by JJ Knight
Then the fairies go out in their pastel pancake tutus, carried by male dancers. I watch Andrew with his fairy partner. He is perfectly in sync with the others, smiling, a total professional. My heart surges that he is my friend and doing so well.
Angelique goes on as the Lilac Fairy. She has two solos and the other fairies circle her.
Finally the six corps girls go out for their first dance, including Fiona and Carla. Carla’s nerves show on her face, but they all execute the moves perfectly. Still, they do not command your attention. It’s easy to see the difference between their presence and that of the fairies, and certainly the Lilac Fairy. Angelique is sublime.
I have quite a wait, as each fairy will give her gift to the baby with a solo, and there will be both male and female corps dances before I finally go on.
I adjust my overdress and make sure the tall horned headpiece is secure and straight.
As the corps dance concludes, the four evil minions who dance with me line up. They are animated and silly, hopping in place. I also do a few pliés and relevés to make sure I am warm and ready. I have two short pseudo-solos in the prologue. The minions surround me for one, and the fairies for the other, but I am still the focus of the stage.
I try to see out into the audience, but the lighting is too dramatic. I don’t want to get too close to the curtain’s edge either. The last thing I want is a reprimand for being visible.
I know where Blitz’s seats are with his parents. I actually sat in them on the third day of rehearsals here. He’s second row, near the middle. The entire front row is filled with business partners and patrons of Alexei.
It doesn’t matter that I can’t see him. I know he’s there.
The dark note arrives in the happy refrain, which is my cue. I step out near the back of the stage, my crow-like minions hurrying around me.
FLASH, a pyrotechnic goes off with the wave of my arms. FLASH FLASH!
Everyone gasps as I come down the steps to the main stage. My head whips back and forth, as if to take in the sight of every person who caused me to be left out of the happy occasion.
The good fairies try to circle around me, as if to apologize for the slight. But I put them off with dramatic movements of my arms. Another FLASH FLASH goes off as my anger surges.
It’s different doing it with an audience. I feel their eyes, their attention. It makes me feel powerful. We had a studio audience on Dance Blitz, but they were removed from us, pulled away from the stage and back in the darkness.
There are many more people here. When I pause, I can see the front row, their faces upturned and aglow.
Now comes my longest solo, showing my displeasure and issuing my threat against the baby. I do all the things Franco has taught me for the acting, and not just the arm flourishes and sudden unexpected movements in my dance. But to feel it inside. To bring forward all the anger and vengeance I’ve ever felt in my life.
Giselle from Dance Blitz. Hannah the evil manager. Denham.
My father.
My face contorts as the impressions of all ugly memories surface, fueling my rage and the need to make someone pay.
I curse the child and dance with my minions, gleeful now that I have appeased my need for revenge. We cavort off the stage, caring nothing for the despair we have brought upon the family.
It’s what they deserve.
I head all the way offstage and back to the dressing room after the scene. The minions keep their costumes for the entire show, but I have to change into the cloak to look like a peasant in Act 1. The dancers who have come off with me are all bouncy with excitement for getting through our first scene.
I feel pleased myself.
Everything goes perfectly. There are no missed entrances, no falls, no choreography fails. The costumes all work and when we finally go out for our bows, the applause is tremendous.
This is also different. The audience stands and cheers. The curtain rises and falls, then rises and falls again. With more lights up, we can see them out there in suits and evening dresses.
It feels so different. So amazing.
I spot Blitz. He is clapping above his head. Renata is smiling. David scowls as always, but he is nodding, his arms crossed. For some reason this makes me want to laugh.
Aurora and the Prince take a few steps forward one last time, then the curtain closes for good.
Everyone hurries off the stage. Now I’m glad I don’t share the main dressing room, as it’s mobbed. I couldn’t get in there if I tried. I pass the thrown-open doors to head on down to Dominika’s. Members of the audience are already starting to come down the hall.
All the principals are expected to attend the meet and greet with the patrons immediately afterward, but we do not wear our costumes. I wonder if I will be able to get rid of the most dramatic of the makeup, the big black sections. I shouldn’t have worried. The makeup artist is already there with baby oil and cotton balls to get me ready for the after-party.
I’m not sure what to wear, so I sit while my makeup is changed to see what Dominika puts on. She comes out of the curtained area in a sparkling knee-length gown, and I let out a sigh of relief. I have something similar in the bag I brought.
I overpacked. A full-length gown. A cocktail gown. A pretty dress. And pants and a silk shirt. Then my cutest dance workout clothes.
I come prepared.
“You’re all good,” the makeup artist says, so I scurry to the dressing area to get out of the black bodice and into normal clothes. Dominika sits to get her makeup refreshed. She sweats a good deal more than I do, but then her parts are much, much harder to perform.
I rush to get in my gown, but then take my time putting on my shoes and sorting my bag while Dominika finishes up. I don’t really want to walk to the after-party alone. It’s two doors down at a local bar. I’m not sure who will be there.
Suddenly, Dominika is done and heads for the door. I rush to catch up with her. “It’s to the right, isn’t it?” I ask her.
She nods. “We can walk together.”
I let out a sigh.
But I don’t expect the crush of people outside the door. We spend at least ten minutes receiving handshakes and hugs and compliments.
Then I see Blitz.
“You were perfect,” he says, lifting me against him. “The most amazing evil fairy ever to grace a stage.”
“It was lovely,” Renata says, her eyes alight with happiness watching us together. “Just breathtaking.”
David grunts his agreement, and Renata elbows him in the side.
“You were good,” he says.
“I think we’re going to a late dinner,” Renata says. “Are you coming?”
“I have to go to a party with the patrons.” I glance around and feel chagrin when I realize Dominika has disappeared. I will have to go alone after all.
“I don’t want to eat this late,” David grumbles. “I’ll get indigestion.”
“Nonsense,” Renata says.
I glance around. The hall is starting to clear. “I think I need to get going.”
“Can we drop you off?” Blitz asks.
“It’s just two doors down,” I say. “I was going to walk with Dominika but I lost her.”
“That’s our fault,” Blitz says. “I can take you.”
David sighs heavily, and Renata shoots him a look.
“I’ll send my parents off to figure out dinner and I’ll walk you down,” Blitz says.
“I’m going back to the hotel,” David says.
“The limo’s out front,” Blitz says, ignoring his dad. “I’ll send for it later.”
With that, we quickly walk away from his parents, ducking our heads like teenagers trying to avoid the chaperones at the dance.
The cool air outside the theater is bliss after the hot crush of the hall.
“Where are we going?” Blitz asks.
“This way,” I say. “You didn’t get invited? Technically, you should be a patron since you are sponsoring the DVD.”<
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Blitz shrugs. “They might not have liked my negotiations. I left it to Hannah.”
“Oh,” I say. “That probably didn’t make a good impression.”
“She gets deals done. I’ll let her continue to do my dirty work as long as I don’t have to have anything to do with her myself.”
We pass a restaurant, and then arrive at a bar. A man stands outside with an iPad, the screen lighting his bushy beard.
“Are you with the ballet?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m Livia Mays.”
He touches my name on the list. “And this is?”
“My date,” I say quickly.
A smile quirks on Blitz’s lips. It’s not often that he isn’t recognized. Or maybe this guy has instructions that no celebrity is big enough to get in.
But he nods. “That’s fine. Enjoy.” He turns and opens the door.
“Sweet,” Blitz says. “Crashing a posh ballet party.” He takes my arm and slides it through his elbow.
Inside, a long dark-paneled bar stretches along one wall, glittering bottles lining the shelves.
In one corner, a photographer is taking pictures of Dominika and an elegant couple. Great. Hopefully they only want her. I’m not sure I’m up for fake smiling all evening.
Dmitri approaches. “Livia! You are here!” His eyes glance at Blitz and then back to me. “You must meet some of the other patrons.”
Blitz and I glance at each other. We both noticed that he didn’t greet Blitz. I lean in as we follow Dmitri. “It must have been a really hard bargain,” I say.
“I’ll check with her tomorrow,” he whispers.
Dmitri introduces me to face after face. They begin to blur after a while. They all compliment me on my portrayal of Carabosse. Everyone seems to be neutral about Blitz. No one is upset, nor is anyone excessively interested that I have a TV star as my date.
I take a few pictures, but not as many as Dominika. I’m perfectly happy with that.
After an hour or so, the crowd starts to dwindle.
“Do I get you alone now?” Blitz asks.
“Again?” I ask innocently.
He wraps his arms around me. “Maybe again AND again.”
I could be okay with that.
When I see the limo, I burst out laughing.
It is pink.
The door opens, and Carla and Andrew fling themselves out. “It has a hot tub!” she says. Carla is wrapped in a towel and the ends of her hair are wet. “Get in here!”
I peek in. Fiona is taking a turn in the small hot tub, which is inset in a section at the very back of the limo.
“You found one?” I turn to Blitz. “Did your parents ride in this thing?”
“No, it just got here an hour ago. It had to be driven down from Milwaukee. Apparently Chicago is too classy for pink limos with hot tubs.”
“I’m never gonna leave!” Carla calls out. She ducks back inside.
I shake my head as I step into the huge interior. I swear the limo goes for the entire city block.
“It’s huge,” I say as Blitz settles next to me.
“You’re not the first girl to notice,” he says with a wink.
I shove my shoulder against his.
This is literally the most perfect night.
Chapter 24
Blitz heads to LA after a couple days. He will catch up with me again when we get to our next city, Boston.
The weeks become a blur. Shows. A few rehearsals for adjustments to the choreography and to practice with the understudies.
Then on a plane to Boston. This time, the girl in charge of travel doesn’t bother attempting to put me in first class with the principals, but keeps me back in coach with the rest of the dancers. I’m perfectly fine with that.
A few romances are blooming among the cast members. Fiona gets a super crush on the man who plays Bluebird, which creates some friction with the Princess who dances with him. She’s been trying to snag him since auditions. Neither seem to be making big progress. He flirts with both of them, but also seems to have his eye on Andrew.
I’ve never been around people who are so fluid, liking girls or boys or both. I’ve just never been around so many people, period.
The stage in Boston is larger, and the extra room really draws out the extra passion and energy from the cast. Blitz comes up with Ted, and we do the limo stuff all over again, this time without a hot tub. Or the pink.
There’s a flare-up as we travel to Baltimore, just a bus this time, when Bluebird sits with Andrew. Fiona is devastated and insists she didn’t know Andrew OR Bluebird was gay. I don’t see how that is possible, as I’m the most sheltered homeschooled girl in the history of sheltered homeschooled girls, and I saw that coming.
So we three girls are hanging tight when we first arrive at rehearsals in the gorgeous facility. I’ve never been to Maryland. It’s August now, and Texas would be brutally hot. But Baltimore is pleasant. I need a sweater in the evenings.
Two days before opening night in the new city, Carla, Fiona, and I go to dinner in an Italian restaurant, risking some carbs since the next day will be mostly wardrobe and understudy rehearsals.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to find a man,” Fiona sighs, stabbing at her noodles like they are the enemy.
We’re all dressed up, since we’ve worn nothing but dance clothes for weeks. Carla glitters in a smoky gray sequined tank and black micro-mini. Her brown curls are like a halo around her head.
I’m in a simple ivory sheath but I’ve put on the tallest stiletto heels imaginable. The restaurant is only two doors down from the hotel, so it is easy enough to do it for one night.
Fiona is fiery in a red satin dress. With her blond hair in a tight chignon, she looks beyond classy.
People glance our way a lot, and I point this out to Fiona. “If you’re looking for someone,” I tell her, “I think that boy at the bar is working up the courage to send over a drink.”
Her head pops up to see who I’m talking about. I’ve learned to be wary in public, to scan the room for paparazzi or overly zealous fans. Since I’ve been on the ballet circuit and away from Blitz, the invasions have definitely dropped. Television audiences have short attention spans. I’m grateful.
“He looked at me!” Fiona hisses and ducks her head.
“You don’t like him?” Carla asks. She twists in her seat to take a look. “He’s cute!”
Fiona stabs another bit of food, but she has eaten hardly a bite. “I’m too terrified. And I’m only in town for ten days.”
Carla and I glance at each other and shrug. There’s no helping Fiona. She’s miserable wanting them, and terrified when she can have them. I’m guessing she has a story and a past, like all of us. Maybe she’ll tell it when she’s ready.
“What about you?” I ask Carla. “Do you have your eye on anybody?”
“The Prince is a dream,” she says. “But he’s married and has two kids.”
Fiona leans forward. “I heard he’s having an affair with Dominika.”
We press our heads together as if the rest of the diners are listening. “How do you know?” Carla whispers.
“I was in the understudy rehearsal when the girl for Aurora was dancing with the Prince. Dominika walked by and looked pretty dang angry when the two of them laughed.”
Carla sits back. “That doesn’t mean anything.” I can tell she doesn’t want anyone sullying her dreamy Prince, married or not.
A waiter arrives and sets a glass of wine in front of Fiona. “From the gentleman at the bar,” he says.
“Shit!” Fiona says, ducking forward again. “What do I do?”
“Smile at him!” Carla says.
Fiona sits up and gives the boy the cheesiest, fakest grin ever.
“Oh, that will win him over,” Carla says.
Fiona smacks her arm.
“Now he knows you’re violent,” Carla adds.
“I can’t take the pressure,” Fiona says, standing abruptly. “I’m
going to powder my nose.”
“Check your snatch,” Carla says. “His face might be all up in your business before the night is over!”
Fiona whacks Carla with her evening bag and rushes to the bathroom. I glance over at the boy, who watches her walk, his head tilted in confusion.
“Poor boy,” Carla says. “He just wasted ten bucks.”
I’m not used to these situations, but they don’t make me uncomfortable anymore. Nothing is harder than having dance finalists going on dates with your boyfriend. I rather enjoy being a casual observer, secure that Blitz will be back tomorrow and my own relationship is steady.
“I guess we’ll be drunk limo-riding without Andrew,” Carla says. “Another friend bites the dust.”
“You never know,” I say. “Maybe Bluebird will come along.”
“His real name is Dusty,” Carla says. “But he makes them put Dominic in the program.”
We sit in silence for a moment, then Carla says, “I have family near here.”
“Really? Are they coming tomorrow?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I sent them my two comp tickets but I just don’t know.” She frowns into her bowl of soup.
“I’m in the same boat in Houston,” I tell her. “I have no idea if my best friend will be able to come. She’s only seventeen and living at home.”
“Are your parents back in Texas?” Carla asks.
“Yes, but I don’t expect them. I left home and they took it hard.”
Carla sets down her spoon and tugs at an errant curl over her ear. “It’s my ex’s family up here,” she says. “I haven’t seen them in two years.”
“You want to see him?” I ask.
“I don’t know. We’re not on good terms.” She pushes her bowl away. I can tell this conversation is upsetting her, so I don’t pry.
Fiona comes back. The boy sees his opportunity and steps out to greet her.
She pauses to talk.
“Look at that,” I say, glad for the distraction.
Fiona turns back to us, but we both wave her to the bar, mouthing, “Go!”
She sits next to him on one of the red velvet stools.