by Lynn Turner
“Sounds brutal. So what things is he saying?”
“I-what?”
“I just wonder how Sleep Orgasm Guy is able to say things without using his words. These things that have you not sleeping.”
“Will you stop calling him that?! I didn’t even want to…My body just does it all by itself.”
“Wait a minute, are you abstaining in defiance?”
It was quiet on Mina’s end, and Sophie snickered. “No wonder you’re so uptight. It’s not like he can see you, Mina…Now what things?”
“Stupid things, okay? Like calm down, petite, you can do this, petite, it’s okay petite. Petite this, petite that. Petite petite PETITE!”
“You’re right, he’s a monster.” Sophie audibly choked back another laugh. “And you like him.”
“WHAT?! Are you even listening to me?”
“Mina, partners touch us all the time—some of the lifts we do are probably illegal in certain countries.”
“Oui, I know this, but-”
“And his dance style is new to you, you need a lot of help.”
“Yes, but he’s such a…connard…and-”
“And he gives you sleep orgasms.”
Mina cursed.
“That’s what this is about,” Sophie insisted. “He’s touching you all day and he’s giving you sleep orgasms and you’re calling me, you horny little toad!”
“Sophie!”
“Admit it!”
“I-FINE. He’s making me crazy, okay? I’m not even sure I can do these things…It feels like my body is twisting into pretzels all day. And then he’s touching me, and I swear he’s trying to provoke me…”
Sophie’s snort-choke blew through the phone.
“I hope you sprain something from trying not to laugh at my misery,” Mina snapped.
“If it’s any consolation, I’m heartbroken for you. What happened?”
Mina groaned.
“Mina…”
“I got upset. I-might have lost my temper.”
“Mina!”
“I know.”
“He’s your teacher.”
“I know, okay? I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what got into me, but it can’t happen again.”
Sophie couldn’t contain her laughter now.
“I shouldn’t have called,” Mina moped. “I’m going to sleep.”
“I’ll come. Okay? Next week, I’ll come and stay with you. We’ll wear little raspberry berets, you know, like the Prince song? We’ll eat American fries and pretend to get lost, so we can seduce stupide unsuspecting men with our accents.”
Mina’s heart rate calmed at the idea. “You will?”
“Mmhmm, just do me a favor, okay?”
“What?”
“Get yourself off, get some sleep, and call me when you’re not insane.”
*
Zack felt great.
Breakfast was the same as always: over-easy eggs, turkey sausage, coffee, fresh-pressed orange juice—but the umami gods must have been smiling down on him because it tasted like Michelin greatness. His endorphins were through the roof after his morning workout, and he’d even caught Wilson, the scatting street performer he’d admired since he was a kid, doing a rock and roll cover on his guitar in the subway. The old man’s voice was pure, gritty soul, and he’d let go his guitar every so often to pat rhythmically against his thighs, chest, or an upturned bucket—a one-man show. Wilson had always been good luck. Every time Zack saw him, he had a good day.
“Good to see you, man.” Zack gripped Wilson’s hand briefly.
“Back from the left coast, I see.” Wilson gave a toothy grin. “I tol’ you you’d be back. The whole world is in New York City. Can’t get that nowhere else.”
“You never lie.” Zack tossed cash into the old man’s battered guitar case. “Whenever you’re ready to stop busking and make some real money for your brilliance, you know where to find me.”
“Yeeaaahhh, man,” Wilson intoned. “I know.”
Zack practically strutted up the subway steps to the contemporary class he was teaching two days a week. His cell vibrated just as he walked through the dance theater’s doors. Reading the caller ID, he smiled. “You ready, Coach?”
“I’m never not!” Alex said. “But this is your baby. I’m just here to feed it, burp it, and keep it from hurting itself.”
Zack chuckled. “You have no idea.”
“Hiccups already?”
“Little ones, but I expected them. Nerves. I think having you there today will help us out a lot.”
“Why is today significant?”
Zack was walking past a warm-up class that very moment and spotted his compact ball of wire finishing her stretches on the studio floor. She moved slowly and carefully, working each muscle to insure against injury. “I’m introducing some floor work today,” he said, watching through the door as Mina rose to take her place at the barre. “No one does floor work like you. We could use your expertise.”
“Well, I look forward to it.”
“Thanks, Coach. See you soon.”
Zack sensed the tension in the studio even from outside its doors. Wilhelmina Allende was a superstar ballerina, but an outsider. This company had its own stars, and even the instructor seemed wary, waiting to see if the “Jewel of the Palais Garnier” was a diva, or if she’d respect the hierarchy of a company to which she did not belong.
To everyone’s obvious surprise, including his own, Mina didn’t take a place in the center. Instead, she smiled graciously and moved to the end of line, where she could better observe. And learn. The instructor’s expression softened in approval.
You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, petite?
He was quickly losing count of her many facets, and as he continued to his own class, he decided he liked that about her. He liked that a lot.
*
Second Rehearsal…3 Weeks Before the Tonys…7:45 pm
Zackary Coen was slinging Mina into the air…and then down between his legs…up and down, up and down…and her stomach dropped every time. She was far too stiff, she knew it, but she couldn’t help it.
“Stop!” Alex barked, and they froze at his command.
Shooting her hands out in front of her, she gripped Zack’s thighs for dear life, her head mere centimeters from the floor.
Alex sucked his teeth. “Mina, my dear, I’m having visions of your lovely head smashing like a melon on the studio floor.”
“I’m not working up a sweat for nothing,” Zack gritted. The room blurred as he twirled her at the waist in a mid-air cartwheel to set her upright again. “Your death grip wasn’t necessary.”
She glared at him over her shoulder, and he retaliated by holding her there for a second, letting her dangle a bit for good measure before setting her back on her feet. Alex moved between them, she suspected, to separate them like they were quarreling toddlers, forcing their attention to their coach.
“Your lines are gorgeous, Mina.” He used the lightest touch of his fingers at each of her arms to nudge them into an arc above her head. “Your extension goes to the tips of your fingers and toes. But in this piece, when the two of you are together…” Stepping aside, he signaled for them to get back into position. Zack immediately took Alex’s place behind her, carefully leaving space for her to extend her leg behind her. “…it’s not about the line, but the shape.”
At Alex’s cue, Zack plucked her from the floor by her waist and lifted her to his shoulders.
“There, now reach, Mina,” Alex said.
Her back arched, and her abs pulled taut as a wire, her body contorting until the leg she’d lifted behind her formed a near-perfect circle with her arms.
“And five…six…seven…now bring her down, Zack—slowly this time…”
Zack did as instructed, but her stomach dropped again, and her arms flew out in an instinctive defense against the floor.
“Hold.” Alex stepped forward.
Zack hugged her in sixty-nine, her
head between his legs, their torsos bent over the floor. Her muscles ached with tension, but thankfully Alex moved quickly to correct her arms, drawing them behind her.
“Your hands should be grabbing that ankle.” Alex stepped back again, nodding when Mina adjusted. “And up again.”
Zack swept her back onto his shoulders and repeated the motion, but her arms went right back to the floor again.
Merde.
“Stop.” Alex folded his arms across his chest, waiting as Zack set her on her feet again.
Struggling to catch her breath, fresh sweat collecting on her skin and seeping through her clothes, she looked anywhere but at Zack.
“There is a disconnect.” Alex cut his eyes between them. “Consequently, this move looks as dangerous as it is. It should look daring, but effortless. Otherwise, its impact is lost. Mina, when you bring your arms down like that, your body language screams distrust. If you don’t trust him to hold you, the audience won’t either.”
Zack scoffed. “Oh, she trusts me.”
Mina looked at him in disbelief.
“You knew who I was when we met, and the kind of work that I do,” he continued. “You wouldn’t have signed on for this if I’d spent my career dropping my partners. I could keep tossing you in the air and catching you for two more hours and you would still be afraid. Because you don’t trust yourself.”
Her body went stiff and her gaze shot back up to his. The same uncanny familiarity that had come over her the night they’d met returned, like a breath blowing through her. It had been irrational at the time—absolutely insane—to think it could have been Étienne there with her outside the opera house. His presence had felt so strong.
It had been there when she and Zack danced for Alex’s class. Now here it was again. His tone was eerily similar, too. Almost painfully direct, but with a softness in its intent that reminded her of Étienne. And Dieu, those words. The second they left Zack’s mouth, a fourteen-year-old memory flooded her brain…the first time she’d met Étienne Lemaire:
“The barre is for balance, Mina. It’s not life support,” Madame said brusquely. “Start on both legs…You must get your legs higher.”
Madame snatched Mina’s leg up higher, and Mina tried not to wince. She tried not to react at all, which would have been insolent. But no matter how hard she tried, Mina couldn’t seem to please her.
“Stop leaning back, Mina…Why are your arms so perky? What is that, gymnastics? You’re not taking this seriously.”
Mina’s face burned with humiliation. She wanted to cry. This was Third Section, after all, where true rivalry was born, where the rivalry would continue each year, as only two-to-four of the best moved up. It was a machine that crushed the weak, and right now, Mina felt very much like a weak link.
“You have to trust yourself,” a boy’s voice came from behind her, his breath tickling her neck. But she did not dare turn around. Whoever he was, he risked his own neck for talking during class, even in his hushed tone. “You made it to this lovely little hell, didn’t you, you witch?” he teased. “So…you can do anything.”
The memory dissipated, replaced by two very real bemused expressions.
“Do you need to take five?” Alex asked.
Merde, he thinks I’m insane.
“Non, I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just…remembering something.”
Zack stared at her, obviously wondering what sort of memory made someone disappear from the planet for several seconds.
“I suggest we try some trust-building exercises.” Alex gave Zack a strange look.
“That’s not necessary,” Mina quickly objected. “Really, I can go again.”
“No, he’s right,” Zack said. “The lifts you’re used to aren’t this risky. We have to get you comfortable before we can move on.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked skeptically, crossing her arms over her chest. “Trust falls?”
Alex cleared his throat, sounding suspiciously like he was stifling laughter. “Oh, my dear, you’re about to be introduced to the Coen method of breaking in new dancers.” He lifted his hands. “Godspeed.”
Zack’s eyes locked on Mina’s confused ones. “I’m gonna throw you.”
“Throw me what?”
Something was obviously clawing at Alex’s throat, because the man was coughing uncontrollably now. Mina frowned at him, then at Zack. His obnoxious grin was all she needed to finally comprehend what he’d said.
“You can’t be serious!” she gasped, stepping back instinctively.
“You’ll be fine.” He spoke carefully, stepping toward her. He stalked her like that until they’d reached the far end of the space. He was a foot in front of her. There was nowhere left for her to run. Casting a pointed look at her feet, he grinned into her face. “I’m sure those…foot underwear you’re wearing will perform just fine.”
“You can’t intimidate me into this!” she spat, deliberately looking past him at Alex. “Per your suggestion, I train my upper body every morning. I see a physical therapist every afternoon. So, you see, this is really not necessary.”
“Those are for pussies, petite,” Zack whispered, insulting her protective footwear again. “It’s like cheating…in little baby toe thongs.”
He was baiting her, manipulating her so she’d give him what he wanted. Fine. Let him. If she died from the ordeal, she’d haunt him the rest of his arrogant days. Straightening her spine, her eyes blew flames into his. “Throw me.”
“Now, remember,” Alex said. “In classical ballet, we strive to be light and airy, but in parts of this piece, we will deliberately use gravity to our advantage.”
Zack’s fingers flexed at Mina’s sides in silent encouragement, but the increased pressure only heightened her awareness of him and she stiffened again.
“Relax,” he said softly.
She’d been so preoccupied with trying to stay alive during their lifts earlier that his proximity hadn’t distracted her overmuch, but now her nerve endings buzzed with its effect…and with the urge to release her tongue from her teeth and lash him with it.
“Once you’re in the air,” Alex was saying, “do what feels natural. Form any shape you like. Your goal is simply to land…” He angled his head. “Or fall, tastefully. And…go.”
She took a deep breath.
“On three,” Zack said. “One…two…”
He flung her into the air with a powerful lift-shove, propelling her about a quarter of the way across the studio. It was such a shock, the only thing that crossed her mind was the fact that he’d tricked her, the connard. And then she was falling…way too fast.
“Merde!” she cried out angrily, her right side taking most of the impact.
Alex brought his hand to his mouth, clearly questioning the wisdom of this activity for the first time. Mina imagined smoke coming from her nostrils. She could take a sip of kerosene and incinerate Zack with a well-aimed huff. He lifted a brow at her in challenge.
“Again,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Eyes open, Mina.” Alex waited for them to get into position again. “There is no fear of the unexpected. The floor is where you begin, and it is where you will end. You decide how.”
She nodded, and Zack threw her again. This time, her butt cushioned her fall.
“Don’t worry about momentum, Mina. He’s giving you that. You just move. Again.”
There was hardly any time to think before Zack tossed her again. So, she followed her instincts, bending her body into a bow pointing left, stretching her sore right side. Her arms were lifted above her head, her hands grabbing her wrists, her legs stretched into a perfect line all the way to the tips of her toes. Landing on her feet this time, she couldn’t hide her triumphant smile.
“Yes!” Alex cried. “Stunning lines but relax more. You don’t need to point those toes.”
“Better,” Zack murmured in her ear with pride. “But this time, think less, okay?”
“Sure, I’ll
just beat my chest and yell like a cave ma-ooh!”
She was in the air again before she could finish her thought. Half her time was wasted in shock, so all she could manage before a less-than-graceful landing was a quick split.
“Don’t stand there preening, Zack,” Alex said. “And don’t just chuck her like a used cigarette. I want her to fly.”
So, she did. Over, and over, and over, and over again.
“Okay, petite,” Zack said as she turned her back to him for the dozenth time. They were both sweaty and breathing like marathon runners. “Let’s kick this up a notch.”
Bending into a lunge, he used his legs like springs for more momentum into the launch. That’s exactly what she felt like, a little rocket being sent straight up into the atmosphere. She was grateful she’d breathed into it this time, because all her energy was focused on her position as soon as she was in the air.
The height made her breathless. She couldn’t worry about her landing and choreograph a single, mid-air movement at the same time. It was impossible. In a millisecond, her body responded to her mind’s command, and she was spinning. One…two complete turns with her arms hugged close in front of her. Her legs bent for the landing and her arms whipped out, her palms up, her head back.
It was silent when she stood upright again. Her nostrils worked overtime to accommodate her breaths, and she licked her moisture-deprived lips. Alex was frozen in disbelief, almost like a caricature. When she looked at Zack, she knew she’d nailed it, and heat filled her face with her smile.
“Did you just…was that a double tour?” he asked, hoarse with shock.
“What?” She was still catching her breath. “You said, ‘kick it up,’ oui?”
Zack shook his head, his mouth still slack as he and Alex stared at each other.
Alex found his voice first. “Take five. I think we’re ready for some floor work.”
After four more repetitions of the lift, Zack felt things were finally starting to take shape. The choreography looked daring and effortless. Alex’s face muscles were doing a poor job of hiding his victory celebration. It was a small victory, though. They still had work to do.
“Okay,” said Alex. “Now that it’s technically sound, let’s dress it up.”