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Chapter 3
Scotlyn
Over the past few days, the director demanded more rehearsals and less downtime. Which meant I had to cancel my virtual date with Jaxson two days ago, and I still feel sick about it.
Diego typically requests that we relax and find our Zen in the two days prior to such an anticipated show, but someone must have spooked him because he’s worked us harder than usual.
“Only six more hours until it’s all over,” Libby gasps, standing next to me as we’re fitted into our costumes before entering hair and makeup.
“Technically four if you don’t count the meet-and-greet afterwards.” Sometimes counting down until the performance is done helps us cope with the exhaustion we know we’re about to experience.
“Only four more hours.” She laughs as we’re tied into the bodices that restrict our breathing.
“Ladies.” Diego enters our dressing room with two men behind him, one of whom I recognize. “This is Sergei Tumarov. You may know him as the owner of our grand theatre. He cameall the way from Russia to watch you perform his country’s most famous ballet.”
Standing, we curtsy out of respect. “Is pleasure,” Sergei says, invading my space and grasping my hand, kissing the inside of my wrist. “I will take you for dinner after show.” When I’m about to dispute his command, Diego shakes his head at me. It’s the fear in his eyes that stops me from saying anything at all. “We wish you best of dancing tonight.” His stilted English doesn’t leave room for argument, so we smile and thank them.
“That was awkward,” Libby mutters when they leave.
“You think? And what was with Diego?” That man isn’t one I would peg as scared of anyone.
“Maybe they threatened to fire him if we botched this performance?” Maybe. But it doesn’t seem likely. Diego has been here for nearly ten years and has never received a single disparaging review. There’s no reason to believe tonight will be any different.
Going through hair and makeup takes up the rest of our free time until suddenly, we’re on stage, the music playing. Diego’s voice booms throughout the theatre, and then it’s showtime.
The curtains draw back, the orchestra is poised before the front row, slightly below stage level but visible, and I give the cue to begin. The number starts slow, with soft movements and long, sweeping turns, as I slowly introduce the audience to Flora as she blossoms into a goddess.
By the time Libby joins me on stage, the other dancers have frozen in the background, waiting for their cue to begin again. Libby and I dance as though we are one, in sync like every time before, until the show is over.
A year of training and arduous work has come to a close, and we’re panting—exhausted and slightly numb—and exhilarated. Waiting to collapse until the curtains have drawn to a close, we all breathe a massive sigh of relief.
“Ten minutes!” one of the stagehands calls to let us know when the special meet-and-greet will begin. We don’t do them after every show, but since this is the first time Libby and I have been the principal dancers, Diego thought it important for us to do. We agreed. This time, there were no men to introduce romance into the story and turn the performance into anything other than what it was. Two women transforming into whom they were always meant to be.
“That was amazing,” I compliment my best friend as we begin untying each other’s slippers as our preferred footwear is brought to us. I like a simple, fuzzy pair of socks to keep my feet warm, while Libby likes a pair of sneakers.
“It was beautiful,” she agrees.
Once ready, we stand together and head towards the stage exit to join some members of the audience.
“Nana, there she is!” A little girl’s voice catches my attention as soon as I step into the light. Twin girls stand with an older woman, who is watching me. Beautiful blonde curls topple from their heads, and wide brown eyes, the same color as milk chocolate, stare across the room at me.
Smiling, I stride towards them, wishing to meet them before anyone else. Crouching down to their level, they step into their Nana but are still curious.
“Good evening, primas.” They both giggle and share a look. “I am Goddess Flora.” Bowing my head, I pluck a twine of baby’s breath from my hair for them. “And these are for you.”
They each take a stalk and giggle again. “What do you say, girls?” Nana nudges them.
“Thank you,” they reply together.
“You are most welcome. Did you enjoy the show?” They nod, their curls bouncing, before one of them begins to yawn, and the other says, “It was our birthday present from Nana.”
“Well, happy birthday! What a special treat for me that you chose to come here.” They are the cutest little girls I’ve ever seen.
“Our birthday was two months ago. Nana got them on the day they went up for sale.” One girl stares up at the woman with nothing short of admiration in her gaze.
“The ballet is still a wonderful treat to celebrate such a special day.” The other girl raises her hand to touch my hair before pulling back. “It’s okay; you can feel it.”
“You look like Ariel,” she whispers.
