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“There’s his pissy face,” Tom says in a laugh.
Eliot is far too amused as well. It is a sight to behold, and I’d be a big liar if I said I wasn’t smiling.
Once Leo finishes, the chorographer makes Beckett take his place and perform the same solo.
My smile softens. Seeing him in his element is enchanting. His leaps are weightless, and every movement is grand yet smooth, as if he’s silk gliding over water.
I’ve seen him perform before, and it always makes me smile with pride.That’s my cousin.
And then they do a close-up of Leo while Beckett dances. His jaw muscles tic, arms threaded over his chest.
“You better be envious,” Eliot says to TV Leo.
But it’s truly hard to say which one is better than the other. I’m not a ballet expert, and perhaps the two of them also know they’re serious competition.
Soon, Beckett falls back and the segment cuts to an actualinterview.Beckett and Leo are standing side by side while the rest of the dancers rehearse behind them.
Eliot wasn’t kidding about this being rare. I shovel popcorn in my mouth.
From off-screen behind the camera, the interviewer says, “Well, that certainly was a show you both put on.” Her voice is light and airy. “Do either of you watch each other’s performances on stage?”
“No,” they both say at the same time. They exchange a brief, caustic glare.
I snort.
“Who would you say has the better technique?” she asks.
Leo lets out a laugh like it’s a dumb question and the answer is obvious.
Eliot throws a scoop of my popcorn at the TV. I do the same.
“That would be me,” Leo answers. “But he’s going to say himself.” He waves Beckett on. “Go ahead, Cobalt. Give the people what they want.”
“Give it to ‘em, brother,” Eliot says to the screen.
On the television Beckett says, “His technique is adequate.”
“His technique is stale. Lifeless,” Leo retorts. “People sleep at his shows. People stay awake for mine.”
Ouch. I glare at his annoying, yet very striking, two-dimensional face.
“How would you know?” Beckett turns on him. “You never attend mine.”
“Burn,” Tom says to the television.
The interview zooms in on Leo’s tensed jaw as he responds, “People talk.”
Beckett makes his classicwhat the fuckface, which has me smiling again. Some things really don’t change. That expression is exactly as I remember.
Leo stares Beckett down.
Beckett doesn’t blink.
It’s the tensest staring contest I’ve seen in a long while. A popcorn kernel stays motionless on my tongue like if I make a crunch, I’ll break the moment.
“Viewers want to know if you’re both currently seeing anyone?” the interviewer asks.
“She didn’t,” I whisper in shock.
