The Music and the Mirror

by Lola Keeley

  “I’ve always given a damn,” she corrects him, turning toward the door. “But I’m not sure you do, anymore.”

  “Oh, I give plenty.” Rick strides across the room to open the door for her.

  Victoria blinks a fraction too long and twelve years evaporate. They’re in the studio, he’s sporting that ridiculous goatee, and she’s six weeks away from the end of her career.

  “Have Kelly send me the details when it’s pulled together,” he continues. “I’ll want a preview before I sign off on this. Make time.”

  “It’s only a week until the print run?” Victoria says before lowering her shoulders and accepting her fate. “Hard work doesn’t scare me, you know that.”

  “Then work very hard,” Rick says, the threat clear. “Goodbye, Victoria. Let’s not make this the start of your farewell, hmm?”

  That she makes it out of the room without flipping him off is one of the greater victories for Victoria’s limited self-restraint. She knocks a vase of ugly flowers from the table in the corridor just to turn the rage back down to simmering. The ridiculous carpet denies her even the satisfaction of a good smash.

  Back in the car, she summons Kelly with a press of her Bluetooth. Scanning downtown traffic through her tinted window, Victoria rubs absentmindedly at her knee. Stiff again this morning, and these heels to intimidate Rick both didn’t work and have cost her at least one extra physio session. For all the good that does. Through the fabric of her pants she runs a fingertip over the valley of her scar, flicking a cursory glance to make sure the new driver isn’t watching in the rearview mirror.

  “I squeezed Anna in at three,” Kelly greets her on the phone, not bothering with small talk. “That gives you time to stop off before coming back.”

  For her prescription, Victoria realizes. Kelly’s been collecting them for her for so long that the doctor had the cheek to actually demand Victoria show up in person before writing another refill. The chaos of today has already blown the appointment from her mind, and she had spent most of last night working out perfectly good reasons to cancel. As though hearing her scheme, the ligament in her knee tightens enough to make her grit her teeth. She ends her call without bothering to sign off; Kelly is more than used to it by now.

  “Park and Seventy-Third,” Victoria barks at the driver, who’s used to the brevity already. He nods in acknowledgment.

  Victoria leans back against the leather of the seat and closes her eyes. As soon as she does, the first steps start to materialize, the scuff of leather against a wooden floor already forming beats only she can hear.

  This girl had better show up ready to impress at three. Victoria’s just bet her future on a straightforward routine and a stuttering desire to please. But there’s something about this Anna, something Victoria hasn’t felt stirring in her gut for well over a decade. She’s immodest enough to know how exceptional she herself was, that no one since has come close to outshining her career.

  But there’s something in the way that girl moves that makes Victoria’s own limbs stir once more, like a low voltage running just under her skin. There might never be another Victoria Ford, and she wouldn’t want there to be. She just might settle for unearthing the next best thing.

  CHAPTER 3

  At three sharp, Anna knocks on the outer door of Victoria’s office.

  The redheaded woman who came to find her earlier is sitting at a desk covered in piles of paper, her head barely visible over the miniature mountains.

  “I’m Anna?”

  “Of course you are,” the woman replies. “Did I tell you my name earlier? Well, it’s Kelly.”

  “Got it,” Anna answers with her first grin in hours, hoisting her kit bag back on her shoulder. “Do you know if Ms. Ford—”

  “Victoria,” Kelly corrects, pursing her lips.

  “Right. Victoria.” Anna stifles a sigh. She isn’t going to get a single thing right today. Maybe it’s not too late to catch a bus back to Dubuque, Iowa. “Do you know if this is just to yell at me for earlier? Because I am really worried I might cry if she does, and that is not the impression I was going for.”

  “Oh, there’s no crying in ballet,” Kelly scolds, but her smile is still kind. “I’d offer you one of these donuts to cheer you up, but—”

  “I eat donuts!” Anna interrupts, because it’s the first actual food she’s seen all day. Everyone who bothered to eat between classes had some kind of smoothie or a handful of nuts. “Although maybe not right before my meeting,” she says, realizing it’s a terrible idea just as a door swings open.

  “An-ya!” comes the yell a moment later.

  Anna winces, and Kelly shoots one last sympathetic look.

  “Any—”

  “I’m here!” Anna says, slipping into the inner office and slamming the door behind her. “Also, and this is not a big deal or anything, but it’s actually, um, Anna?”

  Victoria shoots her a baleful look from where she’s pacing behind the desk. “How utterly provincial. You don’t think in this world a nice Russian twist might be better? It certainly sounds better than those dreadful Midwestern vowels you just assaulted me with.”

  “It’s my name,” Anna protests.

  “How did you find the late-morning session?” Victoria changes tack. She sits in her oversized leather chair and kicks one foot up on the desk, while Anna fumbles for an answer. “Did you manage to keep your phone off for the entire session? Or should I expect David Jackson to be cursing your name?”

  Anna taps the phone in the pocket of her warm-down hoodie, having checked six times on the way there that it was still both silenced and powered down.

  “He was good. Great, actually. We tried some interesting exercises.”

  “Did you prefer it to my class?”

  “W-what?” Anna is caught off guard by the bluntness. “Of course not! You’re… The only reason I applied for the company was the glimmer of a chance of working with you.” A hint of a smile. Finally, Anna has done something right.

  Victoria gestures for her to sit in the visitor’s chair in front of her desk, and Anna gets off tired her legs gratefully.

  “How old are you? Older than most of my newbies, I’d bet.”

  “Twenty-one. But I wasn’t injured or anything, I just got started late.”

  “Oh, I’m in very little doubt about your ability,” Victoria said, her smile unmistakable this time, brief and radiant.

  But there’s still something about the steeliness of her gaze that has Anna on edge. Twelve years have passed since she saw Victoria dance, and it’s difficult to reconcile this more severe woman with the glowing ballerina on stage. Here, Victoria wears barely a trace of makeup, and instead of the white silks and satin, she’s wrapped in skintight black clothing, like bandages, only her shoulders bared.

  “I can do better.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Victoria agrees, fussing with some glossy photos stacked on her desk. “This season’s program goes to print next week.” She flashes a picture of Gabriel Bishop at Anna briefly. “So I have a handful of days left to make any final changes.”

  “Of course.” Anna’s heart sinks. This is just a more elaborate firing. One Victoria can really savor after giving Anna a short reprieve. “And my name won’t be listed in the corps, is that it?”

  “Mmm,” Victoria considers the photos a moment longer before glancing toward the corner.

  Anna follows her gaze and sees a shiny black cane propped against the coat rack.

  “Oh, no. Not in the corps, darling. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Great,” Anna says through gritted teeth, starting to rise from her chair. “Well, I won’t waste any more of your day.” She starts to get up.

  “Principals aren’t listed there, of course.”

  Anna sits. Heavily.

  “They get their own billing.”

  “Who’s a principal?” she whispers. This is teen-movie nonsense. It cannot be happening.

  “You. Or at least you cou
ld be. Your dear benefactor Rick will want to sign off, of course. But it’s my call.”

  “Mr. Westin was very kind to me at the auditions. I saw you dance with him, you know. The pas de deux—”

  “Oh.” Victoria sighs. “Another fangirl. How thoroughly original.”

  Clearly with flattery, the less-is-more approach is the way to go.

  “If you’re going to tell me how I changed your life, I’ll need to schedule a little extra time to throw up.”

  Anna keeps her mouth firmly shut. She’s gone from thinking she’s fired to being offered the one thing she hardly dares to dream about in the space of a few minutes. It’s not even entirely clear yet what Victoria is offering, and Anna hasn’t felt this dizzy since she last went for eight pirouettes in a row.

  “Anyway,” Victoria continues, looking at a notepad on her desk, “raw talent is one thing. To be ready for spring, you’ll have to be exceptional in every way. I’ll teach you privately, on top of your usual company commitments. My time, and I hope I don’t have to break this down for you, is extremely valuable.”

  “Private lessons?” Anna repeats. “With you.”

  “The demands will be considerable.” This time she looks Anna square in the eye. “Assuming you have it in you.”

  Anna holds the stare and nods solemnly. She doesn’t even know exactly what Victoria wants, but she wants to be the one to do it. “Principal” is echoing in Anna’s brain like a damn Greek chorus.

  “When do we start?” Anna hopes that’s the right response.

  “Tomorrow morning,” Victoria says, standing while leaning heavily on her desk for leverage.

  Anna pretends not to notice, keeping her eyes on Victoria’s face the whole time.

  “First session is at ten, same as today, but you’ll be here for eight. I assume that won’t be a problem?”

  “Of course not.” Anna stands and extends her hand. “I’m so grateful for the opportunity. Victoria.”

  Victoria stares at her hand in something between confusion and disgust, until Anna drops it back to her side.

  “I don’t want gratitude,” Victoria says. “Just a lot of hard work.”

  “You got it. Should I meet you here, or…?”

  “The de Valois studio. Is that the only leotard you have?”

  “It’s my newest.” Anna looks down at her pale pink leotard, barely visible above the zip in her hoodie. “But I thought my shoes were the better investment. At least until we start getting paid.”

  “Leave your measurements with Kelly. If we’re going to work in close quarters, I don’t need my eyes assaulted. Since it’s your first day, I won’t get started on your hair, but you will need to discover a little something called conditioner if I’m putting you on my stage.”

  “Right.” Anna’s elation at the sudden promotion is buffeted somewhat by the fresh storm of Victoria’s disapproval, but she manages to make it out of the room intact. She makes her way around Kelly’s desk to mention the measurements, but Kelly looks her up and down before Anna can open her mouth.

  “I know sizes at a glance, don’t worry. You’re broad compared to some of the girls, but still in standard range. I know what she likes, leave it with me.”

  “You know what—”

  “Tell me your shoes are up to standard at least?”

  “They are,” Anna says proudly. “Although how many do you think I’ll get through each week?”

  “Go see the wardrobe mistress in the morning,” Kelly say with a sigh. “If you have to ask, you don’t have enough. And all the footwear you can trash is one of the very few side perks, Anya.”

  “It really is ‘Anna.’ Do you think you could mention that to her?”

  Kelly snorts. “Good luck with that. Want that donut now?”

  Anna accepts a chocolate one with sprinkles and takes off for the day.

  Waiting outside the theater her sister works at, Anna ignores the glances from passing people as she drinks the last of her Frappuccino. She checks her phone with a little impatience, noting the reply of “coming down” landed at least eight minutes ago. Just as Anna shoves the phone back in her pocket, Jess finally barrels out of the heavy metal door, pulling her headset off and shoving it into her leather backpack.

  “Well, if it isn’t my sugar-plum sister,” Jess teases, pulling Anna into a hug.

  Anna hugs back with more enthusiasm than she meant to, genuinely relieved to see a friendly face.

  “You survived the dungeons of Metropolitan, then?”

  “They’re not dungeons,” Anna says, before realizing she’s being baited. “The studios are up on a high floor and very well lit, thank you.”

  “So they should be, with the money Victoria Ford and Richard Westin plowed into the place. Speaking of, did you see your heroes in the flesh? Or does the company just cash in on having their names attached?”

  Anna isn’t sure she’s ready to talk about it, not out here on the street. “I’ll tell you over food,” she says. “You must need some protein, surely?”

  “I can finally show you the city for real,” Jess says with a grin. “And look at you, out in the Theater District all by yourself. Was the couch okay last night?”

  “You know me,” Anna says, linking arms with Jess as they head down the street. “I can sleep on a bed of nails if I have to.”

  “It was secondhand, but it’s not that bad. Dim sum?”

  “God, yes,” Anna groans.

  “Okay, this place is my first gift to you in your new city, sis. You’re gonna love it.”

  “Does that mean you’re paying?” They duck inside the narrow doorway into a loud and bustling restaurant. “‘Cause I don’t get paid until next week.”

  “Fine, we’ll spend my stage-managing riches,” Jess says with a sigh. “Life on crew is just as glamorous as ever, by the way. Thanks for asking.”

  “I was going to ask over food,” Anna says as a waiter waves them over to a little table in the far corner. “You know I can’t concentrate when I’m hungry.”

  It just takes a glance at the menu for Anna to put in an order of pot stickers, and Jess orders a few more dishes for them to share, knowing her plate will be shamelessly raided whether she does or not.

  Anna wields her chopsticks and smiles broadly at her sister. “It’s been one heck of a day. You’re not going to believe it, Jess.”

  A pot of green tea and small cups are set in front of them, and Anna pours for them both.

  “So spill,” Jess says.

  “I don’t even know where to start. No, wait, I totally do. Thanks so much for calling me before noon for the first time since I’ve known you. My phone wasn’t on Silent. I almost got murdered on my first day.”

  “How would that even work?” Jess sips at her tea and waves the waiter back to order a beer along with their food. “Strung up on your own ribbons? And excuse me for checking you got there okay.”

  “I’m not a kid. I can read a map and get the subway just fine. And I was in plenty of time, thank you. In plenty of time for you to mortify me in front of Victoria.”

  “Oh, Victoria is it? How chummy.”

  “Everyone in the company calls her Victoria. It’s, like, a rule.”

  “So your first class on your first day was with your own living legend?” Jess asks, reaching across the table to squeeze Anna’s hand. “I’m so happy for you. That’s all you’ve ever wanted, right?”

  “That and house seats to anything that’s sold out for a year.”

  “Yeah, don’t hold your breath on that. Now stop deflecting me, and tell me how she was. I admit, I’m a little curious.”

  “Jess, she was… You remember when we saw her, right?”

  “Hard not to, since you reenacted every scene of it for a solid year.”

  “Dedication,” Anna says. “Anyway, it’s been a decade and then some, but she’s still… The whole room just hangs on her every word. She wasn’t exactly thrilled about the phone, but then I did the combination and she
forgave me.”

  “How gracious of her,” Jess replies, smile tight and eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard some horror stories, Anna. You got off lightly.”

  “Did I ever!” Anna practically squeals. She can finally say it out loud to another person and make it real. “She was so impressed that she called me in this afternoon. She wants to make me a principal.”

  “I’m sorry, what? Anna, sweetie, I think you misunderstood.”

  “No, I didn’t.” Their food arrives, and Anna diverts her temper into popping a steaming pot sticker in her mouth. She doesn’t want to fight with Jess on her first day. There’s nothing that should be able to ruin this, not even the nerves in Anna’s stomach, roiling at the thought of dancing just for Victoria in the morning.

  “Maybe she wants you to shadow a principal? I mean, maybe soloist at a push if you have some particular look she needs,” Jess suggests, picking at her own shrimp. “But I know what first days are like; it’s just total information overload. You can check in the morning what she meant.”

  Anna sets down her chopsticks. “Jess, she called me into her office, all on my own. After letting me stay, after I did the routine perfectly. The one my phone interrupted. And she said the program isn’t finalized yet, and she has an idea.”

  “But she wasn’t firing you?”

  “I thought so at first, like some kind of cruel way of dragging it out. But I swear to God, Jess, she wants me to do some secret show she hasn’t told anyone about. And Rick has to sign off, but she’ll get me ready, I just know it.”

  “Rick?” Jess mocks gently. “Wow, one day and you’re in there with the name-dropping. I kinda love it. But why didn’t she tell you which show it is?”

  “I…don’t know? She’s really busy and sometimes it’s like she expects me to just read her mind, but she definitely has a plan.”

  “This might just be a power play between her and Westin.” Jess swipes at a pot sticker, but Anna defends her pile deftly. “There’s always rumors that they hate each other, that they’re sleeping together. That they hate each other and they’re sleeping together. You said yourself that Rick tapped you for the last spot. Maybe this is her revenge or something.”