Pas de Deux

by M. J. Duncan

  Mallory looked up at the ceiling and felt a headache coming on. “Disastrously sparse” was not exactly an understatement. Besides Max, Clara, and herself, the LSO was also at risk of missing her top three first violins. Of course, out of all of that, her mind selfishly latched onto the information about Charlie. He hadn’t seemed ill the night before, and she prayed that whatever it was he was suffering from was just food poisoning. Forget going into rehearsal not in the right mindset, if she fell ill before their first performance Nina might actually kill her. “Right,” she muttered after a time. “Then if Charlie can’t make it, I recommend that Robyn assume the role for today. She’s been with the orchestra for years and knows this particular arrangement inside and out.” Robyn might lack the confidence to lead for an extended period of time, but Mallory was sure that she would be able to manage this one performance.

  “I’m afraid that just won’t do.”

  Mallory pinched the bridge of her nose as her pulse began to race at the prospect of telling the man in charge of her contract what he didn’t want to hear. “Well, I’m sorry sir, but it will have to. I can’t leave my rehearsal here.” She blinked her eyes open at the feeling of a gentle hand curving around her elbow, and offered Addison a small smile as she held up a finger and mouthed, “One minute.”

  Addison nodded and took a step back to give her some privacy as she glanced over her shoulder, and when she looked back at her, there was an apologetic grimace twisting her lips. “We’re up,” she whispered. “Nina’s looking for us.”

  Mallory nodded and, heart pounding in her throat, reported, “Sir, I’m afraid I must go now. I’m needed on stage.”

  Hayes muttered something under his breath that she was absolutely certain she was glad she couldn’t make out before he demanded, “I will see you at the matinee tomorrow, yes?”

  “Of course.”

  “We will discuss this more. I expect you in my office an hour before the orchestra’s call.” He hung up.

  Mallory winced at the palpable anger in his tone and let her hand fall from her ear. She felt mildly sick to her stomach, but she forced it down as she apologized, “Sorry about that.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Not really.” Mallory shook her head. “But I can’t do anything about it at the moment,” she muttered as she turned toward the table where she had left her violin. She couldn’t see Nina anywhere, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t nearby and counting the seconds until they presented themselves to her.

  Addison grabbed her hand. “Are you okay?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Hey…” Addison pulled Mallory to a stop and stepped closer, her eyes shining with concern. “Talk to me.”

  “It’s just…” Mallory shook her head. If she started to explain what just happened, she might very well lose it, and they didn’t have time for that. So instead she tried to brush it all off. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just LSO stuff that I can’t do anything about because I’m here, so—” The rest of her half-formed protest was silenced by a gentle kiss. She whimpered and lifted a hand to Addison’s neck as she kissed her back, desperately chasing the comfort she so desperately needed. One kiss turned into two, then three, and her riotous thoughts calmed as her pulse evened out, racing fear and anxiety slowed to a slow, steady, heavy beat that matched Addison’s beneath her thumb.

  “I thought we weren’t doing this at work?” Mallory murmured when, after one last lingering kiss, Addison pulled away.

  Addison shrugged, her expression at once concerned and entirely unrepentant. “You looked like you needed it.”

  Mallory glanced around to see if anyone was paying them much attention and, when she was assured that they weren’t, smiled and confessed softly, “I did. Thank you.”

  “Anytime, sweetie. Are you going to be okay?”

  Mallory took a deep breath and let it go slowly before murmuring, “I think so, yes.” Things at the LSO would undoubtedly be tense for a while, but Hayes had had a hand in pushing her to do this collaboration, and she knew that, once Max returned, he would support her decision. She spotted Nina emerging from between dark curtains, brow pinched and her lips pressed in a tight line, clearly displeased, and tilted her head toward her as she said, “Nina’s looking ready for blood.”

  “When isn’t she?” Addison chuckled darkly as they started making their way toward her.

  “Am I keeping you from something important?” Nina drawled when they were close enough to be addressed without her having to raise her voice.

  “Sorry. Minor disaster at the LSO,” Mallory apologized as she hurried to grab her violin. “Clara was in a car accident.”

  “What? Is she okay?” Nina asked. Her foul mood seemed to evaporate in an instant as alarm pulled at her features.

  “It sounds like she will be fine. She’s at Princess Grace getting checked out now,” Mallory said reassuringly. She met Nina’s piercing stare without blinking, and relaxed ever so slightly when she was rewarded with a short nod.

  “You’re on in three.”

  “Got it,” Mallory confirmed as Addison nodded beside her.

  Nina muttered, almost fondly, “Of course you do.” She took a deep breath and let it go in a quiet huff. “I’m going to watch from the audience.” Her phone was already in her hand as she exited the stage.

  Once Nina had disappeared, Mallory allowed Addison to turn her with a light hand on her hip. She smiled as soft hands framed her face and took a deep breath as Addison pushed up onto her toes and touched their foreheads together.

  “Hey.” Addison smoothed her thumbs over Mallory’s cheeks. “I know that phone call sucked and that the timing couldn’t have been worse, but I need you with me now, okay? I need you right here with me”—she took Mallory’s free hand and cradled it against her chest, right over heart—“for the next forty-four minutes…”

  Mallory closed her eyes as she focused on the feeling Addison’s heart beating beneath her palm, and let that steady thump, thump, thump chase away what lingered of the quiet anxiety that was buzzing at the back of her mind. It was surprisingly easy, really, to push her worries away and focus on Addison instead, and she dipped her head in a small nod as she blinked her eyes open. “I’m all yours, darling.”

  Mallory chewed her lip as she looked out the window of the town car that had picked her up half an hour earlier. The car service was an extravagance she didn’t usually bother with because the underground got her from point A to point B in the city faster than a car ever could, but all of London seemed to have fallen ill with something or another and, with Evolution premiering that evening, she wasn’t willing to risk her health by taking public transportation. She ran her thumb over the rubberized grip on the side of her travel mug that was full of an organic herbal immunity tea Addison swore by, and took a small sip as the car slowed in front of The Barbican.

  The warmth of the drink did nothing to chase away the unease that had haunted her from the moment she had ended her call with Hayes, and she set her jaw as she placed the mug between her knees to begin gathering her things. While she appreciated the small smile Noah, the driver, gave her when he caught her eye in the rearview mirror as he threw the car into park outside the Silk Street entrance, she couldn’t quite summon one to match, and she was glad that he didn’t seem offended as he just dipped his head in a small nod and undid his seatbelt so he could hurry around to get her door.

  She shivered at the rush of freezing air and pulled her scarf tighter as she waited for Noah to get her door. Part of her felt ridiculous waiting when she was capable of doing it herself, but he had acted so perfectly scandalized on Monday when she had tried to assure him that it wasn’t necessary—“I’m sorry, Miss, but my wife would have my head if she heard I let a woman open her own door.”—that she relented.

  “Got you as close to the entrance as I could, Miss Collingswood,” Noah declared as he pulled open her door.

  Mallory arched a brow at him and shook her head at
the cheeky smirk she got back in response. She had tried several times throughout the week to get him to call her by her first name but, much like his insistence on opening her door, he continued to have his own way with things. “Thank you, Noah,” she murmured as she climbed out of the car. She hunched her shoulders against the biting wind that swept her hair into her face, and asked, “Is it okay if I leave my ballet bag in here?”

  “Of course. I won’t go far, so just give me a bell when you’re done”—he pushed the door closed and shoved his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold—“and I’ll meet you right back here.”

  She nodded and started making her way across the sidewalk to the door so that he would stop standing around on formality waiting for her and get back into the car where it was warm. There was no earthly reason anyone should suffer this weather any longer than absolutely necessary, and she would feel awful if he caught a cold, or worse, because of his chivalry.

  Her footsteps echoed ahead of her as she made her way past the golden statue of The Barbican Muse in the main entryway, the sound quietly ominous given the reason for her early arrival, and she straightened her posture as she began to mentally prepare herself for the dressing-down she was about to receive.

  She was confident, at least, that she wouldn’t end up paying for her insubordination with her job. Hayes had agreed to the collaboration, after all, and posters promoting both Evolution and her role in the ballet were plastered around the Centre to such a degree that she could hardly turn around without being confronted with a picture of herself. But his reputation as a ruthless and often vindictive businessman had followed him into retirement and onto the Board, and she knew that he wouldn’t lose any sleep over making her life a living hell for a while.

  “Oi, Mallory!” Max’s voice called from behind her.

  Mallory tightened her grip on her tea as she turned toward him. “I thought you were in Barcelona…” Her voice trailed off when she spotted a familiar figure at his side. “Clara!” She had spoken to Clara only briefly the night before to check up on her and, while she didn’t have a concussion, she did have a broken nose and a severe case of whiplash that should have kept her sidelined until at least the following week.

  Clara waved. “You look like you’re going off to war, mate.”

  Mallory shook her head. Clara had a bruise across the bridge of her nose that was beginning to extend under her eyes, was wearing a rather imposing neck brace, and she carried herself stiffly, but she appeared otherwise fine, and Mallory couldn’t help but smile as she retorted, “And you look like you’ve just come home from one.”

  “She does, doesn’t she?” Max agreed. “And I was. I grabbed the first flight out of there this morning, landed at Heathrow, picked up this one”—he tilted his head toward Clara—“and we came right here.”

  “Not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do, but why are you lot here?”

  Clara and Max shared a look, and Max shrugged as he answered, “Clara called me last night after she spoke with Hayes. He’s always been a controlling pain in the arse, but he’s off his rocker on this one, and we couldn’t let you suffer his wrath alone. Yesterday was a total cock-up, but none of it was your fault.”

  “You’re good friends.” Mallory smiled at them both. “But I could have handled this on my own. You could have stayed at your conference, Max, and lord knows you should be at home recuperating,” she told Clara.

  Max shook his head. “The conference isn’t going anywhere. And, at any rate, I was flying back this afternoon anyway so I could be at the ballet tonight for your premiere, so it’s not like I missed much more than a few hours’ sleep.”

  “And, this isn’t really that bad,” Clara added as they continued across the foyer toward the lifts. “Besides, the docs gave me some really good drugs.”

  “Clara…” Mallory huffed a laugh.

  “Deal with it, Mal,” Clara sassed as she pressed the button to call the lift. The doors slid open immediately, and as they filed inside, she added, “You have enough going on, especially today, of all days. We want to help.”

  “Are you ready for tonight?” Max asked.

  “I think so.” Mallory pressed the button for the second floor, and sipped at her tea as she turned toward them.

  “You ‘think so’?” Clara huffed a laugh when she took another sip of tea instead of rising to the bait. “Well, then I guess I’ll just lower my expectations for the performance.”

  Mallory arched a brow in surprise. “Are you still coming?”

  “Of course. I bought a new suit, and all of this”—she motioned toward her face—“isn’t going to keep me from showing it off.”

  “Ah, well, as long as you’re doing it for you,” Mallory drawled as the lift stopped at the second floor and the doors opened. She was pleased, though. While she had given her guest tickets to her parents and Will and Siobhan, it was nice to know that there would be other friendly faces in the crowd later.

  Max chuckled at their banter and started down the corridor to Hayes’ office.

  “Oh, you spoke?” Mallory grinned. As opening night had approached, the artistic director had been keeping her and Addison longer after each rehearsal to dissect their performance, but last night she had dismissed them along with the rest of the company, much their surprise.

  Clara glanced at Max’s back before she stuck her tongue out briefly. “Fine,” she muttered with a light blush, “Nina called just as I was being discharged, and overheard the nurse reminding me to watch out for symptoms of concussion. Next thing I knew, there she was on my doorstep insisting that I shouldn’t be alone. She took one scathing look at the TV dinner thawing in the microwave and ordered me confined to the couch while she cooked ‘real food.’ The woman is frighteningly competent.”

  “Tell me about it.” Mallory hid her smile. The Clara she knew was notoriously independent, used to going it alone since her studies had seen her moving halfway across the globe in her youth, while the present demands of her career took her to several countries in any given year. But beneath the grumbling, she sensed that Clara was pleased this time. It was also nice to know that there was more to Nina than the hard-driving martinet that relentlessly drilled her and the rest of the Royal Ballet. Now if only Hayes proved to be more than an arse and a half… She slowed as they approached Hayes’ open office door. “Hey, seriously, thanks for this.”

  “You’re welcome.” Clara took a deep breath. “You ready?”

  “For this? Not at all,” Mallory admitted with a wry smile. “But I’ve got things to do today, so I guess there’s no time like the present…”

  Max, who had paused to wait for them, winked at her. “There’s the swagger I like to see. Keep your chin up, Mal. We got this,” he said as he rapped his knuckles on the frame of Hayes’ door and strode in ahead of them.

  Hayes was in the process of heaving himself upright behind his desk when they followed on Max’s heels. He looked comically surprised at their presence. “Max? Clara? I wasn’t expecting to see you here this morning…”

  “Yes, well,” Max drawled as he shook the Hayes’ hand, “I figured it was more important for me to be here than spending a few hours listening to Gerald extol the virtues of a varied programming schedule. Especially since it’s not a problem for us because Clara always makes sure we mix up the established classics with lesser-known, contemporary compositions, anyways.”

  “Right…right…” Hayes murmured. He cleared his throat and turned to Clara. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better,” Clara admitted as she shook his hand. “I know you said that I needn’t worry about this meeting, but I was feeling well enough when I woke up this morning that I decided to come in for an hour or two just to help clean up the mess from yesterday.”

  “Ah…” Hayes’ eyes darted to Mallory as she stepped between Max and Clara. “I see.”

  Mallory dipped her head in a small nod. “Director Hayes.”

  “Ms. Collings
wood.”

  “Shall we get on with it, then?” Max asked, his tone light, as if he wasn’t perfectly aware of what he was doing. “As everyone here knows, Mallory does have quite the schedule today…”

  “Right…” Hayes muttered. He cleared his throat and seemed to gather himself as he waved a hand toward the sitting area at the front of his office. “Would you care to sit?”

  “I think I’ll stand, if you don’t mind,” Clara replied. “It’s easier this way, you know, with my neck and everything.”

  “Works for me. I’ve been sitting too much all week anyway,” Max chimed in.

  Mallory bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the owlish way Hayes blinked at them. It was clear that none of this was going according to his plan. “I’m fine standing too, if you are, sir.”

  Never one to back down from a challenge—especially it if meant surrendering a position of authority—Hayes nodded. “Of course…”

  “Excellent,” Max replied. “So, let’s get down to business. Yesterday was pretty much a disaster on all fronts, but everyone I spoke with last night said that Robyn managed admirably given the short-notice and that young Bellamy handled himself like a pro. Is that your assessment as well, Director?”

  Though it looked like it caused him great pain to do so, Hayes nodded. “It would have been better if Ms. Collingswood had been there—”

  “But she was busy preparing for the collaborative project with The Royal Ballet that we approved before the season started,” Clara cut him off.

  “Well, yes, but that was on the grounds that the LSO would remain her priority. It was unprofess—”