Dance Like No One's Watching

by Vanessa Jones

  Sighing again, I slump over so that my body’s hanging down over my legs and my head’s upside down. Luca gasps as one of my sit bones digs into his quads.

  ‘Sorry!’

  ‘That’s OK,’ he says, adjusting his leg position. ‘That’s better. Maybe Fletch just needs time to process what happened. Honestly? Knowing Fletch, I think he’s probably feeling like a douche.’

  ‘He behaved like one. And he had the audacity to walk out on me? What the actual fuck?’ I’m trying to strike a balance between being loud enough for Luca to hear me from my upside-down position, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Fortunately, Sam’s not in this morning. I bet she’d love this.

  ‘I’d offer to call him, but I don’t think it would go down too well,’ says Luca.

  ‘That’s another thing: aren’t you furious with him? He basically accused you of getting off with me behind his back.’

  I feel Luca sighing. ‘I mean, yes, but I’ve had time to think about it. Watching Triple Threat, it really made it look like you and I were a thing. If I’d been in Fletch’s position, I’d have believed it.’

  ‘He should’ve trusted us—’

  ‘Nettie, Sam had our friends doubting us, and they were there. She even had us doubting us. If she can do that, what must it be like for someone watching it out of context?’

  ‘Next position, please,’ calls the LX girl.

  I resurface and go into an extreme reach forward with Luca holding my waist.

  ‘OK, fine, but Fletch was still jealous before Triple Threat even came out.’

  ‘True. But he was trying to keep a lid on it. He knew he was being unreasonable.’

  I’m surprised Luca’s jumping to Fletch’s defence after everything that happened last weekend. Luca might be able to forgive him, but I can’t. Not yet. And anyway, there’s nothing to forgive if he hasn’t even apologized, is there?

  An hour later Leon and I are standing together in our light, waiting for our next instructions. Leon covers his mic.

  ‘I think Sam’s going to out me,’ he blurts out.

  ‘What? How does she even know?’

  Leon shushes me, panicked. ‘She asked me if I’d do an interview,’ he whispers. ‘A while ago. She said it would be a lovely end to the show if I shared it with the world, inspire loads of young gay people. I don’t know how she discovered I’m not fully out at home. Someone must’ve told her.’

  My blood runs cold. ‘Oh my God, Leon. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. Originally I said no, and she seemed to accept it, but this week she’s been putting the pressure on again. Insinuated that if I don’t agree she’ll probably reveal it anyway. Isn’t it best to do it on my own terms, where I’m in control of what’s being said?’

  ‘No. She can’t do this,’ I whisper, covering my own mic with both hands. ‘It’s blackmail. We need to tell Miss Duke.’

  ‘No!’ says Leon. ‘Nettie, I haven’t told anyone yet. Just leave it. There’s a chance she won’t do it. I’ll just have to take the risk.’

  This is horrific. I have to help Leon. I have to find a way to stop Sam. But with only two days left, time’s running out. What am I going to do?

  At lunchtime, I’m heading out to grab the sandwich I left on the kitchen counter, when Anand literally jumps out of Michael’s office.

  ‘Nettie. Can I talk to you?’

  ‘I’m not interested, Anand.’ I pick up the pace and walk past him.

  He runs after me. ‘Please, Nettie.’

  ‘So you can worm stuff out of me and then feed it back to Sam?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know it was you, Anand. You told Sam that Luca and I had history. And I bet Leon’s new storyline had something to do with you as well. I can’t believe I trusted you.’

  ‘Nettie, I didn’t tell her! I swear I didn’t.’

  I stop so abruptly that Anand actually overtakes me and has to take a step back.

  ‘No?’ I say. ‘Then how did she know?’

  ‘I . . .’ He looks around suddenly, as if he’s expecting Sam to jump out at us. ‘I can’t . . . Omigod, this is a mess. Nettie, you have to believe me.’ His expression is desperate, pleading. Despite what Luca told me, I want to trust him.

  But I’m done with secrets. I’m done with lies. Anand may be telling the truth, but he’s still hiding something. There’s so much going on right now what with splitting up with my boyfriend and the performance of my life in just two days that I don’t have the energy to engage with this.

  ‘I’m sorry, Anand. I can’t do this right now.’

  Kiki comes up to me after lunch while I’m running over some of my dance steps on the stage. I keep thinking about Leon. I thought my problems were bad. What’s he going to do?

  ‘Remember, you need to feel like you’re holding boiled eggs,’ she reminds me, demonstrating the move. I copy her obediently. ‘Looks amazing in here, doesn’t it?’ she says, looking out into the audience. It’s the first time the music hall’s ever been used for a show at Duke’s, and the studio’s been converted back into an auditorium.

  ‘Mmmn-hmmn.’ I’m trying to focus on the movement, but I keep going back to Leon. There’s so much going on right now that it’s hard to concentrate. What if I lose it onstage and forget I’m meant to be holding boiled eggs and start galumphing around like I’ve got a grapefruit in each hand? ‘Hey – Kiki? I need to talk to you. It’s about Leon.’

  ‘Sure,’ she says. ‘What’s up? But you’ll have to be quick – there’s a whole college meeting in a minute.’

  I quickly fill her in on everything Leon told me this morning. Kiki stares at me in horror.

  ‘Oh my God, Nettie.’ She’s almost crying.

  ‘You . . . believe me, then?’

  She bites her lip. ‘I’ve been doubting Sam for a while now. Something just hasn’t been adding up. And the last couple of episodes? I know you haven’t been watching but they’re so far from the truth that it’s unreal. Remember when I was upset about my contract being terminated backstage at the Duke’s Awards? Like, she really went to town on that – made me seem really pathetic. I felt embarrassed watching myself. And then she kind of made out that I’d danced badly because of it, and that was why I didn’t win. She barely showed any footage of me dancing. After promising she would.’ She takes my hand. ‘Nettie, I’m sorry I took Sam’s side so much. I really thought she was a friend.’

  ‘She had us all fooled,’ I say. I mean, I kind of had her sussed early on, but I can totally see how she had everyone sucked in. ‘What are we going to do about Leon?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ says Kiki. ‘But I’m damned if I’m going to let her get away with this.’

  People start to pile in: cameras, crew, students and, of course, Sam. She grins at Kiki and me from the other side of the studio. Kiki looks like she’s going to be sick.

  Miss Duke arrives last, bringing with her a swathe of silence as usual.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ she says. ‘As you know, the last episode of Triple Threat is going to focus largely on the opening night of Chicago. Sam has requested –’ here she pauses to smile, but I can tell she’s livid at being dictated to – ‘that the episode is a live finale. Yes – to those of you wondering – the show will go out live on Saturday, combined with backstage footage and live interviews. It will be no mean feat.’

  What are they trying to do to us? As if it wasn’t stressful enough knowing the performance was being filmed, it’s now going to go out live? I’m not sure how much more I can take right now. Why has Miss Duke agreed to this? How many of her own powers did she sign away to Sam at the beginning of the year?

  ‘In addition to this,’ she continues, ‘Sam has negotiated with the producers of the annual West End fundraising gala A Night of a Thousand Stars to feature some of the Duke’s students in its programme the very same night. This is unprecedented, and a great honour.’ A murmur goes through the room. ‘So, without further ado, may I cong
ratulate our chosen ambassadors: Antoinette Delaney-Richardson, Luca Viscusi and Alec Van Damm.’

  A ripple of applause echoes around the old music hall. A camera’s light flickers in my retinas. I’ve been chosen to perform in a gala? On the same day as Chicago? On live TV ? How’s that going to work? I glance at Luca. He looks back at me in horror.

  My eyes flick to Alec, who ordinarily would be smiling gregariously and enjoying the limelight he so clearly feels he deserves. But he’s not doing that. He’s looking intently at someone on the other side of the room. I follow his gaze and see Leon at the other end of it.

  ‘Miss Duke?’ Alec says loudly.

  Everyone who’s not already looking at him turns around.

  ‘I wanted to say something.’

  ‘Yes, Alec?’ she says, surprised but, as ever, unruffled.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do the gala,’ he says.

  Someone stifles a gasp near me.

  Miss Duke puts one hand in the pocket of her creamy-beige trouser suit. ‘Why not, may I ask?’

  I can feel the danger; everyone can.

  ‘I’ve hurt my ankle,’ he says. ‘The, er . . . physio told me to stay off it for two weeks.’

  This is odd – Alec hasn’t mentioned his ankle. What’s he playing at?

  Miss Duke seems satisfied. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she says. ‘We will have to choose someone else.’ She’s about to move on when Alec speaks up again.

  ‘Miss Duke?’

  She almost sighs in frustration. ‘Yes, Alec?’

  ‘I’d like to nominate Leon Adigwe to take my place.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘He’s an amazing dancer. And he’s proven this year that he’s a brilliant actor and singer, too. I just . . . I wanted to say that he’d be my choice.’

  There’s something so utterly brazen, so cocksure, so . . . Alec about all of this. And yet . . . it’s a lovely gesture. Leon rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s touched.

  Miss Duke studies Alec hard. ‘Ordinarily, I wouldn’t expect a student to make decisions for me,’ she says sternly. We watch her like the playing cards eyeing the Queen of Hearts, wondering which way she’ll go, whose head will roll. ‘But on this occasion, Alec, I think you’re right. Leon, the job’s yours.’

  More applause, as Sam glares at Miss Duke in rage, presumably for daring to go against her plans, and Leon, looking a tad bemused, steps forward in acknowledgement.

  Later, after everyone has gone, Leon comes over to Alec and me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ says Alec, before Leon has a chance to say anything. ‘I’m sorry I did it in front of everyone – it was naff. But I was so surprised to be chosen, and the truth is, you deserve it more than I do. The world needs to see you. I’m not doing this to be manipulative, or to try to get you to forgive me. I don’t deserve your friendship, Leon. But I hope you can see how sorry I am, and that I am in awe of your talent.’

  Leon doesn’t say anything for a second, and I honestly have no idea how this is going to go. I imagine at least five scenarios: in one, Leon embraces Alec crying; and in another, he punches him in the face.

  Then Leon speaks. ‘I can see it, Alec. Thank you.’

  He doesn’t embrace him crying, or even extend a hand, but he does give Alec a small smile.

  Maybe this is the start of a new friendship between them.

  The dress rehearsal opens on Friday night to a small invited audience and four cameras. I dance. I dance and sing and smile and turn and kick. I fight with Velma, flirt with Mama, jostle with Billy Flynn. I’m like a weird fake version of myself. You’d never know that I’m broken inside because the boy I love has left me. When I take my bow at the end, I pretend I’m pleased and grateful, when really I’m empty and lost. I’m not playing a role. I’m playing someone who’s not heartbroken who’s playing a role. Luckily for me, Chicago is a cynical piece of theatre, deliberately superficial and laced with dark humour, and Roxie’s part of it all. I’m not sure I’d have such an easy time playing Fantine.

  Sam watches the dress from the stage-right wing tonight. From my position onstage during ‘Razzle Dazzle’, I can see her lost in thought as she watches Luca and me and the dancers put on a show of putting on a show. The song’s about fooling the audience. Giving them the truth you want them to see, rather than the reality. I wonder if the parallels have dawned on her.

  When the rehearsal’s done, I stay onstage after everyone’s left and perch myself on the edge of the apron, looking out into the empty audience. I just need a moment to breathe. We open tomorrow, and Fletch won’t be here to see me. As much as I’m angry with him, I miss him so much it makes my insides hurt. Where did we go so wrong? My eyes prickle uncomfortably; I press the corners of them with my thumb.

  ‘Nettie?’

  Sam’s standing at the far end of the auditorium. She must have gone out and come back in.

  ‘Hi, Sam. I don’t really feel like talking on camera right now.’

  ‘I get it. I wasn’t going to ask you to. I just came to say well done. You were fantastic in the dress rehearsal.’

  ‘Um, thanks.’

  ‘Listen – I’m sorry about all the attention you’ve been getting from Triple Threat.’

  “‘What?’”

  She walks over to where I am sitting on the stage, my legs dangling over the edge. ‘All the public speculation about you and Luca.’

  She has no idea what it’s like to be filmed everywhere I go, or have people shouting at me across the street. To have to avoid social media because of all the trolling. And now she comes to me with this half-baked, glib apology?

  ‘What you did was wrong, Sam. You’re not sorry.’

  She shifts her weight. ‘Nettie, I was just showing what I could see. You might not want to admit it, but you and Luca have chemistry. There’s nothing in Triple Threat that wasn’t there in real life.’

  ‘Yes, there was,’ I say. ‘You edited it to make it look as if Luca and I had feelings for each other, when the truth is, we were always just friends. Well, you got what you wanted. Everyone believed it.’

  ‘This documentary is going to change your life, Nettie,’ says Sam. ‘You’ve got absolute star quality – it’s obvious the second you step on to the screen. It’s the one thing that drew me to the project, and I wanted to honour that with how the documentary represented you. The Luca thing was just to create plot. With Fletch gone, we needed a romantic element to the story. A sort of will-they-won’t-they. It’s what kept people hooked. But ultimately, they’ll forget about that. What they’ll remember is you.’

  ‘I don’t care about being remembered. I care about not being misrepresented.’

  ‘Boys come and go. Star quality lasts forever.’ She turns to go. ‘Like it or not, Triple Threat has made you,’ she says over her shoulder. ‘You’ll thank me one day.’

  ‘I won’t thank you!’ I call after her. ‘You’re messing with people’s lives, Sam.’ The old walls of the music hall carry my voice all the way to the back of the auditorium.

  She doesn’t look back. Frustrated, I get up and head backstage. How are you meant to deal with someone like that, who just won’t listen? I wish I’d never agreed to take part in the damn documentary. It’s wrecked all our lives. Alec, haunted by old trauma, letting his competitiveness almost destroy a friendship; Leon, hurt and confused and threatened; Kiki, losing all her self-confidence and feeling let down by someone she trusted; and me and Fletch, ruined over something that wasn’t even real to begin with. I hate her, and I hate what she’s done. And the worst thing is, I’m powerless to do anything about it.

  My phone beeps. It’s a message from a number I don’t know.

  22:20

  Meet me in Soho Square.

  In ten minutes. It’s about Sam.

  What the hell?

  By the time I get upstairs to the studio we’re using as a dressing room, everyone’s gone. I quickly take off my costume and get dressed but leave my lashes a
nd make-up on. Should I go? A horrible thought occurs to me that it’s some sort of trick. Maybe I’ll get there and Sam’ll be there waiting to film something humiliating that she’s set up.

  But something tells me it’s not that. I grab my jacket and bag and head outside.

  I decide to approach the square from the other side, avoiding the entrance she’ll be expecting me from. It means walking all the way round to Greek Street, but I’m not chancing it. When I arrive, I stop in my tracks.

  It’s Alec, Kiki and Leon.

  With Jade.

  I run over to them. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You know as much as we do,’ says Alec. ‘I had no idea the rest of you were coming.’

  ‘Jade ambushed us one by one,’ said Leon. ‘Me, as I was leaving the music hall. Kiki, the same. And Alec’s been here a while.’

  ‘An hour, to be precise,’ says Alec impatiently. ‘Right, Jade. Tell us what it is so that we can all go home and carry on despising you from a distance.’

  Jade takes a breath. ‘It’s Sam.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘She’s been . . . doing something. Something bad.’

  Her words are a shock, but at the same time they don’t surprise me. My heart pounding, I look around the circle, its energy charged, the others on tenterhooks.

  ‘What’s she been doing?’ I say. ‘Besides telling lies about us all on national TV?’

  ‘It’s how she’s been doing it,’ says Jade. ‘She’s been recording us without our knowledge. Secret microphones in the dressing rooms, even some of the corridors – wherever she thinks she can get away with it. That’s where she’s been getting all her information.’

  My stomach plummets. I think back to the conversations I had with Kiki in the changing room about Fletch. The time I cried on Alec’s shoulder at the Christmas Ball. Suddenly it all makes sense. Of course that was how she knew. She couldn’t use that footage – doing so would have given it away – but she used it to construct a narrative that she could manipulate. And there I was blaming Anand. I feel sick.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I say. This is horrible. All the stuff Sam could’ve heard. Personal, private things. Things she had no right hearing.