by Lola Keeley
“I’m so glad you came.” Anna greets her with a hug, ushering her back toward the studio. “You don’t have to kiss up to anyone for me, though. I already did the rounds with Victoria. I can introduce you to Rick, if you want—”
“It’s a wonder I don’t trip with how you just love dropping those names,” Jess says, teasing. “Just point me to the bar and a canapé, and I’ll do the rest. You want to go for drinks after?”
“Sure. I mean, if I don’t have to do anything here.”
“Knock ’em dead,” Jess says, with a soft punch to Anna’s arm before they reach the doors of the studio. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.”
“You could never embarrass me.” Anna wants to steal one last steadying hug, but Victoria is on the prowl again, heading Anna’s way from backstage. She nudges Jess toward the drinks and seats, and ducks back within the curtains where Victoria catches up to her.
“Kelly would have handled guests for you,” Victoria says, looking past Anna to see what Jess is doing. “The infamous sister who said you were wrong?”
“That’s not… I mean, she wasn’t trying to ruin it for me.” Anna frowns as Richard Westin approaches her sister. “She supports me. It’s okay that she came tonight? I just realized nobody else invited anyone. Oh God, was that wrong?”
“It’s fine.” Victoria is dismissive again, distracted. “Are you sure you’re warmed up enough?”
“I’ll do a few more stretches while Irina goes on. You know, I haven’t seen her since we got here.”
If she’s not mistaken, there’s a flash of panic on the face of the unflappable Victoria Ford.
“Leave her to me. Go see if your Romeo is ready.”
“Okay.”
The soft sound of piano music begins beyond the drapes. Teresa is in place, and the night is officially beginning. The surge of nerves, that sick feeling in her stomach, is offset by knowing Jess is out there watching. Anna has never had a disaster in all the times she’s danced for her family, and tonight cannot be an exception.
Victoria sends Kelly and a server off in search of Irina, but just as Rick calls the small audience to some kind of order, Irina appears. At least she looks the part in blue and gold, her hair tamed and her makeup less dramatic than usual, even if she looks a little clammy under it.
“Ready?” Victoria asks. She’s always been decent at public speaking, but small talk and chatter just seem like so much noise when a dancer’s body can tell a much more compelling story.
Irina snorts, her derision plain.
Victoria eyes her for a moment, wary of the shift in mood. God knows what it’s taking to get Irina through this, and it’s affecting her demeanor more sharply by the week.
“Some of us push through the pain, hmm?”
It’s nowhere near the worst that Irina has leveled at Victoria, but in that moment her wounded rage ignites in her chest. Her hand actually twitches with the impulse to strike, like she’s back in school and only a swift yank of someone else’s bun will serve as an outlet for her anger.
“Make sure you do,” Victoria spits back at her, and steps out to officially begin the evening.
Rick shuts up at last, and Victoria seizes on her cue. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she begins, mentally biting back children when her gaze lands on Rick’s date. It’s barely an audience at all, but she feels their attention wash over her like a wave.
Victoria stares them down with a fake smile, not missing how Anna’s sister is assessing her. “Ahead of a very exciting season at Metropolitan Ballet, Richard and I wanted to treat you to a special preview. A world exclusive, in fact.”
A murmur goes through the room, and Rick preens.
“We begin tonight with a reminder of Metropolitan’s greatest strengths. We may not be an old company, comparatively, but our pedigree has always been spectacular. When I retired, we were fortunate to recruit one of Russia’s most exciting performers, and though you won’t be able to tell…” Victoria can’t resist one cheap shot. “Irina has now been dancing for us longer than she was with the Bolshoi.”
Polite applause rings out.
“So please, sit back and enjoy something of a retrospective.” Victoria winces inwardly at how corporate it all sounds. “You’ll get to see Delphine Wade and Gabriel Bishop, of course. Our brightest stars insisted on dancing for you tonight. But most importantly, tonight we look to the future. Pay close attention, because tonight is an I was there when… moment you’ll all be dining out on for years to come.”
Victoria retreats to more enthusiastic applause, cuing Teresa with a nod.
The silence is momentary at best, but Victoria swears her heart doesn’t beat until the notes of Irina’s entrance fill the air. The music is loud enough to cover the noise of pointe shoes for the audience, but Victoria retreats into in the black drapes and hears every tap and scrape of satin against the floor.
It’s less than two minutes, as most of the great solos are, but Victoria has gathered her outer steel by the time Irina makes it back from the thunder of applause that belies how fewer than twenty people populate the audience. The minute Irina passes out of public sight, she’s limping.
Anna is distracted from where she stands, ready with Ethan, pulling away from him to ask after Irina, but Anna is waved away by Irina who sinks onto a waiting chair.
“Are you okay?” Anna asks, but Victoria pulls her away with a hiss.
“You’re on,” Victoria reminds Anna. “Or did you expect Teresa to vamp with the entire score until you’re done playing nurse?”
“But—”
“Go!” Victoria snaps, and Ethan has the sense to lead her away. With one last glance back at Irina, Anna disappears beyond the curtains. Victoria could swear the girl actually looks angry.
“What do you need?” Victoria demands.
“My bag.” Irina nods toward it. “But go watch. You’re useless until you do.”
“Nonsense.” Victoria tries to dismiss her words, but she’s still nursing a grudge and it really is too tempting to see Anna dance for an audience.
Ethan’s introductory solo is almost over, and Victoria skirts back toward the doors where she can watch from the side. In the wings, technically. It’s where a good teacher should be when a star pupil is performing. There’s a momentary doubt before Anna comes into Victoria’s line of vision. What if Anna is no better than every other girl in the company? What if she wilts under the attention that comes too soon?
The timing turns out to be perfect, because Victoria is in position the very moment Anna starts to move. It’s not a complex pas de deux, but it looks impressive to the uninitiated. As Victoria holds her breath, Anna becomes Juliet in the first graceful throes.
Oh, the concentration on her face is a bit too pronounced, and her hair is already coming loose, but she’s exactly what Victoria prepared her to be. Not bad for barely a week’s work. The hushed awe from the crowd—even Rick is paying attention for once—suggests they’re already starting to see it too.
Victoria was right.
Victoria is right.
All too soon Anna is taking her bow, Ethan having the good sense to take a step back and let her pull focus entirely. Victoria runs the tip of her tongue between her teeth in anticipation. This is what she’s been waiting for, in four long years of running this company. This is the difference between a good season and a great one.
Anna’s rushing her way back to the anonymity behind the curtain, and Victoria makes her way back to deliver the first verdict. She glances at Rick to see if the impact has been felt. Judging by his furrowed brow and the way he’s tapping frantically at his phone, he finally sees what Victoria identified in one morning.
There’s an intermission of sorts, despite the short length of the program. An excuse for Rick to ply the donors with more drink and gauge their interest level. Victoria sees her chance to retreat and regroup.
She might even spare a compliment for Anna.
Irina is flopped over the back of her ch
air when Anna skips backstage again, Ethan trailing behind her. She’s high on the exuberant clapping, the satisfaction of every step landed, and every turn and lift finished securely. The last thing Anna saw before retreating was a double thumbs-up from Jess, the highest, nerdiest praise her sister can offer.
“You really okay?” Anna asks, but Irina waves her away.
Delphine shoots Irina an irritated look from where she’s stretching with Gabriel. They’ll be on just as soon as Richard Westin lets the investors sit down again.
“Did you get some—”
“It’s fine, fine,” Irina dismisses, groaning softly to herself. “Look out for Vicki.”
“What?”
“She means I’m right behind you,” Victoria supplies, clicking her tongue in impatience. “It wasn’t exactly complicated.”
“Victoria.” Anna waits. She can’t ask. She won’t embarrass herself by asking.
“You managed not to fall on your face,” Victoria bestows the faint praise as though it physically pains her.
She’s rocking back on her heels as though she’s been handed something heavy and breakable, bracing for whatever might come next. Honestly, Anna thinks she might float from how a handful of words has made her feel. “Though your acknowledgment of the audience is awkward to the point of rudeness.”
“Not everybody takes fifteen curtain calls,” Delphine interjects, because there might be a lot of things in this company, but privacy doesn’t appear to be one of them. “If that’s all she can find to criticize, Anna, then you must have danced it flawlessly.”
Anna deflects. “You’re on now?”
“As soon as Rick stops begging for cash,” Gabriel answers, giving Anna one of his dazzling smiles. “So hopefully before midnight. You ready to Kitri out there?”
“We’ll see,” Victoria answers for her.
“Fuck this,” Irina decides, pushing herself out of her seat and staggering back toward the stage. “I want a drink.”
No one reacts at first, frozen by the suddenness of Irina’s outburst. She’s clearly taken something, as she’s walking more steadily, but slurring slightly. Anna realizes she can’t be unleashed on the investors in this state and steps between Irina and the curtain just in time, wrapping an arm around her waist and diverting her back to the chair.
“We’ll get you a drink,” she promises. “Better than the flat champagne out there, right?”
Anna knows fine well it isn’t flat and if she had to pay for a bottle she’d be struggling to make rent that month, but it seems to appease Irina for a second. The crisis is almost averted until Irina tries to turn away from Anna, lashing out and accidentally backhanding her across the cheek. The crack of hand against skin is loud enough to make Delphine and Ethan gasp. Anna opens her mouth but no sound comes out, her intake of breath disrupted by the sudden sting of pain.
“Sorry,” Irina mutters, snatching up her bag and departing for the locker room with an uneven gait. She doesn’t look back, and everybody else waits for Anna’s reaction.
“I’m fine!” She tentatively touches her cheek. It’s hot already, and she has to click her teeth together to avoid an audible hiss of pain as she prods.
Rick’s introduction of Gabriel and Delphine disrupts at the perfect moment, Teresa’s keys ringing out their entrance music and sending them out on stage. Ethan takes the temperature of the room and heads out after Irina.
“Crisis averted,” she tries, but it falls flat under Victoria’s stony glare. “Sorry if I was manhandling her. I just didn’t think when I got between her and the room full of important people.”
“No,” Victoria agrees, her voice tinged with acid. “You didn’t think. That much is painfully clear.”
“I was just trying—”
“I warned you about focus. Here we are trying to launch your damn career, and you’re running around looking for wounded birds to keep in your shoebox and nurse back to health.”
“Victoria, I’m sorry but—”
“Not another word,” Victoria commands through gritted teeth. “Get some ice from the caterer in case that comes up bruised. I don’t want Kitri looking like she just got out of the drunk tank.”
With that, Victoria takes her leave, and Anna has little left to do except switch out Juliet’s silver accessories for Kitri’s blood red ones. “I’m fine by the way,” Anna mutters to herself as she wriggles out of one tutu and into the other. “Thanks for asking.”
She takes up position at the gap in the curtains, pressing her face close to see the athleticism and grace of Delphine and Gabriel in action. They dance together perfectly, and Anna feels a pang that she doesn’t have such a great, unspoken trust with Ethan or anyone else yet. It hasn’t been very long, she reminds herself. Still plenty of time to make new friends and develop the ones she already has.
The end of their Rubies segment is fast approaching, so Anna retrieves her water and takes a sip. Any minute now she’ll hear her name. She’ll have to dance her solo without Ethan or anyone else to deflect some of the spotlight. This is usually where Anna would want to throw up from sheer nerves, but with the first performance under her belt, there’s a steely kind of calm.
Right now, she’s going out there to dance for her promotion, and hopefully to impress her sister along the way. She blocks out concern about Irina and focuses on dragging her toe boxes back and forth across the well-scraped floor.
Anna Gale is ready. She just has to hope the audience is too.
CHAPTER 12
Victoria is watching this one from the audience. She’s already assured of her choice, but it won’t do to undermine Anna by ignoring her big moment. Irina’s drama can wait.
Delphine and Gabriel bring the house down—predictably—and Rick is on his feet yet again to show off. He jokes about how he was Delphine’s first leading man and she was his last leading lady, and Delphine manages to keep a rictus grin on her face throughout the whole speech.
Victoria reaches past the champagne at the improvised bar and pours herself a stiff double vodka with an extra slug for good measure. She brushes away the nagging second of guilt at having forgotten she’d set a date, as Teresa insists on calling it. The occasional stress release barely warrants that kind of label.
As Victoria sips at her drink, the sister ghosts from her seat in the back row of chairs and nods toward Victoria’s glass.
“Jess Gale,” she introduces herself. “No one said there would be a real drink available.”
“Help yourself, Jessica.” Victoria steps aside and waves to indicate the bottle.
Jess pours some into her empty champagne flute, unapologetic.
If she were the gambling type, Victoria would make a bet with herself on which tack the other woman will take. She suspects the word “blunt” will be a fair description.
“Anna’s good,” the other Gale begins—a respectable gambit. “She’s always been good.”
“Then I would think you’d be glad someone finally noticed.” Victoria feels the defensive hackles rise. She doesn’t insulate herself from questioning, but even at their most fractious, the divas of her company know that Victoria holds their livelihoods in her hands. “Instead of trying to tell her she’s delusional.”
“She told you I said that?” Jess raises her eyebrows before settling for another swig of her drink. “I don’t mean to be rude—”
“And yet I suspect you’ll manage it.” Victoria rolls her eyes as Rick invites more applause. Jess doesn’t join in. “Your sister will be given the chance her talent deserves. Enjoy your evening, Miss Gale.”
“Wait!” Jess finishes her drink and sets it down. “I just look out for her. I always have. I’ve lived through her ballet obsession half my life, Ms. Ford. This is her dream, and it shouldn’t be messed with because of some internal politics. Pick someone else for that.”
“Oh, for God’s…” Victoria sees that Rick has finally taken his seat again, clearing the stage area. “I’m not in the habit of promising anyo
ne anything. But if it keeps Anna free of distraction, can I give you my word that she isn’t in any kind of crossfire?”
“That depends.” Jess doesn’t relent, and Anna will be on in a moment, no doubt seeking out her sister in the audience. “What’s your word worth?”
“Let me put it this way,” Victoria says, running out of time and patience, “if Anna’s out, then so am I. Enough?”
Jess nods, seeming not to recognize the value of the promise she’s just been given.
The music strikes up, and Teresa’s fingers make light work of the Spanish-infused trills. Victoria doesn’t cede ground, but right before Anna appears, her sister slinks back to her seat, ready and waiting with a beaming smile.
There’s barely time to heave a sigh of relief, let alone wonder why Victoria made that concession for basically a nobody.
Anna’s on, and the season starts here.
The minute Anna touches her toe to the floor, the decision is made: no holding back.
If she’s going to dance this, right from the very depths of her soul as Victoria seems to demand, then she can’t hide from anyone. That includes the ghost of her parents, of the flames that took them from her. Aside from her dreams, when she isn’t too exhausted to dream, while she’s dancing is when Anna’s heart is most vulnerable.
And Kitri, with her flame red costume and music that seems to contain the crackle of a modest home burning to the ground, leaves Anna exposed. She heard everything Victoria said about joy, about overcoming in the end, but that isn’t who Kitri is to Anna. She’s the woman trapped by convention, almost married off to a man she doesn’t love, and chased by a knight who mistakes her for someone else. Only by risking everything does Kitri get what she wants in the end. It’s joy, but it’s a form of vengeance, too, and Anna feels that energy thrumming in her.