Bad Reputation

by Stefanie London

He headed down the steps and set himself up in the front row, digging his laptop out of his bag and settling in to answer some emails. He had information to pull together for the marketing and PR intern who was helping them with the show. The graphic designer had also sent through the artwork for the show’s poster and social media banners, which required his sign-off. Once everyone arrived this morning, Wes would rev the cast up and get them wired to give Bert Soole the best possible showing.

  If today didn’t go well, this hurtling train would be headed straight into a brick wall.

  At the sound of footsteps behind him, Wes turned to see Lilah walking down the aisle. She had her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, her sports bag bumping against her hip.

  “You’re here early,” he said. “Are you hoping for some extra warm-up time?”

  “Yeah.” She didn’t quite meet his eye.

  Wes immediately went on high alert. Something about her body language seemed off—like a tension in her muscles that wasn’t the same as what came from hours of rehearsals and training. She dropped her bag a few seats away but made no move to change out of her boots and into her ballet shoes.

  “What do you want to say?” he asked.

  She looked up, her lips popping open into a shape of surprise. “How did you know I wanted to talk?”

  “I’ve known you a long time, Lilah. You’re not exactly covert with your feelings.” She never had been. At least, not to Wes. “What’s bothering you? Are you concerned about the investor visit today?”

  “It’s not that.” She shook her head. Lilah crackled her knuckles, the popping sound like miniature gunshots in the quiet theater.

  “Do I have to drag it out of you?” he asked, folding his laptop closed so she knew she had his full attention.

  “I heard you,” she said. Her face didn’t reveal much, but her voice wavered with something dark—hurt, maybe. Or shame.

  He frowned. “You heard me what?”

  “I heard you with Remi. In the dressing rooms.” She paused. “I came here on Sunday to make sure I had the address right and I found the entrance unlocked. When I came in I heard…”

  Everything ground to a halt—his breath, his heart. His mind. For a few seconds, there was nothing but blank disbelief.

  “You’re sleeping with her,” she finally said, shaking her head. “I knew it must be something like that. I kept watching her dance, watching her make these silly mistakes and fumble over things she shouldn’t, and I had no idea why you chose her over me.”

  Questions crowded his mind, fighting to be the first one out of his mouth. How was it that every single time he thought he’d taken a step forward, something would slam into him without warning? There was always another hurdle.

  “Are you going to deny it?” she asked, her lips pursed.

  “No.” He shook his head. “We’re all adults here, so I feel no need to explain myself or my choices when it comes to something private like that.”

  “How is it private if you’re doing it here?” Her voice was edged with hurt. It was obvious Lilah thought the sex was a component in him hiring Remi and that she had been denied an opportunity which was given to someone she didn’t deem worthy.

  “You’re right. It was absolutely inappropriate.” He wouldn’t argue on that point—it’d been reckless. Desire had swept him up and encouraged him to forget about the right way of doing things. He wasn’t going to apologize for sleeping with Remi, only for where it had taken place. “I didn’t realize anyone was here, and even still, we should have taken it elsewhere.”

  “I didn’t think your show would have a casting couch, Wes. I really didn’t.” She shook her head. “Is that what’s required to get ahead in this industry?”

  “No, of course not. My being with Remi has nothing to do with Out of Bounds.”

  “Then what do I need to do? I work so hard. I push myself to the point of exhaustion, hoping that I’ll make it. People keep telling me to give more, to try again.” Her eyes glimmered and a tear dropped onto her cheek, snaking down the side of her face and clinging to the edge of her lip. “I auditioned because I believe in this show. I believed you could help me with my career. And then I find out I’m stuck in the corps because you don’t want to fuck me?”

  He cringed. This situation needed to be handled delicately. Remi was the better choice for the lead role regardless of his attraction to her. Sure, she had more baggage than a family going on vacation. And yes, she’d been a bit rusty at the start. But she’d bounced back quicker than most people would have in her situation. It was testament not only to her skill but to her perseverance and work ethic. In addition, she had that sparkle, that x factor. They’d simply needed to unearth it. Together.

  “Lilah, let me be clear. I hired Remi for her talent. She’s an incredible dancer, and I stand by my choice.” He took a second to force air into his lungs, to keep his voice steady. “I know she’s had a few issues with the choreography, but I have been working with her behind the scenes, as has Sadie. The fact that I put you in the corps does not mean I don’t see your potential. But the fact is, I feel you’re both in the right roles for this production.”

  Lilah’s nostrils flared and her cheeks were pink, but she stayed silent.

  “Now, my relationship with her has nothing to do with the show. It was not a factor in her audition or any decisions I made about this show.”

  “Then why have you kept it a secret?” Her distrust was palpable.

  The night Remi had come back to his place, they’d had dinner, gone back to bed, and lost themselves in each other until after midnight. Then he’d driven her home because she didn’t have her gear for the following morning. The drive home had given him time to think.

  They’d set no boundaries, made no promises other than to keep it quiet. He understood her reasoning, and he agreed. What they did after hours was none of anyone’s business.

  You’ve made it their business by not being discreet.

  It was an epic slipup.

  He tried to find the right words, to find the balance between honesty and diffusing the situation. “It’s something that happened recently, and we don’t have a label for it. I also don’t make a habit of talking about my sex life. Everyone else seems to do enough of that.”

  “Right.”

  “Why did you wait until now to confront me?”

  “I needed to sort it out in my head first.” Lilah’s eyes lowered and she sucked on her bottom lip. “You know, your mother once told me that only people who seize every opportunity like it’s their last will survive in this industry. And I’ve done that. I’ve been to audition after audition after audition. I avoid going out with my friends so I can train or so I can stay away from bad food. I have sacrificed everything I can think to sacrifice.”

  “Being a professional dancer means dealing with a lot of rejection, Lilah. You know that. Some people take longer to blossom than others.” He rubbed his hands down his thighs, nerves making his palms sweaty. “You’re only twenty-three. You have time to find your feet.”

  “No one is giving me a chance,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Wes wanted to point out that he wasn’t so desperate for dancers that he hired her simply because she knew how to tie her pointe shoes. He had given her chance. Obviously, it wasn’t the chance she thought she deserved.

  “I’m giving you a chance,” he said. “After this, you’ll have more professional work under your belt and you know I’ll sing your praises.”

  “It’s not enough.” She shook her head. “I want the lead role.”

  A cold, icy unease settled in the pit of his stomach. “Out of Bounds already has a lead dancer.”

  “You’re in charge of the show, so you can change that.” Her voice was wire tight, high pitched. “You can put me in that role. I’m her alternate. I know the choreography.”

&n
bsp; The tone of her voice told him that she wasn’t asking or suggesting.

  “I’m not firing Remi,” he said, trying not to lose his cool. But his control was slipping, the muscles in his jaw tensed and his fingers curled.

  “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” she said. She bounced on her toes, her arms wrapped around herself.

  “Say what, Lilah?” The words came out sharp-edged with frustration.

  “Given the problems you’ve had finding investors for this show due to how public your sex life is, I’m sure people would be interested in knowing that you’re sleeping with a cast member.” The threat was wobbly and uncertain. She didn’t want to be threatening him, from what he could see, so she must have believed it to be her only option.

  “Don’t do this, Lilah.” He drew a breath to ground himself. Flying off the handle would not help the situation. “You can’t retrieve a threat once you’ve made it.”

  Her eyes were big and round, and red rimmed. “I have to. This career is the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and it’s clear that hard work isn’t enough.”

  He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to quell the anger rising up hot and fast, ready to erupt. “If you’re going to do it, then don’t be a fucking chicken about it. Spell it out for me.”

  “I want you to get rid of Remi and put me in her role or else I’ll go the press and tell them you’re hiring women in order to sleep with them.”

  “You mean, you’ll go to the press and lie,” he bit out. “Because that’s what it is. I would never abuse my power to lure someone into bed.”

  Guilt flashed across Lilah’s face, but it was gone in an instant. “I guess that will be for the public to decide.”

  Behind them, the door to the theater banged open and the sound of tinkling laughter swept through the space. He could pick out Remi’s voice immediately, the way her words ended in that familiar, soft ah sound contrasted against her pas de deux partner Angelo’s harder Bronx accent.

  “I’m not going to screw up our chance today,” Lilah said. “I know we need the investor’s support. But I want an answer tomorrow.”

  “How kind of you,” he drawled.

  She stared at him for a moment, as if she had something more to say but Angelo’s booming laughter made them both jump. She grabbed her things and headed away, her footsteps silent. Maybe he should have lied, but it wasn’t in him.

  Firing your lead dancer isn’t in you either.

  Fuck. What was he supposed to do? His gut told him this problem wouldn’t go away if he simply ignored it. Part of him wondered if the news of him sleeping with Remi would be such a big deal. Sure, within company ranks, it could cause problems. Jealousy and the breakdown of relationships could really mess with a production schedule, not to mention a lover’s quarrel could affect onstage performance. But this was his show. His rules.

  Still, as much as he knew being with a dancer in his show wasn’t a problem on the surface, how would the rest of the world see it? Would he be able to shake the stigma of his “casting couch” in light of the abhorrent behavior rife in the entertainment industry? So many men in power did abuse their positions.

  Regardless of the fact that it was consensual and unrelated to their work, and that there would be no one to corroborate Lilah’s story, it could very well ruin everything. Even if Remi came out to confirm that their relationship hadn’t started on nefarious grounds, her career could be devastated as well as his. If she went on to audition for another company, they might look at her as the girl who tried to sleep her way to the top. And who would want to work for him?

  He needed to make a decision: betray Remi and save his show—and potentially her career—or risk it all. Whichever way he went, it would be the best of a truly rotten bunch.

  * * *

  Exhaustion tugged at the edges of Remi’s mind. Her brain wanted to explode from being so full. Her stress over the Annie situation and guilt about not telling Wes was swirling behind every thought. The knowledge that the future of the show was riding on her performance for Bert Soole’s visit today had her wound tighter than a clock. And then there was the little distraction of what to do about Wes.

  Or the big distraction as the case was.

  “Yo, Remi.” Angelo’s deep voice shook her out of her thoughts. “I feel like I’m dancin’ with a sack of potatoes here.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” she muttered. She removed herself from his grip and shook her arms out. “I was early on that turn.”

  She stepped back into place, waiting for the warmth of Angelo at her back to tell her when to go. When his hands came to her waist, she bent her knees and sprang up, feet beating back and forth until she landed soft as a feather. Then she stepped forward, prepared, and launched into a triple pirouette, dipping low into an arabesque penché as Angelo slowly rotated them around.

  “Much better!” Sadie called from the front row. “But I want to see it again. Softer with your hands, Angelo. I don’t want to see your fingers digging into her. Make it look easy.”

  “Isn’t that always the fuckin’ motto?” Angelo said with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “Make it look easy. I’d love to see a weight lifter make it look easy.”

  “Hey.” Remi nudged him with her elbow. “Who you calling fat?”

  “You’re not fat, baby.” He pinched her thigh. “You’re full of muscle.”

  With his longish black hair, full sleeve of tattoos, and a piercing through his left brow, Angelo looked nothing like the men she’d danced with growing up. But that was the beauty of Out of Bounds—Wes had assembled a cast of people who were unique. Their dancers were like a band of talented misfits, those that didn’t fit the bunhead mold.

  Sadie started the track again. Though many of the moves were traditional in nature, the soundtrack they’d chosen was anything but. A heavy-bass dubstep beat burst from the speakers and Remi got into position again.

  “One, two, three.” Sadie clapped her hands together with each beat, her eyes tracking them as they moved across the stage. “That’s it, Remi. Higher! Two, three, and again.”

  Sweat ran down the back of her spine, making the already-clingy fabric of her black leotard adhere to her skin. Her pointe shoes knocked against the floor, allowing her to glide in bourrée en couru, the small, fluttering steps taking her across the stage, with Angelo leaping soundlessly behind her. She caught the flash of movement, counted his grand jetés. One, two, three.

  “Turn, turn, and down,” Sadie called the steps out, using her hands to emphasize the beats. “Yes, soft arms. Perfect, Remi!”

  Today it felt right. Like the steps had finally been imprinted on her mind. Her muscles were strong and pliable, her feet curved and steady. The music flowed through her veins in that magical way that’d she’d missed with all her heart.

  Yes.

  She looked up, her gaze cast high into the audience over her extended right arm. Hands and wrists soft, eyes steady. She swept down over her pointed leg, and then around following the curve of music. When she came back up, she saw Wes standing in the front, watching her. His arms were folded tight over his chest, his blues eyes wide and penetrating.

  Angelo came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed his face to her neck.

  Sadie clapped. “Love that feeling, Angelo!”

  Then he swept her up and back, her spine curved over his shoulder as she let her head and arms fall behind her. When he brought her down, she was turned to face her partner—away from Wes’s intense stare—her leg came up. Angelo hooked his arm under her knee and then she was in the air again, flying. Floating. Turning.

  The emotional up-and-down movement of the dance mimicked the thoughts dipping and soaring in her head. Confused as she might be, this feeling was like returning to family after years of being away. It was like the blast of warm air after coming in from the cold. The stage was solid
beneath her feet when Angelo brought her down and tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. It felt so good to be home.

  “That was magnificent!” Sadie hopped up onto the stage and rushed over to them, her blue and purple hair glimmering under the stage lights. “You two…ugh. So damn good. That was the best I’ve seen you do it.”

  Remi pressed her hands to her lips, the feeling of relief sweeping through her like a summer storm—heavy and thick, like the air right before it broke.

  “No tears, baby. You’ve nailed it.” Angelo slung an arm around her neck. “Man, that was better than sex.”

  Sadie threw her head back and laughed. “How would your boyfriend feel about you saying that, huh?”

  “Oh, he knows.” Angelo grinned. “Ballet will always come before sex.”

  Remi’s eyes drifted to where Wes stood, unmoving. She waited a moment for him to chime in, to support Sadie’s encouragement and share in their celebratory moment. But he hung back, looking on like an outsider.

  A strange, old feeling gripped Remi’s heart.

  Don’t be paranoid. There’s a lot riding on today. He’s probably stressed out of his mind.

  She’d come to realize that Wes locked a lot of those feelings up, shielding the cast from the stresses he shouldered as director. He was like the head of their strange, misfit family, the protective leader not wanting anyone to see him worry.

  But the tension in his face, the brittle way his folded arms barred his chest, put a barrier between them.

  It’s nothing to do with you. Just dance your heart out today and let that be enough.

  Chapter 19

  “I dated Wes not long after he’d broken up with his teenage sweetheart, so I guess you could say I was the rebound girl. I liked him a lot, but he wouldn’t open up. And no relationship can thrive on good sex alone.”

  —NeverTheSlamDunk

  Remi stepped back into downward dog, feeling the pull in her calves and hamstrings as she pressed her heels into her yoga mat. Most ballerinas at her company back home had done Pilates or yoga every day to maintain flexibility and to work out the kinks created by hours of rehearsals. For some reason, that habit had stuck with her even when she wasn’t dancing.