A Diva in Manhattan: HarperImpulse Contemporary Romance. Aubrie Dionne
Alaina think. “Opera witch” reminded her of Bianca and her role as the Queen of the Night. Then, an idea sparked in her mind.
As the laughter settled down, she straightened up, crossed her arms and addressed the student. “As a matter of fact, sometimes I am.”
The students quieted. Some of the ones who’d been on their phones the whole time glanced up. She had their attention.
Alaina paced the front of the classroom, drumming her fingers on her elbows. “Opera is made up of stories. Sometimes you play the sweet heroine, and other times you play the evil villain.” She raised an eyebrow. “Anyone know who Carmen is?”
Silence, then one hand went up. “You mean Carmen Electra?”
A few of them giggled.
Alaina shook her head. “Approximately one hundred and forty years before Carmen Electra, there was the original Carmen in an opera by Bizet. She was a seductress who enchanted a young soldier with exotic dances. His unbridled passion for her drove him to forsake his duty and the woman his mother wants him to marry. But Carmen is not a one type of guy kind of gal. She tires of the soldier and falls in love with another man. In the end, the soldier pleads for her to return to him. When she refuses, he stabs her, killing her on the spot.”
“Or take Puccini’s Turandot- a daughter of a Chinese empire who is looking for a husband. She asks each suitor three questions. If they answer correctly, she marries them, but if they fail…” She chopped her hand down on the front desk and the boy who sat in it jerked up.
Alaina smiled wickedly. “They lose their heads.”
She took a tissue from the box on her desk and covered the bottom half of her face. “I’ve also studied the infamous Salome who enchants the head of the palace with her dance of the seven veils. He agrees to give her her heart’s desire. But, little does he know her heart’s desire is the head of a man who’d rejected her advances…on a plate.”
“Ouch. Tough luck for him, huh?” Purple hair actually leaned forward across her desk, engaged with what she was saying.
“Maybe you’ll think twice about scorning any admirers.” Alaina winked. “Anyway, when Salome gets the head on the plate, what do you think she does with it?”
“She kicks it.” Purple hair crossed her arms. “That’s what I would do.”
“No, I bet she sticks it on a pole to show everyone what happens when they piss her off.” The boy without the book didn’t raise his hand, but she let his comment go. At least he was involved in the conversation.
“Not quite.” Alaina gave them a mysterious smile. “She kissed it.”
“Ewwww.” Purple hair scrunched up her pretty little nose pierced by several nose rings.
Alaina went on to tell them stories of all the characters she’d played or studied in the past. Before she knew it, the bell rang, and they students stood from their seats.
“Wait a second!” Alaina held them in their places by the commanding tone of her voice. She’d grown more and more confident as the class went on. “For your homework, I want you to start writing your very own opera.”
“What? We can’t do that.” Goth guy whined like a baby.
“Yes you can. You’re all students here at this arts school. You’ve all taken theory and writing classes. You have a mind- an imagination.”
Goth boy opened his mouth to complain again and she cut him off by raising her hand. “Don’t worry I’ll help you through it, step by step. Tonight I want you to think of a setting for your story. That’s all. Just a place.”
As the students filed out, Purple hair approached her desk. “See you tomorrow, right?”
“That’s right.” Alaina sipped from her water bottle, expecting the student to walk away. But she didn’t move. “Is there something else?”
“No. I’m Jackie, by the way.” She stuck her hands in her pockets.
Alaina nodded and made a mental note to remember her name. She didn’t know any of their names and if she was in this for the long haul, then she should learn them. “Nice to meet you.”
“I sing, too. I don’t have a teacher or anything, but I like to harmonize to songs on the radio.”
Alaina blinked in surprise. “I’ll have to hear you sing sometime.”
“I’d like that.” Jackie picked up her backpack and left.
Alaina watched the girl turn the corner. At the beginning of class, she could have cared less about Alaina, and now here she was staying late to tell her she sang, too. Alaina smiled to herself as she packed up her purse.
There was hope after all. For both of them.
***
“Why do you want me to look up a fancy restaurant?” Phil stuffed the rest of his tuna sandwich in his mouth.
Brett threw the other half of his ham sandwich back in the bag. The bread was stale and he wasn’t hungry anyway.
“Well?” Phil took out his phone and turned it on. “We only have five more minutes of break.”
Brett crumpled the bag and stuffed it under his feet. He wasn’t going to get his friend’s help unless he told him the truth. “Because I have a date.”
“A date?” Phil widened his eyes. “Looks like it didn’t take you long to get over that red head from yesterday.”
Brett ran his hand over his face. Was asking Phil a mistake? “It is the red head from yesterday.”
He spit out his soda. “What? How’d you manage that?”
“It’s a long story. Now, can you help me or not?”
Phil wiped his mouth on his sleeve and pulled out his iPhone. “Sure. What exactly do you want me to look up?”
“I want to take her to someplace nice, but also someplace that reflects who I am. I don’t want her believing me to be someone I’m not.” Brett ran his hands though his hair.
A little too late for that, isn’t it?
Phil nodded. “I get ya. Sarah was always trying to dress me up and get me to go to all these weird art exhibits. It all just looked like splattered paint to me.”
Oh no, not Sarah again. Phil could talk about the-one-that-got-away for hours.
Phil stared into the traffic. “Maybe I should have just gone with her and stopped complaining.”
“You were just being yourself.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t that bad. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have another chance. I’d go to every museum in New York, even that American folk art museum. You know once they had an entire exhibit of quilts. Quilts.”
Brett tightened his lips to keep from smiling. Quilts weren’t exactly high on his priority list, either. “I get your point.”
Phil went back to his phone. “So what do you want me to look for?”
Brett told him about the restaurant up in Maine. He hadn’t mentioned Maine other than to tell people that was where he was from. Speaking of his hometown made me feel vulnerable, naked. “Can you search for something like that around here?”
“I’ll try.” Phil dragged his finger across the screen. “What about this?”
Brett glanced at a picture of a restaurant on a rooftop with a garden overlooking the city. “Kinda, but it’s not very secluded.”
“You want secluded? In New York?” Phil laughed. “How about this?”
A picture of a Moosehead beer on top