A/N: Yes! I'm updating sort of on time this time…woohoo! Hopefully my next update will be a week or so. I'm happy that I got some reviews last update, but I'm sad because I lost so many reviewers! Please, if you're reading this, review because it will make me happier. Thanks.

Surf with Music: Yes, that's true. And the interaction will begin shortly. I'm excited!

Emily Singing Reflection: Thanks…I don't think I'm really that good, but thanks anyway. Just practice I guess…

Immokk: He must hold more than that to keep alive, lol.

BrokenAngel858: Lol, yeah, she is kinda creepy.

Vagrant Candy: Yes, I am pretending that Firmin never existed. But, I did steal his first name (I think) for Andre Bonamy, just to add in a little of the movie.

Chapter Sixteen: Bad News

It was a warm spring day in April when Andre received the letter. He was sitting in his office, looking over a script for another opera, when he heard a knock at his office door, which he always kept closed while at work.

He slowly rose to his feet and walked to the door. Upon opening it, he stood face to face with a cross looking Madame Giry. "Madame, bonjour," he said, in a false- friendly tone.

Madame Giry scowled. She and Andre Bonamy had never completely gotten along. Andre glanced down at the crinkled envelope in her open palm. It had the blood red skeleton seal of the Opera Ghost.

"What does he want now?" Andre questioned irritably.

"You have not paid him, have you, Monsieur?" was the woman's reply. She was wearing a dark as night black dress, and her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

"Andre wet his lips with anger and shook his head. "And I won't," he added. "Not this time. I will go bankrupt."

"We surely are not that poor," Mme. Giry offered, in an unpleasant tone.

"Well, if I must pay him again, we most certainly will be; have no doubt of that, Madame."

"Then perhaps we need a new star," Madame Giry offered, calmly. "Maybe then we shall acquire a full house?"

Andre glared at her suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"It was a suggestion, Monsieur; do not take it to heart."

"Well, I wasn't about to." Madame Giry handed the letter to her manager, and he reluctantly took hold of it. "Thank you for your time," he said, shutting the door in her face.

Madame Giry let out a soft sigh. "Will you ever learn, Monsieur?"

Andre Bonamy threw the letter carelessly on his desk and sat down again, frowning. He glanced at the envelope and then turned away. "This is ridiculous," he muttered, angrily.

"Oh, I assure you, Monsieur," a deep voice boomed from behind. Andre turned around quickly, but saw no one. "I have my reasons."

Andre wet his lips with nervousness now. "What if I don't have the money?"

"I'm sure you will find a way," the voice said.

"If you were any braver than you'd like me to think, you'd show yourself," Andre scoffed.

"Joseph, is that you, playing tricks?" Andre speculated. "Well, it isn't funny."

"Monsieur Bonamy," Erik called. "I will lower my payments for this month only…if you are certain that you cannot pay me."

"Ha!" Andre spurted. "I shall not pay you at all, Monsieur! I am sick of this, and I am sick of you, and paying tribute to a demon I cannot even see. If you hide, and take money that is not yours, you are a common thief and criminal, and I will not have one of those in my theatre. This nonsense has gone on too long!"

"What will you do?" Erik asked carelessly.

"I'll leave that up to the authorities," Andre snapped. "Where are you?"

"In your mind, Monsieur," Erik answered. "They will never find me."

"We will find a way," Andre argued. "We will ask questions…and make arrests if we have to!"

"Will you?" Erik was playing with him now, Andre realized. He didn't sound worried or concerned at all, and his voice tone was playful.

"Oh, I will!" Andre shot up out of his seat with anger. "And it will be you who pays me Monsieur, not the other way around."

"And what will Claire do with me gone?"

Andre's heart skipped a beat. What did he just say? Claire? "It's not possible," he mumbled. "What does she have to do with this?"

Erik realized that he needed to keep quiet. The game had started, the pieces set. Now he just needed to watch the game from afar, and keep quiet. "Ask her," he said quietly.

Andre's mouth hung loosely and he scowled.

Erik frowned as he paced back to his lair. He had spoken too soon, and said too much. He'd never done this before. He'd spent nearly his entire life cooling his emotions, and acting calmly towards his enemies, but something had snapped in him that day, something had made him blurt out regrettable words.

He didn't know what it was. Should I act kindly to Andre? He asked himself, unsure. He is Claire's father…but…But Erik had never liked Andre, and he didn't think he ever could.

There was something about that man that made Erik's blood bubble in his veins, that made him scowl and curse. The way Claire spoke of him, she loved her father, but at the same time, they seemed so distant. In part, Erik wanted to punish him for the way he treated Claire, and the way he treated the Opera Ghost.

The last manager would at least pay Erik, and showed respect. Andre hated the Phantom of the Opera, and Erik knew it. Andre was stubborn, and so was the Opera Ghost. "Perhaps we will not be the greatest of allies," Erik whispered to himself.

A/N: Please review! Thanks. Oh, and sorry this is kinda boring and short…the next chappie should be better, lol.