The Carpenter's Prince

by Jayce Ellis

  Timothy and Naveed were watching them, and Naveed nodded sharply when they were done. “Excellent. Let’s take a short break. Keni, let’s talk.”

  Allison and Timothy left the room, but Timothy turned back at the door, his eyes a little too knowing. What the hell? He tapped the doorframe a few times and disappeared. Keni’s hackles rose.

  “Naveed, what’s going on?”

  Naveed sighed and took a seat on the piano bench. “I’ve heard that your rehearsals haven’t been as strong as usual.”

  “From who? Allison?”

  “No, not Allison, but from someone I trust. That’s why I’m here, to see if it’s true.”

  “And?” he asked, his spine stiffening. Fucking Timothy. Keni should’ve known better than to trust him. He’d made the apparently fatal error of assuming Timothy would put the company’s performance above his personal ambitions. More fool him.

  “You’re off your game. Oh sure,” Naveed continued, waving his hand flippantly, “you’re executing the moves just fine. But that shark we expect to come out and wow the audiences? The one whose focus is ballet and only ballet, forever and ever, amen? He’s MIA.”

  Keni stepped back, his hands landing on his hips and his fingers digging into his outfit as he fought for composure. At the end of the day, he got paid to dance. A child’s dream, with decades of work behind it. And yes, he’d more than willingly thrown himself into the rigors of the job for years, but was it so bad to want something that transcended those moments on stage?

  “What, if anything, would you suggest to help get that shark back?”

  Naveed frowned, probably trying to figure out how Keni had turned shark into a curse. Confusion marred his face, unsurprising since Keni rarely argued. He took critique with a grace that was universally admired in the company. This anger, this pushback? Unheard of. Naveed’s lips firmed and his jaw tightened before he nodded once, like he was confirming his decision to himself.

  “I’ve heard rumors that you’ve got a bit of a personal life going on.” He held his hand up when Keni opened his mouth to argue. “I’m not knocking it, I don’t care, and quite frankly, I think it’s probably good for you. But not right now. Not while we still have these performances to do. So, I don’t know what you need to do, but put that thing on hold until we get through these shows, and then you can start up again wherever you left off.”

  “You’re kidding me. Allison and Timothy are in relationships. You’re not asking them—”

  “Yes, but those relationships aren’t new. Yours is, and it’s got you acting like a prepubescent teenager instead of a grown man who’s the principal danseur of this company.”

  “So, what? You’re saying the only way to keep my focus is to never have a personal life?”

  “Don’t give me that. You know exactly what I mean, and I will not hesitate to put Timothy in for you if you can’t give me what I need.”

  Exactly what the pompous asswipe was gunning for. Timothy was an absolute prick, roundly despised, but damn good at what he did. Keni had been named the lead for all performances this year not because he was better than Timothy, but because Timothy was a royal prick no one wanted to deal with. That Naveed would even consider making a switch this late in the game rankled. And told him Naveed was dead serious.

  A shadow darkened the doorway, and Keni turned to find Sean filling it, big and broad and smiling. A smile that slowly dissipated as he stared at them. Keni huffed out a long breath, his shoulders drooping. “Fine.”

  He walked to the door and laid a hand on Sean’s chest, giving himself a moment to indulge in the feel of Sean’s heart beating soundly against his palm.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Keni said too quickly, his voice too bright, his smile too forced. Sean’d called him baby. It was silly, but Keni had longed to have a pet name. He’d always thought it was so cute, and giving it up, if only for a week, gutted him. He inhaled, trying to force the part of him wanting to wail into submission, and looked over his shoulder at Naveed, who looked almost apologetic. Resigned. Keni turned back to Sean. “Let’s talk, okay?”

  Parroting Naveed’s words back to Sean made him ill, but Sean followed him down the hall to the workspace without a word. Inside, Sean flicked on the lights and turned to face him, his whole body drawn tight.

  “It’s over, isn’t it?”

  Keni looked away before answering. He couldn’t stand the vacant look in Sean’s eyes. “No. It’s not like that.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to find his words. “Naveed told me my focus isn’t where it needs to be, so I need to press pause.”

  “Pause?”

  “Just until the performances this weekend are over. Then we can pick things back up, but I need to get through this week.”

  “And being with me is messing with your focus?”

  Keni threw his hands in the air and let them fall uselessly at his sides. “I didn’t think so, but Naveed sees something else. Apparently I’m not as sharp as I normally am, so I need to put all my energy and all my focus into this. Hell, this is my job.”

  “Of course. I got you.” Sean nodded like it made all the sense in the world, but his eyes… his eyes told a different story. One Keni didn’t like. “Like I said the first night, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “No, wait.” Keni took a step toward Sean, but he stepped back. “Sean, it isn’t like that.”

  “I believe it.”

  No, he doesn’t.

  “You better get back in and finish practicing,” he went on, like Keni’s heart wasn’t breaking in front of him. “What I came here to do, I can easily do at home, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “You’re still coming to the performances, right?” His voice was strained, tinny to his own ears.

  Sean didn’t answer immediately, instead striding across the room to pick up his props. He walked to the back and pushed open the door. Keni jumped back, the bite of frosty air through his sweat-soaked clothes chilling him to his soul. Finally, Sean looked over his shoulder.

  “Of course. My nephew’s performing.” Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a finality that sunk Keni’s heart to his feet.

  SEAN’S HEAD throbbed. Pounded. Hell, both. Suffice it to say, he felt like crap, and it had nothing—well, very little—to do with the amount of whiskey he had drunk when he got home the night before. It was over. Sure, Keni had couched it in professional terms, telling him that maybe they could start back up once he finished his job, but Sean knew the desperate attempt to find an escape hatch when he saw one. Very “it’s not you, it’s me.” Which he’d heard before and knew was bullshit. It was always him. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was why Keni’d bothered in the first place, and he wasn’t sure any answer would be satisfactory. Best to let go of it now and move on.

  But first, water. He rolled to the side and pushed himself up, and that was a terrible idea. It took what felt like hours, but he made it downstairs to the kitchen. Three tall glasses of water and some aspirin later, and he felt halfway to normal. What he really needed was to be done. Done with the set pieces, done with his part in the kids’ production, done with Keni. And as much of a shit as he felt right now, he’d be done today.

  Sean scrounged up some food and let it take effect, then walked to his little workshop in the back. He was finalizing the detail work, the little pops of color and creativity that gave the props life. To be fair, he should’ve finished days ago, but he’d slacked off. The longer he took, he’d reasoned, the more time he had with Keni. Maybe his subconscious knew what was coming and had wanted to soak up as much time with Keni as possible. Damn prescient thing.

  There was no help for it. Sean plugged his phone in and, after careful consideration and numerous false starts, settled on the Black Panther soundtrack to listen to. For the next hour or so, he focused, and even in his state he couldn’t help but grin at the finished product. Now all he needed to do was set it up at the s
tudio and get Naveed’s approval.

  The studio was dark and the parking lot empty when he showed up almost forty-five minutes later, but that didn’t stop the nerves roiling in his stomach. Visions of the times he and Keni had met here flashed through his head. If Keni was here, which wouldn’t be a surprise, would Sean run to him, or away? Neither his heart nor head held the answer.

  He unlocked the back door and made his way through the darkness. By now he’d worked out how to maneuver in the dark without stumbling until he reached the light switch. In the hallway he saw that, for once, all the studios were dark. The weight of disappointment nearly crushed him, and Sean steadied himself with a hand against the wall. A few harsh sucks of air later, Sean straightened and shook his head. It was over. That time was past.

  Sean opened the studio door where the kids’ performance was being held and flicked on the lights, taking a moment to analyze the space. It was small, more intimate for a younger audience. As far as he knew, children were even encouraged to sit on the floor right in front of the dancers. Rows of seats on stands were behind him, maybe enough for a hundred or so parents. The lighting was good, but Sean worried that the dark, heavy drapes would limit the visual space he had to work with. He pushed them as far to the side as he could, then set the rats on one side and the soldiers on the other. Since they fought each other, and were the two largest pieces, he needed to make sure their spacing was just so. Enough to give the illusion of depth without crowding the dancers. He stepped back, taking a picture, then walked to other spots in the studio and repeated. Finally he got them in what he thought was the prime position, took a few more shots, and sent them to Naveed. He’d really been given free rein over the project, and as he sent the text, a rush of gratitude filled him despite everything else. Naveed hadn’t followed up even once about how things were coming, trusting him to make sure everything would be ready as scheduled.

  Sean took a seat in the back row. He knew Keni was performing here the day after the final full-length performance, and Sean could imagine his almost larger-than-life persona flying across the small stage. The props wouldn’t do him justice, that much Sean knew. And Cameron wasn’t in the show, so there was no reason for Sean to attend. It struck him then that he’d intended to do both. He’d never had any real interest in ballet outside of ferrying Cameron to and from practice, and now, even though they were done, part of Sean still wanted to be there.

  Footsteps sounded, loud and sharp even on the carpeted hallway, and Sean sucked in a breath. He let it out in a harsh whoosh when Naveed peered around the corner, holding up his phone.

  “Got your text as I was pulling in,” he said. He bounded up the steps until he stood in the row in front of Sean, arms hanging loosely by his sides, giving the impression of not having a care in the world. He studied the set Sean had created, walked from one end of the stage to the other, then turned back to him. “It’s perfect. Amazing. I can’t believe you pulled this together in such a short time.”

  Sean warmed at the praise. “It’s my pleasure, man. Thanks for taking a chance on an eleven-year-old’s word about what his uncle could do.”

  Naveed laughed. “Cameron is a force to be reckoned with, and we’re glad he’s here.” He paused and looked over his shoulder. “I think a certain someone is glad you’re here too.”

  Sean crossed his arms and settled in his seat. “Not anymore. He’s got his priorities, and I’ve got mine. Unfortunately there’s no overlap.”

  Naveed turned fully to peer at him. “Are you sure about that? Keni was incensed when I spoke to him and, in retrospect, I don’t know that I made the right call there. Pretty sure I got that 100 percent wrong.”

  Sean waved him off, unwilling to acknowledge the spark that flew through him at those words. Or willing to acknowledge that someone else may have had a hand in it. It’d give him the thing he could least afford—hope. He coughed in a vain attempt to clear his throat. “People don’t like being told what they can and can’t do. That’s all.”

  Naveed was shaking his head before Sean finished. “I don’t know about that. Not with Keni.”

  “Well, I do. Don’t you worry about it.”

  Naveed opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, then closed it and pivoted back to the stage. “Whatever you say.” He gestured at the pieces again. “You’ve got a real gift. Is there anything else you need to do?”

  Sean stood, letting his hands fall to his sides, mimicking Naveed’s position. “I don’t think so. Unless there was anything else you want done. If not, I think that’s all, folks.”

  Naveed turned, a small grin on his face at Sean’s lame attempt at lightening the mood, his hand outstretched for Sean to shake. “Thank you. I brought you in at the last minute, and you made magic happen. I’m forever grateful.”

  Made magic happen. For a moment in time, Sean’d thought he and Keni had done the same. Oh well, such was life. He shook Naveed’s hand. “It was an absolute pleasure. I hope the performances knock it out of the park. Can’t wait to see them.” He trotted down the stairs, keeping his steps light and not as heavy as he felt, and walked out into the brisk air. His time here was exactly what he swore he wanted—done.

  KENI STRETCHED out in the hallway, or tried to, at least. His nerves were jangled, a complete mess, while his attention never strayed from the front door. They had their penultimate full rehearsal tonight, and Keni hoped like hell that Sean brought Cameron to practice. He tried to stretch his hip flexors, knowing he needed to be as limber as possible for the grueling session tonight, but it was no use. He couldn’t concentrate for a damn. Keni pushed off the floor and walked to the front hallway, where parents often sat while their children were in class or rehearsals. Just in time to see Cameron walk in, a tall, stunningly lovely woman who favored Sean enough that she had to be Cameron’s mother trailing behind.

  He peered around them, like maybe Sean would magically appear, and Cameron’s mother waltzed right up to him, her arms crossed, looking for all the world like her brother’s avenger. “Why are you looking for him?”

  That got a brow raise. “What are you talking about?”

  “You heard me.” She was practically hissing, fury rolling off her shoulders like molten lava, blistering in the icy weather. “Why are you looking for my brother?”

  Keni was not having this conversation in the hallway. Already, he saw parents putting down their tablets and hushing their kids. The worst eavesdroppers. He pointed down the hall to a private office, and she nodded, following him there and shutting the door with finality behind her. “What makes you think I’m looking for your brother?”

  “Spare me. My brother confides in me. Your eyes went googly when you saw Cameron; then you frowned and started looking around me. I’m not dumb and I’m damn sure not blind. I’ve seen your picture, I know you’re the principal danseur Sean was seeing. You were looking for Sean, but what I don’t understand is why, since you don’t want him.”

  “I what?” God, he sounded like a fool.

  “Did I stutter?” She stood sentry, her arms never leaving her chest, like she was safeguarding her brother’s heart. Funny, Keni’d kind of wanted that to be his job. She stared at him for long minutes before her posture loosened. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

  Keni didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. He was glad Sean had this level of unwavering support. But boy, did they have the wrong impression.

  “I didn’t dump him. I promise you that.”

  “Why would he think that if you didn’t do it, then? What did you do?”

  This was… not a conversation he had any intention of having with a stranger. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could give a clear answer. At first he’d convinced himself that it was so simple. He’d pull back until the performances were over; then they’d be together, fully and totally. Even when Keni had seen how Sean pulled away, he’d convinced himself Sean understood and would be ready and waiting in a week’s time. Convinced himself he was worth wa
iting for. The thought that he might have lost him…. Keni had to sit down.

  “What’s your name?” he asked when he could breathe again.

  She snorted softly and grinned, almost like a mother hen, down at him. “Shayna. Sean is my baby brother.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “We’re lucky to have him. He’s been our rock these last few years.” She knelt in front of him and squeezed his knee. “Tell me what happened.”

  Keni blew out a deep breath, then recounted the whole not-very-exciting thing, finishing with, “Shayna, I like your brother. A lot, and I swear I didn’t break up with him.” He closed his eyes, hating his desperation. “If you see him, can you just tell him that?”

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth now?” Shayna’s words were soft, her expression kind, but at the end of the day she was here for her brother.

  It was a damn good question, and one Keni didn’t have the answer to. After a moment of silence, he shrugged helplessly and let out a sigh. “I don’t know.”

  Shayna huffed, as though that admission were answer enough, then stood. “Men,” she said with a little laugh, then stood and pulled Keni up. “Go on, get out of here. You’ll be late for practice.”

  And… that was it. Keni followed her, marveling at how she’d gotten under his skin. But her words haunted him. How could he ever show his feelings were real? He was good at two things: bringing food his mom had foisted on him, and dancing. That was it, and that wasn’t enough to win Sean over.

  But he could pour his heart into this performance. If he’d lost Sean to dance, he would dance his heart out. He pushed through practice, every turn executed with precision, each leap higher than before. When he finished, the company burst into applause.