by Jemma Harte
"You like a little sausage with your breakfast, Princess?"
"I do now," she purred, licking his ear and nibbling on it. Yeah, today she was hungry. Lucky Joe.
* * * *
Again he pulled out of her before he spent. Now his t-shirt would have to be washed.
"At least I can make coffee," she said, turning away, her heartbeat still out of kilter after the sneaky attack up against the refrigerator. Her ass was probably bruised from the banging.
Not that she minded at all.
What the hell was happening to her?
"Okay." Joe kissed the back of her neck and went to get a shower.
While the coffee brewed, Lily took her own tour of his apartment, poking into drawers, and looking at all the framed photos scattered around. Joe fishing on a boat, family groups at a barbecue, a cute young Joe with his brother in school uniform. Joe in a shirt and tie with his arm around a woman in a short, tight, shiny dress with her boobs half out.
She could still hear the water in the shower, so she picked that cheaply framed photo up for a closer examination. Hmm. Just what she pictured him with. They didn't look very happy though. He was draped over Busty Malone as if he was drunk and needed her to hold him up. Meanwhile, Busty glared at the camera, her eyes lined with so much black that it was frightening, her mouth slack— mid gum-chew maybe.
Lily shook her head. She shouldn't be such a bitch about it. So judgmental. No doubt Busty wouldn't think very highly of her either. But it was tough not being jealous of every other woman he'd ever had. All this was new to her.
"Hey, whatcha looking at?"
Damn, he'd crept up behind her, his groin wrapped in a towel, his body all warm and lusciously damp.
Now she'd have to ask. "Who's this?"
Joe took the photo and set it back on the shelf, but face down. "Er...that was Donna."
"Your ex?"
"Yeah. She gave me that frame, and I had to put something in it."
Lily was glad that he put it face down. "You have a lot of photos," she observed softly.
"I got a lot of family."
She nodded. "I suppose so." And he wanted her to meet them. She wasn't sure if she was up to it. Again, it would all be new to her.
He turned her around to face him. "My mom's gonna love you."
It was as if he'd read her anxious mind. "How do you know?"
Joe gave her a smile that was infectious. "Because I love you."
She knew her cheeks were warm. "Better than all those other girls?"
"My god, Lily, you have no idea what you've done to me."
Head tilted, she glanced up at him shyly. "Explain, Lieutenant."
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. "I may have had all that family around me, but I've been alone inside. Just like you." He bent his head to rest his brow against hers. "Until you came along and got in the way of my fire truck."
She laughed. "Imagine if that had never happened."
"No. I don't want to."
* * * *
He took her for a drive around the neighborhood, showing off the playground where he grew up, the school, the corner convenience store. She let him chatter away and simply enjoyed his company. It was like a holiday, she mused— a holiday from the ballet, the theater and all the stress. Today she hadn't even stretched or practiced a single plie. Tomorrow in class she'd probably pay for it.
She was doubly sure of that once she entered his mother's house that afternoon and saw the massive bowl of pasta and the plate of Italian pastries waiting for them. The air was thick with garlic, basil and tomatoes, and noisy with loud conversation that seemed to hit her from all angles.
The two little girls ran up to Lily immediately, gripping her fingers and pulling her along, both talking at the same time. When she saw Joe's sister-in-law she wished she'd had another outfit to change into that day. Instead she was wearing the same clothes from last night and there was no doubt Sherri would remember, even if her husband didn't. Women took note of things heterosexual men usually didn't.
"Lily, teach me to ploopret," Antonia demanded at the top of her lungs. "Here's Lily, Uncle Joe's princess. She's a ballerina."
All eyes turned to where she stood. All conversation snapped off. There had to be about fifteen adults in the room and ten or more kids peeping out from under chairs and round corners.
Uncle Joe's princess? Shit! The girls must have heard him call her that.
"Hi, Lily." Joe's brother leapt up. "Nice to see you again. Come and sit down. Antonia! Don't be a pest."
The last thing she wanted was to take a seat beside steely-eyed Sherri, so she said brightly, "I promised to teach her a pirouette. I don't mind." She looked down at the girl. "We need space. Shall we go into the hall?"
To her relief the child agreed and took her out of the hot, crowded room to the hall. Teaching Antonia a pirouette was a good excuse to escape and get some air, to compose herself a little. It felt as if she'd been thrown into the deep end and she wasn't ready. Ten minutes later, Joe found her. He sat on the stairs and watched as she put his niece through her paces. Lily had never tried to teach anyone before, but she was soon absorbed in the task of making the girl understand. It was a challenge, and she knew how to handle those. There was, she discovered, great satisfaction to be had in passing knowledge along.
"Teach Uncle Joe too," Antonia giggled.
So she did. Sort of. He was all over the place and spent more time clowning around than seriously trying. As she might have expected.
Then his mother came out to call them to dinner. "So you're Joey's new girl, eh?" She clasped Lily's hand in both of hers. "Now I know why he's been hiding you." She smiled and her eyes crinkled up at the corners. "He's been keeping you all to himself, because you are special."
Not knowing what to say, she just stood there like a fool.
"He used to do this with his favorite toys," his mother added, reaching up to pinch Joe's cheek. "Didn't want to share with the other boys in the park."
"Ma, I shared!"
"No. You were bad at sharing. Kept things to yourself all the time. Did things your own way. Had to be different to your brother, always." She looked at Lily again. "And you are a dancer, I hear?"
"Yes."
"You know he fights fires?"
"Yes. I know."
"Like my husband, his father. Did he tell you that?"
"No."
"His father died in the towers, when they fell."
"Ma," Joe broke in, "we don't have to talk about that right now. Let's go eat!"
"You wait, young man. I want to talk to her." She slapped his cheek and turned back to Lily. "It is hard being a fireman's wife. You send them off to work and never know if they will come home. It is very hard. We must be strong. Now I have to live through that again with both my sons. I can't protect them from that. Makes a mother feel helpless."
"I'm sorry," she said and really meant it. The thought of Joe losing his father when he was young pinched her heart. He hadn't told her that when she told him about her parents.
The woman nodded. "Meh. Their father died doing what he loved. He would never quit for me."
"Men can be stubborn," she agreed, glancing at Joe.
"Yes, I can't protect my sons from fire, but I try to protect them from broken hearts. So I will say to you, as I say to all the girls who come here— if you are with my Joey, don't hurt him. Don't break his heart... or I shall put a curse on you."
She stared.
Then his mother laughed. She laughed until tears rolled down her face. "I kid you, poor girl. Come on, let's eat, eh? You look like you need some food and plenty of it. Look at you, all bones."
It was a good thing his mother had broken the ice. She felt less awkward at the crowded table and that made her extremely grateful to Mrs. Rossini. Joe sat beside her and squeezed her thigh under the table, out of sight, while she was introduced to all the faces.
"That's Mike and Sherri— you know them
already. That's my cousin Mikey and his son Mike. Yeah, I know," he shrugged, "we don't have a lot of imagination in this family."
One by one they raised a fork or a knife, or a bread roll, in greeting.
"You're a dancer?" someone shouted down the table. "I don't think we have a dancer in the family, do we?"
"Only your ex-wife," another voice replied, to much laughter. "She's still swinging on that pole."
"Nice. In front of the kids?"
"Ah, shut your mouth, Tony."
"Just bein' honest. He knew what she was when he picked her up."
"You goddam son-of-a-bitch, I oughta stick this fork in your eye."
"Yeah? C'mon then, ya doofus. Whatcha waitn' for?"
"Give it a rest, Mikey, ya shithead—"
Mrs. Rossini banged on the table. "Hey, keep it down. It's Sunday, and we gotta guest here."
Immediately they all apologized to Lily and she felt like a visiting dignitary.
A few minutes later they were arguing again, causing Mrs. Rossini to threaten them all with no dessert. Peace was once again restored for two minutes— until the next smart-mouthed comment bounced across the meatballs. This cycle went on for the rest of the meal, insults slung freely across the pasta bowl like a thick sprinkling of grated Parmesan cheese. Nobody seemed to take it very seriously.
"See?" Joe whispered. "They're not so bad."
She wanted to laugh. "Hmm. I guess not." Couldn't get much more contrast from dinner at her grandmother's house in Boston, where they had usually eaten in silence. Just the two of them, with a butler standing by.
What would her grandmother make of all this?
Well, it didn't really matter anymore what her grandmother would think, did it? Lily was twenty-two— no more a little girl— and she was past-due for some happiness.
* * * *
Sherri cornered him in the kitchen. "What are you doing with her, Joe? She's not your usual type."
"Exactly. That's why I'm with her."
His sister-in-law folded her arms, leaning against the sink, her cheeks all sucked in. "Donna tells me she's married."
Ah, he might have known Donna would rush to tell Sherri at the salon. He played it dim. "Donna's married?"
"No, you chump. You know what I mean. That girl in there. The skinny bitch you're mooning over."
"Her name's Lily. You should get to know her."
Sherri unfolded her arms and rested her tight knuckles on the sink behind her. "Why would I get to know some girl who won't be around in a month? She's married. Why did you bring her here to meet your ma? What's she going to say when she finds out? I don't know why you can't listen to advice for once. Instead you go crazy over some girl who's married, just to complicate your life."
He was tempted to let her continue this mistake for a while. She deserved it for calling Lily a bitch. But just then Lily walked into the kitchen, heard, and spoiled his fun.
"Married? Who said I was married?"
Sherri clammed up, looking very superior with her sharp nose in the air.
Joe sighed. "I meant that you were married to ballet. Someone misunderstood."
"Oh."
Sherri's face turned scarlet. "Married to ballet?"
"It's her career," Joe explained, trying not to look too smug. "It's very important to her. So, yeah, in a sense she's married to it." He helped Lily into her coat. "And she's damn good at it, so she needs to let it take her as far as she can go. I don't think anything will ever come between her and ballet." As he pulled her collar up around her chin he caught her looking at him with a very bemused expression. "I won't even try," he added. "I know better now, don't I?"
She blinked and looked down at his hands, a slight sigh escaping her lips.
"Am I talking too much again?"
"Yes," she muttered wryly. "But I know better than to try and stop you talking, don't I? You're so damned good at it."
Chapter Ten
Monday class was full of moans, groans and creaking limbs. A lot of dancers were recovering from flu, or weakening under the excesses of the season. Lily certainly suffered from all that pasta and bread yesterday, but she didn't regret it. Not even the extra glass of wine that Mike had poured for her as he chatted in her ear all about "young dumbass" Joe and his colorful antics.
It was enlightening, to say the least, to hear all about the menagerie of rescued animals Joe had cared for as a boy, and all the many times he got into fights to save younger kids from the neighborhood bullies.
About how the brothers had watched on the TV as the twin towers crumbled with their father somewhere inside them.
She liked Mike and actually felt sorry for him that he was married to Sherri, who spoke over a lot of his sentences and never laughed at his jokes. Well, they weren't nearly as funny as he thought they were, but still...
"Shoulders down, Lily. And to the left..."
Oops. Pay attention, ya doofus.
She liked most of his family actually. His mother especially. Lily had never known anyone so concerned about feeding her, or took such an interest in making her comfortable in a roomful of people she didn't know.
The ballet master shouted above the music, "Rond de jamb en dehors, sil vous plait. Releve! Veronica, where is your line? Chin up."
Lily looked at the tattered sweatshirt hanging off the dancer who worked at the barre before her. It was a faded and worn garment, baggy and washed so many times that the print was illegible. That was how she'd felt a few weeks ago, she realized. Hanging on by her last, frayed strings. Now she was fresh again and the world had opened up to her. Life was full of things to explore with Joe.
Sexy, delicious Joe.
Yep, her ass was bruised from the handle of his refrigerator. Hopefully she'd left a mark on his ass with her teeth. She had goose bumps on her arms when she thought about the way he fucked her. It was addictive.
He'd said he wasn't going to try and push his way between her and ballet, but he better not think she was going anywhere. That he could get rid of her like his other girlfriends.
Now for god's sake stop thinking about him before you get a damp stain on your leotard.
As she was leaving class, she noticed Alana, the company star, standing in the corridor talking to her partner Renaldo. Lily didn't expect to be acknowledged by either as she passed, but Alana spun around with a smile and said, "Congratulations, Lily Keene. I'm sure you'll be wonderful."
"Me?" She clutched her towel, glancing over her shoulder in case there was another Lily Keene behind her.
"Didn't you hear?" Fake smile punctuated with a deep dimple. "Tiffany Weltzer is out sick, which means you're dancing the premier of the new ballet tonight."
Her heart dropped through her chest, hitting every rib on the way down. "Tiffany's sick?"
Renaldo sniffed and whispered. "Nervous breakdown, I wouldn't be surprised."
Alana glowered at him. "You shouldn't start rumors like that."
They walked off, forgetting about Lily again, as people usually did.
She stood a while, getting her nerves in order, quietly pinching herself, feeling slightly nauseous. Then the first thing she needed to do was call Joe and tell him. He was the only person she knew would be genuinely happy for her.
But he didn't answer his phone. It went to voice mail immediately, and she didn't want to leave a silly message congratulating herself. He was in the firehouse today, working his shift. Must be busy. She'd try later.
Peter came up behind her. "It's just like Anne Baxter and Bette Davis in All About Eve," he gushed dramatically. "The understudy will go on!"
"Poor Tiffany. Is she okay? Have you heard from her?"
"She had a panic attack or psychotic breakdown or something and couldn't get out of bed. Don't pretend you're sorry. I'm not. She was dragging me and that ballet down like a barnacled anchor. Now shuffle those precious feet of yours into studio six. We have some rehearsing to do, sweety."
Her pulse raced. She did feel bad for Tiffany. She
did. What's more, she'd send her some flowers. A huge bunch. She didn't want her success to come at the expense of someone else's sanity.
Again she thought of Joe saying yesterday that nothing would ever come between her and dancing. A few months ago that might have been true, but now she knew her time was limited thanks to some worn cartilage in her hip joint. Ultimately her own body would come between her and ballet— performing on stage, in any case. When the doctor gave her that grim prognosis she'd felt decimated, couldn't face a future without dance.
Now it was different. Everything was different. There was more to life.
Shockingly she could see a future without performing.
* * * *
Several times that afternoon she tried to reach Joe, but his voice mail picked up. Nothing to worry about, she thought. He probably had a lot of calls today. It was icy outside, which made the streets treacherous, and people got crazier than usual this time of year.
Lily put it out of her mind to concentrate on her performance
* * * *
She was in the wings again, feeling that tremendous rush through her body, lifting her as if she was weightless. Tonight in a simple white leotard and short wrap skirt, she might have been a young student dancer. Peter, in black tights and white t-shirt also could have been mistaken for a dancer at audition. They were silent, warming up, running over the steps in their minds. The lights on the stage were bright and hot, but for Behind the Mirror, they were filtered with blue.
The soft piano music began, and Peter leapt out onto the stage.
Lily counted for her cue and glanced out at the blackness beyond the stage. Although she knew Joe was not there tonight in the audience, she looked anyway and thought of dancing just for him.
Four more bars to her entrance. She closed her eyes and whispered, "I love you, Joe." The next time she saw him, it would be the first thing she said.
