The Music and the Mirror

by Lola Keeley

  “How was the dress?” Victoria asks, although she already knows the rehearsal went off without incident. “Delphine and Gabriel hitting form?”

  “As always.” David sends the crew member on his way and joins Victoria in the wings, where they watch the organized chaos all around them. “How was your trip west?”

  “You heard about that too?” Victoria is well aware that this company has never kept a secret for five consecutive minutes. “I should really start traveling by private jet, throw you all off my tail. Family business, unavoidable.” That was one, mostly factual, way of describing it. No one needed to know the trip home had been sparked by the existential crisis of being lifted or thoroughly kissed by the new principal.

  Victoria Ford doesn’t run. She does, admittedly, make the occasional strategic exit, but seeing her mother and her cronies for lunch had been punishment enough. The very sight of Victoria made them all so desperate to talk about Liza and which tickets they’d secured for her closing run. The best of Victoria’s barbs about Liza had gone right over their heads, to add insult to injury.

  Absently she bends slightly to massage her knee. It won’t be forgiving her anytime soon, but despite more pronounced limping, even her mother had remarked on Victoria looking “perkier.” Could it really be some kind of communicable disease, with Anna Gale as patient zero? How irritating.

  Even David is looking at her strangely, and he usually knows better than to let himself be caught showing any personal interest at all.

  “She’ll be fine in with the rest, if that’s what you’re on edge about,” he says quietly. “Her arabesques have a certain flavor of you about them, even. Whatever you’re doing with her, it’s working.”

  “Well enough to keep the wolf from the door?” Victoria asks. “Do they all know?”

  “I tried shooting it down, but the trip to San Francisco was fuel on the fire. Everyone knows Liza was in town, and Rick has been around more.”

  “Because I wasn’t watching my back already?” Victoria sighs. “How many times have I begged Kelly for control over who enters this building? We could all have chips around our necks, like those fancy doggy doors.”

  “I don’t see them going in for collars. Well, some of them…”

  “You ever think about giving all this up and going to teach chubby toddlers in Connecticut how to plié?” Victoria whines, just a little.

  “No.” David briefly places a comforting hand on her back. “And neither do you. Now go, have a night off. I’ll deliver them all back in the morning.”

  “Make sure to actually take credit for your hard work tonight, with the donors. I don’t want my name even mentioned.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.” David smiles. “I know you’re only saying that because they’ll talk about you regardless.”

  “The burdens of being a star.” Victoria sighs. Now she just has to remember how to feel like one.

  This is exactly what being a ballet dancer should feel like.

  Anna is standing in the wings, stage right, watching with the rest of the female corps as Gabriel leads his warriors in their opening celebratory routine. As Solor, Gabriel is an obvious romantic lead, handsome and dashing. The audience is already enthused, breaking into applause at sporadic moments.

  With her hair perfectly pinned, thanks to the collective efforts in the corps dressing room, Anna can feel the heavy stage makeup settling on her skin. She still feels a little out of place in a story set in India, but ballet has a long way to go on the accuracy of its casting.

  Next to her, Morgan leans across to whisper, “It doesn’t get less exciting.”

  Anna beams at the news. She feels full of energy, enough that it could bubble over.

  She smooths out her patterned silk skirt one last time, hearing the music get closer and closer to their cue. The gold brocade is rough to the touch, the contrast enough to ground her.

  As soon as she steps out under the lights, Anna is home. She can feel the attention like a warm embrace around her as she steps and twirls in formation with the other women, her sisters for the next two hours. The set design is phenomenal; it’s a form of moving art really, and Anna could almost believe she’s in a temple thousands of miles away. She tries to share that feeling with the audience with every twist and turn.

  She lingers a few seconds in the wings after that, watching Delphine’s entrance as Nikiya. Strong and deft in her movements, Delphine seems to have grown at least three inches since Anna saw her just a few hours before. Then Anna has to move. The first costume change is the trickiest, and she plucks her next tutu from the rail.

  The break between acts two and three is when she changes her shoes, the box in the left feeling slightly weak on her last turn. Despite her best attempts at confidence, Anna checks carefully inside and out for signs of tampering, even shaking the damn things to be absolutely sure there’s no broken glass.

  All too soon, the finale is racing toward them, and Anna is as relieved as much as she wants to eke out every last second. There’ll never be another first time, not quite like this.

  And yet.

  Anna watches when Delphine comes to take the final bow, flowers falling at her feet even though that’s supposed to be for closing night. The pang in her chest takes Anna by surprise, as if some giant has reached in and squeezed her heart for two or three beats. It’s not jealousy; she’s happy for Delphine and the way the room seems to explode for her. The wall of noise and warmth covers them all. No, it’s just a kind of longing that Anna doesn’t expect.

  A few months ago, just standing here, a season of just doing this kind of role, would have been dream enough to realize. Now Anna knows her head is turned. Victoria has shown her just a glimpse of going all the way, and oh, how Anna wants it. It seems impossible she was ever willing to settle for anything less.

  They spill offstage as a company, loud and running on adrenaline. Shouts go up, drowned out by fragments of song, far enough out of tune to explain why they’re all dancing and not singing for a living. It’s a family, Anna thinks, as she’s jostled and congratulated and jokes with everyone around her until they separate into their dressing rooms.

  She’s quick about her shower, pinning up her wet hair and changing into suitably comfortable sweatpants and a clean T-shirt to go home in. Anna’s already fantasizing about how soft her bed will feel and how soundly she’s going to sleep after this particular high.

  “Come out with us,” Morgan asks one more time as Anna makes to leave. She has her kit bag over one shoulder, and both pairs of shoes in her hand, dangling by the ribbons so she can throw them in their designated trash can on the way out. All the girls will be throwing away at least one, and there was chatter that Delphine made it through three. Speaking of their prima, she slips out of stage door as Anna tries to escape the boisterous girls’ dressing room.

  “Not this time, I’m saving myself for the opening-night party. Have one for me, though.”

  “Well, don’t forget ice and pills before bed. You won’t believe how sore tomorrow’s gonna be.” It’s nice of Morgan to look out for her that way, Anna thinks. It’s getting harder to see any of these people as competition.

  Before Anna can get out of the stage door, there’s a tug at her elbow. She turns to see Victoria there, stunning in a fitted cobalt blue dress, hair pinned up in a chignon. Diamonds sparkle at her ears, and Anna is easily led, as though hearing the Pied Piper play, away from the stage door and down toward the fire exit that leads into the alley.

  “There’s a tradition,” Victoria explains, snatching the ribbons from Anna’s hand when they’re safely outside. “And while you didn’t dance as a principal tonight, I don’t much feel like tempting fate. Do you?”

  Anna shakes her head, biting back an automatic “No, ma’am.”

  “Don’t worry.” Victoria nods toward the shoes. “I don’t have a fetish. Though I’m told there are people who will pay top dollar if you ever need some extra cash.”

&n
bsp; “Ew.” The subject will hopefully change, fast. “Did you watch?”

  Victoria peers into some cans that line the alley. Stopping at the last in the row, she pulls a bottle from her purse and squirts liquid all over the satin shoes.

  “Hey!” Anna is getting a little offended. “They’re not that bad. I could just throw them with everyone else’s.”

  “No, little one,” Irina comes up behind them. “This is tradition. Your foremothers and their mothers before them. It’s very Russian.”

  “It’s crackpot superstition,” Delphine chimes in, having escaped her adoring fans in record time. The stage door is a lot like running the gauntlet, so it must have been a small group. “Tell me you remembered a light. Nobody did for mine. We had to go bum matches on the street.”

  “Here.” Victoria hands over a silver lighter when the bottle of lighter fluid is safely stashed again. “Try not to set yourself on fire in the process, please.”

  “Has anyone ever told you people you’re kind of dramatic?” Anna says, but she’s taking her shoes back greedily, dangling them over the empty trash can. She flips the lighter open, and it almost looks like she knows what the hell she’s doing. “Although for true dramatic effect, we could have done this on the roof.”

  “Fire warden will get us,” Irina says, deadly serious. “Come on, before we celebrate your retirement.”

  There’s so much Anna still wants to ask Irina, so many suspicions to confirm, but she doesn’t dare. Instead, she sparks a flame at her fingertips and coaxes it toward the now very flammable shoes. They go up fast, and Delphine cackles with a little too much enthusiasm. Anna holds them away from her body, as long as she dares until the flames are licking up the ribbons, getting too close to her fingertips.

  She meets Victoria’s questioning gaze in the firelight and lets the shoes fall.

  It takes so long to get rid of everyone, Irina especially, Victoria thinks with a sigh. She and Anna have some back and forth about that Jess woman, drinks, and someone’s mother.

  Victoria breathes through her nose and waits for Irina and Delphine to finally reach the street. Mercy of mercies, Anna stays put and watches them go. What Victoria glimpsed in the light of the fire, it seems Anna did too. When the other two part ways, they hesitate and talk between themselves, heads bowed close together. Irina looms over Delphine, and Victoria almost risks an impatient step closer to Anna.

  At the scrape of Victoria’s shoe lifting from the cobbled stone, Anna’s fingers twitch.

  They don’t look directly at each other, not now. The smoke rises from the other side of the alley, acrid and wispy against the evening breeze. The moment they’re completely alone, Anna is advancing on her, backing Victoria against the wall of the Metropolitan Center and kissing her senseless over an old, peeling poster for The Nutcracker.

  “Oh,” Victoria moans softly when Anna’s hungry kisses leave her mouth and seek out new territory along her jawline and down her neck. “You were good tonight. I wasn’t going to stay, but I was curious.”

  Anna grazes Victoria’s collarbone with her teeth before biting down for just a moment. It almost pulls a growl from Victoria’s throat. Feisty she wasn’t expecting.

  “You’ve got it, haven’t you? That high. You want to be front and center, worshipped and adored.” Victoria closes her eyes and tries to summon the old feeling. It can’t compete with Anna’s hands palming her breasts through the material of her dress. Victoria responds by shifting her balance and hooking her leg over Anna’s hip to pull her closer.

  “I want more,” Anna confesses.

  For a moment, Victoria is distracted by all the arousing things that could mean. Then she sees the glint in Anna’s eye and understands.

  “Soon. That stage will be yours, and you can show them what I see. It’s going to take a lot more work, Anna.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

  “No, but you are meeting someone for drinks,” Victoria reminds her. “And I have places to be. You can’t afford distractions, no matter how…pleasant this little interlude is. Understood?” It’s cruel to reject her, but safest while Anna can’t really register the blow.

  “Do you want to come? To drinks? It’s my foster mom and my sister—you met her before.”

  Victoria drops her leg to release Anna, laying a hand on her cheek. “That’s not what this is, darling. I don’t meet the parents and play nice.”

  “What about after, should I—”

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” Victoria says firmly. “Time to get Delphine on board. Where’s that focus of yours?”

  Anna turns her head and kisses Victoria’s palm in defiance. Then she visibly gets a grip on her emotions and steps back, leaving Victoria to mourn the closeness. She fixes her dress.

  “You’re right,” Anna admits. “I should go. Walk you out?”

  “I’m fine right here for a minute.” Victoria sends her off again, and it’s supposed to be easy, barely a choice at all. “You go.”

  Anna does, and Victoria drops her head back against the rough surface of the wall. She’s in way more trouble than she realized.

  CHAPTER 26

  “Fine,” Delphine says with a sigh after Anna runs through a demonstration of how easily she can lift Victoria.

  The physical part is easy, at least. Not grabbing Victoria by the surprisingly cute crop top she’s wearing and kissing her again is much, much harder. Turns out the woman in black is even more appealing in adidas by Stella McCartney, pastel colors and all.

  Not that Anna has a problem. Not at all. It’s completely, totally, 500 percent fine by her to put her hands on Victoria, with witnesses, and not feel really any feelings about the situation whatsoever.

  She has got to get better at lying. At least to herself.

  It’s amazing she actually did sleep last night, albeit tossing, turning, and dreaming about Victoria. Pressed against the alley wall as in reality, and against the studio mirrors straight from fantasy, and frankly there are more fragmented thoughts than Anna has brain power to process. If anything, she’s more tired this morning. Only a combination of caffeine and Victoria’s presence is making her look anything like alert, and she’s back onstage tonight. Her lunch break is going to be a nap, she can already tell.

  “Should we start now?” Anna asks, not in any particular hurry to put Victoria down. It’s somehow become completely normal to carry her around with her arms wrapped around Victoria’s thighs. “Or do you want me to show you some more, Delphine?”

  “As much as I enjoy this nostalgic interlude, my calves certainly don’t.” Victoria practically manhandles Anna on her way back to standing. “Delphine, she’s a safe pair of hands.”

  “Cool.” Delphine springs to her feet, the easy grace from last night still evident in her every movement. Clearly the enthusiastic reception has put her in a better mood. “You break it, you pay for it, newbie.”

  “No pressure,” Anna says with a snort, but here she is trading off her idol for one of the best dancers working today. It’s not exactly a hardship to endure some studio banter along the way. She flexes a little, more for Victoria’s benefit than Delphine’s.

  It earns Anna a long, dragging look from Victoria, then a water bottle hurled at her to break the spell. Well, Anna is pretty thirsty.

  It’s much trickier to start putting the lifts into full routines, and when Delphine hurls herself at Anna, there’s real momentum behind it. They start on the ground-based choreography when Delphine is satisfied Anna will make a suitable prince, and it’s fun in a way that Anna didn’t expect.

  Delphine has a precision Anna envies, and before long she’s mimicking some of her poise and hand gestures, earning a quiet tut from Victoria as she watches on. Eve plays the piano at a jaunty pace, far quicker than they’ll dance it on stage, but Delphine insists.

  “Do you really want to dance to a dirge over and over again?” Delphine asks when Anna questions it. “Not to mention, if you can do it quicker than n
ecessary, the actual tempo will be a breeze in comparison. It’s how you get good, trust me.”

  Anna looks to Victoria, who half shrugs in something like confirmation.

  By the time their session is up, Anna is the pleasant kind of exhausted, endorphins doing somersaults through her veins. David comes to pull Victoria away on some business or other, and she’s left to clean herself up and shrug on something warm alongside Delphine.

  “Well,” Delphine drawls as she tosses her shoes aside. “Haven’t you got it bad?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I thought it was the curse of the newbies—we talked about that, didn’t we?—and you almost had me fooled.”

  “David wants us in early this afternoon,” Anna says, trying to deflect by passing on the morning gossip. She gets her scoops from Kelly, who always has something sugary at her desk to top up Anna’s breakfast. “Is that normal, after the night before?”

  “Yes, and don’t try to play me, Anna. I know exactly what’s going on. I didn’t think you had it in you, but I’m a little impressed.”

  “Okay?” There’s a lump of panic in her throat, and she can’t swallow around it anymore. Her brain rattles like a kaleidoscope through possible accusations, every second thought being Victoria! Victoria! Victoria! Even trying to fumble for a story, for a change of topic, leaves Anna feeling like she no longer speaks any language at all. She suspects she isn’t the first person to feel like Delphine Wade is something that just happens to them.

  “How long? It was totally happening last night, right? I knew we were walking in on something. Irina tried to put money on it, but I could tell it was too late. You just about lit the damn shoes with the heat between you.”

  “Delphine, please.” Anna knows she can’t tell. She can neither confirm nor deny. She isn’t sure what that would even entail right now other than if you thought Victoria Ford could dance, then Jesus you should feel her kiss.