“C’mon Ana,” Lash added, “think about it. If Horne Calloway sees the reaction from the audience, he will have no choice except to write a glowing review. He will not risk his reputation by going against a general sentiment. A good review from Calloway is all I need to legitimize the dance company.”
A storm was tearing her apart inside. Ana wanted to refuse. But she remembered her promise to Lash that she would do everything in her power to make opening night a success. If Lash believed that kissing Ricardo was going to get him what he wanted, then she wouldn’t renege on a promise she made to him.
“All right, if you think that it will make things easier with Calloway, then I agree,” Ana declared.
Lash whooped as he jumped out of his chair. He pulled her up and hugged her, elated that she agreed. His eyes gleamed in triumph. He held her face with both hands and kissed her ardently it took her breath away.
“I have a bottle of champagne in the bedroom,” he whispered against her lips.
Ana felt that familiar hunger bloom inside her belly even as Lash pulled her inside. When he led her up the stairs, she had almost forgotten her initial reluctance about the kiss. Almost. But not quite. A small seed of doubt refused to be ignored. It whispered that she was being used again, just like all the other men who used her in the past.
Chapter TWELVE
Opening night had arrived and there was a buzz of excitement in the air. It was still five hours until curtain time, but backstage was a beehive of activity.
Ana sensed the excitement the moment she spotted the security force which lined the street to manage the expected volume of traffic. In the lobby, valets milled about anticipating the vehicles that would ferry the guests to the auditorium. Radio City Hall never looked brighter and more imposing than it did that night.
Ana realized Lash had done everything in his power to make the night a success. Invitations were sent out to the different media offices. Full-page newspaper ads splashed the announcements. Banners could be found everywhere in the city announcing the event. The paparazzi would definitely be there in droves tonight.
Others who were not as lucky to have been extended an invitation had already taken their position outside the gates as the limousine Lash hired to ferry her to the venue came to a stop outside the theater lobby. Ana would have felt more like a movie star if she had a beautiful gown on and some make-up. But that was still going to happen inside in the dressing rooms where a swarm of make-up artists waited to do their magic.
She stepped into the huge theater where the show was going to be held. It was a madhouse with ushers and usherettes in black, red and gold uniforms attaching names of guests to the seats. Ana noted that Horne Calloway’s name occupied one of the premiere seats.
Inside the dressing rooms, the excitement was even more palpable as the dancers chatted among themselves. Ana spotted an empty make-up chair and was about to sit when Ricardo popped through the door.
“Hey Ana. Do you have a minute?” He called out.
“Sure,” Ana replied as another dancer grabbed the chair she vacated.
In the hallway, Ricardo studied his nails as he waited.
“What’s up?” Ana asked with a friendly smile.
“So, did Lash talk to you about the finale kiss?” Ricardo asked.
“Yeah, he explained to me why it was so important that the kiss be real,” Ana replied.
“And you’re okay with it?” Ricardo insisted.
Ana sighed inwardly. No, she really wasn’t but now wasn’t the best time to tell her kissing partner that.
“Yes, it fine,” she lied, then added, “We can do it. I mean it’s just a kiss, right?”
Ricardo shrugged and muttered, “Yeah, it’s just I don’t know how long we can keep it up.”
“What do you mean?” Ana asked puzzled.
“Pretending that we have a relationship. That was the whole idea for making the kiss real. Lash figured that it would start a rumor and the gossip would make the public hungry to know more about us. A curious public would ensure that we have more spectators for the following shows. It’s not just about opening night. Lash is more worried about ticket sales afterward,” Ricardo explained.
Ana was stunned.
Lash never mentioned anything remotely close to what Ricardo just said. A rumor about his two principal dancers possibly being in a relationship? It was a great strategy, she admitted. Lash was looking out for the studio’s future shows. That was understandable. Lash would never put his money on a losing proposition.
But to actually make her believe all that bullshit about Horne Calloway giving the studio a glowing review, she realized he was using her to get what he wanted. Lash lied to her deliberately by not telling her he wanted to start a rumor. He not only lied to her, he betrayed her trust and used it against her because he was aware that she promised to make tonight a success for the sake of his mother’s memory.
Ana stifled a moan as Ricardo looked at her curiously. “Are you alright,” he asked.
“Y-yes, I’m fine,” Ana lied. She couldn’t break down now with the show just a few hours away.
Ricardo gave an exaggerated sigh then confessed, “It’s just that…I have a boyfriend and he does not feel good about it.”
Ana wasn’t surprised. She always suspected that behind the macho image, Riccardo was harboring a secret.
“It’s okay. I’ll talk to Lash about it,” Ana said.
“Thanks,” Ricardo replied as he headed for his own dressing room.
Ana was angry as she headed back to have her make-up done. She tried to stem the rage that was brewing inside her chest. She just had to hold it off until after the show, then she fully intended to talk to Lash about all this.
She didn’t know how she made it through make up without breaking down. Ana was fixing her costume for the opening number when one of the ushers approached and informed her that Lash wanted her to join him in one of the theater’s private rooms.
Anger surfaced as the usher led her to the area. Although she had no intentions of making a scene, the idea that she could actually throw the information that Ricardo shared into Lash’s face felt gratifying. The woman in her wanted to tell him he was an asshole for thinking he could betray her that way.
She entered the room with a scowl on her face until she realized he wasn’t alone.
Standing beside him was a tall thin man, almost gaunt-looking wearing an all-white 3-piece suit. The man’s hair was done in intricate cornrows that fell heavily down his shoulders. It was a jarring contrast to the pointy beard on his chin. On his nose rested glasses with elaborate bling. Ana doubted it was for any visual impairments, but rather worn purely for effect. His back and shoulders were ramrod straight. Ana noted the white wingtip shoes on his feet that were in a ballet position with the heels together and the toes facing out to either side.
She immediately recognized the icon of the dance world, the diva who elevated the art of reviewing performances into a make or break for every dance studio. The man from whom Lash badly needed an endorsement to legitimize the Aurora Mancini Dance Studio. Horne Calloway.
Calloway watched her enter the room, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe. He held his head in the imperious stance of a predator who was aware of his advantage. Then he broke into a smile.
“The intriguing Miss Garcia, I presume,” he asked.
“Mr. Calloway, meet Ana,” Lash made the introduction. “She is my secret weapon and she will blow you away, I promise,” Lash said.
Calloway extended a slim and dainty hand. Ana had difficulty deciding whether to do a curtsy or shake his hand.
“Big shoes to fill,” Calloway said raising a brow. “I was surprised to hear about Romina leaving. That girl held so much promise.”
Lash waved off the remark and placed an arm around Ana’s shoulder. “Romina doesn’t hold a candle to Ana. It was the best decision I have ever made hiring her as my principal dancer.”
Ana realized Lash was patronizi
ng her. She forced a smile on her face.
“We’ll see about that,” Calloway remarked, then added, “but tell me about this finale number. I heard it through the grapevine that it will be quite controversial. I couldn’t believe it. Choosing a Gypsy ritual depicting love’s awakening and translating it into dance, I have to admit that has never been done before.” Calloway wrinkled his nose and signed dramatically. “I suppose it will be interesting to see. Gypsy dancing is the only redeeming quality that emerged from that loathsome race.”
Ana stiffened. “Why-why do you say that?”
“Ugh,” Calloway said deprecatingly, “Nothing good ever came out from that lot,” Calloway declared.
Ana felt faint. Lash’s fingers were digging deep into the flesh of her arm. He was sending her a message to keep her mouth shut.
“I’m just glad Ana here is not one. Nowadays it’s hard to tell,” Calloway continued.
“No. No she isn’t. Ana hails from Barcelona. Her mom and dad are both Spanish,” Lash countered.
Ana was speechless. Her world turned upside down hearing Lash’s comment. She wanted to contradict him. She wanted to inflict violence on both him and Calloway, but her shock had rendered her immobile.
Calloway turned to her and said, “I suppose we have to let you go now. As a dancer I know you have to get into the zone before curtain time.”
Lash propelled Ana towards the door. Out of earshot he mumbled under his breath.
“I’m so sorry Ana…”
“Shut up. Shut up. Just…fuck off,” she muttered through tight lips.
He wished her luck loud enough for Calloway to hear. Ana gave them both a constricted smile and shut the door behind her.
She dragged her feet away from the room. She turned a corner then sagged against the wall. Her whole body felt numbed. Her brain wanted to explode. It was like being caught in the fringes of a nightmare. She wanted to wake up but knew she was already awake. The pain in her chest felt real, as real as the knowledge that Lash’s betrayal was now absolutely complete.
Sheer willpower made Ana go back to the dressing room. The instinct to flee was so strong she struggled with every step. A voice was goading her to just leave, while another voice insisted that she stayed.
Backstage, members of the crew were putting the finishing touches behind the closed curtain.
Voices hailed her as she passed.
“Hey Ana knock ‘em dead…”
“Yes, please,” another voice joined in. “If you do, our jobs are secured for the next couple of months…” followed by banter and some laughs.
“Break a leg, Ana.” Another crew called out.
Ana stopped. It was enough to give her exactly what she needed at that precise moment. She remembered who she was. Ana Garcia was a dancer, and a professional one. The phrase “the show must go on,” filtered through her head.
“I will go on stage tonight, despite being stripped of the dignity I fought so hard to find, despite knowing that the only man I ever truly loved has betrayed me in the most horrendous way possible so much so that I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again,” she vowed.
When the curtain rose, Ana did dance like there was no tomorrow. On that stage, she was smooth when the choreography called for it. She was rowdy and energized with the whole ensemble on stage. She smiled at the audience when it was expected of her. Her body was sensuous and provocative in her dances with Ricardo. She was running on pure adrenaline because she had dug so deep into herself, she knew she was almost depleted.
“Just one more dance, Ana,” she chanted as she scurried back to the dressing rooms to change for the finale.
Maria, her assigned assistant, waited for her to get into the costume.
Ironically, it was a Gypsy dancer ceremonial dress with a loose maxi skirt made from sheer material. The blouse was equally sheer, tight around waist and loose on top, allowing it to drop seductively down her shoulders. Maria expertly tied a scarf around her hair as Ana grabbed loads of bangles and necklaces and put them on.
Maria stepped back and clapped her hands. “You look like a true Gypsy,” she gushed in pure delight.
Suddenly, Ana remembered something.
“My backpack…where’s my backpack,” she searched frantically around her.
“It’s here,” Maria replied, scurrying to where the bag was before handing it to her.
“Could-could you give me a minute?” Ana pleaded.
“Sure,” Maria replied, gesturing at the clock before heading out the door.
Ana rifled through the bag’s contents until she found what she was looking for. It was the Gypsy waist scarf with the tiny bells, the same scarf she found in the dump years ago back in Torrevieja. She caressed the fragile piece of cloth with her fingers. This waist scarf meant everything to her. It had propelled her dream of becoming a dancer. It was the very fabric that made her days brighter when things became unbearable between her and her mother. This was her lucky charm. It represented all that she was, a girl with Gypsy blood running through her veins. And she was proud of it. Damn Horne Calloway who tried to make her ashamed of that truth. Fuck Lance Mancini who denied her that.
She brought the fabric to her lips and gave it a kiss. “Don’t fail me now,” she prayed.
She tied the scarf around her waist and looked in the mirror. The fabric was the missing piece that brought the whole costume together. It was like the discovery of the missing pieces in her mother’s past that made Ana whole again.
She stepped out of the dressing room to find an agitated Maria waiting outside. It was the girl’s job to make sure Ana was on standby and ready for her next dance. Their attention was caught by a commotion at the other end of the hall.
An usher was in a scuffle with two burly men who were assigned to guard the dancers’ dressing rooms.
“Lemme go, Mr. Mancini asked me to give a note to…” the usher complained.
“…And Mr. Mancini gave strict orders not to let anyone in there. So, unless he himself appears, there’s no way you are entering, buddy.” The guards were adamant.
“What’s that all about,” Ana asked Maria. She was certain she heard Lash’s name mentioned in the argument.
“We don’t have time for that,” Maria huffed pulling her by the elbow as they headed in the opposite direction.
Ana and Ricardo executed the Gypsy dance to perfection. The wonder of discovering love, the pain of a lost love, the struggle to pick up the pieces and start all over again, the excitement over the first time their bodies met- all these were interpreted by Ana and Ricardo in ways that held the audience captive. Ana danced her way to center stage where Ricardo joined her. The drama was palpable as the spotlight focused on their silhouettes. They clasped hands suggesting anticipation. With the music reaching a crescendo, Ana stood still as the camera zoomed in. She raised her chin, parted her lips and gave her dance partner a real kiss.
The stage lights dramatically blacked out. Silence filled the entire auditorium. Then the house erupted as one in standing ovation. Cheers and bravos emanated from the audience. The lights came on. Ana and Ricardo curtsied elegantly to the house before leaving the stage.
Chapter THIRTEEN
The cast had a total of three curtain calls before Ana and Ricardo reemerged on stage to take their final bow. Cheers and thunderous applause met them as they came out from behind the curtain. From the corner of her eye, Ana saw Horne Calloway join the crowd in a standing ovation.
Calloway left his seat clutching a bouquet of roses. He ascended the stage, approached Ana, and handed her the bouquet. He stood beside her and raised her hand up in the air in approval. Ana stemmed the urge to shake his hands away from her. The thought of his prejudice was too much to bear.
She wondered how a supposedly “well-educated” individual could be so ignorant about her culture.
It was even harder to see Lash join the rest of the cast and crew on stage. For a man whose box office receipt was assured for the next couple
of months, he looked distraught.
Lash stood between his two principal dancers and placed an arm around both. Ana shrugged it off. She doubted anyone would notice with all the frenetic activity of the curtain call.
Lash turned to her and spoke in a low voice that only she could hear. “Ana, I was too late. Please, we need to talk.”
“Too late for what?” Ana cried silently. “Too late to realize what an asshole you are?”
She ignored his pleading. As they took their final bow and headed for the wings, she made certain there was distance between them. She crammed herself in with the other girls so that there was no way he could corner her. It wasn’t difficult to accomplish. Backstage was a riot. The cast was hugging one another, champagne bottles popped, and there was a general feeling of victory in the air.
The Boss's Fiance Box Set Page 44
