by Susan Ward
I shove the papers, unfinished, back into the folder and reach for a Post-it note to tell Rebecca I’ll return it in the morning.
“Damn it, Alberto. I told you the money is not a problem. I’ll have it this season. We’re going to have our best year ever.”
Milo Bassard’s voice.
I turn my head.
His office door is open.
“You gave me the same assurance last year, and last season half the seats were empty. Your situation is more critical than empty promises. You’d be dead now if we weren’t family.”
“Can we stop with the theatrics, please?” Milo says anxiously.
“Theatrics? No. You should know better than that, Milo. New York has made you foolish and forgetful. You forget how things are done where you were raised.”
Through the half-open door I see Milo pacing his office, running his hand through his perfectly styled hair.
“I need you and you need me. Let’s not forget that, Alberto. Our issue is resolved. I have a new star. I’m unveiling her at the gala. The checkbooks will open once the world is introduced to my new Ángel. The money will be back into the account before our first opening and this misunderstanding will be but an unpleasant memory for the both of us.”
“Make sure it is a memory very soon, Milo. Next time—no warning—we come to New York.”
A squeak, the kind a chair makes when being sat upon.
“Come to the gala,” Milo says, a noticeable loss of tension in his voice now replaced by smugness. “See for yourself. You were a great patron at one time, Alberto.”
“My sister no longer dances and I was never a patron of the arts. Yo soy la cabeza de mi familia. That is why I helped you and Nelson fund the opening of the company. And it was business. You should not have forgotten that, Milo.”
“You are an admirer of beautiful women. You should come to the gala. This girl will make you want to be a patron again. She is my most precious discovery. My new star.”
Milo laughs in a way that runs my nerves like a jagged knife.
I hear clicking heels outside the office.
I grab the file and head for the door, and run straight into Rebecca in the hallway.
She frowns. “You’re taking the file with you?”
“Yes, I’ll have Krystal return it in the morning,” I say, quickly brushing past her before she can ask questions.
On the fourth floor I go to the viewing window for the studio. Krystal’s not there. I move briskly up and down the hallway, checking rooms. I go to the lockers.
Krystal is sitting on a bench, staring at her phone and crying.
“No, Daddy, I’m fine. I didn’t call with bad news. I called with spectacular news. There’s something I have to tell you.”
Alan exhales a loud breath. “Don’t scare me like that, sunshine. FaceTiming with tears in your eyes. You scared me to death.”
“Well, they’re happy tears. Can I tell you my something wonderful?”
Alan laughs. “Tell me your something wonderful, love.”
Krystal smiles. “I should have told you this a long time ago, but hear me out and don’t get angry.”
“Krystal…” he says in an affectionately chiding way. “When are you going to learn you can tell me anything? In fact, I’m almost positive your mum and I already know what you’re going to tell us.”
Krystal’s eyes fly wide. “I hope not.”
Alan laughs. “You kids only think you keep things from us. We know everything.”
“You can fool the twins with that we know everything line, but you can’t fool me.” Krystal shakes her head at the phone, but she’s smiling. “Daddy, I got accepted into the corps of the Nelson Bassard Ballet Company eight weeks ago. I should have told you and Mom when it happened, but I wanted to make sure it was going to be OK.”
“That’s terrific, baby girl.” Alan sounds a little flat, almost like that wasn’t what he expected to hear. “But what do you mean OK?”
“It’s competitive. You have to prove yourself every day and I wasn’t sure I could measure up. I was worried I would still get cut from the corps before the season opening. But I didn’t, Dad. And that’s not even the best part.”
“No?”
A beaming smile fills her face. “They handed out the roles today. I got the lead in the first opening in Milo Bassard’s new modern ballet. He gave me Fiona, a role commissioned and never danced before. And I’m opening the season. How’s that for wonderful?”
My heart stops in my chest.
Krystal is Milo Bassard’s new star.
Oh. Fuck. Me.
“You’ll be there opening night, won’t you, Daddy?”
“You couldn’t keep us away.”
I let the door close behind me and Krystal looks up.
“I’ve got to go, Dad. I’m still at rehearsal. I popped out to share with you my news.”
“Congratulations, sunshine. I’m so proud of you. Your mom is going to flip when she hears your news. That loud scream you hear very soon will be Chrissie on the west coast.”
Krystal laughs. “Love you, dad. Give Mom a kiss for me.”
She clicks off the phone, runs from the bench, and leaps into my arms. “You heard?”
I nod. “Yes, babe, that’s wonderful news.”
We hold each other tightly and I can feel her heart racing against mine. “I did it on my own, Jacob,” she whispers against my chest. “NBBC doesn’t even know who my parents are. I hated not sharing with Mom and Dad. But I wanted to be sure this was something I did all on my own and not because of who my family is. Understand?”
Those crystal-blue eyes lock on mine.
The conversation I overheard replays in my head.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
The strongest impulse inside me is to take Krystal as far from NBBC as possible.
I force a smile to cover my thoughts. “Yes, babe. I understand. I’m really proud of you.”
“I’m so happy, Jacob. First I married you, the most wonderful guy ever. And now I know I have what it takes all on my own to be a prima ballerina. I never thought I could be as happy as this. I feel like I’m floating on clouds.”
And in that silly way she has when she can’t contain her emotions, we start dancing in the locker room to the music only in her head.
“I love you, Jacob. You’ve made this the best year of my life. This wouldn’t be half as wonderful if you weren’t here with me.”
“None of my days were wonderful before you.” My arms tighten around her as we sway. “I love you, too, Krystal.” But what I want to do is grab her hand and get the hell out of here.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Krystal”
Jacob checks the ice bags on my feet, then climbs from the bed. “You should probably leave those on another ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes? It feels like I could leave them on ten years and not feel any better.”
He gives me a pout then drops a fast kiss on my forehead. “Ten minutes, then take them off. I’m going to go walk for a while. I’ll set the alarm behind me. I won’t be long, babe.”
He doesn’t look at me as he shoves his keys and his phone into his pocket then reaches for his gun.
I follow him with my gaze, frowning. Third late night walk this week. “Is everything all right?”
His face turns toward me and he smiles. “I just need some air and to stretch my legs. I’m not used to sitting so many hours at a time. It was a long day in the theater.”
“At least it’s in the theater and not on the folding chair.” I laugh then crinkle my nose. “Tech week is exhausting, but I can’t believe we open in three days.”
He smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“I won’t be long,” he repeats and leaves the bedroom.
I put my elbows on my knees and drop my forehead into my hands. Yes, not my imagination. Something is bothering him and this has g
ot to stop, whatever this is. His preoccupation. His near silence. It’s almost like it was our first weeks in Manhattan and I hated those weeks. The only time we feel close to normal is when we make love.
Something is definitely eating at him.
The closer we get to the opening, the worse it gets.
Why won’t he talk to me about it?
Maybe it’s Jane.
Jacob’s sister is absolutely an emotional hot zone for him. Not that I blame him. If I’d gone through what he had with her I’d probably be pretty messed up over it, too. Fixing her up with his friend, only to find her in the alley behind a party, zonked out on some kind of drug, being raped against filthy concrete while Kevin’s sick frat boy friends watched and cheered it on.
Then the army dishonorably discharging him for going to jail. Crazy. He’d only stopped his sister from being brutally gang raped, but by the time the police had pulled him off Kevin, he’d been pretty badly beaten and Jacob had taken a knife in the abdomen.
Three years and I still haven’t met Jane. She never leaves the seclusion of the San Juan island she lives on—the isolation of Orcas makes her feel safe, according to Jacob. I can’t count the number of times we’ve invited her here, but she won’t leave the island, not after what the press in Seattle did to her during the trial.
It’s still hard for him to talk about. We’d been living together a year before he told me the full details about Jane. But I now know where his extreme protective streak comes from and why he didn’t used to smile very much when we first met. Having Jane go through that and feeling like he failed her.
Maybe he’s worried about Jane. That might be all that’s going on. She could be having another crisis, and my rehearsal schedule with NBBC prevents him from visiting her.
Yes, that would be Jacob. Locking issues inside himself, trying not to dump on me while I’m preparing for opening night. Sweet, but not working. When he’s off, I’m off. That’s the way it is with us. And, Krystal, you two are definitely off.
My cell vibrates and I reach for it, hoping it’s Jacob. No—Cass. I debate whether to answer it. There’s something strange going on with Jacob and Cass, too. He never wants to have her and Xavier at the loft anymore, we’ve stopped doing couples’ outings together in the city, and at the galas he’s barely polite to them as he presses me to move on to socialize with other corps members.
It’s like he’s trying to be a wall between me and Cass, the same way he gets when Milo’s close to me at social events. So stupid. Milo is all show, like all artistic directors are. Flamboyant and overly demonstrative. And Cassandra is my understudy and best friend.
I hit the answer button. “You alive, girl?”
Cass laughs. “Barely. After rehearsal today I had to go to Doctor Feelgood and get a shot in my foot just so I could walk.”
I shake my head—Doctor Feelgood—not smart, Cass. God only knows what a guy who sells you cocaine to stay thin injects into your feet to stop the hurt left by a brutal day of dancing. Drug use and backdoor medical procedures are common among the members of NBBC, but it’s not something I want to know about.
“Xavier and I are about to head out to Club 5. You guys want to join us for some drinks?”
I check the clock.
After eleven.
“I couldn’t move if I wanted to,” I say, deliberately silly.
“If you ever need a pick-me-up or a better pain blocker than ice, let me know. I can hook you up.”
“No, thank you. Even if I wanted to do that, which I don’t, Jacob would go berserk.”
“Yes, he does keep you on a short chain. I don’t know how you stand it. I would never let Xavier order me around the way Jacob does you. We don’t even go to lunch together without him. A bit extreme, don’t you think, Krystal? Has he always been so possessive? It would drive me crazy if Xavier were glued to my hip that way.”
My stomach turns. It’s not like that, but I hate when she says it. Maybe that’s why Jacob wants to avoid her now. He’s tired of the jabs about our relationship.
“Did you see Pointe magazine?” she asks spiritedly, changing the subject.
My gaze shifts to the glossy cover image of me. “I’ve got it right here next to me on the bed. I can’t believe they put me on the cover.”
“Why not? Everyone’s talking about you. You’re the hottest thing in the ballet world and you haven’t even danced your opening. By the way, fuck you for not telling me who your parents are, and probably secretly laughing at us all those months while we tried to figure out what Jacob does for a living. And now we know. He does nothing. He doesn’t have to. He married you.”
I shoot into an upright position, fuming. “Well, that was an awful thing to say. It’s not like that. And I resent you suggesting that he married me for my family’s money or something. You can be so insulting sometimes, Cassandra.”
Through the receiver comes one of her long, dramatic sighs, and I know she’s making that Krystal, get the stick out of your ass expression. “That’s not what I meant. Why do you have to be so sensitive and defensive over Jacob?”
“He’s my husband,” I say, each word in angry staccato.
After a few seconds of silence, she lets out a harsh breath. “I think he’s a fabulous man. I adore him. You know that. I adore you both.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t sound like it. Not with all the rude remarks you make.”
She does another ragged, annoyed exhale. “I get a little jealous at times. Xavier isn’t half as supportive as Jacob is. It’s hard enough being a dancer without having support at home. If it hadn’t started to pay, Xavier probably wouldn’t still be with me. It bothers me at times. OK? I’m a slightly jealous person occasionally. There. I’ve admitted it. Can we move on?”
Now I feel badly for her, because Xavier isn’t very kind to her at times, but I’m still not backing down. This has to be said.
“We can if you stop talking smack about my husband.”
“Fuck, I’ve apologized. Let it go.”
I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated. Crap, what am I doing? I should be used to Cass’s bitchy, random comments by now. She says them to be outrageous and to stir a reaction. Nothing new. Why am I finding her so irritating tonight? Probably nerves over the opening and that feeling that everything’s out of whack with Jacob.
“I should let you go,” I say, carefully unwrapping the Ace bandage to take the ice from my foot.
“Oh—not letting it go. You’re not going to join us tonight even though I apologized.”
“Jeez, Cass, I already told you I’m exhausted when I answered the phone. Us not joining you has nothing to do with what you said. We have an early call at the theater tomorrow.”
“Then why does it sound like you’re angry with me?”
“I don’t know. I’m not.”
I wait for her next retort, but the phone clicks without her saying goodbye and my eyes widen in surprise. That’s not like her. What’s up with everyone lately?
I grab the ice bags and go to the kitchen to put them into the freezer for tomorrow. Instead of returning to the bedroom, I settle on the couch and turn on the TV. If I go back to bed, I’ll be out the minute my head hits the pillow and I don’t want to fall asleep before Jacob gets back.
Two hours later Jacob’s not back, and I’m fighting to keep my eyes open. I curl around the pillow. I wasn’t sure before, but Jacob’s odd mood has nothing to do with Jane. He wouldn’t stay out this long if it was her. For some reason, he wants space from me.
I must have dozed because the next thing I know I hear water running from the shower. I sit up in bed and stare at the room. Jacob must have found me on the couch and put me to bed.
His clothes are lying over the back of his chair, and his keys, wallet, and phone are on the nightstand. I can tell how the blankets are rumpled and his pillow indented that he slept beside me.
He put me to bed without waking me. For som
e reason it bothers me, and my uneasiness from last night is even stronger this morning.
My gaze shifts to his phone. The out of nowhere queasiness in my stomach makes it something I have to do. I grab his cell from the table, swipe it on, and enter his password, ignoring the chide that it’s wrong to invade his privacy and reminding myself if he didn’t want me to ever use his password he wouldn’t have told me what it was.
I hit the phone icon and scroll through the list. Jeez, he was on the phone for three hours last night with the same person. No contact name listed and a Southern California area code.
Is that why he left the loft?
So I wouldn’t hear a phone call.
I don’t recognize the number.
I tap out and into his messages. Last text with Jared. I read through the conversation, but it doesn’t make any sense. Why would Jacob want Brayden here? I go further and further, then my eyes lock on a snippet.
Jared: Availability in two weeks. Can reassign Brayden to Manhattan. No questions asked. Take my advice. When he gets there have some downtime. You need it.
Downtime?
My stomach begins to rapidly churn.
My eyes burn with tears.
Oh God, it’s not been my imagination. This is pretty clear confirmation that something is wrong in my marriage. Jacob arranged for Brayden to come here to take a break from me and he did that without even discussing it with me.
My fingers are shaking and I tell myself to shut off the phone, but instead tap open Janie.
Jacob: The ballet opens in three days. What if I’m wrong? Fouled up in my thinking? I can’t do it.
Janie: Tell her everything. Why you want to get out of there.
My heart stills.
What does that mean?
Why does he want to leave?
Four months ago he said he thought our life was perfect together. My respiration quickens as I search through my memory for something, anything to explain why Jacob would want to leave. We were happy before NBBC and Milo Bassard and my starring role as Fiona.
Yes, NBBC, that’s when everything started to feel unsettling. Each day a little more strained. And each day Jacob more introspective.
