by Bea Paige
He grins. “You were a pretty great assistant, but you’re going to be a wonderful ballet teacher, Rose. Sylvia left this studio to you for a reason. Now you can continue to do what you love in the place you loved to dance the most.”
Tears spring from my eyes as I walk into Ivan’s arms and hug him. “Thank you,” I breathe, overwhelmed but inexplicably happy.
“Come on, let’s show you inside,” Erik grins, holding his hand out for me to take.
The studio is as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside. A new run of mirrors line one wall, a brand new barre of smooth oak wood attached to it. The floor is shiny and buffed to perfection. But the most stunning thing of it all is the huge mural painted across the back wall. I see it reflected in the mirrors and turn sharply to gaze at it.
“Anton,” I breathe, my voice cracking with emotion.
Before me is the most stunning black and white painting of the four of us. In the centre Ivan and I are dancing, we look so graceful. Ivan is lifting me upwards at the waist, his face gazing up at me as I look down at him. The look that passes between us is captured perfectly. There’s no doubt we’re in love.
“I don’t know what to say…” I feel my men watching me as I stare at the mural, utterly enthralled by it. “This is just…” I can’t form the right words to express how I feel because there aren’t any that would fully give justice to the emotions bursting inside me right now.
Anton steps up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as he presses a kiss against the curve of my neck.
“You like it then?” he asks.
“Like doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling right now,” I respond, softly.
“Do you think I’ve captured the likeness?” he asks me, genuinely wanting to know.
“Yes. I’m half expecting them to climb out of the painting. It’s incredible.”
To the right of Ivan and me is Erik, his eyes are pressed shut, his face blissful as he plays the violin. It’s a beautiful copy of the man who has fought to overcome the darkness within him.
To the left is Anton’s self-portrait. He’s sitting before his easel, his head tipped to the side a pencil gripped between his teeth, one hand raised as he draws. I walk forward, running my hand over the mural, needing to touch it, wanting to connect somehow if that makes sense?
“I think I’m better looking in my head,” Anton smirks.
“You are exactly as good looking as you think,” I confirm, with an astounded laugh. This man’s talent is unbelievable.
“Don’t give him more of a big head,” Ivan remarks laughing.
Twisting in Anton’s hold, I reach up and kiss him deeply. “Every time I’m here, I shall always be reminded of our love. Thank you,” I say.
“You’re very welcome, Rose,” he responds, then he jerks his head towards Ivan and Erik. “But these two arseholes had a hand in all this too. It was Ivan’s idea, of course, and Erik actually did some hard manual labour alongside the men we hired. The man’s a beast.”
“My favourite kind,” I grin, walking over to them both, and holding out my arms. They both walk into them and we hug, the three of us. When Ivan starts kissing me, Erik mutters something about getting a room. We all crack up laughing. Once we’ve all calmed down Ivan walks over to a run of hooks holding several pairs of ballet slippers and selects a pair, bringing them over to me.
“Are you ready for your next surprise?” he asks, glancing at his wristwatch.
“There’s more?”
“Several, actually,” Anton grins as the door to the studio opens as two rather grumpy looking boys walk in, followed by a handful of girls in the full stereotypical ballet get-up; pink leotards and tutus. So much pink!
My mouth pops open as they gather in the studio looking between us all.
“Looks like you’ve got a class to teach,” Erik winks before pressing a soft kiss against my mouth and taking a seat in the corner of the room. Anton and Ivan move aside too, chatting as I regard my new pupils. The girls are aged between about four and twelve, all of them have their hair pulled back in a tight bun. My heart squeezes at the excitement on their faces as they look about the studio and see themselves in the mirror.
“Well hello, Prima Ballerinas,” I sigh, my heart warming at their responding giggles, and shy smiles.
“Urgh, so many girls,” one of the boys says, drawing my attention their way. They both look uncertain and a little pissed-off actually. The younger of the two looks like he’s about to bolt out of the door. Both are wearing clothes that are entirely unsuitable for dancing. I make a mental note to buy some suitable dancewear for next time. If there is a next time given neither look like they particularly want to be here.
“Hey,” I say to them both. “Want to tell me your names?”
“I’m Sebastian, and this is George. We’re brothers,” the older of the two says rather proudly. He can’t be more than ten himself.
“Well, hello to you both. Thank you for joining my dance school.”
“Oh, our older sister made us. I ain’t no prissy dancer,” the younger boy, George, says.
“Is that so?” I ask smiling widely at him. I like his honesty. Behind me Erik chuckles, but all the girls in pink just glare at him. It’s quite amusing, actually. I’m pretty sure there’s more than a few prima ballerinas in this lot.
“Shit, sorry, Rose. He’s got a mouth on him that one.” Alicia walks in and cuffs George lightly around the head, giving me an apologetic smile as he scowls at her. “What did I say, Georgie? Don’t be rude!”
“These are your little brothers?” I ask, straightening. “I didn’t realise you looked after them.” “Yep, I’m sister and mum, and these are the responsibilities I was talking about a few weeks ago. Little sods have given me shit all morning. Thought they might enjoy a bit of discipline.” She pulls a face and I laugh.
“Well, you’re more than welcome at my ballet school,” I say to them graciously.
“So do you like it?” she asks, and I can tell by the look on her face that she isn’t just talking about the studio we’re standing in, but her artwork on the signage outside.
“I love it. You’re very talented,” I say, giving Alicia a hug.
“So I’ve been told,” she responds with a wink.
I roll my eyes and address my new students, paying particular attention to the two boys who look like they’d rather be rollicking in the freezing ocean than be here with me.
“Just give it a try. You never know, you might enjoy yourself,” I say to them with a gentle shrug of my shoulder.
Alicia mouths a thank you as she moves to sit beside Erik. This time there’s no sudden panic he’s going to attack her because of his past and fear of women. On the contrary, he’s able to talk with Alicia without breaking out in a sweat. How times have changed.
“So, class, thank you for coming. My name is Rose, and I’m your ballet teacher,” I say, addressing the group. There are several smiles, Sebastian is biting his lip with nerves and uncertainty and George is just plain scowling.
“George, what is it?” I ask.
“Dancing is for girls, I’m not a sissy. Laters!” he says to the room before twisting on his feet and walking straight into the arms of a young, tattooed man with long floppy blonde hair and a grin that hides a multitude of sins. Behind him another man leans against the doorframe. He’s tall with skin the colour of mocha and a large scar that runs from his left temple all the way to his chin. He catches my gaze and my mouth drops open at the blueness of his eyes as he regards me. They’re the colour of topaz and utterly enthralling. I smile and he nods his head sharply in acknowledgement, his gaze sliding over to Alicia. The look that passes between them is electric.
“Now, now, little troublemaker. Stop right there,” the blonde says.
“Oh, piss off Camden. You can’t tell me what to do!” he retorts puffing out his chest
“George!” Alicia shouts, her face turning pink with both embarrassment and lus
t as she looks at the man clutching hold of George, and the one standing just behind him like a sentinel at the door.
“What did I say to you, Georgie? Dancing is just like boxing; you need to be light on your feet and as strong as a lion. Ain’t that right, Ford?” the blonde says casting a look over his shoulder.
Ford looks at George, his bright blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “Camden’s right, but I have to say, there ain’t no better feeling than winning a bare knuckle fight. Tights just ain’t my bag.”
“Ford!” Alicia exclaims.
“Just speaking the truth.” He shrugs, giving her a wink, then heads back outside. All the little ballerinas seem to release a breath the moment he steps outside.
“If the truth be known, I wasn’t much of a fan of the tights,” Ivan smirks, crouching before George. “but if you become a principal dancer like I was, then you must have enough strength and stamina to perform the whole ballet. Some go on for hours and hours. I’m basically a ballet version of Mohammed Ali, and we all know he isn’t a sissy.”
George crosses his arms and glares at Ivan, unconvinced.
“Don’t believe me? Okay then,” Ivan says, pulling off his jacket, and kicking off his trainers and socks. For the next ten minutes Ivan shows George just what it means to be a male ballet dancer. The girls’ ooh and aah, and Sebastian’s eyes light up with delight. George still scowls, but by the time Ivan’s finished there’s a grudging respect in his eyes and a hell of a lot of love and adoration in mine.
“Now all of you grab a pair of ballet slippers. You too, Sebastian and George, and line up by the mirror, Miss Rose will be with you in a moment,” Ivan says, striding over to my side.
“You hired them then?” I ask, glancing at Camden who is chatting to Alicia and Erik on the other side of the studio.
“Turns out Alicia’s lads are some of the most hardworking men I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. A bit rough around the edges, sure, but good workers, nonetheless. I’m thinking of hiring them for some other small refurbs I’ve got coming up.”
“You are?” I look up into Ivan’s midnight blue eyes and grin.
“Yep. There’s a market down south for smaller refurbs. A lot of people are buying up land and empty barns and looking to convert them. That’s where Sonny and Eastern are now, scouting out some new projects.”
“You’re pretty incredible, you know that, right?”
“I’ve been informed of that fact a few times, yes,” he grins back, brushing his lips gently against mine. “Now, we have a class to teach.”
“We?” I question.
“I meant you. I’ll just give some pointers. Keep that little George in check,” he winks, striding over to the rabble of excited children.
Folding my arms across my chest I watch Ivan as he gathers the group of dancers, paying particular attention to the scowling George. Behind me Erik stands, then strides to the office at the back of the room disappearing for a moment. He reappears with his violin, gives me a gentle smile, then begins to play. The children’s mouths drop open as he wows them with his brilliance and the fast movements of his fingers as they slide over the strings drawing out sounds I imagine most of these children have never heard before.
“Bet you thought you’d never see the day these two asshats would be entertaining a bunch of kids,” Anton says, stepping up beside me, his sketchpad in hand.
“It is rather surprising, yes,” I agree, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with happiness.
Anton wraps his arm around my waist and hugs me to his side. “Mind if I draw, Rose?”
“Of course not, please do. I’ll need evidence that this actually happened,” I respond, tears welling as I watch enraptured as Ivan and Erik work their magic.
And that’s how, twice a month, Ivan joins me in my studio teaching ballet right alongside me whilst Erik plays the violin and Anton draws us all.
Taking one step at a time.
Epilogue
Several years later.
Stepping into the dark, I take up my position in the centre of the room. Curling up on the dancefloor, my hand is pressed against the stain of blood that still blooms there. My dress pools around me, the deep red of my skirt just like the blood spilt from Svetlana’s wrists all those years ago. My fingers slide over the surface as my heart drums a wild staccato beat for the woman who died here, bleeding out in pain and grief over the man I’ve sworn to love for the rest of my life.
This dance is as much for Svetlana as it is for the four of us; the single parts of one whole.
Without one another we’re simply lost individuals, cast adrift, misunderstood, lonely.
Together we are the sum of all those parts. Strong, dedicated, happy.
In the past few years we’ve grown closer and we’re stronger than we’ve ever been. I never, ever believed I could be this happy.
This in love.
But here we are, and I wouldn’t change a single moment of the path we took to get here.
Beyond the veil of darkness, Erik stands with his violin pressed between his chin and shoulder. As the first note lifts into the air, goosebumps scatter over my skin and I unfurl my body slowly like a rosebud blooming in the moonlit night. Stretching my hands above me, I stand onto my pointes then move with the music, letting it fill me up, letting it dictate what steps to take. Spinning and twirling, my red skirt billowing as I glide across the dancefloor, the length of red chiffon around my waist begins to unfurl, representing the layers of protection I’d built up around my heart. It spreads out across the floor, a trail of heartache and pain left in my wake. I stop moving, taking small steps on pointe as I wait for the man who started this journey…
Ivan.
He steps onto the dancefloor, the top half of his face covered in a mask made of black velvet as a pool of soft light illuminates him too. For a moment we just gaze at one another before he steps towards the discarded chiffon still connected to my waist and tugs gently. Spinning around on my toes, Ivan unravels the rest of the material, unveiling the red basque and knickers that I’m wearing, a thin see-through red skirt the only other item hiding my modesty.
I see his nostrils flare as he looks at me, the tension between us filling the space with an energy that would be overpowering were it not welcome.
I hold my arm out, reaching for him.
My breath catches as he strikes out with his left foot, pirouetting towards me. His black shirt rippling as he moves showing off the defined muscles of his chest and stomach. Beneath the mask his eyes are smiling.
When he reaches me, he takes my hand and bows deeply waiting for my instruction. Squeezing his fingers, my chest rising and falling in anticipation, Ivan rises, his hands slowly moving up my arms and across my bare shoulders. Stepping close so that his body is pressed against mine, Ivan leans down and brushes his lips across mine.
“I love you,” he murmurs, so quietly even I have trouble hearing the gentle caress of his words.
When the music picks up tempo, Ivan kisses the back of my hand, his chest heaving with the emotion and energy of the dance, then he walks off into the darkness only to be replaced by Erik as he strides towards me, playing the violin as he moves.
Erik.
Dark, talented, irresistible, courageous.
He plays for me now.
The man who fought his darkness and overcame it. The man who walked out of a glass cage for me, the girl who unravelled the fear inside his heart as much as he broke the walls surrounding hers.
Every time I hear him play, I understand another part of him, and every time he watches me dance, I reveal more of my soul. Neither one of us taking without giving in return.
The man with a lion’s heart and courage just as admirable.
And beyond Erik, encased in darkness is Anton.
Anton.
I feel him watching us now, just like he watched Ivan and I only moments before. A piece of my heart will forever belong to him and the darkness that he surrounds himself with. For us it has b
ecome a place of peace and tranquillity, a place where we come together in the quiet silence of our own beating hearts and breathless kisses. Where neither light nor colour penetrates. A place of peace.
But our love doesn’t exist separate from one another. The four of us have a love that is tangible, visceral. We have an insatiable longing that is quelled only by our mutual passion and friendship. What we have isn’t the kind of love many people can understand or even comprehend. It hasn’t been an easy path, but it has been ours. As the years passed, we’ve never once stopped striving for the kind of love and happiness that will continue to play long after our hearts cease to beat.
This is our story, this is our symphony and now, now it is yours.
THE END
Coming Soon
I’m the kid your parents warned you about…
Eighteen months in prison or three years at Oceanside Academy.
Reform school has met its match in me, even if it is full of young offenders. Thieves, graffiti writers, drug runners and other petty criminals reside within the walls, and I'm just like them.
But what they didn't tell me was that I'd be one of only a handful of girls in a hoard full of boys. It'll take more than just street smarts to keep my wits about me.
Everyone here has a chip on their shoulders, and I'm no different. Mine's one of the biggest, that's why they call me Asia because I have one as large as a continent.
Rules or not, these bad boys are about to discover I've earned my label for reason...
I'm the biggest misfit of them all.
Pre-order Delinquent #1 Academy of Misfits and meet Asia, aka Alicia, who had a brief cameo in Symphony!
Author’s Note
This series has been a real labour of love and I’m going to miss these characters a great deal. When I started writing Steps last August during my kids’ summer holiday, I never dreamed it would be as well received as it has been. I had an idea, followed by a dream and these four books are the result.