by K. A. Linde
Kathy started us all at the midpoint of the dance and counted us in, and then we were off. As so often happened when I danced, everything else disappeared. There was no stage. No lights. No faces watching from the crowd. It was just me doing the thing that I loved most in the world. The job that had chosen me as much as I had chosen it. I’d sacrificed nearly everything in my life so that I could have this. The feeling that coursed through me was indescribable and unlike anything else I’d ever experienced.
Too soon, the dance ended. I was still lost to the exhilaration of the dance as Kathy critiqued the performance. Then, she called for Clara to come forward.
Bebe hastened to take her place, but Katelyn beat her to it. For a second, the two just stared at each other. Katelyn arched an eyebrow in defiance. Bebe ground her teeth together, a flush coming to her cheeks.
The gall of this girl. It took all my will not to tell Katelyn to get back into the corps, where she belonged. But I knew Kathy could handle it.
“Katelyn, I asked for Clara.”
“I’m the understudy,” she said quickly. “I thought it would be good for me to practice…just in case Bebe can’t perform the role.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. Well, if that wasn’t a threat, I didn’t know what was.
Kathy pinched her lips together. “There’s no reason Bebe cannot play Clara. None at all. Bebe, step forward, dear. Let’s go through the new turn sequence in the middle.”
Bebe raised her chin and moved past Katelyn to take her position. My heart was thumping for the girl. I couldn’t imagine what Bebe must be feeling. But I sure as hell knew that someone needed to put Katelyn in her place. She hadn’t chosen this moment for no reason. She wanted to embarrass Bebe. She’d succeeded, but none of us would forget it either. Kathy was going to have to nip that in the bud before it went any further.
Bebe, to her credit, didn’t falter once through the turn sequence. She ended to an even louder round of applause than I had gotten, which was good. She needed the confidence boost and the proof that Katelyn was wrong.
Kathy gestured to all of us. “One more round of applause for our wonderful dancers.” Once the audience quieted down, she continued, “There are refreshments in the main lobby after this, and our dancers will be out there to mingle with you. Thank you so much for attending and for your generous support of the Lubbock Ballet Company.”
We all ran back into the wings and started for the dressing rooms to get into street clothes for the rest of Open Barre.
“Katelyn Lawson,” Kathy snapped, stopping the girl before she could scamper off.
“Yes, Miss Kathy?”
“Here. Now.”
Katelyn walked over to the artistic director without fear in her heart. I sure hoped that she learned an ounce of humility from this moment.
I left Kathy to deal with it and changed into a long black romper that tapered at the waist and ankles. I left the ballet bun and stage makeup, grabbed my purse, and went to see if Isaac had ever made it. My stomach fluttered at the thought. I’d been reckless to invite him to this, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
But as soon as I walked out, I was bombarded by wealthy donors, some that I recognized from my time with LBC.
“Peyton, you were spectacular,” an older gentleman said.
“Yes, we went to see you perform the same role in New York City a few years back, and again, we saw you recently in Giselle,” his wife said.
“I’m so pleased,” I told them. “It’s such an honor that you came all the way to the city to see me perform.”
“We’re huge fans,” the man said. “We remember watching you when you were just a little thing. It’s been amazing to see you transform.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Oh, Peyton,” another woman in her middle years said, drawing my attention away. “I read that article you did in Time magazine.”
Oh God, here we go again. I still cursed myself for ever being in that article.
When Macy had approached me about my injury and the work I was doing to recover, I’d thought it would be a fun, easily dismissed fluff piece. But her editor loved it and decided to make it a full four-page spread in the magazine. There was an entire page of just me sitting on the stage at Lincoln Center, putting my ballet slippers on.
I’d done other magazine pieces before, of course. The publicity was part of the job. It helped keep dance and culture and the New York City Ballet in people’s minds. But this felt different. This hadn’t really been about my dancing; it had been about my biggest downfall. I’d felt vulnerable and exposed. Even though everyone else loved it, I still cringed, thinking about how low I’d fallen.
“It was just incredible, reading about your road to recovery,” the woman said. “Truly inspiring.”
“Thank you.”
“And you’re all healed up now?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s good. I can’t wait to see you on opening night.”
“Excuse me,” a voice cut through my latest flock of admirers.
I turned and found Isaac’s handsome face. My heart fluttered. He’d made it.
“Do you mind if I steal Peyton for a minute?”
The woman looked between us with a coy smile on her face. “Not at all.” She patted my hand. “It was so nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
Isaac gestured for me to walk before him, and I did so as quickly as I could without looking like I was scurrying.
“Thank you,” I whispered to him.
“For what?”
“Saving me.”
He stopped when we were far enough away and met my eyes. “Always, Peyton. Always.”
8
Isaac
“As much as you love the spotlight onstage, you truly hate it in person,” I said to her, grabbing two glasses of champagne off of a passing tray. I handed one to her.
She mumbled, “Thank you,” and took a fortifying sip. “Yeah, well, I always have.”
“I don’t know how you even handle the life you live.”
She shrugged. “Most times, I don’t know either. But I love ballet more than anything, and it’s not always people rushing me to discuss the Time article. I should have prepared myself for that.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
She tilted her head to the side and looked off, away from me. Her face was carefully blank, but I could read her like no other. Even all these years later, she gave the same tell. A part of her thought that she should have known what to expect here. She’d always been hard on herself. Perfectionist to the core.
“I’m really glad that you made it,” she said instead when she looked back to me.
“I said that I would.”
“I know, but you have Aly, and I didn’t consider how you were going to get away. This isn’t even a real performance or anything.”
“Aly is fine. She’s with Annie for the night, who was happy to make her go to bed and then study some oversized medical text.”
“Well, that’s nice of her, but—”
“And I didn’t want to miss it, Peyton,” I assured her. “You were really amazing onstage.”
She flushed and covered it by taking another sip of her champagne. “Thank you. It wasn’t much.”
“That’s not true. You’ve always been great, but now, you’re beyond anything that I’ve seen. I can tell you’ve spent years perfecting your craft.”
And I wasn’t just blowing smoke. Dance brought out something in her. It was a light, a beacon. She glowed onstage, as if there were nowhere else she was supposed to be in the world.
I remembered the first time that I’d seen her dance. Ironically, it was a Nutcracker performance. She had been dancing Arabian, and though it was easily the only piece in Nutcracker that had any sex appeal, all I saw was a girl who had been born for the stage. A girl that I couldn’t live without. It felt dramatic for the time, but I was fifteen years old. We’d been dating for four
months, and when she had come out from backstage, I’d told her I loved her.
“Well, I’m glad the years have paid off,” she said, modest as ever.
She was on top of her game. What the hell was she doing in Lubbock for the season? Shouldn’t she be performing The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center all Christmas?
“How did you work it out to be here all month?”
“Oh, I have to be back in the city by Christmas Day to finalize rehearsals, and then I’ll dance the entire week between Christmas and New Year’s. Most other principals want that week off anyway.”
“I’m surprised they agreed to that.”
She turned away and waved at a friend approaching. “It was nothing.”
But the way she’d said it, the way she couldn’t look at me…it wasn’t nothing. It was unusual. The old Isaac would have dug his heels in until she told him what was going on. Except I didn’t know this Peyton. We weren’t the same people, and if she had secrets, well, that was her right.
“Peyton Medina!” a voice cried.
I didn’t recognize the brunette heading toward Peyton. She looked like she belonged on a runway rather than in Lubbock, Texas. Her hair had that shiny gloss and huge waves that I knew from growing up with a sister were only achievable from a salon. Her face was a mask of porcelain and ruby-red lips, and she wore a skintight dress on her thin frame and red-lacquered heels—and I was well aware of how expensive they were. It had been Abby’s dream to own a pair of Louboutins.
“Oh my God, Katherine?” Peyton said, dazed by her appearance. “What are you doing here?”
“Camden and I came down to see my brother. David married into the Wrights.”
Peyton blinked. “Wait, Sutton’s husband is your brother?”
“Small world, right?” Katherine said with a laugh.
They chatted back and forth rapidly as Katherine’s husband appeared beside her. He held his hand out, and I tried not to be intimidated as I shook, but this guy looked like a cross between a duke and a mob boss. His suit probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
“Camden Percy,” he said.
Percy. Shit. I knew that name. He owned the Percy Tower hotel chain. Jesus Christ. Were these the kind of people that Peyton hung out with back in New York?
“Isaac Donoghue,” I offered.
“Oh, sorry,” Peyton said breathlessly. “Isaac, this is my friend Katherine. We go to the same trainer in the city.”
Katherine looked me over once and then nodded at Peyton, as if giving her approval. “Rodrigo is the best, isn’t he?”
“Truly. No one compares,” Peyton agreed.
Camden stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked put out. “If I have to hear about him one more time…”
The girls burst into giggles. Apparently, this was a common joke.
“Well, we’ll be here for another week or two. Give me a call if you do anything fun,” Katherine told her. “I still have no idea what to do here. And we’ll be at opening night, of course.”
“I’ll text you,” Peyton agreed easily.
Katherine waved at her one more time before tugging her husband away from us. I just stood, dumbfounded. The couple days that Peyton had been home, I had thought that she was mostly the same girl that I’d known before. But…how could I even understand what living in New York had been like for her?
“Wow. That was…Camden Percy,” was all I managed to get out.
Peyton giggled, something short of hysterical. “I know. Isn’t it so weird? When Katherine first started coming for training with Rodrigo, I thought she was the world’s biggest bitch, but she’s grown so much in the last year. It’s kind of incredible that I’m even friends with someone like that.”
It was.
She shook her head. “I never would have expected them to be here. They don’t exactly fit, do they?”
“They definitely stand out like a sore thumb.”
“They’re probably used to galas and Fashion Week and clubbing on top of skyscrapers,” she said wistfully.
“And you aren’t?”
Her eyes finally snapped to mine. “What? No! Are you joking, Isaac? Do I look like the kind of person who goes to those sorts of things?”
Something in me relaxed at her easy laughter and disbelief. I was overreacting. I’d been worrying that she was too far out of my reach again, but no, she was right here. And she fit in just fine in Lubbock.
I hadn’t realized how much stock I’d been putting in having her back until that moment. Until I thought that I had lost her to a glamorous life in the city. But all Peyton had ever cared about was dance. She wasn’t mine to have again. Not yet at least. And I knew that if I lost her to anything, it would be ballet and not some rich socialites.
I laughed with her. “I mean, I guess I didn’t really know. It didn’t sound like the Peyton I knew, but it has been years.”
She shrugged. “I think I’m pretty much the same person as I was. Just more dance.”
“And who even knew more dance was possible?”
“Always possible.” She touched my arm and gestured for us to keep moving. “We should probably mingle.”
I nodded and let her lead the way through the crowd of donors of the Lubbock Ballet Company. She was gracious and beautiful through the entire thing. She really did seem more poised now that she was prepared for everyone’s attention rather than getting pounced on at the door. It was sort of miraculous to watch her handle the room like a professional. She was a professional after all.
Near the end of the evening, Kathy came and hugged Peyton. “Thank you so much for agreeing to do this this season. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else.”
“I’m glad to be back,” she said truthfully.
Kathy drew me into a hug next. “And always good to see you around LBC. How’s Aly?”
“She’s great. She can’t wait for opening night. I don’t think I’m ever going to get her to sleep after she performs. She loves it all so much.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Kathy said, winking at Peyton.
“I do have trouble sleeping after a performance,” she said with a shrug.
“Ah, it’s so good to see you two in the same place again.”
Peyton caught my eye and then flushed, looking away. God, I needed to just ask her out. No more of this tiptoeing. I knew that I needed to protect Aly from heartbreak if…when Peyton left again. But could I really let her be here in town, where I always wanted her, and not make a move?
Kathy suddenly bent over and groaned.
Peyton reached out. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, just…Braxton Hicks,” she moaned.
“Are you sure?” I asked carefully.
Peyton looked wide-eyed with fear, but I’d already gone through this once. I remembered when Abby had gone into labor, and it’d looked a hell of a lot like this.
“No,” she said faintly. She tried to stifle a cry as another contraction hit her. “They started earlier, during rehearsal. They’ve been coming on and off. Oh God, I think I’m going into labor.”
9
Peyton
“Not now, baby girl. You have three more weeks in there. It’s too soon,” Kathy said hoarsely.
“Is there anything we can do?” I asked in shock.
“Get Bryan,” Kathy said. “He can drive me to the hospital.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Isaac said, stepping up immediately.
I nodded and dashed across the room to find her husband, Bryan. He was well over six feet tall with a deep brown complexion and a bald head. Everyone always joked that he had more hair on his chin than he’d ever had on his head because he sported a considerable black beard.
Bryan was the orchestra director, and they had met and fallen in love during their very first performance together nearly twenty years ago. It took him a full season before he plucked up the courage to ask her out. They were happily married within the year. It was the fairy tale everyone dreamed of.
“Excuse me,” he said to the board members he’d been speaking with. “What’s wrong, Peyton?”
“Kathy is going into labor.”
He straightened considerably and nodded. “Let’s go.”
I walked him back over to Kathy, who was now clutching Isaac’s hand and drawing a crowd.
“I’m here now, darling,” Bryan said. “Come with me, and I’ll bring the car around out front.”
Kathy nodded, her face contorting into pain. And then they disappeared through their whispering audience.
It wasn’t until Kathy and Bryan were gone that I had the realization that no one was going to be around the next month to direct The Nutcracker. Kathy having the baby three weeks early meant that there was no artistic director during the most important season of the ballet. My heart sank. What were we going to do?
Cassidy appeared at my side. She looked stunned. “Her other two babies were all late. She thought that she would have a Christmas Day baby.”
“Who is going to direct in her place?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I have no idea. We hired an interim artistic director to start in January so that she could take a few months off. But we didn’t anticipate needing anyone for the season.”
“We should call that person and see if they can come up early.”
Cassidy nodded, coming back to herself at being given an order. “Yes. I’ll reach out. Though I’m sure she has her own Nutcracker to direct. And what are the chances she could be here before Friday?”
I winced. Unlikely. “I don’t know.”
“God,” she whispered. “Well, I’ll get to work on it. There’s nothing else to be done. The show must go on.”
“Of course. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. If you need help with rehearsals, I can run them. I’ve performed every role. Until the new AD gets here, I can probably get us through to Friday.”