CHAPTER FOUR
The New Owner Must Like Us
With considerable effort and weak legs, Lauryl entered the building that housed DanceWest’s offices and studios. Immediately though, she stopped and gasped softly as she looked around the reception area.
Before she left, the interiors were dark and gloomy and hadn’t been redecorated since the seventies. The company couldn’t afford it. Sure the Board had money to spend on performances and touring but they got by with dance space and offices required by the American Guild of Musical Artists union. One stingy board member reminded her at a fundraiser that when the Soviet Union was in existence, Russian dance studios were minimally equipped and still turned out world-class dancers. Lauryl told the board member that he could kiss her minimally-equipped, world-class ass. Now the building was new.
A full on renovation had occurred while she had been gone. Sleek modern furniture replaced the old, clunky furnishings and the walls were now a rich blue and covered with silver framed performance posters. It had only been eight weeks but she figured when a name like Eamon Rutherford was behind the order, things happened quickly. She looked at one of the large posters and leaned in closer.
It was her in the lead role in Sleeping Beauty. She placed her hand on the glass and tapped on her picture face a few times. The vague memory of the show was marred by her clear recollection that she was wired during the performance.
Lauryl’s shoulders tensed and the tiny hairs on her neck rose up. The reality of her return now was taking hold. She would have to endure probing looks, gossip and probably face-to-face nastiness from some. All of the things from rehab and therapy vanished from her mind. Maybe returning wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe Anthony was wrong in his assessment of her stability. She desperately wanted to dance but she didn’t want to deal with being around other dancers, especially dancers she didn’t like. She just wanted to come back as if nothing had happened and pretend that she was never a drug addict. Anthony told her that was impossible, irrational and even irresponsible. Lauryl didn’t like hearing those things.
All of that was work that she didn’t want to do and it meant that she would have to cope with situations that would be difficult at best. If it hadn’t been for dancing, she would have said fuck it. Part of her still wanted to say fuck it.
Lauryl tapped on the glass again and this time the sound echoed down the hallway. She took a deep breath but it caught midway when she saw Martin, the company’s general manager, standing in his doorway. She turned back to the photo.
“Me,” she said.
“You,” he confirmed as he walked toward her.
“How long were you standing there, Martin?”
“Not very long. I heard you walking down the hall.” He stood next to her and hung his arm over her shoulder.
“The changes I’ve seen in the building are nice,” she said. She folded her arms across her chest, hiding the red scars crisscrossing her wrists “The new owner must like us.”
Martin laughed. “I’d say that’s a fair statement. He’s spent a lot of money correcting our problems. He keeps an eye on us, though.”
“Does he ever come in?”
He nodded to a closed door at the end of the corridor. “He has an office here. You didn’t hear he bought a house off the beach road?”
She shook her head.
“I figured you would have heard the gossip.” Martin’s voice dropped off at the word gossip.
“I didn’t know that. Gray hair,” she said as she touched his temples.
A frown formed on his lips. “I’m lucky I’m not gray all over. I’m betting I will be by the time I’m fifty. Either that or bald.” He reached down for her threadbare dance bag.
They walked together to the rehearsal studio in silence. Lauryl swallowed back tears and chewed her lip as she searched for something profound to say for once in her life. She stopped walking and he did the same.
“You’re one of the few people who’s been kind to me from the very beginning to now. Thank you for that. I don’t know what else to say besides thank you.”
“This isn’t heaven, Lauryl. No one expects you to be perfect.”
“I know.” She put her hand on Martin’s arm and her fingers tightened a bit.
He studied her for a second. “Are you sure you’re okay to come back?”
She nodded.
“You aren’t your normal outgoing self.”
Lauryl sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just nervous. I don’t want to mess up again.”
“No one holds you past against you. We’re glad you’re back,” Martin said.
She tilted her head back slightly and closed her eyes. “Martin, you’ve always believed in me. Even when ABT told you that you were crazy for signing me, you believed in me. Thanks.”
“You are who you are. I wouldn’t change you even if I could.”
They walked into the studio and she saw the new dance floor. The old, pine board floor was gone and had been replaced by a new black vinyl floor. She took a few steps in and the flooring gave slightly under her feet like fresh, green grass. Her eyes lit up and she giggled a few times before she turned back to Martin.
“Wow,” she breathed.
He grinned. “Nice, isn’t it? All the studios have this flooring system.”
“No more splinters.”
“Nothing but the best.”
Lauryl took her bag from him and set it down. “What’s he like?”
“Eamon? I’d say he’s hard to know. One thing, you’ll know whether he likes you or not.”
“Why is that?” she asked as she pulled her shoes out of her bag. She tied her pointe shoes together and hung them over the barre. Lauryl sat down on the floor and started the task of taping her toes. When the tape job on each of her toes was complete, she stood back up, pulled the shoes off the barre. She pounded the foot box of each shoe against the wall several times and then inspected her work before slipping her toe pads on along with her shoes. With practiced efficiency, her fingers tied the pink ribbons and then tucked the tails under the ribbons.
Martin put his hands in his pockets as he watched her bend and flex her feet. “You’ll know. Decide for yourself at his party on Friday night.”
She leaned against the barre. “A party? I don’t know, Martian.” Lauryl pulled her hair up in a ponytail, and braided it.
His eyes lit up. “I didn’t think you were ever going to call me that. I was about to give up.” He leaned against the barre next to her. “Just think about it?”
The sound of quick footsteps echoed down the hall. Lauryl shot a wide-eyed look to Martin. Jennifer, she thought. She stepped closer to Martin and a few moments later, Jennifer Conrad walked in.
The tan, hard-bodied dancer looked at Martin and then Lauryl. She gave her bottle blond hair a toss like a nervous thoroughbred and a sneer formed on her lips. “Well, I guess the dead can come back to life.”
Lauryl’s shoulders rolled back and she tilted her chin up. “Yeah, Jennifer, I’m back. Does the thought of someone taking your place bother you? Oh wait, it wasn’t your place. You were just holding it for me while I was gone.”
“Very good, Lauryl. You’re funny even without the drugs.” Jennifer pulled the Louis Vuitton tote bag from her shoulder and set it on the floor. She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her left hip outward like a junior high school diva.
Martin shot Jennifer a frown. “Enough, ladies! I think we should all try and get along.”
“Hey, thanks, Dad!” Jennifer said.
Lauryl matched Jennifer’s hateful stare. “Excuse me, bitch. You’re in my way.”
She shoved past Jennifer. Jennifer stumbled into Martin, sped down the hall to the front door and stopped. Dancers now trickled in a few at a time. They brushed by her, saying hello and smiling. She leaned against the wall and dropped her chin down to her chest. A few deep breaths and a few minutes later, Lauryl looked back down the hallway. Class would start as soon as Anto
nina came in. She walked back to the studio and stood in the doorway.
Everyone in the room turned to the doorway and an awkward silence fell over the dancers. Martin remained in the same position as before. Lauryl looked from face to face.
“It’s about damn time,” a voice said from the corner. Lauryl and everyone else turned to the familiar voice. A tall, brown-haired dancer stood erect and turned his nose up. He plunked his hands on his hips and glanced down at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “You forget about time!” he said with an obviously fake Russian accent.
“Todd,” she breathed with relief. Her dance partner and rescuer crossed through the crowd of dancers to her. “I’m so glad to see you!”
He latched on to her arm and guided her through the crowd to the corner where he was warming up. “Come over here with me,” he whispered. “I won’t let the mean, nasty whore get you.”
They both looked over at Jennifer.
“I had to go out on tour with her. I only wanted to kill her about once an hour,” Todd whispered.
“Once an hour?”
“Well, maybe twice an hour and four times an hour on show days. Thank God it was only two months.”
Lauryl laughed. “What stopped you?”
“I hear the food in jail is nasty. Nothing but starch and fat,” he said, helping her stretch. “Besides, do you think I would miss seeing her face when she hears that she isn’t dancing Giselle?”
“You don’t think?”
“Girl, please. I know Antonina and Martin aren’t going to give it to her now that you’re back and things are the way that they should be.” He pulled her up from her stretch. “They’re going to give it to you.”
At that moment, a willowy, gray haired woman dressed in a black jogging suit with a pink turtleneck walked in. A hush fell over the room. She patted the tiny pink bow securing her hair bun, strode to the front of the studio and scanned the room with an imperious scowl. She focused on Lauryl and pointed a bony finger at her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the talent has returned. If you will be so kind as to come to the front, miss.”
Lauryl walked to the front, assumed a meek pose in front of the dance mistress. Antonina wrapped her thin arms around her and hugged Lauryl.
“Welcome back, miss.” After a few seconds, Antonina gave Lauryl a gentle push away and resumed her stern but noble pose. “As all of you know, our first production this season is Giselle. I don’t need to remind you of the difficulty and complexity of this work so I expect everything from each and every one of you.” She looked at Lauryl. “Lauryl you are Giselle. Todd, you are Albrecht, and Jennifer will be Myrtha. The rest will be posted.”
Lauryl watched Todd’s face as he waited for Jennifer’s reaction. He danced around in delight as her facial expression turned from stunned to furious. Antonina nudged Lauryl back to her corner. Lauryl glanced over her shoulder at Jennifer, who remained locked in a stare down with Todd. He rubbed his eyes and mouthed the words boo-hoo to Jennifer, who spun around with her bleached blond ponytail trailing behind her. Lauryl glanced back at Martin, who winked at her before he walked out.
Antonina walked over to her chair by the piano and the accompanist and smacked her cane on the floor. “Line them up for me,” she said to the assistant dance mistress.
CHAPTER FIVE
He’s Very Excited to Have You. Dancing in His Company, I Mean
Lauryl checked her make up in the rear view mirror, counted to three and swung her legs out of her car. She hesitated a second before standing. The last party she went to—Lauryl stopped before the memory of that night crept too far into her thoughts.
The only reason she decided to come tonight was to check out Eamon Rutherford. In some form, he had occupied her thoughts all week. She tried to manufacture some sort of mental picture of him. What he looked like, how he talked. She wondered why an outsider to the dance world would purchase a controlling interest in their company, especially since it wasn’t profitable. It made no sense to her.
His Victorian-style home was the largest house on the beach road and it sat far enough off the road that you could only catch glimpses of it when you passed it. Huge, bushy trees and a serious, tall, wrought iron fence added to its sense of isolation. Eamon wanted privacy. Lauryl wondered what kind of life he led to desire such security and privacy. She stared at the camera focused on the front entryway and sighed.
“It’s only a party,” she whispered to herself. Those words became a silent mantra for her as she walked up the steps to his door. Pangs of nervousness poked at her as she stared at the panel of green- and blue-stained glass in the middle of the front door. She took a few more deep breaths. Why was she nervous?
The lead in Giselle was hers and she proved she was strong enough to come back. Being nervous and tip-toeing around only fed into what Jennifer wanted. Lauryl raised her hand to knock but the door opened. A lithe, dark-haired woman looked Lauryl over.
“I saw you drive up,” the woman said. She stepped away from the door and motioned Lauryl inside. “You’re Lauryl Mellis, aren’t you? I’m Irina Hauer, Eamon’s… sister.”
“Hey,” Lauryl said. She could hear the sounds of the party down the hall. A quick shout of laughter rose above the sound of piano music and then disappeared.
The curious expression on Irina’s face remained. Her blue eyes gleamed. “My brother is in the living room with the other guests. I know he’ll be happy to see you.”
As she followed Irina down the hall, Lauryl peeked in a few of the open doors and saw that the rooms contained antiques and expensive accessories. There was a stillness and un-natural perfection to them. The rooms belonged in a decorator magazine. A marble bust sat on a credenza in the hallway and at the top of the stairs, she could see a large, marble clock with a gold face. Something she did not see were photographs. There were none anywhere.
“Here we are,” Irina said. She placed her hand on Lauryl’s arm. “It was so nice to meet you. There is wine and other drinks on the table by the French doors. Will you excuse me?” She walked away and left Lauryl standing alone in the doorway.
Lauryl saw that the room was crowded with both dancers and company supporters. A few people glanced up at her, but most remained absorbed in their own conversations. It seemed harmless.
“You made it, you brat.”
A familiar arm wrapped around her waist and she turned to see Todd smiling down at her. Tension melted from her shoulders.
“I couldn’t find anything to wear.”
He handed her a glass of water and looked her up and down. “You can never go wrong with basic black. Besides, if I have to be here, you do too. I hate these things.”
“Where’s Rick?”
“In Seattle making nice with a client.” Todd sipped his Diet Coke. “You know he avoids these things. So, as usual, I’m solo.”
“Oh.” Lauryl studied the room. Martin and Jennifer were talking to someone who she didn’t recognize immediately because his back was turned and she couldn’t see his face. But Jennifer hung on his arm and laughed a little too loudly at whatever he said. “You and me should start coming to these mixers together.”
“Jennifer isn’t wasting any time. Her legs will be open for business soon,” he said as he raised his glass to his lips.
“Who is she talking to?” Lauryl asked. She watched Irina walk up to the man and whisper something in his ear. Lauryl turned her back to them.
“Eamon Rutherford. Some place he’s got,” Todd said, looking around the room. He picked up a Faberge egg from the table and examined the lacy, gold pattern on it. “I want the chicken that laid this egg.”
Lauryl rolled her eyes.
“You’re so easy.”
“Have you met him yet?” Lauryl asked.
Todd nodded his head and set the egg down. “Oh yeah. Earlier. He asked me about you.”
“Me?”
“You,” he said. “And I think you’re about to meet him.”
“Lauryl Me
llis,” a deep voice said from behind her. “I’m Eamon Rutherford.”
The smooth and seductive tone of his voice caused her to close her eyes for a second before she turned around. Lauryl shook his outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
His warm hand squeezed hers again before letting go. Eamon was tall, a bit over six feet, with strong, squared shoulders. His full lips curved into a suave smile. She returned his smile and stared into his unusual eyes. They weren’t quite brown; they were almost amber.
“I’m glad you made it this evening. When I spoke with Todd earlier, I wasn’t certain that you would be here.” Eamon glanced at Todd in polite acknowledgment.
Todd leaned over to Lauryl. “Excuse me.” He nodded to Eamon and then walked over to Martin.
Lauryl didn’t hear or notice Todd. She continued to stare into Eamon’s eyes.
“Todd is a talented dancer.”
“He is. He’s a good friend, too. A life saver, almost.”
“It’s nice to have someone like that.”
His voice caressed her with its British accent and soft, baritone timbre. She usually didn’t notice company bigwigs like him but for some reason he caught her attention. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d met him before. “I think everyone showed up for your party.”
“This party is unofficially for you.”
“For me? Really?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The black pumps she wore suddenly felt tight and awkward.
“You’re the main reason I invested in this company. You’re a gifted dancer.”
Lauryl looked down at her empty glass. Her cheeks now burned and her lips felt like leather. What was wrong with her? She licked them twice. “We have other talented dancers.”
Eamon shrugged. “Give yourself some credit, Lauryl.” He squeezed her shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Oh, sure, I understand.”
As Eamon walked over to a couple of board members, she noted his perfect posture. He dominated the room like a king. While she talked with him, she’d almost forgotten she was at a party. The crowd in the room died away. He held her attention so well that it almost seemed like a spell. It wasn’t what he said because he said so little. Something about him, his presence, intrigued her. It was odd. If he had been like any other rich asshole or company supporter, she would have only tolerated him because she had to. However, as she stared at his back, she found herself yearning for him to return and talk to her.
Life in Moonlight: The Primigenio Tales: Book 1 Page 3