Niles. She had to risk it; she was desperate to talk to a friend right then.
She called his work number, her heart thudding. Soon it was thumping so loudly she was afraid it would override her speech, her hearing.
“Niles Rowley speaking.”
His clipped voice, the implied impatience even when he didn’t know who it was, made her feel faint.
“Niles.” She had to pause, clear her throat and repeat herself. “It’s Alice.”
If he was surprised or nervous to hear from her, his voice didn’t betray it.
“Alice. How are you?”
She’d planned to tell him the truth, to unleash her woes, but his cool tone made her reconsider. “I’m fine,” she said instead. “Great.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He offered nothing more.
“When did you get back from Asia?” She tried not to sound accusing.
“Sunday. The same day Christine arrived.”
“Ah. Party boy.”
“Hardly.”
She realized, belatedly, if she wasn’t going to share her bad news with him, the most obvious subject to discuss would be their recent encounter.
“I was surprised to see you last night,” she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. “That was a fancy restaurant.”
“It wasn’t a date I was on, if that’s what you’re getting at. Christine paid. She wanted to go to a nice restaurant in San Francisco before she left, and thank me at the same time for a week of free housing.”
“She seems very considerate.”
“She is. And your dining partner seemed quite considerate as well. Attentive.”
As she was searching for the best reply, he spoke again. “So. Did you go home with him?”
Of all the questions he might have fired at her, this was one she was the least prepared for.
“Niles. It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Did he take you back to his place?”
Silence.
“I thought so. I could tell.”
She found her voice, her wits. “Look. Let me explain.”
“Answer me one thing. Has this been going on since before I left? Because it looked like the two of you were very good friends.”
“Niles. That was Andy Redgrave. Gil’s Andy Redgrave.”
“Oh. Well. It all makes sense now.”
“Nothing was going on. It was a charade. He’s a business client, nothing more.”
“And you just happen to make house calls.”
“Look. At his place we listened to music. Nothing more. He saw I was upset and offered a diversion. The same thing at the restaurant—he noticed that seeing you upset me. Did that variable ever creep into your mind? That it devastated me to see you there, with another woman?”
“You didn’t show any pain or insecurity.” He sounded suspicious. “Not one bit. Watching you laughing with that guy, leaning into him, all I could think was that it was over between us and you’d moved on just fine.”
“No! That wasn’t the case in the least. I was just protecting myself by acting cool.”
“I don’t think you realize how effective your use of coolness as a weapon is. That goes for last night and that night at your house as well. When you told me not to call you.”
“Niles. I’m sorry. That hadn’t been my intention, either time. Please. I don’t want it to be over between us.” Her voice trembled. “God, if only you knew how I’ve been hurting.”
“But I didn’t know, did I? You failed to transmit that message to me.”
“Niles. Please believe me.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. He sighed, a tortured sound. “Look. I’m sorry. I need some time here to straighten things out. In my head. And Christine’s still here.”
She understood, in a rush of glacial clarity, what he was choosing not to say.
Something had happened between him and Christine last night. She could just see it, that pretty young girl roping her arms around Niles’s neck, wishing him a good night, sweet dreams, telling him she appreciated his help, his company, so very much, and was there anything she could do in return? Some comfort, perhaps?
She wouldn’t have thought she was the jealous type. But this cold, sick feeling washing over her, this territoriality, choked the words right out of her. Had Niles been looking for a fitting punishment for her, he’d certainly found it.
Even he seemed to realize this. When he spoke next, his voice was gentler.
“Look, I said I’d call you when I was free, and that’s still my plan. Christine leaves on Sunday morning. I’ll call you after that, okay?”
She prided herself on the fact that she’d never cried in front of him. She wasn’t going to start now.
“Sure. Whenever it works for you. I’m here.”
Lana came in an hour later and looked stunned to see Alice there, sitting on the couch, beer in hand. She gaped at her and in response, Alice lifted her beer bottle in Lana’s direction.
“Why aren’t you at work?” Lana asked.
“Oh, work. That.” She took a swig of beer.
“Alice. What happened? Something happened between you and Gil, didn’t it? Oh, God, I blew it again. I got you into trouble.”
In response, Alice only shrugged and offered a polite belch.
“Tell me.”
“Oh, only that Gil tried to fire me.”
Lana’s eyes grew wide. “What are you saying?” she gasped.
“You heard me.”
“What do you mean, he ‘tried’ to fire you?”
“Well, he said, ‘You’re fired.’ And I laughed in his face.”
“And what did he do? Take it back?”
“Hardly. No, he stood there like some sheriff in a bad Western and held his ground with a mean look on his face. All that was missing was spurs and a six-shooter.” The image made her laugh. Or perhaps that was simply the three beers doing their job. “I told him I was leaving and just walked out.”
Lana looked uneasy. “So, he didn’t un-fire you?”
“Well, no. Not yet.”
“Alice. This is serious.”
Alice gave an expansive wave, brushing aside the terror that was growing with each passing hour. She’d been so sure he was just trying to call her bluff in walking out. Gil was the one bluffing, she was positive. Right at this moment, she could almost visualize him, standing there, hand on the phone, ranting to himself, saying he would not call her first, that he’d make her stew in her fear a little longer.
As if on cue, the phone rang.
“I’ll bet you money that’s him.” Alice said. “See, I know him. This is just one of his games. We’ll argue some more, we’ll make up and by tomorrow it will be like nothing ever happened.”
She struggled to her feet, went over to the machine and pointed at the incoming call number. “There you go. It’s a WCBT number.” She peered closer. “Except that’s not Gil’s number.”
She let the answering machine pick up the call.
“Alice, it’s Lucinda. I just heard the news.”
Alice and Lana exchanged uneasy glances as Lucinda’s voice filled the room.
“I just want you to know that I think what Gil did was wrong. He had no right. You’ve shown so much loyalty to the WCBT, and for it to end like that? I wanted you to know that if you want to contest it, I’ll back you up.”
She felt sick. She picked up the phone while Lucinda was still talking.
“Oh! Alice, you’re there?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I was slow in getting to the phone. But you’re saying you heard that Gil…”
She couldn’t even say the words.
“That he fired you? Yes.”
“How did you hear that?” Maybe Lucinda had just been nosy, she told herself. Overhearing their argument, eavesdropping on her nemesis to see what trouble she could stir up.
“He told me. He’s telling everyone, Alice. He was on his way over to HR to document
it, in fact.”
“He can’t fire me!” Alice cried. “He has no grounds.”
“I know, that was my thought, too. I don’t care what disagreement you were having today, you did not deserve that. I say you contest it. Like I said, I’ll back you up. I mean, you have history here.” Her voice quivered with indignation.
Alice somehow made it through the rest of the conversation, mind awhirl, thanking Lucinda for her support. She wasn’t sure which was more difficult to believe—that Gil had actually fired her, or that it was Lucinda who was so fiercely standing up for her.
It was turning out to be a very bad day.
She hung up and stared at Lana.
“He did it,” she said in a dazed voice. “Gil fired me.”
Chapter 20 – Falling
Luke called Lana after company class on Friday while Lana was finishing the last of a granola bar snack. At the sound of his high, uncertain voice, a rush of fear clutched at her heart.
“Luke! Sweetie, hi. Is everything all right?” She balled up the wrapper, threw it away, and left the dancers’ lounge to talk in a more quiet spot.
“Yeah. I just wanted to talk to someone and remembered you told me I could call you. Except that you have your class where you can’t talk, so I waited. That was right, huh, Lana?”
“It was. What a big boy you are to call! Is Mom there?”
“No, she’s gone.”
“Is Annabel there with you?”
“No. I’m all alone.” His voice quivered with a mix of pride and unease.
“Goodness, you are a big boy.” She tried to sound casual, not alarmed. “Does Mommy do this often, leave you alone?”
“Only when she really has to. It’s okay. I know I’m never supposed to answer the door or the phone. But sometimes I get lonely. So I’m glad you were there.”
“I’m glad I was here for you too.”
He chattered nonstop for the next few minutes before the conversation turned to Christmas, even though it was still only September, and how he already knew what he was going to ask Santa for.
“Ooh, what is it? Can you tell me?”
“Well, I shouldn’t,” he said gravely. “Because I might jinx it.”
He was dying to tell her, she could tell. After much hedging, she got it out of him.
“I’m going to ask for you to come home.” He sounded proud, convinced he’d solved a tricky issue once and for all.
Lana squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, sweetie, you can’t do that.”
“Sure I can.”
“Luke? Santa doesn’t do stuff like that. He brings presents.”
“Oh, he does everything. He’s Santa. And besides. A grown-up told me I could.”
“Who told you that?”
“Mom.”
Indignation rose up in her. “Luke, I can only talk for another minute, because I have a rehearsal. But the minute Mom comes home, tell her to call me, okay? So I know you’re safe and someone’s in charge of you again.”
He agreed and hung up on her without another word, phone etiquette having yet to work its way into his six-year-old mind.
Lana glanced at her watch. Time to head over to the theater. The first cast of Autumn Souvenir had stage time for a rehearsal in ten minutes, a run-through for some final checks on lighting. As she was organizing the contents of her dance bag, her phone trilled again. She grabbed at it hastily.
“Mom?”
“Lana. Hi, honey. How are things?”
“Mom, why was Luke alone?”
“Oh, now don’t you start on me. It was only for thirty minutes and he’s a responsible kid.”
“Mom, he’s six years old.”
“And I’ve been raising kids for twenty-four years, Miss Know-it-all. Is that why you had me call you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“No, the thing is, Luke seems to be under the impression he can ask Santa for me to come home.”
Mom chuckled, her defensiveness gone. “I know. Isn’t that sweet? He sure misses you.”
“But what’s going to happen on Christmas Day when I’m not there?”
“Well, you’ll just have to make sure you’re here.”
“That’s not so easily done. I’m a little far to just ‘drop by.’”
“Oh, I know, you’re far and you have your show going on and such. But this is Christmas Day we’re talking about, Lana. You’ve never missed a Christmas here. No one has. Not ever. And we all agreed that this was the kind of thing that made our family special. So, I realize you can’t come much earlier, and will have to leave right after, but we’ll just make do.”
“Mom, I can’t. We perform the day before Christmas and the day after. There’s no way I can work around that.”
“You tell them you can do one day’s show and not the other. You take the red-eye flights both directions. You make it happen, honey.”
“Look, I’m new in the company. Nutcracker is huge—I can’t just call in sick and pop back in two days later. I have to be here at all times, except for Christmas Day. And one day is just not enough time to get to Kansas City and back.”
There was an ominous silence from the other end.
“Mom? I can’t do anything here if you don’t speak up.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing you tell me, Lana. That you’re not going to even try and come home to be with your family on Christmas.”
“Maybe I can make it for New Year’s Eve. How about that? I’ll be done with Nutcracker and it will be so much less complicated.”
“And would you just like me to change the date of our Lord’s birth? Just change it around to accommodate your selfish whims?”
“This isn’t about me! This is about my job. Ballet isn’t some hobby to try and work around my ‘real’ life, like when I was a kid. Why can’t you get that? Why aren’t you letting me devote myself to it the way I need to?”
“Because sometimes life just doesn’t work out that way!” Mom burst out. “Not everyone gets to carry out their dreams, their perfect worlds. Some don’t get to at all. Some don’t make it past their first day of life. And that creates a big, terrible hole for the rest of us. The rest of us who care about family, that is. The things that matter. Things the family has lost, that will never, never come back.”
Mom began to cry, sobs that started off small and grew in intensity.
Lana had done it again.
She glanced at her watch in a panic. She was going to be late for rehearsal, this last one for Souvenir. Tonight was opening night. The timing here couldn’t have been worse.
“Mom, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. Please. Don’t do this. I’m begging you.”
Mom managed to speak through her sobs. “Then tell me you’ll come home.” A noisy gulp for air. “To us. On Christmas Day.”
Something in Lana snapped.
“Stop doing this to me,” she cried. “Stop backing me into a corner, scaring me, so that you can…manipulate me.”
Alice’s words. Alice’s scenario.
Alice had been right.
“I’m not going to come home on Christmas Day,” she told Mom. “And that’s how it’s going to be. You’re just going to have to live with that.”
The sobs had stopped. In their place was a cold voice, seething with anger, terrible in its indictment.
“Fine. You made your decision, Lana Marie Kessler. You’ll deal with the consequences.”
The rehearsal, run by Ben, was only intended to be an onstage mark-through, for lighting to work on cues with the dancers in place. Lana, however, chose to dance full out. There was no other way she could deal with the sick anxiety brewing inside her.
She knew she was distraught, and that distraught equaled distracted. She knew she was putting herself at risk. So when she fell, coming out of a turn, she wasn’t shocked as much as resigned. There was even a sense of rightness, of satisfaction, that consequence should so neatly follow poorly thought-out action.
She hit
the floor hard with a bone-jolting bam. She lay there, too stunned to scramble up and continue, thoughts swirling through her head at a millisecond’s pace.
I’m hurt.
It’s Alice all over again.
Maybe Luke will get his wish after all.
She heard the “God, is she all right?” whispers amid a dawning realization that while the fall had hurt—she’d banged her head, producing stars, like in the cartoons, little spirals and asterisks of blue and pink—it hadn’t broken or torn anything.
This wasn’t Alice, after all.
“Lana?” Ben called out. “Are you all right?”
She managed to sit up. The other dancers and Ben were frozen in place, waiting for her reply.
Was she all right?
No. Nothing in her life was all right. Tears rose and spilled out, which she wiped away angrily, trying to pretend like they were just sweat, but more kept coming out.
Tears had bonded her to her fellow dancers in the past. She herself had been quick to comfort and sympathize with others who’d wept out their frustration, their pain. But that was not going to be what happened here. Because once she called out in a high, unsteady voice that she was fine, after a collective exhale of relief, one of the male corps dancers began to laugh. Courtney joined him, and another, and even Javier.
They were laughing at her.
These people who’d judged her, made her feel out of place, from the day of her arrival.
Not everyone was laughing, however. Delores hurried over to Lana, face creased in concern, bent and laid a hand on Lana’s shoulder. She glared at the others. “This isn’t funny. Lana could have been seriously hurt.”
“Yes, but she wasn’t,” Javier said, walking over to her. “And that makes all the difference.” He offered her his hand. She took it and he lifted her to her feet. When she’d risen, he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her. “That was a beautiful, impressive, and, yes, hilarious fall. Do you forgive us for laughing?” he asked, and reluctantly she nodded.
Ben, after confirming Lana was fine, stepped away to speak with the lighting director. The other dancers used the break to recount their own big-fall stories. Javier repositioned himself behind Lana and began to massage her shoulders. “Are you really all right?” he murmured into her ear.
Off Balance (Ballet Theatre Chronicles Book 1) Page 26