, this angered Paul. However, he knew that the man had the right to defend his house and no matter how innocent Cole's intentions surely were, no one would believe them over this man. Therefore, instead of trying to defend Cole and himself, Paul kept silent. Unfortunately, it only added fuel to Victor's speculations, even as he stomped past them toward the orphanage…
Phoebe had never been more scared and alone in her entire life, not even considering what she had lived through the past few years. After Victor had closed the window angrily, he had turned toward her with a look of hatred in his eyes. He then stormed out of the room and locked the door behind him. Phoebe was now trembling all over, unsure of what was worse. That her dream of meeting the musician had been shattered so cruelly, or that her father would probably get even more obsessed from now on. She was convinced that her unknown visitor had gotten away already, and at this point, she was more worried about what would happen to her. However, as frightened and confused as she was until Victor's return almost an hour later, it was when she saw him carrying a thick leather belt in his hand that she became terrorized.
"Daddy, I didn't do anything…I swear to you, Daddy."
"Stop lying, you slut. I'll beat this shame out of you if I have to…"
"Daddy, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't my fault…"
"It's always the girl's fault. Those boys are depraved, but never as much as the girls who provoke them…"
Phoebe wanted to try defending herself still, but the crazed look in her father's eyes told her that it wouldn't help.
Deliberately, Victor came toward her and pushed her face down on the bed. When she tried to protest, he uttered harshly:
"Shut up and take your punishment tramp! And don't think tears are gonna save you. The more you cry the worst it'll get."
Then he added humiliation to terror for Phoebe, as he pulled up her dress and then pulled down her panties, exposing her buttocks. She screamed for the first few hits, but every time she did, he struck her harder.
"Shut up I said," he reiterated angrily. Phoebe bit back the screams afterward and endured this until she thought that he had stripped the skin off her. Then, he left without even bothering to cover her or say anything else.
That night, she had to sleep face down, unable to tolerate anything on her raw lower back, and she cried almost through the night, as much from despair as from the pain. By the end of that night, Phoebe had already made up her mind that the boy had been the one responsible for her pain. It was only the beginning of a long ordeal, and of a slow but steadily growing contempt for every male of the species…
Cole woke up in a hospital room the next day. The pain returned almost immediately, along with his despair, as he stared at both his arms enclosed in thick bandages. These were so tight and stiff that he couldn't move his hands at all. Even then, he still didn't get angry at the girl, although he was very disenchanted. However, when Mr. Burton, his music teacher, came to visit him, this all changed. Until that moment, Cole had managed to convince himself that this was only a temporary set back. Mr. Burton quashed this hope rapidly.
"What were you thinking Turner? You had such a promising future ahead of you…"
"I'll try again…"
"You don't understand boy…The doctors…they said that even if your right hand will probably be fully normal, it won't be the same with your left one. You'll never play the way you used to, Turner. There's nothing they can do about it."
Cole watched him in total dismay for a long moment. How could this be? How could his entire life have been ruined in one instant? And then, as the terrible reality dawned on him, he began hating her with as much passion as he had believed he loved her…This hatred eventually would turn into scorn for all women…
It was 1927, and Cole reflected that the twelve intervening years had gone by in a flash. The hatred he still carried with him, but he had made it into something useful. Paul often tried to lecture him about the way he now led his life. How ironic that was, Cole thought, when he remembered how little care Paul used to have for women's feelings. In truth though, Cole knew that if his friend used to treat women as conveniences, he still liked them. There lay the difference between them. He watched Paul as he nursed an illegal drink across the table from him. At least, Cole could count on Paul's friendship. This was the only constant in his life.
"Hey," Paul called to him, "you're still lost in thoughts…There I believed you said you changed…"
Cole turned a wicked smile toward his friend.
"Hey, I still daydream…the topics are just not as… sweet and unrealistic as they used to be, that's all."
Paul watched his friend for a moment before replying. He often marvelled at how much Cole had changed. From the somewhat ugly duckling he had been twelve years ago, now had emerged a tall and muscular man almost feline in demeanour. None of the awkwardness he used to be plagued with remained. As a man, Paul was a poor judge of what he might look like to women, but the looks most females gave him were enough to tell that he was extremely attractive to them now. Paul believed it very ironic that Cole could have had any woman he wanted, and yet pursued this unsavoury use of his charms. However, he also knew why that was.
"Hum…won't you ever get over this?" Paul questioned dejectedly.
"Why should I?" Cole questioned without the need to hear what "this" was. "I've got a good thing going and I really don't need the embarrassment of emotions…besides, I'd never believe that a woman could have those…They're all the same. They draw you in with their guile and then they try to suck you dry…"
"Not all of them, Cole." Paul exclaimed irritably. Sometimes, even knowing what he did, Paul wondered how it was possible for the sensitive boy he used to know to have become so cynical.
"Oh I know. That Lydia of yours…" Cole offered, "Well, I guess there are exceptions…although isn't she complaining about your workload again?"
"Why don't we leave Lydia out of it?"
"What? Sore subject…? Hard to believe the great Paul McKail can't keep up with the carnal demands of one woman…"
"Cole…if you weren't my friend…"
Cole watched him very seriously for a moment, and then without warning, he burst out laughing.
"Oh come on, man…You used to be less sensitive. I remember a time where none of what I just said would've made you blink. Hell, if it helps, I can offer my services…"
For a moment, Paul actually wondered if Cole was serious. Then he smiled slyly.
"You know, I remember a time where even half of what you just said would've made you blush…"
"Those were the days," Cole replied without flinching.
"Sometimes, I wish I saw that Cole again…"
"Hey," Cole uttered, "I'm still the same guy. I'm just not the stupid dreamer I used to be, that's all. Besides, no matter what, we'll still be friends… won't we?"
"Just as long as you stay well away from my wife…"
Cole laughed again.
"It's a deal…" Cole watched the smoked filled room while taking a long sip of his drink, and then he turned back questioningly toward Paul.
"Wasn't Leo supposed to join us?"
"I'm sure he's coming. He actually has a proposition for you," Paul said reluctantly.
"You don't seem to approve…"
"To say the least!"
"What can be so wrong about it? I mean, Leo's our friend isn't he?"
"Well, kind of… but he also knows how easy it is to get you to do something stupid."
"Thank you very much," Cole said irritably.
Paul was about to add something when Leo entered the room and immediately came toward them. As was his usual now, he was very serious. Ever since he'd enrolled with the Bureau, his personality had changed and Paul thought it was definitely for the worse. He was now almost obsessed with the importance of his work. Cole and he had met Leo through the training before the war. The three of them had been much too young to fight in a war and yet they had. During that period Paul, as well as Cole, had developed a friendship with Leo almost as solid as Cole and Paul had. However, Paul still believed that Leo was too zealous in his duties and might overlook the danger to Cole in spite of their friendship. "Not to mention," Paul thought as he watched his long time friend, "that Cole wouldn't back off, no matter what." As Leo sat after shaking their hands almost formally, a twinge of guilt stirred Paul as he remembered his part in Cole's transformation.
The day after the incident, Paul was sitting in his room, waiting for the news. Mr. Pringle was the one who came to him with it. In fact, it was even worse than he'd imagined. Not only was Cole hurt so bad that he might never play again, but now, the teacher was announcing to him that they were kicked out of the institution. Both of them had been found guilty of the offence Victor Halliwell came to accuse them of. And as if this wasn't enough, Cole wasn't considered a potential talent for the school anymore. The only good point in the teacher's speech was that they would be sent to the same orphanage.
In spite of the harshness of the sentence, Mr. Pringle had told him how much he and many others disapproved. Nevertheless, the threat of closure, which hung over their heads, had forced the administration to take drastic measures. Even so, they weren't even certain that it would be enough. After the teacher's departure, Paul had looked forlornly upon their living quarters. He did so for a while before reluctantly beginning to pack his own stuff, and then Cole's. That's when he'd found the note. The crumbled piece of paper was hidden under Cole's pillow and as he read it, he recognized a poor attempt at copying his writing style. It didn't take much more for Paul to understand what must have happened. At the time, his guilt had been almost overpowering and as much as he felt like taking revenge on those boys, he figured that he was just as responsible as they were. So much so that he didn't tell Cole until long afterward…
Leo's voice brought him back to the present.
"So, Cole, are you ready for a challenge?"
"When have you known me not to be?" Cole answered with a cocky smile.
Paul watched them both with mounting anxiety.
"Cole, whatever he has to offer try remembering you don't have to do it."
"Ok now you've got me curious."
Paul sighed dejectedly while Leo pursued as if there hadn't been any interruption.
"I got something that's right up your alley…and of course, it'd be like serving your country all over again."
"What? Is there another war I didn't hear about?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact! And you surely heard of it. After all, we're both friends with a well known journalist."
Paul shrugged uncomfortably. He didn't wanna have any part in what Leo suggested earlier that day. He had tried to dissuade him, but Leo still believed that Cole could do it.
"You're talking about the bootleg thing? For god sake Leo, look where we are," Cole exclaimed while lifting his glass toward Leo.
"It's not just about the booze, Cole. Those people are getting way too aggressive. We've got to try stopping them."
"When you say them," Cole questioned with a vague interest, "is there one in particular? And if you don't mind my asking, what the hell could I do that the police can't?"
"Well, it's a known fact that you have some ease with women…"
"I'm supposed to fight a war…in bed?" Cole questioned Leo, with an amused smile. "Now that'll make for a change from the canons…"
"Laugh all you want, but it may very well be the best way. One of the big bosses, Fredo Turello is the one we are targeting at the moment. However, none of his lieutenants can be linked to any illegal activities, and even less himself. We've tried all possible venues, even threats, without success. As a last resort, we wanna try his young girlfriend: a singer named Lara Love."
"I already don't like the sound of it." Cole uttered unhappily.
"Hey," Leo taunted, "are you saying you're afraid you can't seduce that girl?"
"Leo Wyatt, if you weren't my friend, I'd knock you out right here and now."
"I got a gun!" Leo exclaimed half-seriously.
"You'd never have time to get it out," Cole boasted.
Leo actually wondered about that, even though it'd never have occurred to him to use his weapon.
"No really. We're not asking for much. Just do what you do best. Seduce the girl, make her talk. Who knows, maybe she can even give us tangible proofs."
"Just like that?" Cole questioned incredulously.
"I'm not the one who claims he can get any woman he wants. And really, it'd make a change from your older women. Some say she's a very pretty girl…"
Paul had watched the exchange hopeful that Cole would decline. However, he already could see the spark of interest in his friend's eyes. Paul knew that Cole could care less how pretty the girl was. Nevertheless, the challenge to go after a big gangster was surely much more tempting to him. Paul realized then that Cole wasn't over his death wish…or so it was what Paul always called his lack of concern for his safety.
"Tell me more," Cole added then, quashing Paul's hope that he would be reasonable.
At the Pharaoh Club, Phoebe was watching the band without much interest, as she had just been reminiscing and felt more bitter than ever. Not even all the jewellery and riches Fredo offered were enough to make her feel good that night. The old man sitting by her side was sweet and generous to her, but he was much too old to satisfy all of her wants. She needed someone to help her forget, and the driver, who she had been seeing up until a week ago, had suddenly disappeared without a trace. In all truth, she was fine with it as he had been getting too clingy. She had even feared that he was talking about them to other people. After he vanished, Phoebe had been worried for a while, but Fredo didn't seem to know anything about it, or at least, he didn't seem to care. Still, when he spoke, she got startled but did her best to hide it.
"Is there something wrong, Lara?"
Phoebe turned toward him with a smile.
"No why…? I'm just fine." She was glad that role playing was one of her strengths. She'd learned to be whomever and whatever was necessary through the years.
"You know I can't stand to see my little birdie unhappy…"
"I've got no reason to be. You're giving me so much." Phoebe said almost sincerely.
"Just as long as I get to have you with me, I'm a happy man too, Lara."
"I'm not going anywhere," Phoebe said in a falsely joyous tone of voice. Deep down, she knew that she couldn't leave him until he got tired of her. However, it still was working fine for her. Fredo was giving her the career she'd always wanted in exchange for some cuddling. Not too high a price to pay for a chance at the big time. Moreover, she was relieved anew that he didn't seem to know anything about her indiscretion.
No one could have recognized the formerly awkward and obese girl when looking at Phoebe now. She was really pretty, even beautiful, and knew it most of the time. Phoebe had no problem picking and choosing among men, unlike her former self. Even Paige, the only one from her past with whom she kept in touch, often told Phoebe how amazed she was at the change in her. Yet, Phoebe sometimes felt like the recluse teenager she had been. At those times, she sought confirmation of her charms in the arms of men, even though she thought all of them, including Fredo, to be beasts that would use her and reject her without care. However, by now, Phoebe had become very good at being the one doing the using. She also kept most of them at arm's length, unless she truly needed a fix or could use their interest to her advantage, like with the old man beside her.
Apparently satisfied that nothing was wrong, Fredo returned to his covert conversation with Saul, while she surveyed the room, in quest of a suitable candidate. This time, she told herself, she would choose a stranger to Fredo's entourage. That would be a safer bet.
Fredo whispered to Saul:
"Have you taken care of our little problem?"
"All taken care of, boss. There's something I don't understand though."
"What is that," Fredo asked without even looking at his Lieutenant.
"She betrayed you… Don't you think you should get rid of her?"
"This is none of your business Saul," Fredo said then, while turning severe eyes toward his lieutenant. "But if you must know, she's a young little thing and has needs I can't fulfill. The boy was only a distraction to her, but she'll stay with me because I'm useful to her and that's all I need from her. She makes me happy."
"Then if you don't mind my asking…why did we…"
Fredo interrupted:
"I've got an image to preserve. That boy was talking too much…"
Saul sighed but didn't comment anymore. However, Fredo added something else.
"Now, I got rid of a problem…do I need to take care of you too?"
Saul knew that Fredo wasn't joking and a chill ran down his spine.
"Of course not. I'm grateful for all you did for me. I'd never do anything that would cause you problems…"
Fredo didn't reply, certain that his lieutenant had gotten the point, while Saul cast an angry look at Phoebe. He understood now it was useless to try warning his boss about her, but he sensed that she might just cause them all a great deal of trouble in the future…
That night, on a beach at the edge of the city, the body of a young man washed ashore. Although he was bloated by his extended soak in the bay, atrocious mutilations were still very much obvious to the fisherman who found him the next morning, telling him that the boy had suffered a slow and painful death.
Chapter I
It was a warm day of the summer of 1915. Outside her bedroom window, Phoebe Halliwell could see people walking about, obviously enjoying the pleasant weather. She longed to be out there with them, but thought forlornly that she wouldn't fit in with them. Even so, it didn't keep Phoebe from wanting more than these four walls, which seemed to be closing in on her. With deep sighs, she watched a group of boys, most of them fifteen and sixteen years old, coming out of the orphanage that stood across from their house. They were scouting the street mostly for some pretty girls, or so her father would have said. That's what boys their age did most of the time, he had assured Phoebe.
She was very much aware that she would be the last one to catch their interest, even if she'd been allowed to go out. She remembered bitterly how her mother used to tell her how pretty she was. At the time, Phoebe had believed her. As she grew up and mostly after her mother passed away, the now fourteen years old had come to realize that her looks were not all that great. She was overweight and awkward. Most probably because her father wouldn't let her play outside and that she spent most of her time in this room. Along with the occasional visits from her Cousin Paige, her singing constituted her only distraction from what she considered a very gloomy life. Sometimes Phoebe wondered if she had not let herself go in reaction to her father's reproaches. Maybe once she had been this beautiful girl her mother saw in her… However, she preferred not to dwell on this, as it would only have increased her bitterness toward her present appearance.
Victor Halliwell was obsessed with protecting his daughter's virtue at all cost. If that wasn't a bad thing per say, the manner in which he did it was causing Phoebe great suffering and insecurities. Their household had never been very lively, as her family had few friends. It was most probably because her father was a rather bitter and severe man… She was only nine when her mother died, and if she had somewhat known of her father's strangeness before, until her passing, Phoebe's mother had served as a damper between them. After Phoebe and her father were left with only each other and a few servants, she soon understood the depth of the man's disturbance.
At the time, she was only playing with dolls like any other little girl her age. Yet, her father told her that she was some kind of a tramp who would bring shame on his family. This went on and on, with him continuously watching her, and even having the servants doing the same as if she was some kind of a dangerous creature. Granted, she didn't want for anything and at least, she was grateful for that. In spite of his strange behaviour at home, Victor Halliwell was still a savvy businessman and they lived in an affluent part of Chicago. Yet, all the money in the world couldn't fill the void that her life had become. As she looked back toward the building which housed the orphanage, Phoebe was reminded of her father's new obsession. The institution was a sore subject for him. Indeed, this orphanage seemed somewhat incongruous in a neighbourhood like theirs. Until three years ago, a rich eccentric had lived there. Then after he passed away, he'd left his fortune, along with his impressive house, to the city for the benefit of orphans with some special talent. In Victor's mind, their only talent was the mostly male population of the orphanage's ambition to bed a rich girl and live the good life afterward. It certainly had not helped Phoebe in getting more freedom. Victor didn't miss a chance to cause trouble and complain about the noise or the very presence of those kids on their street; mostly she knew, because he was afraid that they would come after his daughter. Phoebe thought this increasingly laughable, and yet it was hurtful.
For in spite of her fear of inadequacy, Phoebe's budding sexuality tried to express itself. At this moment, she was looking closely at the boys, even as they strolled away, wondering if Paul was among them. The simple thought of the handsome boy was enough to cause a stir inside of her, which she knew deep down, was only a shameful sensation, but she couldn't help the need that mounted in her. Her father would have considered those thoughts worthy of a lashing, no doubt. This was only a figurative threat of course since in spite of his severity, Victor had never lifted a hand on to her. Still, his verbal abuse of her had a negative effect on Phoebe. She was a bright girl, but the undue pressure her father exercised on her psyche was only adding to her complexes. She had come to believe that if Victor was wrong about those boys, in revenge he might just be right about her dispositions. To her, it was all the more obvious now that her adolescent hormones were unleashed. The more interested she became in those boys, the more ashamed she felt. Yet, she couldn't help the urges that came forth at any given moment, but most of all when she thought about Paul. She only knew his name because the other boys had called him that. He was tall with dark, almost black hair. Even as youthful as he was, there was something so virile about the way he carried himself that Phoebe believed he was the quintessence of maleness. As her hand came to caress her own nascent bosoms through the rough woollen dress, she was imagining the boy touching her in this manner. Then, with some disappointment, she realized that she wouldn't even get to see him, as he wasn't outside with the others.
Almost immediately however, the music she had come to love and wait for every day floated out from the orphanage. The music was the only thing that made her feel truly good anymore. She liked to envision it was Paul who played so beautifully. Until now, she had not seen him out when the music played and it seemed to confirm her impression. Every time she heard the melodious sound, she felt urged to sing along. Whoever played the piano like this, she believed they must have a deep soul, filled with intense emotions. If these melodies caused an even greater stir inside of her, no shame accompanied it. The sensations that came from the music were different, deeper. She liked to believe that it was something akin to the pure love that most girls dream about. When she combined this emotion with the shameful attraction she had for the tall boy, she believed it balanced out somehow. It was probably why she persisted with those dreams of a relationship, and occasionally managed to forget the shame, which she lived with day and night otherwise.
Even as she was about to give in to her urge to sing however, she heard her father's heavy footsteps in the hallway. No doubts, he'd heard the music too. Unlike Phoebe, Victor thought this a perversion…another attempt at his daughter's virtue. Phoebe knew that if he heard her singing, he would again go to the orphanage and try to make the music stop. Sighing, she went to sit on her bed and hoped that he would go away soon.
Across the street, in the study, a gangly boy of sixteen was concentrating on the grand piano the institute received along with the inheritance. He was emaciated and his body seemed about to break at the slightest strain. Beside him stood the tall and dark boy who had caught Phoebe's fancy. Paul had his eyes closed and seemed enthralled by the music, but the gangly boy didn't pay him any attention, so taken he was with his instrument. Unlike most people, Paul saw past the frail person that Cole appeared to be and knew that his friend was in total control when playing. He could also sense a deep inner strength in him at those times.
Cole and he became friends almost from the first moment they had met, which was about three months ago. Neither one knew exactly what had clicked between them, but Paul liked to think that it was one of those predestined things. Jokingly, Paul often said that their coming here almost at the same time had been the real reason for it, while Cole told him that for Paul he was mostly very convenient. In reality, they did get along on most things except for Paul's dispositions about school work and girls. While Cole was brought to this special orphanage because of his talent at the piano, Paul was selected for his writings, to which he admitted often, he would never be as dedicated as Cole was to his music. For his part, Paul had other ideas on how to spend those years in such a pleasant neighbourhood. Mostly he was interested in the pretty girls living around this place. Nature had been sweet to him. For a boy of seventeen, he had the body of a man already. Those girls, they all fell for his good looks, and Paul was very much willing to offer himself to all of them. He often claimed that a boy like him couldn't belong to one girl; it would have been a crime. Cole thought that his ideas were somewhat lacking in respect for the females of the species, but Paul just laughed and told him that if he could do the same, he most certainly would. In spite of his reticence at his friend's behaviour, Cole covered for Paul when he sneaked out, although he readily refused to follow his friend on those occasions.
Cole, on the other hand, was shy by nature, or maybe it was his disproportionate body that caused him to be so insecure. If Paul didn't insist too much for Cole to sneaking out, he was unrelenting about Cole coming along at those times where they were actually allowed to. Paul hoped to emancipate his shy friend. However, Cole mostly stood in the background. Once or twice, Paul had attempted to match him with girls, but these had turned up their noses at him, which had only pushed Cole deeper into isolation. The other boys that often hung out with Paul also wondered what could be so interesting about the strange reclusive boy. However, Paul's popularity wasn't diminished in the least by his friendship with Cole. His feminine conquests alone had made him somewhat of a hero to the others.
What's more, he cared little for what they thought. When they picked on Cole, Paul invariably shooed them away, effectively making himself Cole's protector. In return, along with covering for him during his numerous escapades, Cole was also a great help to Paul. In fact, the only way Paul managed to stay at the institute was that Cole encouraged him in his writings, for which he was infinitely grateful.
Paul was there in his musings when Cole struck the last note. He opened his eyes and saw that his friend was looking curiously out the window.
"The angel wasn't singing this time…"
Cole seemed embarrassed at his friend's comment.
"Oh come on, Cole. Don't you think I know you get this sick little thrill when she sings? Why don't you try your luck with her in person?"
Cole cast another furtive glance toward the window before answering.
"I don't even know what she looks like…and she probably would laugh at me anyway…"
"Well, she seems quite taken with your music…"
"If she knew what I look like, I don't think she'd sing again. She probably thinks it's you or one of the other boys…"
"You're such an ass, Cole Turner. Just when are you gonna grow a backbone?"
"I don't need a girl anyway," Cole protested mildly while he stood up and paced nervously. "I only need my music to be happy…It doesn't mean I'm not just as good as you are," he added in a rare moment of defiance.
"You don't need girls, but you're possessed by a voice…" Paul reiterated with a smirk, not at all impressed by his friend's outburst.
Cole averted his eyes and didn't bother to reply. Paul always had the last word anyway. He wondered often how he could have befriended this boy. Paul was so arrogant and irreverent. Yet, whenever he got despairing of seeing a sensible person under this façade, Cole only had to read some of his poetry. Deep down, he knew that Paul had the soul of an artist, and it justified their friendship amply. After all, they were connecting through their art first and foremost. In the same vein, he had almost convinced himself that his interest in the singing girl was only on an artistic level. However, sometimes in the deep of night, when sleep didn't come, he caught himself imagining what she looked like; what it would feel like to hold her in his arms. Cole had made himself a pretty clear mental picture of her. In his mind's eye, she was as beautiful and fresh as a spring day. Sometimes, he also wondered if this wasn't the reason for his reticence at seeing the real her. This and the fact that Cole worried about rejection… At least, in those waking dreams, he was her knight in shining armour. She would look at him with her hazelnut eyes and he would see adoration in them, which he would return in spades.
He had actually been tempted to do just what Paul suggested, and more than once. He had even managed to go out and halfway across the street a few times before losing his nerve. Instead, he would turn back and spent those nights at the piano, at least gratified that she sang for him, even if she didn't know who he was.
Paul realized that Cole was again lost in his dream world, which happened quite often. Most of the time, he didn't mind at all. Right this moment however, he had something of a concern that he wanted to discuss with him.
"Hey," Paul called to Cole. "I heard that you're getting an audition? Anything serious…?"
This was one of those rare moments where Cole remembered that Paul was just as much a boy as he was. He knew exactly what concerned his friend and in all honesty, it made him feel good to be needed.
"Yeah, but you don't have to worry about me going anywhere. Even if this pans out, I won't be out of here anytime soon…"
"So…it's nothing big," Paul questioned in a falsely casual tone of voice.
"Well, yes it is…but it's only the first step…"
Paul realized that he was being selfish. Cole had been hoping to be discovered for so long and he had no right to try holding him back, even though, he knew he would suffer if Cole left. If it wasn't only for all the help Cole provided for him, he knew that he would also miss him as a friend.
"That still sounds interesting," Paul then said with a little more enthusiasm.
"Yeah… but I'm scared. What if I blow it?"
"I wouldn't worry about that. I'm sure that they're gonna be very impressed…are you up to going out now?" Paul questioned then.
"No…I have an idea for a new melody and I thought I'd work on it. Maybe I can also present them with it at the audition…"
"Well then I'll leave you to your work. I wanna hear it as soon as you're done though…"
Paul was already on his way out when Cole called back to him.
"Don't go anywhere else but your room. Remember…Mr. Pringle expects your essay in the morning."
"Slave driver," Paul uttered lightly.
Cole almost laughed at his friend's protest, but he was already thinking of his work and, as soon as Paul left, he sat back at the piano with his hands ready to strike the keys. However, before doing so, he cast another longing glance at the opened window. This melody had been floating in his mind for a while and it mostly came to him when he thought of her. Cole imagined that just like he saw her as a kindred spirit, she might be feeling the same about him. Even if it was wishful thinking, he wondered if she'd know she had inspired the piece when she heard it. Cole also worried that she might hate it. It wasn't his usual music. Neither modern nor classic, but rather a languorous sound, filled with nostalgia and need. It was a sound he thought would compliment her wonderful voice, was she to put words to it and sing for him. He had no idea if she would, but he nonetheless hoped that she might. If she did, then she would be connecting with him through this creation. Sighing longingly, he finally began playing.
Phoebe's father had left only a few moments ago, and not before the music stopped. She listened to his footsteps moving away and sighed with some relief when she heard the door to his office opening and closing. When he went there, he usually stayed in for the rest of the day and sometimes late into the night. She knew for sure that once the door was closed, he couldn't even hear her singing. Now all she had to hope for was for the music to start again. It wasn't long before she got her wish. However, the sound was different, hesitant even, as if the musician had not really known the piece. Frustrated she sat once again, and listened intently even to this work in progress. It didn't take long before the music took form, and if at first she was puzzled by the new sound, it soon captured her completely. She felt such longing in it and the deep need for love and affection that was inside of her responded to this more than ever. When the music stopped, Phoebe felt lost and almost wished she could will it to continue. She went to sleep humming the tune that night, putting words to it already.
[pic]
⃟⃟
Not the Stars, nor the Moon
Neither the Light of Day,
Nor the Sun all so Bright,
Could touch my Mind, my Heart, my Soul.
For Joy was but a dream
That is until your Music reached for me
Chorus:
Now, You are the Music to my Mind,
You are the Music to my Heart,
You are the Music to my Soul,
Now, Love is the Music of my Mind,
Love is the Music of my Heart,
All Through my Soul, your Music reached for Me.
Now I long for your Love,
Now, I crave for your Light,
To lighten my heavy heart,
Filled with the Loss, the Ache, the Pain
For Love was but a dream,
That is until your Music reached for me.
Chorus
[pic]
Paul was just writing the last line of his essay, and he felt pretty good about it. He knew that Cole would come in soon and ask him if he was done, actually expecting Paul to need another push. This time, he had been faster and he smiled contentedly. As the thought of his friend came to him, he reflected on Cole's strange obsession with the girl who seemed like a singing ghost to everyone. For the three months they had been in this neighbourhood, no one had seen her out of that house. The only girl they had seen there was obviously only an occasional visitor. Paul had noticed her, as she was a pretty thing, but too young for him. Today, he had seen this longing look on Cole's face again and knew how much he wished to know the elusive girl, no matter what he said. Paul was very much aware of Cole's problems with girls and realized that he'd probably never make his move. That's when a crazy idea came to him. What if he wrote a note to that girl, in Cole's name? Maybe, she would care to know the boy with whom she had shared music all this time. Impulsively, Paul pulled a piece of paper from the typewriter and began composing a poem he thought would impress her. Then, he ended the note in this manner:
I dare hope that you will honor my request to meet you in person. I have been admiring your crystalline voice for so long. You might know me from the music to which you so gracefully lend your voice. If you're so inclined, I will be waiting for you outside your house tonight after dark.
Your most devoted admirer
For the longest time, he stared at the note, wondering if he would really send it. What had seemed a good idea at first now felt ridiculous to him. A knock on the door startled him, and he put the note down next to his essay. Outside were two young boys that he guessed wanted him to sneak out with them.
"I'm not going anywhere tonight," he immediately said before they even got to ask.
"Oh come on, Paul…you didn't come with us this afternoon and you missed on some pretty morsels…"
Paul gave the boy a somewhat annoyed look but this one didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, he came in without waiting to be invited, looking around curiously.
"Hey, where's the pole you carry around everywhere?"
"If this rather rude description refers to my friend, I'll ask you to take it back…"
"Oh alright, sorry…" the boy replied grudgingly, "but you gotta admit, he's a freak…"
"Not helping," Paul snapped irritably.
The second boy entered in turn and Paul sighed.
"Don't you have better things to do than coming here and bothering me?"
Again the boys ignored his bad mood, and the first one even began looking through Paul's essay.
"Hey, you've been working!"
"What a novel idea! Maybe you should give it a try too?"
"Since when have you become such a stickler? I think this Cole's got a bad influence on you, Paul."
Paul's mood darkened as he saw the boy scrutinizing his work. He had a thing about his writings and disliked the way these boys minimized his work, just as much as he hated the way they treated Cole.
"Get outta here," Paul exclaimed almost angrily as he went toward the boy and pushed him away from the desk. In doing so, he didn't notice the second one catching sight of the note. The second boy gave a furtive glance toward Paul and, as this one was busy pushing his friend out, he pocketed the note. Only then did Paul notice that he was still standing there.
"Hey I said I had enough visitors for the night. Get out!"
"Don't panic, I'm going," the boy said as he hurried out.
By the time Paul managed to get rid of them, he had forgotten about the note and didn't notice its absence.
When Cole came back and gave an appreciative glance toward the neatly disposed stack of papers that composed Paul's essay, he smiled teasingly.
"Hey, you're all done? And here I thought I'd have to get out the whip…"
"I'd like to see you try," Paul said with an amused smile. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna crash… so if you read this and find something to criticize…keep it till the morning."
In saying so, Paul lied on the bed and, as far as Cole could tell, he fell asleep almost immediately.
Even if he was really tired himself, Cole still skimmed the essay and found that as usual, his friend had done wonderfully. Paul was selling himself short in Cole's opinion. He had a great talent and this even though he always waited until the last minute to finish his work. Cole envied this as he had to work hard at his own craft. However, unlike Paul, he loved to put efforts into his music. The time he spent at the piano never seemed wasted to him.
When Cole finally went to sleep, he could still hear the melody he had practiced all evening in his mind and he dreamt of the beautiful girl he would probably never meet.
While they slept, the boys who had visited Paul sealed Cole and Phoebe's fate with a plan they thought would only be a good prank…
Cole woke up with the tune still playing in his mind. A smile floated on his lips as he went to the sink for his morning ablutions. Only when he was done did he notice an envelope that had been slipped under the door with his name on it. His smile vanished as he gingerly picked up the envelope and cast a wary look at his sleeping friend. Who could be writing to him? He suddenly thought that it might be from one of the teachers. This made him even more nervous, considering that he worried about his upcoming audition. He went to sit on his bed and fidgeted with the envelope for the longest time. So much so that before he could make himself open it, Paul was stirring. Cole immediately put the envelope under his pillow self- consciously. Fearing bad news, he preferred to be alone when he opened it.
"Hey," Paul called to him, "how was it?"
For an instant, Cole froze, wondering if Paul had seen the envelope. Then he remembered the essay and breathed easier.
"As usual, it's very good…"
"You know, I'm starting to believe you're only saying this to make me happy…"
"No really, it was excellent. You should believe in yourself…I know I do…"
"Well, all that matters is that Mr. Pringle likes it…"
"I wouldn't worry about that."
Paul got up then and suddenly gave a pointed look toward the desk. He had just remembered the note and wondered if Cole had seen it.
"Did you find something else last night," he asked hesitantly, unsure about his friend's reaction if he were to read it.
"What do you mean? Did you write something else?"
Paul didn't answer right away, instead looking around and behind the desk.
"What are you looking for?"
Paul shrugged uncertainly, thinking that maybe he had thrown the note after all and frankly, he wasn't in the mood to check the wastebasket with Cole around. It was better if his friend didn't know of his foolishness. Besides, it really didn't matter anymore since he wouldn't send it anyway.
"Nah nothing… I just had this first draft there, but I guess I threw it out and forgot about it…"
Cole had no reason to suspect his friend's affirmation, and besides, he was too concerned about the letter to notice Paul's uneasiness. He gave another furtive look at his pillow and then turned toward his friend.
"We should really get dressed or we won't get breakfast this morning…"
"Yeah," Paul answered distractedly.
Cole had to wait until noon before he could come back to his room and this time, he opened the envelope resolutely. However, the note was apparently from the girl across the street. He sat heavily on the bed at this and thought that he couldn't breathe anymore. She was telling him that she was a prisoner in her own house and so wished that he could come to her. He wondered to no end how this note could have arrived for him and this, coupled with his insecurities, had him put the note aside and try to forget about it. This looked so much like a twisted prank that he believed it to be so, even though he wanted it to be real. That night he practiced again and, after a while, the girl began singing to his utter delight. Just like he had dared hope, she had put words to his music. Much more than this, he felt the lyrics reflected the way he felt while playing it. He could hear such longing in them that he believed she was calling to him in this manner. Later on, rather than going to bed directly, he sneaked out on his own for the first time, in the same manner as Paul did for his own escapades, and he went to sit in the dark, watching the house, while he began to wonder if she was truly a prisoner…
For the next three days, he did the same thing. Every night, he sat outside watching the house, convincing himself that she had sent someone with the note. Maybe she wanted him to free her, he wondered with the romantic notion that only adolescents could have. When Paul asked him where he was going every night, Cole couldn't bring himself to tell him about his delusions, and instead he pretended to have some reading to do. Since Paul had no reason to believe his friend would lie to him, he accepted this explanation. At least, until that third fateful night…
Cole had been watching the house for over an hour and, the same as every night, he was trying to work up the courage to go see her, no matter that he still had doubts about the note. Just under her window, there was a thick vine hanging off a wooden lattice, which he thought could carry his weight. He had visualized himself climbing this many times in the last three days, just like he'd read about in books. That night, he finally decided that he had to try. Unbeknownst to him, the boys, who had actually sent the note, were watching him intensely along with a few of their friends. They had almost given up on him doing anything about it, but when he started toward the girl's house, they followed, expecting that they would finally get a good laugh.
Meanwhile, Paul had just finished a poem and he regretted not having Cole around to show it to him. At long last, he decided that Cole wouldn't mind stopping his studies to read one little poem and he went to look for him. He went to the library first and not finding him there, Paul looked everywhere he thought Cole could be which brought him to the study. Dejectedly, he looked around in wonderment when he didn't find him there either. "Where could he be hiding," he asked himself, as he had a few times since his search began. Then, on an impulse, he turned toward the window that faced the girl's house. At first, he didn't believe his eyes and he went closer, bending halfway out the opened window. Then, he knew that he had been right. In spite of the late hour, the street lamps gave enough light for him to recognize Cole just starting to climb on the lattice. At first, Paul smiled and told himself, "good for him." However, as he looked around, he noticed the group of boys hiding behind a bush and obviously watching Cole. A sinking feeling began to snake its way inside of him. It was one thing for Cole to risk rejection…It was a whole another thing for him to face the mockery of those cruel boys if it happened. And even if the girl agreed to see him, they would still spoil his moment. Paul couldn't let that happen, and he ran out of the study.
Victor got out of his office and the first thing he did was to give a scornful look at the orphanage through the front window. Even as he watched, he saw a tall boy coming from behind the building and heading toward his house. Immediately, blind rage gripped his insides. Without hesitation, he climbed the stairs leading to his daughter's bedroom.
Earlier, Phoebe had realized that someone was tugging on the vine and if at first she was scared, she soon imagined that it was Paul coming for her. In her hand, she was clutching Paul's note, which had been thrown in her room through the window a few days before. Her first reaction to it was that it was only a cruel joke by boys who'd heard her singing. Phoebe had put it aside, not even bothering to check if the boy had actually showed up that night. However as days went by, she had begun wondering what she might have missed, and that night it seemed that he was actually coming to her. She was now waiting, fearful that he would be disappointed in her, yet at the same time she was hopeful that he would see through her appearance… Curiosity quickly got the best of her and she went to the window, trying to bend over and see who was there. However, before she could see who her visitor was, she noticed a group of boys watching her window and she suddenly became angry.
"Go away! Leave me alone," she exclaimed then, as she pulled away from the window. Then, she heard the heavy steps of her father coming quickly toward her room. Victor crashed into the room before she knew it and almost ran to the window. Like Phoebe before, he also noticed someone climbing on the lattice and he reacted by pushing it until in his rage, he managed to dislodge it. Panicked, Phoebe went after him.
"Go away," she repeated, for her father this time. However he didn't let go until he had completely pushed the trellis off the wall.
Meanwhile, Cole had heard her screams, and now despair was invading him as he thought the harsh words were meant for him. He hesitated more than halfway up the lattice, wondering what he should do. Then when he realized that the whole thing was about to give, he tried to climb down, but it was too late. Before he could do anything about it, he felt himself falling inexorably and then, on a reflex, he let go of the trellis and tried to protect himself by putting his hands in front of him. When he hit the ground, the blinding pain in his arms almost knocked him out. So much so that when the lattice fell over him, it barely registered. However, even through the pain, he looked up at the girl's window and thought that he saw someone. The vine and the semi-darkness prevented him from getting a good look at who it was, but he was certain that they were looking down at him, and then suddenly disappeared while the window closed with a loud thud. Afterward, he heard Paul calling to him anxiously. He glanced back to see his friend running toward him. Paul had stopped to scold the boys and convince them to leave, and then he had seen Cole falling heavily toward the ground.
As the pain in his arms increased with every moment, Cole finally dared glancing at them and he suddenly felt like screaming. Both his wrists were twisted in an unnatural position. When Paul got near him, the appalled look on his face only added to Cole's despair, as the depth of this tragedy sank into him. Paul glared angrily toward the house while getting the lattice off his friend. However, he soon returned his full attention to Cole, as he pulled him up, determined to get help for him. Meanwhile, the boys, who had been the cause of this horror, had long run away when they had realized what they'd done.
Paul was trying hard to carry him off the property, when he felt Cole becoming limp in his arms and knew that he had passed out. In a way, even if it made things harder for him, he was almost grateful for this. He could only imagine how terrible his friend felt. He had almost made it off the premises when an irate male voice startled him.
"You little bastards," Victor was now screaming while coming toward them, "I'll have this place shut down. That'll teach you to shame my family and this entire neighbourhood."
Paul looked back quickly and saw a gun in the man's hand. Out of fear, he tried moving faster. Victor didn't seem to care that he had hurt one of them and even through his fear, this angered Paul. However, he knew that the man had the right to defend his house and no matter how innocent Cole's intentions surely were, no one would believe them over this man. Therefore, instead of trying to defend Cole and himself, Paul kept silent. Unfortunately, it only added fuel to Victor's speculations, even as he stomped past them toward the orphanage…
Phoebe had never been more scared and alone in her entire life, not even considering what she had lived through the past few years. After Victor had closed the window angrily, he had turned toward her with a look of hatred in his eyes. He then stormed out of the room and locked the door behind him. Phoebe was now trembling all over, unsure of what was worse. That her dream of meeting the musician had been shattered so cruelly, or that her father would probably get even more obsessed from now on. She was convinced that her unknown visitor had gotten away already, and at this point, she was more worried about what would happen to her. However, as frightened and confused as she was until Victor's return almost an hour later, it was when she saw him carrying a thick leather belt in his hand that she became terrorized.
"Daddy, I didn't do anything…I swear to you, Daddy."
"Stop lying, you slut. I'll beat this shame out of you if I have to…"
"Daddy, please, I didn't do anything. It wasn't my fault…"
"It's always the girl's fault. Those boys are depraved, but never as much as the girls who provoke them…"
Phoebe wanted to try defending herself still, but the crazed look in her father's eyes told her that it wouldn't help.
Deliberately, Victor came toward her and pushed her face down on the bed. When she tried to protest, he uttered harshly:
"Shut up and take your punishment tramp! And don't think tears are gonna save you. The more you cry the worst it'll get."
Then he added humiliation to terror for Phoebe, as he pulled up her dress and then pulled down her panties, exposing her buttocks. She screamed for the first few hits, but every time she did, he struck her harder.
"Shut up I said," he reiterated angrily. Phoebe bit back the screams afterward and endured this until she thought that he had stripped the skin off her. Then, he left without even bothering to cover her or say anything else.
That night, she had to sleep face down, unable to tolerate anything on her raw lower back, and she cried almost through the night, as much from despair as from the pain. By the end of that night, Phoebe had already made up her mind that the boy had been the one responsible for her pain. It was only the beginning of a long ordeal, and of a slow but steadily growing contempt for every male of the species…
Cole woke up in a hospital room the next day. The pain returned almost immediately, along with his despair, as he stared at both his arms enclosed in thick bandages. These were so tight and stiff that he couldn't move his hands at all. Even then, he still didn't get angry at the girl, although he was very disenchanted. However, when Mr. Burton, his music teacher, came to visit him, this all changed. Until that moment, Cole had managed to convince himself that this was only a temporary set back. Mr. Burton quashed this hope rapidly.
"What were you thinking Turner? You had such a promising future ahead of you…"
"I'll try again…"
"You don't understand boy…The doctors…they said that even if your right hand will probably be fully normal, it won't be the same with your left one. You'll never play the way you used to, Turner. There's nothing they can do about it."
Cole watched him in total dismay for a long moment. How could this be? How could his entire life have been ruined in one instant? And then, as the terrible reality dawned on him, he began hating her with as much passion as he had believed he loved her…This hatred eventually would turn into scorn for all women…
It was 1927, and Cole reflected that the twelve intervening years had gone by in a flash. The hatred he still carried with him, but he had made it into something useful. Paul often tried to lecture him about the way he now led his life. How ironic that was, Cole thought, when he remembered how little care Paul used to have for women's feelings. In truth though, Cole knew that if his friend used to treat women as conveniences, he still liked them. There lay the difference between them. He watched Paul as he nursed an illegal drink across the table from him. At least, Cole could count on Paul's friendship. This was the only constant in his life.
"Hey," Paul called to him, "you're still lost in thoughts…There I believed you said you changed…"
Cole turned a wicked smile toward his friend.
"Hey, I still daydream…the topics are just not as… sweet and unrealistic as they used to be, that's all."
Paul watched his friend for a moment before replying. He often marvelled at how much Cole had changed. From the somewhat ugly duckling he had been twelve years ago, now had emerged a tall and muscular man almost feline in demeanour. None of the awkwardness he used to be plagued with remained. As a man, Paul was a poor judge of what he might look like to women, but the looks most females gave him were enough to tell that he was extremely attractive to them now. Paul believed it very ironic that Cole could have had any woman he wanted, and yet pursued this unsavoury use of his charms. However, he also knew why that was.
"Hum…won't you ever get over this?" Paul questioned dejectedly.
"Why should I?" Cole questioned without the need to hear what "this" was. "I've got a good thing going and I really don't need the embarrassment of emotions…besides, I'd never believe that a woman could have those…They're all the same. They draw you in with their guile and then they try to suck you dry…"
"Not all of them, Cole." Paul exclaimed irritably. Sometimes, even knowing what he did, Paul wondered how it was possible for the sensitive boy he used to know to have become so cynical.
"Oh I know. That Lydia of yours…" Cole offered, "Well, I guess there are exceptions…although isn't she complaining about your workload again?"
"Why don't we leave Lydia out of it?"
"What? Sore subject…? Hard to believe the great Paul McKail can't keep up with the carnal demands of one woman…"
"Cole…if you weren't my friend…"
Cole watched him very seriously for a moment, and then without warning, he burst out laughing.
"Oh come on, man…You used to be less sensitive. I remember a time where none of what I just said would've made you blink. Hell, if it helps, I can offer my services…"
For a moment, Paul actually wondered if Cole was serious. Then he smiled slyly.
"You know, I remember a time where even half of what you just said would've made you blush…"
"Those were the days," Cole replied without flinching.
"Sometimes, I wish I saw that Cole again…"
"Hey," Cole uttered, "I'm still the same guy. I'm just not the stupid dreamer I used to be, that's all. Besides, no matter what, we'll still be friends… won't we?"
"Just as long as you stay well away from my wife…"
Cole laughed again.
"It's a deal…" Cole watched the smoked filled room while taking a long sip of his drink, and then he turned back questioningly toward Paul.
"Wasn't Leo supposed to join us?"
"I'm sure he's coming. He actually has a proposition for you," Paul said reluctantly.
"You don't seem to approve…"
"To say the least!"
"What can be so wrong about it? I mean, Leo's our friend isn't he?"
"Well, kind of… but he also knows how easy it is to get you to do something stupid."
"Thank you very much," Cole said irritably.
Paul was about to add something when Leo entered the room and immediately came toward them. As was his usual now, he was very serious. Ever since he'd enrolled with the Bureau, his personality had changed and Paul thought it was definitely for the worse. He was now almost obsessed with the importance of his work. Cole and he had met Leo through the training before the war. The three of them had been much too young to fight in a war and yet they had. During that period Paul, as well as Cole, had developed a friendship with Leo almost as solid as Cole and Paul had. However, Paul still believed that Leo was too zealous in his duties and might overlook the danger to Cole in spite of their friendship. "Not to mention," Paul thought as he watched his long time friend, "that Cole wouldn't back off, no matter what." As Leo sat after shaking their hands almost formally, a twinge of guilt stirred Paul as he remembered his part in Cole's transformation.
The day after the incident, Paul was sitting in his room, waiting for the news. Mr. Pringle was the one who came to him with it. In fact, it was even worse than he'd imagined. Not only was Cole hurt so bad that he might never play again, but now, the teacher was announcing to him that they were kicked out of the institution. Both of them had been found guilty of the offence Victor Halliwell came to accuse them of. And as if this wasn't enough, Cole wasn't considered a potential talent for the school anymore. The only good point in the teacher's speech was that they would be sent to the same orphanage.
In spite of the harshness of the sentence, Mr. Pringle had told him how much he and many others disapproved. Nevertheless, the threat of closure, which hung over their heads, had forced the administration to take drastic measures. Even so, they weren't even certain that it would be enough. After the teacher's departure, Paul had looked forlornly upon their living quarters. He did so for a while before reluctantly beginning to pack his own stuff, and then Cole's. That's when he'd found the note. The crumbled piece of paper was hidden under Cole's pillow and as he read it, he recognized a poor attempt at copying his writing style. It didn't take much more for Paul to understand what must have happened. At the time, his guilt had been almost overpowering and as much as he felt like taking revenge on those boys, he figured that he was just as responsible as they were. So much so that he didn't tell Cole until long afterward…
Leo's voice brought him back to the present.
"So, Cole, are you ready for a challenge?"
"When have you known me not to be?" Cole answered with a cocky smile.
Paul watched them both with mounting anxiety.
"Cole, whatever he has to offer try remembering you don't have to do it."
"Ok now you've got me curious."
Paul sighed dejectedly while Leo pursued as if there hadn't been any interruption.
"I got something that's right up your alley…and of course, it'd be like serving your country all over again."
"What? Is there another war I didn't hear about?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact! And you surely heard of it. After all, we're both friends with a well known journalist."
Paul shrugged uncomfortably. He didn't wanna have any part in what Leo suggested earlier that day. He had tried to dissuade him, but Leo still believed that Cole could do it.
"You're talking about the bootleg thing? For god sake Leo, look where we are," Cole exclaimed while lifting his glass toward Leo.
"It's not just about the booze, Cole. Those people are getting way too aggressive. We've got to try stopping them."
"When you say them," Cole questioned with a vague interest, "is there one in particular? And if you don't mind my asking, what the hell could I do that the police can't?"
"Well, it's a known fact that you have some ease with women…"
"I'm supposed to fight a war…in bed?" Cole questioned Leo, with an amused smile. "Now that'll make for a change from the canons…"
"Laugh all you want, but it may very well be the best way. One of the big bosses, Fredo Turello is the one we are targeting at the moment. However, none of his lieutenants can be linked to any illegal activities, and even less himself. We've tried all possible venues, even threats, without success. As a last resort, we wanna try his young girlfriend: a singer named Lara Love."
"I already don't like the sound of it." Cole uttered unhappily.
"Hey," Leo taunted, "are you saying you're afraid you can't seduce that girl?"
"Leo Wyatt, if you weren't my friend, I'd knock you out right here and now."
"I got a gun!" Leo exclaimed half-seriously.
"You'd never have time to get it out," Cole boasted.
Leo actually wondered about that, even though it'd never have occurred to him to use his weapon.
"No really. We're not asking for much. Just do what you do best. Seduce the girl, make her talk. Who knows, maybe she can even give us tangible proofs."
"Just like that?" Cole questioned incredulously.
"I'm not the one who claims he can get any woman he wants. And really, it'd make a change from your older women. Some say she's a very pretty girl…"
Paul had watched the exchange hopeful that Cole would decline. However, he already could see the spark of interest in his friend's eyes. Paul knew that Cole could care less how pretty the girl was. Nevertheless, the challenge to go after a big gangster was surely much more tempting to him. Paul realized then that Cole wasn't over his death wish…or so it was what Paul always called his lack of concern for his safety.
"Tell me more," Cole added then, quashing Paul's hope that he would be reasonable.
At the Pharaoh Club, Phoebe was watching the band without much interest, as she had just been reminiscing and felt more bitter than ever. Not even all the jewellery and riches Fredo offered were enough to make her feel good that night. The old man sitting by her side was sweet and generous to her, but he was much too old to satisfy all of her wants. She needed someone to help her forget, and the driver, who she had been seeing up until a week ago, had suddenly disappeared without a trace. In all truth, she was fine with it as he had been getting too clingy. She had even feared that he was talking about them to other people. After he vanished, Phoebe had been worried for a while, but Fredo didn't seem to know anything about it, or at least, he didn't seem to care. Still, when he spoke, she got startled but did her best to hide it.
"Is there something wrong, Lara?"
Phoebe turned toward him with a smile.
"No why…? I'm just fine." She was glad that role playing was one of her strengths. She'd learned to be whomever and whatever was necessary through the years.
"You know I can't stand to see my little birdie unhappy…"
"I've got no reason to be. You're giving me so much." Phoebe said almost sincerely.
"Just as long as I get to have you with me, I'm a happy man too, Lara."
"I'm not going anywhere," Phoebe said in a falsely joyous tone of voice. Deep down, she knew that she couldn't leave him until he got tired of her. However, it still was working fine for her. Fredo was giving her the career she'd always wanted in exchange for some cuddling. Not too high a price to pay for a chance at the big time. Moreover, she was relieved anew that he didn't seem to know anything about her indiscretion.
No one could have recognized the formerly awkward and obese girl when looking at Phoebe now. She was really pretty, even beautiful, and knew it most of the time. Phoebe had no problem picking and choosing among men, unlike her former self. Even Paige, the only one from her past with whom she kept in touch, often told Phoebe how amazed she was at the change in her. Yet, Phoebe sometimes felt like the recluse teenager she had been. At those times, she sought confirmation of her charms in the arms of men, even though she thought all of them, including Fredo, to be beasts that would use her and reject her without care. However, by now, Phoebe had become very good at being the one doing the using. She also kept most of them at arm's length, unless she truly needed a fix or could use their interest to her advantage, like with the old man beside her.
Apparently satisfied that nothing was wrong, Fredo returned to his covert conversation with Saul, while she surveyed the room, in quest of a suitable candidate. This time, she told herself, she would choose a stranger to Fredo's entourage. That would be a safer bet.
Fredo whispered to Saul:
"Have you taken care of our little problem?"
"All taken care of, boss. There's something I don't understand though."
"What is that," Fredo asked without even looking at his Lieutenant.
"She betrayed you… Don't you think you should get rid of her?"
"This is none of your business Saul," Fredo said then, while turning severe eyes toward his lieutenant. "But if you must know, she's a young little thing and has needs I can't fulfill. The boy was only a distraction to her, but she'll stay with me because I'm useful to her and that's all I need from her. She makes me happy."
"Then if you don't mind my asking…why did we…"
Fredo interrupted:
"I've got an image to preserve. That boy was talking too much…"
Saul sighed but didn't comment anymore. However, Fredo added something else.
"Now, I got rid of a problem…do I need to take care of you too?"
Saul knew that Fredo wasn't joking and a chill ran down his spine.
"Of course not. I'm grateful for all you did for me. I'd never do anything that would cause you problems…"
Fredo didn't reply, certain that his lieutenant had gotten the point, while Saul cast an angry look at Phoebe. He understood now it was useless to try warning his boss about her, but he sensed that she might just cause them all a great deal of trouble in the future…
That night, on a beach at the edge of the city, the body of a young man washed ashore. Although he was bloated by his extended soak in the bay, atrocious mutilations were still very much obvious to the fisherman who found him the next morning, telling him that the boy had suffered a slow and painful death.