Those months they lived together were tiring but joyous for Alice. On one hand they spent more time than they had ever had; working together, living together, some nights they came home from a lovely dinner and Alice played the piano for Belinda before they both went to bed, sometimes she would crawl into Alice’s bed, saying they never did have the chance to do it when they were children. Alice’s heart almost burst with joy the first time. She couldn’t remember ever being so happy. Other times they never came home to be that close. With being a celebrity, comes fans and parties that need attending, which Belinda would want her to come to. Alice never attended any parties, even if they were for her. The day would have her beat, she couldn’t get herself to take clothes off in bed, let alone get herself ready for a party. But with Belinda she was willing to sacrifice a few days of rest. She soon came to realize she hated people at those parties. They were all surprised to see her there and ask her how hard was it to keep the manger-actor career going. Alice didn’t pay much attention to whatever else they had to say. While they talked, she was busy watching Belinda socialize. She watched the people around her creep into her conversations with others. She recognized some of the men who wandered outside the theater after the shows were over, giving Belinda flowers and gifts and some she recognized is their daily lives. Some that would interrupt them when they ate in a public place, or went to a museum. Belinda was always polite in the situation, but Alice couldn’t help tear her away from others.

One night after a party, she walked Belinda home, changing into a white blouse and a dark blue skirt for better comfort before heading to the theater to deal with some budging for an upcoming play. She was interrupted by the sound of banging. She tried to ignore it,but the pounding continued. It was the dead of night, she saw no one walking outside when she there. She went outside to investigate and found a man hit the front doors of the theater. Alice recognized the drunk man from every performance of Belinda’s. Always, somehow, finding a seat in front of the stage, he must have been a rich man. He may have been close his forties as there seem to be more hair growing on his face than his head.Alice never cared to remember his name. He once asked Belinda to marry him, while Alice and her were taking a walk in the park. He practically jumped out of the bushes.

“Belle Dame,marry me!” Alice had hit him over the head with a large stick she found on the ground.

“The balls on that one.” Alice laughed to Belinda,but she later expressed her fury toward Alice at home. quickly forgiving her the next day for her assault on the man. It may have been one harmless incident to Belinda, but Alice never took things like this so lightly. Here he was, drunk, yelling her name in the back of her theatre.

Idiot.

She went up to confront the man. He was leaning on the door now, still pounding away.

“The theatre is closed,sir.”

The man whipped his head, looking at her with heavy, bloodshot eyes.

“You.You are” His words slurred as he pointed to her.”The, uh, the manger,correct?”

“Yes, sir. And you will have to leave before I get the police.”

“No,no.” He stumbled toward, almost grabbing onto her shoulders,. Alice dodged the drunk and he fell to his knees, but his hands still clinged to her skirt. “I need...to see her.”

“Who?”

“That singer..Belle Dame.”

“She left here hours ago.”

“Where can I find her?”

“Leave.” She pulled her skirt free and headed back inside. She needed to get to Belinda. Heading back into the office.

Alice let out a frustrating sigh and got back to her work. While scribbling down details and notes and what was needed to be done tomorrow, she heard the thumps of footsteps. Before she could go see who it was, the man was in front of her office doorway with a bottle in hand.

“Where is she?” He pointed the empty bottle at her. “I know you know where she is.”

Alice got up from her desk, pen still in hand. This man was drunk there was a chance she could disarm him and end him here, butt Alice knew better.

“I’ll tell you where she is. You have to put the bottle down first.”

He did, dropping it beside him as he slumped on the door frame. Maybe he didn’t mean to threaten her, but Alice’s repulse for this man was greater than the act she was ready to commit.

“She’s practicing.” She said in a steady tone.

“What?”

“Down in the basement. It’s her private dancing studio, no one else knows.”

The basement was something no one knew about. Even the men who built it were fired by her father to keep its secret concealed. He never appreciated the arts of music and dance, but he was paranoid with the arts of war, and was prepared to find it right at his door. On his deathbed he told Alice where to find it and the key. She didn’t go to look for it until the day he died. The hidden basement was backstage. It was like the trap doors used on stage, but less obvious on the edge of the wall,covered by the props and equipment. The padlock to it was also hidden under a block of wood cut out from the bottom of the wall. When Alice was able to open it, she saw that it was pitch black, and from the stage lights, a few steps to a very steep staircase. Down the staircase, Alice came to a door about eight feet from the steps. Opening it with the key she smelled damp and somewhat like sewage

“Is this a trick?”

“No.” She knew she had to reassure him. “Sometimes, late in the night she goes down to the basement to practice. I tell her other fans this when they come to visit, but you, you’re very determined. SoI’ll let you see her.”

“Really?” The man looked almost in tears.

‘Yes. I could leave you two alone down there for a bit, and you can ask whatever you want of her.”

Alice felt her stomach twist at her own words. The man looked so pleased at the offer and drunkenly nodded. She went to her desk and open the bottom drawer, where the key was hidden in the back. Quickly putting her looked at the man holding the key tight to her chest and putting the pen in her skirt pocket.

“She doesn’t want anyone else to know about it, so she asks me to lock the door, if anyone ever tried to go down there.”

She walked swiftly past him, gesturing the drunk to follow her.

When she moved the equipment and props off the trapdoor, and made their way down, the man was getting skeptical.

“She’s down there?”

“Yes and if you want to see her you must follow me.”