by JJ Knight
Dmitri clears his throat. “We didn’t have a budget for that. We are operating as a traditional touring ballet.”
“I’m willing to front the cost on the production for a cut in the deal,” Blitz says. “Have your guys contact my lawyer. We’ll draw it up.”
“Very well,” Dmitri says. “My, my. A recording.” He sounds pleased. “I’ll speak with Alexei about it.”
“Good. Let us know,” Blitz says.
“Good day,” Dmitri says.
I end the call.
“I hope that wasn’t too forward of me,” Blitz says. “I sensed you were anxious about feeling responsible for ticket sales. Our people are more the watch-from-home market.”
I nod. “I guess I got the part.”
“I’ll say!” Blitz says. “You’ve worked hard these past weeks. Your ability to pick up choreography was spot-on. You’re becoming a first-rate entertainer in your own right.”
He reaches over and takes my hand to lift it to his lips. “I could not be more pleased for you,” he says. “You are amazing.”
I want to say it’s all because of him, but it isn’t true. I studied ballet for two years before I met him. I was driven. Blitz just provided an opportunity. And I wasn’t too afraid to take it.
Although I got close.
“I can’t wait to see a list of cities,” Blitz says. “I know you’ll be caught up in rehearsals and all, but hopefully I can at least visit you on each opening night.”
“Of course,” I say. “They aren’t going to lock the ballerinas in a virgin vault.”
He laughs. “I’ll be interested in hearing about the living arrangements. Maybe you can room with Weeza.”
I pull my hand away from him and hit his shoulder. “Now that’s just mean.”
But she is going to be there. And if Evangeline expressed to her that she wanted her to be Carabosse but then the part went to me, I’d definitely have a formidable enemy on my hands, maybe even one to rival Giselle.
Chapter 15
With the last large roles settled, the cast and crew of Sleeping Beauty begin booking their travel to the first leg of the journey, a rehearsal space in Chicago.
I have the option of flying with everyone else or meeting them on the first day. And I can stay in their host hotel, or I can find my own accommodations.
Blitz lies on the bed as I start my preliminary packing. I’ve never been to Chicago. Is it warm? Does it get cold at night in the summer? I look up weather statistics every five minutes.
“You can always buy more things up there,” he says.
“In my free time between rehearsals?”
“Right. I can send Shelly to help.” He hesitates. “Or I can come.”
I sit down next to him. “What do you think? Should I try to be a part of the troupe? Or take the easy way out and just live with you while I do this?”
We’ve discussed this for days. Now it’s time to decide and I can’t draw a conclusion. The travel agent needs to let my reservations with the troupe go if I’m not using them.
“You’ve established a bit of a diva vibe,” Blitz says. “But that was only with a few of them. You could start again, be humble. Eat, sleep, and breathe the ballet with them.”
I’ve never gotten to do that. With Blitz, maybe I never will. I’m not sure of our future, but we could get married, have kids. This might be one of the few times in my life I can just…go.
“I’ll travel with them,” I say. “If I can’t handle them any longer, we’ll stay together someplace close to the studio, but away from the others.”
“Brilliant compromise,” Blitz says. “I think a few more friends will do you good. It will be hard to make them with man-meat hanging on your shoulder.”
He makes me laugh. Man-meat.
I shove all six pairs of toe shoes in the bag. “Don’t let me forget to call Mindy. Maybe she can convince her family to drive to the Houston show if I send tickets.”
“Have you thought about asking your parents?” he asks. “It’s only a few hours from here.”
I frown. I can’t imagine that they would come. My dad doesn’t seem to want to back down from his opinion of me. But maybe Mom and Andy could drive over.
“I’ll try,” I promise. “I’ll send them tickets. And your parents will come, I assume?”
“Of course! I’ll bring them for opening night, unless that makes you nervous.” Blitz sits up, eyeing the panties that are flying through the room to land in one of the bags.
“I don’t think anything will make more nervous than I already will be,” I say. “Familiar faces will probably be good.”
Blitz makes the call to Dmitri to say I’ll be traveling with the group and heads to another part of the house to poke around the website for the tour to gather dates and cities.
I sit among all the bags. I still have a couple days to pull everything together. I just don’t want to be in a hurry and miss something important. Not that there is much of anything that couldn’t be replaced.
I pull the blue-sprayed toe shoes from my bag. I don’t wear this pair anymore. They are too special, too important to wear out. Toe shoes don’t last forever. With the amount of dancing I’ll be doing, I could go through a pair every day.
I hug these to me, though. I got them from Danika. My first pair. Then the wardrobe people from Dance Blitz sprayed them to match the dress I wore when I rushed the stage to save Blitz from wrecking his career.
They are almost the only thing I still possess from when I lived at home. I walked away with only two outfits, both of which stopped fitting after the stringent workouts on the show, and a ragged backpack.
It’s as though my past was erased. Like it didn’t exist.
It’s worse now. Gabriella is out of reach. I can’t go to my old dance academy.
And now, a new city. New people, some of whom are already against me.
I’m cutting loose, a little, if not a lot, from Blitz too.
I’ve never stood on my own. Reached for my own thing.
It’s time.
I tuck the shoes back in the bag. My life is charmed now, and I know it. I have leverage. Money. Options.
But like Dominika, I’ve had a lot of loss. I wonder why they chose Sleeping Beauty, the fragile damsel who has all the plot events happen to her, starting with a curse on her birth. She has no control over anything and can’t even rescue herself.
I’m glad I’m playing Carabosse. I might not be the beauty or the star, but at least everything I do onstage will play out based on my own actions, for better or for worse.
Chapter 16
The dancers meet at Jenica’s to take a van together to the airport. It’s all been very organized, which bodes well for the travel between the legs of the tour.
I decide to have Ted drive me to the studio, preferring to say good-bye to Blitz away from all the squealing girls who would undoubtedly steal the moment.
Blitz and I hold on to each other inside the front door, Ted waiting patiently out by the car. “I can be there by bedtime if you need me,” Blitz says.
“I know.”
My cheek rests on his soft cool T-shirt as he wraps his arms around me. I’m dressed way down myself, the sort of cute workout outfit you don’t actually work out in, black and pale purple with everything matching. I bought it at Target. I don’t want to flaunt my position in front of the other dancers by dressing expensively or in a showy way. There will be enough resentment as it is.
Blitz kisses me softly, his fingers sliding down the braid that falls across my shoulder. Then he pulls back, his eyes earnest as he looks into mine. “You will be wonderful. Don’t let anyone get you down.”
I nod. This is what I wanted. To do something for myself. And I’m on my way.
I turn to the door. I’m not carrying a thing. The car is already loaded. I probably should have packed a little more lightly, but my anxiety about what to wear and having the right things means that I have loaded three large suitcases and a carry-
on. Oh, well. They can ridicule my excess if they want. It is six months.
Blitz stands in the doorway as I head down the walk to where Ted waits by the car. He didn’t bring the Ferrari, per my request, and has a simple black Mazda. I don’t want to be flashy, and I sit in the front seat so no one will notice I’m being chauffeured.
Blitz waves as we pull away from the house. I feel a sense of panic as we turn the corner and I can’t see him anymore. What was I thinking? Six months? He’ll find someone else. Girls will throw themselves at him. It will be over!
I press my hand against my chest, trying to slow down my panic.
“You okay, Livia?” Ted asks.
I nod.
“Exciting day,” he says.
I stare out the window. I’m leaving another hometown. Putting everything behind me.
It’s too much.
My phone buzzes. I pull it from my purse. It’s Blitz.
Miss you already.
This makes me smile a little. I should not doubt him. He’s been steady through everything. And he’s proud of me. If we weather a separation and get back together, then we’ll know for sure this is the right thing.
The landscapes slide by, some still green from spring, others already suffering in the Texas heat. Some people prioritize their yards. Others do not. We all pick what is important to us.
When I return, it will be close to Thanksgiving. Dreamcatcher will already be rehearsing the holiday recitals. My throat thickens.
Another buzz. This time it’s Mindy.
I think you’re gone already! Slowly working on my parents to see if I can get them to go to your ballet! It seems a million years away! Can’t wait!
P.S. Preston finally switched workdays. I see him tomorrow!!!!
Now this makes me smile for real. We text excitedly about this for several minutes until Ted says, “We’re here.”
I look up. The parking lot of Jenica’s is a madhouse. A huge bus. Dancers everywhere, surrounded by suitcases and duffel bags.
I’ve chosen the right clothes, because everyone is in some form of dance wear, leotards covered with shorts or skirts, tennis shoes, flip-flops. I spot Weeza. She’s not wearing tights today, but does have a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off over her black leotard and jean shorts.
It’s miserably hot as I step out onto the steaming asphalt. Quite a number of the people are fanning themselves with anything they can get their hands on. Folded paper. Magazines.
Ted gets out to unload my bags. I sit another moment in the air-conditioning. I wonder if I would have ever gotten a role like this without Blitz, if I had just worked on it for my own.
Certainly not a world-class ballet like Dominika’s. But maybe something small.
I open my door and step out. A couple dancers notice me but don’t react other than to observe Ted getting my bags.
I quickly head to the back of the car to lug one out myself, so he can appear to be a friend, not a driver.
There is no sign of Dmitri or Alexei or any of the people I’ve met. Probably they are inside and out of the heat.
I snag handles and roll two of my suitcases toward the mass of people. A girl with a clipboard approaches. She’s the one who checked us in for auditions. When we get close enough, she says, “Oh! Livia! You can go inside with Dmitri and the others. You have a separate van coming.”
Ted arrives with my bags. “Should I load them for you?” he asks.
This gets a few people’s attention.
“Oh, hers can go inside the building,” the girl says.
“No,” I say quickly. “I’d rather ride with the corps.” Then hastily add, “If there’s room.”
“Well, sure,” she says. “But wouldn’t you rather be with the principals?”
“No,” I say. “I’m fine out here.”
She shrugs. “Okay. Just hold on to your bags another minute. The driver is pulling some phony baloney about shift times and he won’t open the bus to load our stuff yet.”
“I can wait and load them for you,” Ted says.
“That’s okay, I’ve got it,” I tell him. I want him to go!
He gets it, heading back to the car without another word. I sigh with relief.
A burly man wearing black gloves shoves up the door to one of the under-bus bays.
“Finally!” the clipboard girl says and hurries over.
The mass of dancers surges forward, anxious to load up and get out of the heat.
I have too many bags to take them all at once, so I hang back. I might regret letting Ted leave.
I inch forward, dragging the first two bags closer, then going back for the other one. I keep this process going until a male dancer who has pushed his way back out of the crowd notices and comes over.
“Need a hand?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say. “I may have overpacked.”
He takes two bags and rolls them forward. “Not all of us travel light.”
He’s the definition of a career ballet dancer, lean and muscled with a fine, chiseled face. Young, too, twenty at best.
We can’t quite get to the bus. There’s a crush of people trying to shove their bags inside, plus another wave trying to push back out.
I wait with the man, both of us sweating in the unrelenting sun.
“I’m Andrew, by the way,” he says, letting go of one of my suitcase handles to extend a hand.
My stomach turns a little as I shake it. “My little brother is named Andy,” I say.
“Then you’ll remember mine,” he says with a jaunty smile.
“I’m Livia,” I say. “Thank you for helping.”
“I know who you are,” he says. “Everyone here does. The TV show star who gets to be the evil fairy. Everyone’s excited you are here.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Guaranteed publicity. Good ticket sales. The ballet could be extended, and if this new troupe holds together, another production for us. You’re a golden ticket.”
“Oh!”
This is not what I had expected.
We move forward.
A few of the girls who have already settled their bags come over. One is short, pixie like, with short brown curls. The other is taller with blond hair.
“Andrew!” the curly-haired one says. “You’re sitting by me, right?”
“Count on it!” he says.
They hang around for a minute, looking at me with wide eyes until one finally elbows Andrew.
“Oh, right,” he says with a laugh. “Carla, Fiona, this is Livia.”
“Hi, Livia,” says Carla, the one with curls.
“Hey,” I say. I feel a little overwhelmed by all the new people. But now that we’re loading, the whole demeanor of everyone has changed. Instead of hot and miserable, there’s a party atmosphere. Smiles and laughter and high excitement. It’s a little like when all the former Dance Blitz contestants arrived for the final show.
We finally make it to the bus bays. They are pretty stuffed, so Andrew has to move some things around to fit in my suitcases. The crowd has mostly loaded into the bus, including Carla and Fiona.
I hold on to my small carry-on and thank him for his help.
“No problem,” he says. “Let’s see what sort of seats are left.”
I follow him up the stairs. When we reach the inside of the bus, the air-conditioning is absolute bliss.
“Andrew! Over here!” Carla calls. She’s about halfway back.
There are tons of empty seats. Whole rows with nobody in them.
I aim for one when I hear “Livia!”
I look up. It’s Fiona, Carla’s friend. She’s sitting opposite Carla and Andrew.
“Come with us!” she says.
I hesitate, then walk toward them. I certainly didn’t expect this to happen. I sit on the aisle next to Fiona. Andrew is just an arm’s length away.
One of the girls behind us pops her head up over the seat back. “Okay, Livia, if you are going to ride with the riffraff, you have to DISH a
bout what it’s like to be on Dance Blitz!”
There’s a chorus of YES all around, and suddenly it’s like a sleepover when everyone wants to hear your ghost story.
I can do this.
So as the bus finishes loading and the grumpy driver pulls us out of the parking lot, I start to talk about the sets, the makeup people, the cameras, and the mayhem. I answer their questions, which aren’t particularly nosy, mostly about how long we had to learn new dances and how we were trained.
And honestly, I have the time of my life.
Chapter 17
I might have been able to get on the corps bus and switch out of first class on the plane, but when we arrive at our hotel in Chicago, I am expected to take my private room on the secure floor with the principals and staff.
I’m sad about this, having made so many new friends during the day. I know I can go rent my own room on the lower floors, but I’m not sure what Dmitri might plan, if there are meetings that will be up here. So for now, I accept that this is my position and sit alone on the bed wondering what is next.
None of us thought to exchange cell phone numbers while we were all sitting together, so I have no way to talk to anyone.
This will be my home for the six weeks of rehearsals, so I start unpacking, trying to fit the most important things in the six small drawers and three feet of closet rod. I should have brought more hangers, as there are only four in there and I have at least ten dresses and two evening gowns. I have no idea where to buy some. Maybe the hotel has more.
I line up the fifteen pairs of shoes on a shelf, realizing that if I continue to hang out with the corps dancers, all this will be unnecessary. But I really have no idea what I’m getting into. And Dmitri might still be taking me to events where I have to look the part.
Once I’ve done everything I can do, I sit again. My stomach rumbles but I don’t know the plans for dinner. I think we’re on our own until first rehearsal in the morning.
I’ve been spoiled. It starts to all rain down as I realize I have no chef here preparing the perfect blend of carbs and protein to keep me going. No smoothies. No assistant.
