Pas de Deux

by M. J. Duncan

  “The boards?”

  “Rehearsal schedules,” Addison explained as she leaned in closer to study one of the pages. After a minute, she nodded to herself and turned to Mallory with a smile. “Okay. No changes for tomorrow,” she shared as she looped a hand around Mallory’s bicep and turned toward the lifts.

  “What would cause a change?” Mallory asked as she happily allowed Addison to lead.

  “This early in the season, when the schedule is still months from changing, usually it’s an injury that prompts a reshuffling of assignments. But then if Nina or one of the other instructors aren’t happy with how rehearsals for a show are going, they’ll change things up too.” Addison let go of Mallory’s arm to call the elevator. The doors opened immediately, and she shook her head as she continued, “There are no set rules for any of this—it all just comes down to making sure we’re prepared to go on stage.”

  “That makes sense,” Mallory murmured as she moved to the back of the car and turned to lean against the wall.

  Addison glanced at her as she pressed the button for the second floor. “So, Serena said they gave you Regina’s dressing room?”

  Mallory shrugged. “She just said that the dancer it belonged to was out for the season with an injury.”

  “Yeah.” Addison grimaced and crossed her fingers. “Here’s to hoping.” She shook her head at the questioning look Mallory gave her. “Hip. Her doctor capped the joint with titanium instead of doing a full replacement, but it’s still too early to tell if it’s something she’ll be able to come back from.”

  “Oh…”

  “Yeah. Ballet’s brutal like that.” The elevator stopped at the second floor, and Addison held an arm over the gap in a clear motion for Mallory to go first. Her stomach growled loudly just as Mallory passed, and she laughed as she stepped out of the lift. “Apparently I need food. How about you? You have time to maybe go grab a bite? It’d give us a chance to get to know each other a little better since we’ll be working together so much…”

  Mallory pulled her phone from her bag to check the time, and pursed her lips as she considered the offer. This was the first ten-plus hour day of what would be months of working herself to the bone, and she knew she should beg off so she could go home and get some sleep, but she couldn’t resist the hopeful glimmer in Addison’s eyes. “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

  “There’s a nice little place just over in Neal’s Yard that I like. It’s only like a five-minute walk from here so it wouldn’t put you too far from the underground.”

  Mallory smiled. “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Yeah?”

  Mallory laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” Addison took a deep breath and waved at the door on her right. “This is me, by the way. Would you want to meet down by the stage door? I just need to grab a quick shower before we head out, but I swear I’ll be downstairs in fifteen minutes, tops. Did Serena show you where the showers and stuff are if you need them?”

  “She did. And feel free to take your time. I didn’t work up much of a sweat, so I think I’ll just change, but I don’t mind waiting. There’s no reason for you to rush on my account.”

  “That’s sweet of you, but I was raised better than to keep a pretty girl waiting,” Addison replied with a smile and a little wink as she unlocked the door to her dressing room and shoved it open. “I’ll be down in a jiff—promise,” she added as she ducked inside.

  Too surprised by the flirty little comment to formulate a coherent response, Mallory simply nodded at Addison’s back as the young dancer disappeared into her dressing room. The slamming of Addison’s door snapped her back to her senses, and she blinked twice as she shook her head and turned toward her own dressing room.

  She was too brain-fried to even begin trying to make sense of what had undoubtedly been a simple bit of playful banter.

  A boyish-looking man in a daring pink and purple paisley waistcoat smiled and nodded in greeting when she made her way down to the stage door area to wait for Addison. She motioned toward the small sofa as she told him, “I’m just going to wait here for Addison.”

  “Of course. I’m Josh, by the way. Are you new?”

  “In a way? I’m not a dancer,” Mallory explained as she set her bag on the sofa. “I’m just collaborating on a project with Nina.”

  “Yvette told me about that. And that would totally explain the violin case. Was today your first rehearsal?” When Mallory nodded, he asked, “How’d it go?”

  “It went perfectly,” Addison answered as she swept into the waiting area. Her wet hair was tucked behind her ears, and she had changed into a pair of jeans that were so faded they were practically white and nearly worn-through at the knees and a blue hoodie that had BLAKE emblazoned across the chest in black and white letters. Between the jeans and hoodie and the fluorescent trainers on her feet, she looked like she belonged on a university campus somewhere, and Mallory was struck once again by their gaping age-difference.

  There was no way she would ever be confused for a student.

  “Well, with you on the case, why wouldn’t it?” Josh replied with a smirk. “You ladies done for the day?”

  “We are. And we are going to dinner, so you enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts, Josh-my-boy,” Addison quipped as she looped a hand around Mallory’s arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I will,” he assured her with a grin as he brandished his phone. “I just started the fifth season of Person of Interest.”

  “Dude, you’re gonna love it,” Addison enthused. “Hit me up tomorrow and we’ll geek out properly over it, okay?”

  “Deal.” He waved his phone toward the door. “Now, get out of here while you can. Enjoy your dinner.”

  “Thanks, we will,” Addison replied with a wink as she tugged at Mallory’s arm. Her hand fell away once they had hit the pavement outside the stage door, and she adjusted her kit bag so the shoulder strap cut across her chest.

  “So, what’s Blake?” Mallory asked as they wove their way through a throng of tourists outside Higher Ground. She peered through the glass to see if she could see Lena, but the crowd at the counter was so thick that she could see nothing but the customers’ backs.

  “A small, private university in New Hampshire. My baby brother decided to do his Christmas shopping in the student bookstore last year, so the whole family got kitted out with Blake gear.”

  “How many siblings do you have?”

  “Too many,” Addison chuckled. She shook her head and elaborated, “I’m the fourth of five, and the only girl.”

  “Wow.”

  “It certainly kept things interesting growing up,” Addison agreed. “How about you?”

  “None for me.” Mallory combed a hand through her hair and shrugged. Honestly, having gone off to boarding school as young as she did, she didn’t feel as if she had missed out on anything by not having siblings. If anything, the quiet that awaited her at home when she returned for holidays was a blessed relief. “Are you the only ex-pat in your family?”

  Addison laughed. “I’d hardly call myself an ex-pat, but yes. I mean, Asher’s up in New Hampshire for school, but Andrew, Aaron, Austin, and their families all live near my parents.”

  “That’s a lot of A-names.”

  “It is. Andrew was named after our grandfather, but as the story goes, he apparently never napped—he would randomly pass out places, but he never took a proper nap—so by the time my mom was pregnant with Aaron she said they were too exhausted to get past the A section in the baby name book. And then it just became a thing, basically.”

  Mallory smiled. “Will you move back to the States when you’re done dancing?”

  “Who knows.” Addison shrugged. “I’m not going to tempt the Fates by planning too far ahead. And, honestly, I’ve been on my own for so long that I think moving back to Georgia and being around my family all the time would be too stifling.”

  Mallory nodded. “That’s understandable
. Not that my parents are very demanding of my time or anything now that I’m so close again, but there is something to the whole feeling like you’ve got your own space thing.”

  “Exactly.” Addison shoved her hands into her pockets as they turned to make their way through the narrow gap in storefronts to head into Neal’s Yard. Once they had made their way into the colorful central courtyard, she waved a hand toward a restaurant storefront with painted dark green window frames and a sign above the door that read ‘Sprout.’ “Here we are,” she said as she pulled the door open and ushered Mallory inside.

  The restaurant was more of a cafe, with small square tables spread in no discernible pattern throughout the space and a counter at the far end beneath a chalkboard menu that suggested one was to order first before finding a seat, and the moment the door closed behind them, a chorus of voices called out, “Addy!”

  Addison shot an embarrassed look her way as she and waved at the guys behind the counter.

  “Come here often, do you?” Mallory couldn’t resist teasing.

  “Maybe once or twice a week,” Addison admitted with a wry smile. “My place is just up the way, there”—she waved toward the colorful blue and yellow buildings visible through the cafe’s windows—“so when I’m too worn out from rehearsals to worry about cooking, I’ll stop by on my way home.”

  Mallory arched a brow in surprise. Given what Devereaux had said while presenting her contract, she wouldn’t have expected a dancer to be able to afford a place in the heart of the city like this. It would be impossibly rude to ask about it, however, so instead she offered, “There’s a Thai place between the underground station and my flat that I’ll stop at on those kinds of nights.” She huffed a laugh and rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing them a lot more often, too, given how today went.”

  “Tired?”

  Mallory hummed and nodded. “But I’m glad I agreed to take on the project.”

  Addison’s eyes softened with her smile as she leaned in and whispered, “Me too.”

  Mallory sighed as she looked around the elegantly dressed crowd milling about Sky Pod—the ultra-exclusive event space at the top of a towering glass skyscraper in the heart of downtown London—and wished, not for the first time, that she was playing with the small chamber group that was providing the ambient music for the evening instead of being forced to mingle with the crowd. She had never been a fan of glad-hand events such as this, but her attendance was non-negotiable given her position in the symphony. The fact that this was the LSO’s largest fundraising event of the winter season, of course, only added to the importance of her presence.

  Usually, she would be able to put on a smile and engage in meaningless small-talk with donors who possessed far less musical knowledge than they believed, but after two weeks of LSO and Evolution rehearsals, never mind meetings, private practice time, and the hours upon hours that were spent continuing to learn new music for the ballet, the task was even more arduous than usual. She was physically and mentally drained. Her feet, shoulders, and upper back ached almost constantly, and she was starting to get used to going about her day as if in a fog—trusting her body to move with minimal direction from her brain, which was too preoccupied with notes and bars and steps to focus on anything else.

  But for as worn-down as she was from her grueling schedule, she was also energized by it, too.

  Never in her life had she been pushed so hard so quickly, and she genuinely enjoyed the challenge Evolution provided. She still struggled to accept Nina and Toby’s criticisms and critiques gracefully, but she was becoming more adept at it. Perhaps it was because of the way Addison would smile encouragingly at her whenever their individual or combined efforts were found lacking, or maybe it was simply a case of her becoming numb to hearing that she had, once again, messed up, but whatever the reason, she left the studio every night tired and sore but overall pleased with the progress they were making.

  Honestly, it was more than a little shocking how quickly they were finding their groove and bringing life and sound and movement to the choreography that had previously only existed in Devereaux’s mind.

  “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to,” Will drawled as he sidled up next to her. He snagged two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing server and held one out to her. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.”

  Mallory nodded and tapped the rim of her glass against his. “Cheers, mate,” she murmured as she lifted the glass to her lips.

  “So who are you hiding from over here in the corner?” Will asked as he turned to lean against the railing so they were shoulder-to-shoulder.

  “Does it have to be just one person?” Mallory replied with an arched brow. She smiled when Will laughed, and shook her head. “Honestly, I’m not hiding from anyone. Everyone I’ve come across so far has been tolerable. I’m just tired. I would much rather be at home on the sofa than stuck here pretending that I care about whatever it is that these donors want to talk to me about.”

  “And next week we start performances,” Will agreed with a groan as he scrubbed a hand through his hair.

  “God, don’t remind me.” She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. “Sorry.”

  “You’re fine.” He nudged her with his elbow. “I’m beat after the last two weeks, and I’m not doing the whole ballet thing on top of all of this. I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

  “Neither do I, to be honest.” Her phone buzzed in her clutch, and since she knew Will wouldn’t mind, she opened the bag and pulled it out.

  A small, soft smile tugged at her lips when she saw a text alert from Addison on her lock screen. So, how’s the gala?

  It was one thing to form a congenial working relationship with someone almost fifteen years her junior, but she honestly hadn’t expected for them to become friends. Fifteen years was a significant age difference, and yet, whether it was because of their shared dedication to their respective crafts or something else, it wasn’t. She felt immediately comfortable with Addison in a way that had only happened once before in her life—when she and Will had literally crashed into each other in the doorway of their first orchestra rehearsal at the Royal Academy of Music—and knowing that Addison was thinking about her when they weren’t together made her heart flutter with joy.

  Will had, of course, noticed this, and took great joy teasing her about it at every opportunity. “And how’s Miss Leigh doing this evening?”

  “Sod off,” Mallory muttered as she unlocked her phone, the jab carrying little weight as she was still smiling. Wonderful. Will and I are currently hiding from the masses.

  As they had made something of a tradition of going to dinner after rehearsals—meals that stretched longer and longer with each successive day—Addison had heard many stories about Will, and Mallory couldn’t help but laugh when Addison replied, Has he spilled his drink on anyone yet?

  “What?” Will rolled his eyes when Mallory turned her phone so he could see Addison’s question, and shook his head as he muttered, “It happened one time.”

  “To the Duchess of Hanover,” Mallory couldn’t resist pointing out.

  “I’m never going to live that one down, am I?” Will groused. “I can’t believe you told her about that, by the way, but you can assure her that I haven’t spilled a drop of champagne so far this evening.”

  Mallory laughed and typed out the instructed reply. “Is the Duchess here?” she asked Will as she hit send.

  “She’s an old friend of Joseph Hayes, so I’d wager she’ll make an appearance at some point.” He took a long, slow sip of champagne and sighed as he lowered his glass. “So, what is your new best friend up to this evening?”

  “I haven’t a clue.” Mallory’s phone buzzed, and she huffed a little laugh when she saw another text from Addison. “But if I had to guess, I’d say she’s sitting at home, quite enjoying the idea of relaxing whilst I’m suffering here,” she said as she showed him the message.
>
  Will grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “You’ve been holding out on me, Mal. You never said you and Ms. Leigh were at the ‘what are you wearing’ point of your relationship…”

  “I knew you’d get a kick out of that one,” Mallory muttered, rolling her eyes. Really, she should have known better than to show him the text in the first place, but it was nice to let her life at the ballet filter into her everyday life at the symphony. It made it feel more real, in a way, to not have these two incredibly demanding halves of her life existing in their own individual spheres. “However, she asked what my dress looked like; not what I was wearing. I was still making up my mind when I saw her yesterday and—”

  Will snatched her phone out of her hand with a smirk.

  She gaped at him. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  “God. Just relax, Mal.” He set his glass down and moved a few steps away. “The girl wants to see your dress, so smile and look pretty,” he instructed as he lifted her phone.

  “It’s just a simple gown,” Mallory grumbled as she glanced down at herself. Granted, the midnight blue fabric was so dark it nearly black while still managing to hold the faintest shimmer, but it was, in essence, a perfectly traditional V-neck, floor-length gown that wasn’t all that dissimilar from what the majority of the women at the gala were wearing. “I can just say that…”

  Will tsked and shook his head. “A picture is worth a thousand words and tonight, my friend, ‘simple’ gown or not, you look incredible. So why not send the girl a picture?”

  “I know you enjoy teasing me about her for some reason, but—”

  “That would be because she’s the first woman to catch your eye since you moved back,” Will interrupted, right eyebrow cocked in a way that dared her to contradict him.

  “Yes, well, she’s also fifteen years my junior, and my colleague,” Mallory reminded him.

  Will just arched a brow and gave her a look that clearly said he wasn’t buying that argument.

  “Look, I won’t deny that she’s a beautiful woman, or pretend that I don’t enjoy her company, but this…this thing you seem to think is happening between us will never happen.”