by Lola Keeley
Force of habit has her turning in ever-decreasing circles until her entire patrol is the radius around Anna. Distant, consummate professional Anna this morning, who stretches and bends with almost robotic precision. Not a glimmer of eye contact. Victoria might as well be invisible, a feeling she’s not used to.
“Vary those port de bras for God’s sake,” she snaps as Anna keeps her arms in second for another set. “Or do you want to tear a bicep before I even show you how to lift?”
Anna only grunts softly in acknowledgment before rearranging her arms.
“Allongé,” Victoria warns when Delphine skips it from the standard routine they could all do in their sleep by now. Being more focused on Anna doesn’t mean the rest get away with anything, though even Irina seems to be applying something like enthusiasm. Perhaps she’s finally learned the importance of being properly warmed up.
They spill away from the barre when Victoria releases them from the routines, the usual descent to the floor for one last set of stretches. Anna is rotating her shoulders well, so clearly she’s been paying some attention to the boys all these years.
“Gabriel?” Victoria calls out, hiding a frown of disapproval that he still hasn’t removed the headphones. Are they really going to have a power struggle when he’s supposed to be doing her a favor? “You’re the finest male dancer in this company, and I don’t need to repeat what reviews have been saying for years about your effortless lifts.” A little flattery can’t exactly hurt.
“Due respect, Victoria. There’s a whole lot of effort behind them.”
“I’m well aware. But this season I need a headline, I need a splashy something that might even get the conservative nuts protesting outside. So I need you to walk Anna through the basics of good lifting.”
“You finally get a black male principal and you want to sideline me for a white girl?” Gabriel asks, and it’s not unreasonable. “I thought jerks like Mike were who I had to watch out for; now you’re telling me I gotta what? Get up on pointe to stay competitive?”
“Now, you know that’s not what I have in mind.” Victoria tries to soothe him. Her focus has always been exemplary, but if forced under duress to admit one flaw, it might be her occasional negligence of the bigger picture. “Gabriel, you are our leading man. You’re talented, you’re gorgeous, and you know I fought for you to be here. I’m taking one minor show and messing with rigorous gender roles. Surely we can all get behind that?”
“You’re not touching any of my leads?” he confirms, and Victoria nods. They shake on it, two professionals in agreement once more. “Then let’s show this perfectly nice girl how to throw around ballerinas like a man. Delphine, what should we start with?”
“Uh, who’s Anna going to be lifting?” Delphine catches up to the number of people in the room.
Irina is already taking up the far corner to work on her solo material. She’s the only one to have danced it before, though not with Victoria’s spin on the choreography.
“You’re the prima, Wade,” Victoria points out. “Once Gabriel demonstrates, you can start working with Anna one-on-one.”
“You really have lost your mind,” Delphine mutters, but everyone hears it. “Victoria, in your entire career, would you have let someone, on their first day, lift and catch you? Come on.”
“It’s hardly rocket science,” Victoria snaps at her. “That’s why we’re having instruction first. Then it’s one pas de deux with a handful of lifts. She’ll barely have a chance to kill you.”
“I’m not doing lifts with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”
“Then you and Irina can go,” Victoria answers, keeping her voice low and hopefully close to deadly. “Once Anna has proven herself, you’ll dance with her. Or you’ll be permanently replaced. It’s exactly that simple.”
Irina is dissenting from the corner, talking to Anna about something in an urgent murmur that tugs at Victoria’s attention. She can’t waver. One flicker of emotion now and Delphine gets to win.
“All I’m saying is—”
“Regular class is next door.” Victoria gestures toward the door, and Delphine snatches up her bag from the floor, storming out.
Irina follows Delphine. Anna watches them go, her expression wary. Not least because Victoria’s irritation at their behavior is now likely to be aimed squarely at her.
“Right, let’s start over, shall we?”
They summon a couple of corps girls to work through the lifts. Only one of the girls, the one Victoria elects to keep to run through their hours of lifting and catching, talks to Anna at all. Morgan is just back from injury, Anna knows that much, but it doesn’t make her hesitant at all. She runs and spins and does everything that’s asked of her, seemingly confident with Gabriel.
“You’re lucky,” Morgan gasps when they pause to let her catch her breath. “If anyone has good habits to get into, it’s Mr. Bishop.”
“He’s so impressive,” Anna agrees, impatient at all the waiting and watching she’s had to do. “Have you danced with him before? It sure looks like it.”
“I understudied Delphine for two years,” Morgan replies. “Before, you know…”
“I heard. That had to hurt like hell.”
“At least my titanium hip replacement won’t come as a surprise when I’m old,” Morgan says with a sigh. “The doctors think it’s only a few years away for me. What a treat, right?”
“People still dance after that.” Anna hopes it sounds reassuring.
Morgan shrugs it off, reaching for her bag. “I just need to change out this toe stuffing, it’s starting to fall apart.”
She works quickly, pulling paper towels out of the bag that look suspiciously like the ones from the bathrooms and folding them in a very precise way. Pulling damp ones in a similar shape from her pointe shoes, Morgan frowns as she drops them beside her bag.
“You don’t use lamb’s wool?” Anna asks. “‘Cause I have some with me if you ran out.”
“God, no,” Morgan says, her pale green eyes oddly captivating. “I don’t need the corns. Honestly, try this and your toes will thank you for it.”
She hands some of the folded paper to Anna, who yanks off her shoes and copies what she’s shown. Sure enough, with ribbons retied, she pops up on her toes to discover that the paper doesn’t slip the way the wool sometimes does. Just as she smiles at Morgan in acknowledgment, Victoria comes storming over to interrupt.
“If we’re quite finished forming Phi Beta Ballet over here, can we get on with seeing if you were paying attention, Anna? Only you both have studio rehearsal soon, and you’re not using me as an excuse to be late for David.”
Anna just smiles and takes up position in the center of the floor, as Gabriel departs it with an encouraging fist bump she desperately appreciates.
“Aim for those love handles,” he murmurs on the way past.
Anna wants to laugh. If there’s one thing not a single woman in the company possesses, it would be those. She’s just relieved to be dancing now, to be working out this nervous tension that always builds around Victoria. They’re allies now, or supposed to be, yet Victoria seems as irritated by Anna’s presence as ever.
“Anna?” Morgan is first to notice she isn’t listening. “I trust you and all, but it’s easier to throw yourself at someone who’s paying attention.”
“Sorry!” Anna calls back, and forces her head back into the game.
“Start with a standing lift,” Victoria instructs, no music yet. She circles them as they fumble for position like awkward middle schoolers at their first spring formal. “Just take the weight and let your muscles adjust to it.”
Morgan frowns at being referred to like a piece of meat, but it’s far from unusual.
Oh, it’s awkward. For a moment, Anna’s convinced she’s going to drop this girl she barely knows. She sets her back down and they both dissolve into helpless laughter. It’s not quite enough to drown out Victoria’s sigh of disapproval.
“Agai
n. Higher.”
There’s more confidence this time, and Morgan’s little hop gives them momentum. Anna wraps her arms around her hips like Gabriel showed her, and it’s a long few seconds before she starts to feel a little strained.
Victoria hums in approval, and suddenly there’s nothing else in the room for Anna. When did Victoria get so close? She must be inspecting the hold Anna has. Which has to also be why she leans over and squeezes Anna’s left shoulder.
“Too tense,” Victoria warns, and Anna practically drops Morgan in alarm.
“Careful?” Morgan mutters, and Anna can see she’s regretting being the volunteer.
They run through a few more basics with short runs, higher lifts, and Anna is getting a little cocky that she’s adapting so well.
“That’s enough for today,” Victoria decides when they’re all thoroughly worked out.
Anna pulls her leotard away from the skin at her back where she’s been sweating most and lets the air cool it a little. It’s not like she’s packing up slower on purpose, but if the others hurry up, she can grab a moment alone with Victoria.
The moment everyone else is gone, Anna pipes up. “Sorry I had to run off last night. And that I was late this morning. I know you noticed. I just couldn’t find Gabriel, and there was this whole thing with my sister and—”
“Anna.” Victoria holds up a hand. “You don’t have to explain yourself unless I demand it. And I am not demanding it. Some aspirin, maybe, but no more of your babbling. Unless it prevents you from dancing, I don’t need to hear about it.”
“But my lifts were good, right?”
“Not terrible,” Victoria concedes, which is as good as a compliment. “I think I’ll find someone closer to Delphine’s build. It will make the transition more seamless for you.”
“Oh, I like Morgan, she’s… You know what? Whatever you think,” Anna changes tack thanks to Victoria’s glare. “Someone new. Will you be sitting in later? For La B?”
“La B?” Victoria repeats, incredulous. Anna can’t help noticing neither of them has taken even a step toward the door, toward leaving and separate activities. “Must we really murder an entire language for the sake of saving two syllables?”
“It’s my first stage rehearsal, professionally I mean. Is there anything I need to do differently? I don’t want to draw attention now.”
Someone kinder might lie and say that Anna could never embarrass them. Victoria’s never been renowned for her kindness.
“Just listen. Follow instruction. That show isn’t on your shoulders, so enjoy that. You’ll be doing it for a paying audience very soon.”
“Don’t remind me.” Anna groans. She doesn’t mean to angle for another invitation, but it doesn’t look like one is forthcoming.
“Earlier, with Irina?” Victoria speaks after Anna turns away.
She’s glad her face is hidden, sure her secrets are flashing across it like a neon news ticker.
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh, we just came in together,” Anna says, since that much happens to be true.
Victoria doesn’t need to know about the low howls of pain that woke everyone in the apartment before six, or how many pills and God knows what else it took to get Irina out the door, but here they are. “She’s…Irina. She likes a willing audience to complain to.”
Victoria circles around until they’re facing again, and Anna thinks maybe she should have bolted while she had the chance. “That’s all? Do I need to worry about these complaints? She’s not in league with Rick and Liza, is she?”
“No!” Anna protests. “She really hates Mr. Westin, and Delphine told me earlier that Irina always pretended to think Liza was the coat-check girl or a waitress the few times their paths crossed, so I don’t think they’re best pals.”
“Good. More lifting tomorrow. On time.”
“Of course.” This time Anna really does make a break for it, but it doesn’t turn into a run until she’s out of Victoria’s sight.
“So this is cool,” Anna says when she finds herself on stage next to Delphine.
There’s a rumor the first round of costumes will appear today. This entire production is a revamp from top to bottom. David is an oasis of calm amid the chaos on stage, barking out names and positions, shouting orders to stagehands.
“This is hell,” Delphine corrects. “But who’d want to go to heaven when you can do this? Oh, and no offense about this morning, by the way.”
“None taken. I don’t want to be the idiot girl who dropped Delphine Wade, so you were doing us both a favor. And Morgan came to help out instead.”
“Really?”
“Is that so weird?” Anna asks.
“Watch that one,” Delphine says, retying the wrap cardigan she still has on in the cavernous space of the main stage.
The lights are still warming and no one’s moving enough to generate real heat yet. The protective temporary flooring that covers the hallowed board is rough against their slippers and creaks at the slightest movement.
“She’s never really done anything I can put my finger on, but Morgan Gresham’s mother is a big donor, vice chairperson of the board,” Delphine continues. “She’s been trying to buy her daughter a principal spot for years, so to the Greshams it’s going to look like you just jumped the line.”
“She was perfectly nice.” Anna bends to touch her toes, limbering up. She looks out at the empty house, the rows of red velvet fading to black after just a few feet. Something tells her Victoria is there, though. Just beyond their line of sight. It’s a new sense Anna is developing. “And I need to lift someone if we’re going to pull this off.”
“Rather her than me,” Delphine says. “But if you drop her, then Victoria better have a safe house to stash you in.”
“Where is my corps de ballet?” David roars over the many conversations bouncing around the stage. It’s clearly not the first time he’s asked, either.
Anna scurries to join the other girls stage left, leaving Delphine behind with a little wave.
It’s time. Her first stage rehearsal for her first full professional production. Anna bites her bottom lip for just a second, all the better to hold back a last-second squeal of glee.
CHAPTER 24
Anna drags herself out of bed with a groan, every muscle aching from yesterday’s exertions. The stage rehearsal alone had been brutal, and all the extra standing around meant twice the stretching and trying to stay limber. The different floor, the bright lighting, and the sheer exuberance of dancing on a real stage had drawn Anna into overdoing it, and that, combined with all the new pains from lifting and carrying, makes the walk to the bathroom more of a limp.
When she makes it to work—and she’s still not over how living her dream is her actual job, pay stubs and all—it’s with a lavender scent still lingering on her skin and a spring in her step. She takes the stairs up to her morning session with Victoria like an Olympic hurdler, barely slowing down until she reaches the studio. Only the new accompanist is there, and she keeps to herself.
Anna gets straight down to business. She’s well into her barre exercises when Victoria comes striding in. The door slams behind her, which is strange considering at least a few more people should be joining them. Maybe Anna should have asked for Morgan’s number to make sure she’d show up on time.
“As much as I loathe recorded music, we won’t be doing anything I need you for,” Victoria tells Eve at the piano, not even pausing to remove her oversized sunglasses. “Make yourself useful elsewhere, or get some of the sleep you clearly missed last night. There are pandas with lighter circles under their eyes.”
Eve scampers off down the corridor with tears in her eyes, risking a door slam of her own on the way out.
“So,” Anna dares to breathe when she’s finished her arm work, “do you need me to go find Morgan? Gabriel?”
“Am I so terrifying that you can’t bear to be alone with me?” Victoria asks. “Is that what they’ve all warned you about
?”
“I didn’t… I wasn’t… No,” Anna finishes weakly. “I just thought you wanted me to lift, lift, lift.”
“And you shall,” Victoria tells her. “But to be effective, we need someone much closer to Delphine’s frame. Otherwise, you’ll bruise her on the first few and she’ll refuse to go along with this. We need a smooth transition.”
“Most of the corps are much taller,” Anna points out. “Delphine is petite, even for ballet. And it’s not just that, she has this really narrow frame too. I noticed it yesterday—it’s why she and Gabriel make such a great contrast. But the only other person quite that slender is, well, you.”
“Sometimes it’s as if you’ve read my mind,” Victoria says with a disconcerting smile.
Maybe it’s just her good mood, but Anna smiles right back, shrugging off her light jacket and pulling up her favorite leg warmers over her tights. She notices what’s different then—Victoria’s formal outfits have been replaced by leggings and a simple black tank top.
She looks good. Way too good.
Her hair is clipped back, not long enough for a real bun, and she has on regular ballet slippers without the pointe blocks. Their black satin and leather complete the look.
“Well?” Victoria demands when Anna stays propped up against the barre. “Who the hell are you going to lift all the way over there?”
Anna shrugs and crosses the space with long strides. Her blood is fizzing in her veins a little, the aches of the early morning and the panic of the other night receding in the face of pure excitement.
“You’re sure?” She can’t help asking, because she’s always been surrounded by hardheaded types who refuse to accept the limits of the human body at times. “I mean, you know your body, but if I hurt you—”
“What?” Victoria answers with a shuddering laugh, all cracked crystal in a velvet pouch. “I’ll never dance again? Bit late for that. Now come on, it would be quicker to get someone over from Covent Garden at this rate.”