Dance: The Collected Series

by Charlotte Eve

  I feel my heart sink as I watch the confusion flickering across her face.

  Damn.

  I’m just gonna actually have to come right out and say it, aren’t I?

  “It’s just,” I begin.

  I pause for a moment, searching in vain for the right words.

  “Are you sure,” I continue hesitantly, my heart beginning to boom, “that he’s, well, the right guy for you? Y’know, The One?”

  “What d’you mean?” Natalia shoots back. It’s clear she has no idea where I’m going with this.

  I sigh, forcing myself to continue.

  “It’s just that I’m not sure that you two go so well together? I don’t think he really gets you? Know what I mean?”

  “No,” says Natalia slowly and deliberately. “I don’t get what you mean. So you’re gonna have to explain it to me, Jules.“

  I gulp and take a deep breath.

  “I guess I just mean that I’m worried he won’t make you happy. You need somebody who really understands you, Nat, and I’m just not sure that person is Marcus.”

  Nat sits bolt upright on the sofa. “No, no, no,” she says, slowly and carefully. “I hear you. I get what you’re saying.”

  And for a split second I actually think I might have got through to her. But then her eyes narrow venomously.

  “You’re saying I’m wasting my time trying to go for a guy like Marcus, right?”

  “No!” I try to say. “That’s not what I mean at all!”

  But by now she’s not even listening to me.

  “I guess I should probably stick to all those no good losers, right?” she continues.

  “Nat, please, just listen to me,” I insist, trying to take her hand but she snatches it roughly away. “That’s not what I’m saying at all.”

  And then Nat really flips out, pushing herself to her feet and folding her arms across her chest.

  “I fucking knew you were gonna do this,” she spits, her voice shaking with rage. “You want to be the only one who gets all the breaks. All I wanted was the same as you: a good guy, someone who’s gonna treat me right. And now I’ve found him, Jules, and I’m not about to give him up no matter what you or anyone else says. You’re just jealous that I’m happy too.”

  “That’s not it at all, Nat, I swear. I heard him talking about you last night, at the bar, and the things he was saying, well, they were just horrible.”

  “I didn’t think you’d stoop so low,” she adds.

  “What? What do you mean?” I beg.

  “Making up nasty shit like this, just so I’ll break up with him. That’s low, Jules, really fucking low.”

  “Nat, listen to me, please,” I plead.

  “Get out,” she screams. “I don’t have to listen to this. Get the fuck out of my goddamn apartment right now.”

  §

  I slump onto front the steps outside her apartment, totally shaken, fumbling my cell phone from my purse. I need to call Dylan. Right now, I just need to hear his voice to calm me down. I scan the time on the screen, and figure that it must be evening there by now. So I hit dial and wait, fighting back the hot sting of tears, as the phone buzzes against my ear for what seems like an eternity and then ...

  “Hello?” an unfamiliar British voice says. And it takes me a moment to realize that this is an unfamiliar female British voice.

  “Um, hello?” I reply, uncertainly. “Is Dylan there?”

  “I’m afraid he’s just jumped in the shower,” the voice announces, totally cool and calm. “May I help you?”

  Shower ... Wait, what?

  “I’m sorry, who is this?” I say.

  “Oh, my apologies. I’m Dylan’s assistant, Alex. And this is Julia, right? Yes of course! Why how silly of me! You must be Dylan’s fiancé!”

  There’s something about her tone that makes me wonder if she’s actually mocking me, but with that impeccable British accent it’s impossible to tell.

  “Shall I ask him to call you back?”

  “Don’t bother,” I hear myself say, before hanging up the phone.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I’m up mega early, because today’s the day we find out the results of the auditions. And when everything else in my life seems to be crashing down around me, dancing feels like the one thing I’ve got left – the one thing that’s still totally mine.

  I know I pulled off a pretty good audition, despite everything that was going on in my head, and all I can do is to hell that Madame Lyon and the other judges agreed.

  I head along the huge empty corridors of the academy, my foot steps echoing, as I approach the huge notice board. Sure enough I’m the first one here.

  I cross my fingers and hold my breath as I scan through the pinned up list for my name, my heart booming in my chest, and when I locate it, I have to stare in disbelief for a few seconds.

  Wtf?

  I just can’t believe my eyes.

  Julia Tate - understudy.

  I blink a few times, trying to rearrange the letters into something a little more understandable. But nope. The word taunts me from the page. Understudy? What the hell? I was the goddamn star of last semester’s show. And sure, maybe I’ve not been on my A-game these past few weeks, but even so, I know I’m better than some crappy understudy.

  I can’t help it; I feel the corners of my eyes filling with tears of shame and my face flushing with heat, and right now the only relief I feel is in knowing that at least there’s nobody else here to see me so humiliated.

  But it seems I’m not even allowed that little luxury, because a moment later I hear a familiar voice behind me.

  “Ah, Julia,” says the stern tone of Madame Lyon. “Just the person I was looking for. Care to come to my office?”

  I nod, then follow her in silence down the corridor to her office, feeling totally drained and broken – ashamed and frustrated and miserable.

  She closed the door behind me then takes her seat at her desk, and I flop down opposite, all my dancer’s poise and grace has flown out of the window now.

  To my relief, Madame Lyon doesn’t leave me hanging, and cuts straight to the chase. “I know just what you’re thinking, Julia,” she begins, leaning forward a little in her chair, her eyes flashing, almost as if she’s enjoying how much this new development has got to me. “You’re disappointed, not to mention dismayed and confused. And why wouldn’t you be? You were the lead in last term’s recital and so naturally you assumed you’d also be starring this term. Correct?”

  I nod, sadly. She’s right. I don’t know what the hell just happened.

  “Do not misunderstand me when I say that I’d hoped that would be the case this term, too,” she continues coldly. “But it can’t have escaped your notice that you have some fresh competition. And given Liliya’s impeccable dancing, we had no choice but to offer her the starring role.”

  “But I don’t understand!” I blurt out, unable to bite my tongue any longer. “Why does that mean I have to be an understudy? There are at least fifteen other parts I could perform! Am I really suddenly the worst dancer in the school?”

  “Of course you’re not,” she laughs, shaking her head, blue eyes shining. “You know that. And I’m not going to waste my time massaging your ego and telling you how wonderful you are. Sure, I could have given you any of those other roles, but I don’t believe you would’ve learnt anything from the experience. And that’s what this school is all about, Julia – it’s about nurturing you. Allowing you to learn and grow from your experiences. Now I know this will be difficult for you, but I what want you to do for the remainder of the term is shadow Liliya. Because I believe you can learn from her, and believe it or not, I think she can learn a thing or two from you, too.”

  Her expression changes, and now it seems like there’s fire flashing in her eyes.

  “So, Julia?” she challenges. “Are you going to sulk and feel sorry for yourself, or are you going to rise to the occasion?”

  §

  I walk ou
t of school, trying to hold my head up high. Madame Lyon’s right. I have no choice but to take on this new challenge and learn from it. But even as I’m trying to stay positive – as if my day couldn’t get any worse – as I walk down front steps of the school, I see Natalia waiting for me, and by the thunderous expression on her face, she sure isn’t here to kiss and make up.

  “Hey!” I say, trying to keep things friendly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why couldn’t you just keep out of my life?” she screams, stalking towards me like she wants to tear my fucking hair out.

  “Woah, woah,” I say, palms up, backing away from her. “What is it you think I’ve done now?”

  “I told you that my relationship was none of your business,” she hisses. “I told you to leave me and Marcus alone. But – as I’m sure you know – now it’s over. He’s finished with me, and I know why. You got your bigshot boyfriend to scare him off, didn’t you?”

  “No, wait, I didn’t do anything,” I plead. “You’ve gotta listen to me, Nat. I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. Come on, let’s go and get a coffee, sit down and talk this through, okay?”

  “There’s no way I’m sitting down with you, bitch,” she laughs bitterly. “You’re no friend of mine. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  “Wait!” I call, as she turns to leave, reaching out to try and grab her shoulder. But she wrenches herself away from my fingers and runs, leaving me there on the steps, flustered and confused.

  I stand stock still, head spinning, and I don’t even know how long I’ve been frozen there on the steps, dazed, when I suddenly realize my cell phone is ringing in my bag. I pull it out and stare blankly at the screen, unable to recognize the number, but for some reason I answer anyway.

  “Hello?” I say tentatively.

  “Oh, good, Julia,” comes Gloria Campbell’s icy cold reply.

  My heart skips a beat.

  Really?

  Could this day get any worse?

  “I think it’s about time we met and cleared this mess up once and for all,” she says. “What do you say?”

  “I guess so,” I offer, still somewhat confused.

  “I’m at my apartment on the Upper East Side. How soon can you get here?”

  “I’m in Manhattan,” I reply. “I supposed I could grab a cab now?”

  “Good,” she says. “I’ll message you the address.”

  And with that she hangs up.

  Holy crap. This is one hell of a morning. Is the universe trying to drive me crazy or something? First Nat calls me a liar, then I find out Dylan’s been taking showers with this Alex bitch, then I find out I’m an understudy, then Nat returns for round two, and now, just to top it all off I’m summoned to Gloria’s lair.

  I hurry off campus and quickly scan the street for a yellow cab. I can only hope and pray that Gloria wants to clear things up between us. And I can’t help it – a tiny glimmer of hope starts to flicker in my heart.

  Perhaps today isn’t going to be the worst day of my life after all.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Stepping into the plush lobby of Gloria’s apartment block, I’m suspect I’m at least sixty years younger than anyone else in this whole damn building. The residents all seem to be tiny old women, caked in make up, dolled up in expensive clothes, cradling tiny little dogs or thousand dollar handbags – sometimes both.

  As I reach the elevator, the operator (who’s also ancient) looks me up and down like he’s never seen anyone of my species before. And when I tell him which apartment number I’d like, he raises an eyebrow in flat out surprise. But to my relief, he does at least press the button, rocketing us upwards, the carriage coming to a halt moments later, before the polished brass doors swish open into the private lobby of Gloria’s penthouse.

  And there she is of course, waiting to greet me, standing in the center of the huge black and white marble chequered floor, her arms crossed, her face cold as steel. Just like Nat, Gloria doesn’t look like she’s decided to kiss and make up, either. Nope. In fact, she looks like she’s ready for war.

  “Ah, Julia,” she says with a thin-lipped smile and an arched eyebrow, “how nice of you to come. I guess you’d better sit down.”

  “I guess I’d better,” I murmur in reply, following her through the large cold room and around a corner, into a beautifully furnished sitting room. She gestures to an antique chaise longue and I take a seat, perching nervously right on the edge of it, while Gloria, of course, remains standing.

  “I see you’ve done nothing since our last little talk,” she begins, cutting straight to the chase.

  And all of a sudden I can see exactly where she’s heading with this meeting. I stay silent but I don’t take my eyes off her, watching her every movement like a hawk as she paces back and forth in front of me, high heels clicking menacingly.

  “I didn’t want to have to do this, truly I didn’t,” she continues. “I like you, Julia. You’re a bright girl. You’re smart, and driven to succeed. But even so, I simply cannot allow you to marry my son. I’d hoped that I’d made myself perfectly clear at our last meeting. But I can see now that that wasn’t the case. To put it bluntly, I simply will not allow this relationship to continue any longer. You leave me no other choice.”

  The whole time she’s been speaking I’ve been feeling my blood begin to boil, and with these last words, I’m tipped over the edge – the words flying from my mouth before I even know what I’m saying.

  “Oh hell no,” I spit back. “That’s not how this works, Gloria. Dylan loves me and I love him, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about that.”

  I lock eyes with her, trembling with anger, but the look she gives me tells me she’s not at all threatened. If anything, she looks like she’s actually enjoying this.

  With a flash of horror, I watch her mouth curl into a thin-lipped smile as she sighs softly, shaking her head, before saying, “Poor Julia. So young, so optimistic, so naïve about the ways of the world. I remember when Bailey and I first started out. We were just like you and Dylan. Young, beautiful, and in love. The whole world felt as if it were ours for the taking, and our love was all that mattered. But of course, we soon learnt that that’s not how things work. We had every advantage, but it didn’t matter, or so we thought. Our love was the only thing.”

  At this, Gloria stops, moves closer to me and stares straight into my eyes.

  “Do you realize how hard I’ve had to fight for my marriage?” she hisses. “How many difficulties Bailey and I faced? How many ups and downs? And all that, with the whole world helping us.”

  Gloria looks so serious, her eyes blazing with fire, but I don’t even understand quite what she’s getting at.

  “So how do you think you and Dylan are going to make it, when I’m doing everything I can to destroy you?” she continues.

  “You can’t,” I counter weakly.

  “Oh, I can, and I will,” she laughs.

  “What exactly are you saying, Gloria?”

  “Do you honestly think that you’re going to make it to the altar with my son?” she growls. “Because I for one think he’s going to be too distracted to get married. I mean, all that dreadful tabloid gossip is going to put such a strain on your relationship.”

  “What gossip?” I ask, feeling my blood run cold.

  “Oh, you know,” she says with a mean little smile. “Just the usual: the sex scandals, the dirty pictures of his fiancé floating about on the internet, the lurid tales of three in a bed with the wannabe dancer and her string of lovers.”

  “You can’t do that!” I say, my voice rising in volume. “I mean, for a start it’s just not true! There are no photos of me, Gloria. There are no stories like that.”

  “That very well may be the case,” she replies, “but there are also people in this world who are willing to say anything I want in the press. And who cares if it’s true or not? The tabloids certainly won’t worry. You’ll be over in minutes. So tell me, h
ow’s Dylan supposed to concentrate with all that dreadful noise?”

  “He won’t listen,” I say, my voice trembling. “I know Dylan. He won’t care!”

  “At first, maybe,” she sneers. “But if you do manage to trick him to the altar, do you really think I’ll stop there?”

  “I’m guessing the answer is no,” I say weakly.

  “Correct,” she says. “And it’s not just you I’ll hurt. I’ll come after your friends and family, too.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Oh, try me,” she snarls. “For a start, I’m looking to invest in some new real estate, and I noticed a dance studio downtown that’s very competitively priced. Perhaps I’ll look into buying it. Oh wait, you’re a dancer aren’t you? Have you heard of The Rhythm Project? It’s a scruffy little place right now, but it’s got tons of potential.”

  I push myself unsteadily to my feet. The whole room feels like it’s spinning. Maybe this whole thing is just some crazy nightmare I’ll wake up any second.

  “Leaving so soon?” Gloria calls after me mockingly, as I trudge towards the elevator.

  But I’m too sick and shaken to even reply.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Please Dylan,” I plead. “Just tell me where we’re going.”

  But he just laughs and squeezes my hand. “Not yet, baby. I told you, didn’t I? This is a surprise. You do know how a surprise works, don’t you?” he teases.

  “Of course I do,” I shoot back. “And you also remember that I hate surprises, right?”

  The suspense is killing me. All I know is that we boarded Dylan’s private jet six hours ago, which means we must be going somewhere pretty far. Europe maybe? Or what about Asia? But despite my many pleas, he just won’t tell me a damn thing. And every time I look out of the window for clues, all I can see are white fluffy clouds.

  I know I said I hate surprises, but I have to admit, this is amazing. Or at least it should be. Because every few seconds I think again about Gloria’s horrible threats, and how I don’t doubt that she’ll go through with them – and how I’ve just got to break up with Dylan. But is it so dreadful of me to want one perfect weekend with him first? To have one last farewell, before I go through with it?