He stared at her, as if trying to determine her species. “Natalie Frederico?” He glanced up at the number above the door. “Do I have the right…”
“I’m Natalie. And you are?”
“Roger Eklund. Pleased to meet you.”
She turned her head to the side and took a moment to roll the familiar name around in her foggy-from-sleep brain. “As in the dancer?”
“I’m a choreographer now, and was hoping we could talk. I saw your show last night. Can I come in?”
“Um…” Natalie glanced behind her at the disheveled apartment that probably mirrored her own appearance. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her. Behind her, a variety of dance shoes and costume pieces littered the floor, and her bed stood unmade from the night before. Morgan must have headed into work at the coffee shop without Natalie hearing her leave. But this was an interesting turn of events, and her curiosity was piqued. Roger Eklund was the real deal, a well-known ballet dancer from the eighties and now a resident choreographer at New York City Ballet, if she remembered correctly. She’d seen recordings of his work and had always been impressed. She eyed him now, curious as to what he’d want with her. “Can we maybe meet somewhere? There’s a café at the end of the block. I could get changed first.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Half an hour?”
“I can do half an hour. See you there.”
Pulling her hair into a ponytail, Natalie selected a pair of boyfriend jeans and a black T-shirt advertising the Ramones. Some mascara and lip gloss later and she was off to meet Roger and figure out what the deal was. She found him in the corner booth of the sleepy little café that smelled scrumptiously of waffles and bacon.
“I ordered you some coffee,” he said as she slid into her side of the booth. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Thanks. It’s perfect.”
“I didn’t know what you take in it, but I’m sure they can bring whatever you like.”
“I take it black,” she said, and eyed him. “So what’s this all about?”
“I saw your show last night.”
“Right. You mentioned that.” She grinned until the knowledge that the show was now closed hit and pulled the smile from her face. “You’re a guy who knows his stuff. I’ve always admired your work. What did you think?”
“I thought it was indulgent and had too much going on.”
Natalie took a moment and sipped her coffee, the criticism rolling off her back. “Well, everyone’s entitled to their opinion. Yet despite those issues, you’re still here this morning, meeting with me. So, what gives?” In the back of her mind, Natalie couldn’t resist hoping he’d come to her because he was interested in investing in the show. Maybe there was a chance to transfer to another venue, and if this guy had the funds to do it, well, she was all ears.
“We’ve met before,” Roger said. “Do you remember?”
Natalie nodded. “I do, but I’m surprised to hear you remember. It was back when I was enrolled at the School of American Ballet, right? You taught a couple of master classes. Everyone was in awe.”
He ignored the compliment. “You were good back then. You stood out as a prodigy, a word I don’t often use.”
“You mean before I up and quit?” SAB had been a suffocating institution, and after just eight months in New York, she’d dropped out and headed home to California, where she could relax and be a human again. Dance the way she wanted to, sans all the rules.
“Before you quit, yes. I was in town earlier this week, doing some scouting when I saw your name on a flyer and memory struck. I thought I’d drop in on the show.”
“Just so you could look me up later and criticize it?” But she said it with a smile, hoping he knew she was only ribbing him.
“The show was creative, but you were the standout yet again.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you to say, but we’re an ensemble.”
“The ensemble was shit. You were the only draw.”
“Okay.” She drew the word out, not knowing exactly where to go with the backhanded compliment. The waitress delivered a basket of toast, which gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. “So you’re not here to talk about the show, then.”
“I’m not, no. I want you to come to New York.” He poured milk into his coffee as if what he said were the most casual thing in the world.
“I’ve already seen the sights, but thank you.”
“I’m talking about the New York City Ballet. I think you’d make an interesting addition to the company.”
Whoa. Okay, she took a moment with that one. “I gave up ballet years ago.”
“No, you didn’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “It was all over your show last night, just mixed in with a lot of other unnecessary style and media. But quite frankly, that’s what has me interested. That style. The risk taking.”
“Let me get this straight. You want to offer me a contract with City Ballet? What would Bill Bradshaw have to say about that?”
“Bill has given me license to bring in a choice few new dancers via unconventional means.” What he meant was that it was rare for City Ballet to hire from outside the School of American Ballet, and she definitely didn’t graduate from SAB.
She stared at him, still dumbfounded at the whole series of events. “I’m honored, truly. But it’s not going to happen. Classical ballet, again? Tried it. Wasn’t my scene.”
“And you have so many other amazing opportunities that are your scene?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but what could she say? That she planned to pore over the want ads that very morning? See if craigslist might have anything interesting? The truth was she’d be waiting tables by next Tuesday, or worse, schlepping it in retail. She imagined herself in khaki pants and a red Target polo and cringed.
“Tell me why you want me, because I don’t see what I can offer you.”
“We’re looking to revamp. Bring in some new blood, instill an edgier vibe at City Ballet with our fall opener, and that’s you.”
“So, City Ballet with a side of rebellion?”
He sipped his coffee and smiled. “Something like that.”
She sighed, still not believing that she was even considering this. “If I did take you up on your offer, when would I have to be there?”
“Yesterday. The company reconvenes in September. That gives us enough time to work together for some long and hard weeks. Get you back in shape for what’s ahead.”
She shook her head. “I’d have to find a place to live, figure out the logistics.”
“The company can help with that.”
“Am I seriously entertaining this idea?” she said to the table.
Roger grinned and sat back against the booth. “It seems that you are.”
*
“The New York City Ballet!” Morgan yelled. Her blond hair was streaked pink this week, and she clutched two bags of Chinese take-out she’d yet to set on the table.
“I know, right?” Natalie said, shaking her head in mystification. “It’s kinda out of nowhere, but when I think about it, I don’t know what else to do. It’s either ballet in New York or I’m the next counter girl at Hank’s Dry Cleaning.”
“Yeah, Hank’s an asshole,” Morgan supplied.
“And more than a little handsy.”
Morgan nodded, taking it all in. “It’s an awesome opportunity for you, babe.”
“It is. And, at least this way, I’ll be dancing. Plus, the guy, Roger, gave me zero time to think it over.” She reached for the stack of shirts on her dresser and tossed them into her suitcase. She studied her pointe shoes and wondered if it was best to just leave them. City Ballet provided shoes for all of its dancers probably on a daily basis, and hers wouldn’t fit the bill anyway.
“New York City Ballet. That’s a big deal.”
Natalie straightened. “It is. I guess.”
“You’re downplaying. You always do that. You’re gonna be famous and on billboards and dancing in front of the prim and proper. I have a
sudden urge to make out with you.”
Natalie moved to her, smiling. “I doubt there’ll be fame involved. I mean, how many ballet dancers can you name? But it is pretty cool. Thousands of dancers shoot for City Ballet each year. Most never make it into SAB, and of those that do attend and graduate, only a handful are offered apprenticeships with the company.”
“And that’s you now? A fancy apprentice?” Morgan’s hands were under her shirt, caressing the bare skin at her back in a way that always made her relax.
Natalie shook her head. “That’s the really crazy part. The company is divided into ranks. Apprentices on bottom, then the corps de ballet, who are the background dancers, followed by soloists, and then on top, the crème de la crème, are the principal dancers. Morgan, they’re bringing me in as a soloist.”
“You’re serious right now?” Morgan stole a kiss. And then another.
Natalie nodded. “That’s why it has to be so quick. Roger Eklund is the resident choreographer and he wants me in New York a few weeks before rehearsals start to get my technique in shape for his new ballet.”
“You don’t seem happy,” Morgan pointed out.
“It’s just that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” She walked back to her bed and sat down. “It’s nice to know they want me, but this is not exactly what I would have picked out for myself. It’s ballet. And not the cool kind.”
“Well, you’re going to make it cool. It’s what you do and probably why they want you.” Morgan paused and took a seat on the bed next to Natalie. “So you’re off to fancy New York and I’ll be here, waiting tables.”
“You could come with me,” Natalie offered. It would be a big step for them, but why the hell not? Natalie met her eyes and touched her cheek. Morgan was a sweet girl and had always been her number one fan and biggest supporter. They had a lot of fun together, and she hated to see that end. But from the apologetic look on Morgan’s face, her moving to New York didn’t seem to be an option.
“I don’t know that I can just uproot my life right now, Nat. I love LA. All my friends are here.”
“I understand,” Natalie said through the pang in her chest.
“So what does this mean for us?” Morgan asked. “Because we’re good together, you and me.”
Just apparently not good enough for you to move. “Nothing has to change. I’ll come home when I can. You’ll visit me in New York. We’ll take in the city together. It will be a time.” Morgan’s lips were on hers before she could take her next breath, and the momentum of the kiss drove her backward until they fell onto the bed in jumble of laughter and limbs.
“We’re gonna be fine,” Morgan told her, slipping her hands back under the hem of Natalie’s top. “And I’m now dating a full-fledged ballerina. How hot is that?”
Natalie smiled. “Why don’t you show me?”
Chapter Three
Ana sat in the corner of the dance studio sewing her pointe shoes the first day back from the summer break, which always felt a bit like the first day of school. Extra energy. New faces. Hopeful smiles for what was to come. Deciding not to concentrate on any of that, she instead focused on sewing her shoes onto her feet, taking pride in the fact that the task, which had once taken her forty-five minutes, now took her five. Each dancer had a unique preference when it came to their pointe shoes, and Ana was no different. She preferred an elastic drawstring to a canvas one, and a strong shank with a little extra glue in the box for stability. Putting away her needle, she stood, stepping up on the box to break the shank in a little each way. Not too stiff, but still sturdy. Excellent.
“Congratulations, Ana,” Audrey Wilder said as she passed behind Ana in the mirror. Audrey had just been promoted to soloist herself, snatching up Ana’s vacated spot. Audrey’s had been one of the celebratory voices she’d heard in the hall that day.
“And to you,” Ana said, and smiled briefly. She watched as Audrey, always bubbly, joined her group of friends. They sewed their own shoes in a small circle, chatting as they worked, catching up on anything juicy that might have transpired since the close of last season. Ana looked on, as always. She wasn’t a part of that group, but then again, that was by design. She could idealize having a social life all she wanted, but there was only so much time in a day.
“Well, if it isn’t the newest principal,” Jason Morales said, and pulled her into a bear hug. Jason was one person she was especially happy to lay eyes on. They were often paired together for any given pas de deux. He was easily her closest friend in the company, and she was lucky to partner with him. With Jason, she could always trust she was in good hands. They danced seamlessly together, and perhaps that trust was the reason she let her guard down a bit with him. Jason understood her in a way most people didn’t.
“You might have to put up with me a little more now,” she told him, making reference to the fact that they were likely to be paired even more frequently as a result of her promotion.
“More so if you’re cast as Mira to my Titus.” He slid her a knowing look, and she felt a twist of nervous energy in her stomach at the prospect of winning the role she’d been fantasizing about for months now.
“I’m afraid to even think about it,” she confessed to him. “Maybe it won’t happen.”
He leaned in close to her ear and lowered his voice. “It’s our season, Mik. Trust me.”
“Don’t jinx it.” Of the roles in the upcoming fall season, she wanted Mira most, the lead in Aftermath, a never-before-performed ballet choreographed by their own Roger Eklund. Mira was a greedy, contemptuous woman, but by the end of the ballet, she’d been changed and reformed by her love for Titus, who fought both heaven and hell to be with her. The piece was modern in its telling, and thereby different from the ballets she was normally cast in.
“Please. It’s as good as done. The part was practically written for you.” He winked at her, and she smiled, bolstered by his confidence in her ability.
“Thanks, Jase.”
“Just make sure I look good up there. Rippling muscles should be your focus. Let them draw you into me. People will love it.” He bounced his eyebrows and biceps, pulling a laugh from Ana. After years working alongside each other, she understood his humor, as testosterone driven as it could sometimes be.
Around them dancers chatted amiably as they prepared for the day of dance ahead. New apprentices would spend most of the day with the corps de ballet learning the ropes. But for her, today was a new beginning. As principal now, she’d spend time with the choreographers preparing for the season ahead. This was her chance to wow Roger with the work she’d done over the break. Her extensions had never been longer, her form never more precise, and her endurance was at an all-time high. God, she hoped he’d notice.
Marjorie, one of the instructors, led class that day and walked the company through a series of barre exercises. “Lift your chest,” she said to a new apprentice as she moved through the group. “Toe out,” she said in correction to a member of the corps. For Ana, the exercises were simple, a way to prepare her muscles for what was ahead. Just as they moved into the second repetition, the door opened and a girl with a dance bag rushed in. On cue, every head in the room swiveled in the direction of the new arrival.
“I overslept,” the girl whispered loudly to Roger, who sat along the sidewall. He nodded curtly and refocused on the class, as did the rest of the dancers. But Ana found her attention captured. The girl went about putting herself into a pair of shoes, taking nearly ten minutes to do so. Ana was embarrassed for her, if anything. The first day as an apprentice, a coveted position, and she showed up late? Not the best first impression, and in front of the whole company no less.
The girl hurried into position at a barre along the wall and joined the warm-up. But something about her snagged Ana’s attention. She was familiar in a way, though Ana couldn’t pinpoint just how. As they worked, she continued to steal glances at the new dancer, who had her brown hair with noticeable blond highlights pulled back into a ponytail.
She was maybe five foot five, not especially tall for a dancer, but from what Ana could tell, her technique was strong for an apprentice. Her turnout was impeccable, and her control quite measured and precise. Plus, she was beautiful. The type of girl people noticed in a crowd. Whoever she was, she’d probably do well here, if she could just work on discipline.
When they broke for lunch, she saw the new girl talking to Roger, which was unfortunate, as she was hoping to have a discussion with him herself. In fact, she’d been gearing up for it all morning. He’d be integral in casting the season along with Bill. She waited patiently for her turn, but when the conversation concluded, Roger headed off in the opposite direction just as Ana raised her hand and opened her mouth in an attempt to snag a moment. “Damn it,” she said under her breath.
“Oh, hey,” the girl said, turning to her and then pointing after Roger. “Were you waiting to talk to him? Totally sorry.”
“Not a big deal.” A pause. She had green eyes, the new girl. Bright green eyes, and she didn’t seem as young as Natalie had first concluded.
“So, I’m Natalie. My first day.”
Natalie. Suddenly a vague memory sparked. “Wait. Were we by chance in class together at SAB?”
“Maybe for a few months. I wasn’t there long. What’s your name?” She had a very laid-back vibe, different than most of the dancers here. And those big green eyes were incredibly expressive.
“Anastasia Mikhelson. Ana.”
Recognition flared and Natalie pointed at her. “Yep. That’s right. Klaus Mikhelson’s daughter.”
“The one and only,” Ana said flatly, once again feeling pigeonholed.
“We were in class together. You were the star pupil who used to shoot me behave looks whenever I got bored and made cracks about tutus, which we can all admit are entirely worthy of ridicule based on name alone.”
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