The Music and the Mirror

by Lola Keeley

  “Thought I’d find you here,” Ethan says as he approaches. “Wow, that is one sad lunch. Did you go vegan or something?”

  “No, I actually enjoy food. This is just what was nearest.” Anna smiles at him. “Heard you’re up for principal on the tour, Ethan. Well done.”

  “It’s not for sure yet.” He squirms under the attention for a moment. “You all ready for your big moment? I know Pagodas was a big deal, but this…”

  “Victoria thinks I’m ready.” Anna tries to shrug it off. “The weird part is, I think so too? I don’t know, it just feels good up there lately. I don’t want to jinx it.”

  “You won’t.” He fishes a candy bar out of his backpack. “Here. Your lunch is just too depressing.”

  “Thank you,” Anna says, getting up to hug him. “And not just for this. For being my first friend here, and for having my back.”

  “Just like you’ve had mine,” Ethan replies. “I know you’ve put in a good word for me, more than once.”

  “What are friends for, right?” They end the hug at last, and Anna picks up after herself. “Okay, let’s go dance.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Somehow, they fall into the habit of spending every night together at Victoria’s. It’s only when Anna detours one evening to pick up clean clothes and falls asleep on her own bed that they spend a night apart. Victoria has an early crew meeting, so has to rush in without their now-routine morning coffee together too. It’s stupid how much she resents both of those losses.

  They meet in the lobby right after warm-up. It’s too public, and every sound echoes. That doesn’t stop Anna from talking over what Victoria is saying to her at first, before they both pull up and laugh a little at their shared overreaction to a brief separation.

  “You first,” Victoria insists. “But not here.”

  “Victoria?” Anna doesn’t move, as though her feet are fused with the floor. She looks so anguished, it must be something awful.

  It’s no lie for Victoria to say that her stomach drops in that moment. Strangely, in this last moment before she knows for sure, all Victoria can think is I don’t want her to be upset.

  “Just hold on a moment, Anna. We’ll go sit outside. No one can overhear us with the traffic.”

  “Okay, but I sort of feel like I might burst, so we should do it now.”

  “Then tell me.” Victoria doesn’t want her to, even as she’s brisk about walking them outside. As long as the dice is in the air, the currents beneath it can still shift, still affect what number it lands on. She’s never been a gambler, but she’s willing to start now.

  Anna takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and says it. “I love you.” She’s barely able to contain her smile. “Oh, there’s a bunch of other stuff, and we’ll get to that. But I do. Head-over-heels, dizzier-than-thirty-two-fouettés, totally in love with you. And it’s okay if you’re not in love with me, but I couldn’t wait another minute. I didn’t want you not to know.”

  “Am I dying?” is the only response Victoria can summon for that kind of earnestness. They’re gripping each other’s forearms, and the first to let go will surely guarantee that the other falls. Outside their building of glass and concrete and wood that’s going to feature in any description of both their careers now, Anna has said what Victoria didn’t expect.

  Or perhaps she did on some level, because when Anna’s exasperated little pout forms, Victoria wants to chase it away with the very thing she’s been trying not to notice.

  “Well, I love you too. I thought that was a given when I let you stay the night.”

  “Seriously?” Anna clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Since then? Wow, you are quite the romantic.”

  “Does the when really matter?” Now it’s Victoria’s turn to be exasperated, but Anna’s sweet kiss melts most of that away in an instant. “Can we please talk affairs of state now? Sands are shifting, Anna, and we are not going down with them.”

  “One more kiss,” Anna insists, and it’s not like Victoria wants anything less than that herself.

  “Wow, there’s no good way out of this, is there?” Anna is asking.

  Victoria is listening intently, but her attention is on the traffic coming and going in front of them. Her sunglasses are in place, and to anyone passing they’re just two women on a stone bench chatting. “Even if everything goes perfect—truly flawless in every way—it’s still going to be crappy for you to work under him.”

  “I can’t work for a boss who hates me.” Victoria sounds so tired that Anna’s heart breaks a little. “I can’t direct if my head is always on the chopping block. Ruins the sightlines. Nobody pushes Victoria Ford around, not like this. I’ll coach for the Thanksgiving parades before I’ll let him tell me what to do.”

  She gathers herself, feeling stronger with every word. “I don’t know where I’m going to end up, but you’ll always have a job with me, Anna. Regardless of whether you stay in love with me or not. We make a great team, in both ways.”

  “We do. But what if it’s Liza put in charge and she does ask me to stay on? Is that betraying you?”

  “No. No.” Victoria is insistent, turning to face Anna. “There are people who’ve stabbed me in the back, but keeping your career going doesn’t make you one of them. I’m probably going to have to leave New York, though.”

  “We could do long distance,” Anna says. “Until there was space for me, maybe.”

  “I’m not going to ask you for that right now.” Victoria pulls off her sunglasses and kisses Anna’s cheek. “We know how we feel, but there are other considerations.”

  “Then we wait for new facts. We were lucky enough to find each other, weren’t we? That gives me hope.”

  “It gives me heartburn.” Victoria rubs lightly at her chest. “I’m going to have David take rehearsal today. There’s a lot I need to put in place. I know I don’t have to ask, but—”

  “I won’t tell a soul. This is our business, nobody else’s.”

  She likes the way Anna says our. “I’d like to find the way where we get to stay together.”

  “Me too.” Anna goes for a one-armed hug. “This has been one hell of a season, hasn’t it?”

  “I should have known the minute I laid eyes on you. Once-in-a-lifetime girls don’t show up in a calm season, do they? Now come on. Can’t have principals late for rehearsal. What will the corps members think?”

  “That I’m off banging the boss somewhere, probably,” Anna teases, and it’s their first genuine laugh of the afternoon. “I really did mean it, you know.”

  “Me too,” Victoria says, withholding her eye roll. “See you tonight?”

  “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  Anna follows in Victoria’s wake as she marches from the car to the front of the Metropolitan Center, barely a hint of a limp in Victoria’s stride. She doesn’t want to speculate, but Anna suspects an extra pill or two may have been popped before coffee this morning.

  There’s a bike messenger waiting on the stairs, still half-asleep. Victoria hands over the envelope, which Anna knows contains a brief, pointed letter on Victoria’s monogrammed stationery. She fishes a twenty-dollar tip from her purse, and that wakes up Bike Boy in a hurry.

  “Have this in Richard Westin’s hands within half an hour, understood?” Victoria tells him.

  Anna wants to smile. There’s no time limit on this, but Victoria will have her drama. It’s in her choice of heeled boots and sweeping black pashmina in today’s ensemble. Anna is very much into it. So into it she almost made them late by trying to thoroughly rumple that flawless look.

  “You’re really doing this,” Anna says, watching the messenger clip a corner in his haste.

  She hopes he makes it to Rick’s apartment alive. Anna already has the page on her phone to search for company vacancies across the US, not knowing if she’ll be a casualty of this internal strife or not.

  “Jump before you’re pushed. In love, war, and pas de deux.” Victoria is excited by it
, at least. Where most people avoid conflict, Victoria is fueled by it in ways Anna doesn’t particularly want to explore. “See you at semi-dress, darling.”

  The kiss doesn’t linger, but Anna’s lips tingle all the way to the locker room just the same.

  Anna watches from the stage for Victoria to come in, getting edgy when she doesn’t show. Three minutes after rehearsal officially starts, David comes in, clapping his hands for attention.

  “You get me today. Let’s run it from the top, show me what you’ve got.”

  It’s a strange ballet, one where the principals do more work in holding the audience than they would usually. The corps are used mostly offstage, or in back of some scenery. Their sense of movement is an ephemeral one, and Victoria has used the physicality of their space so brilliantly in how she’s staged it. Somehow a dozen plus dancers feels like a surging stage-door crowd or a baying audience.

  Since Anna is on last, the first half hour after her brief introduction is a slow one. She sits in the wings, massaging the balls of her feet. David has some critique for Irina, and he doesn’t flinch when she turns to hear it, stony-faced.

  Next time, Irina is step-by-step perfect. They’re getting close, and something special is definitely building. The atmosphere in the theater alone is crackling, and that’s before a live audience.

  She’s imperious. Even with just basic lighting, nothing like the dramatic color and scope they’ll have in the full show, Irina is like lightning as she moves. For such a tall woman, she moves with barely a sound, and Anna swears there’s something unnatural that the loudest noise Irina causes is the scuffing of her soles on a landing. When Anna lands from jumps like that, the thud is audible, the sprung floor only absorbing so much kinetic energy.

  It’s over a few minutes later and Irina stands silent in the opposite wings, shoulders rolled back as she catches her breath. Not bad for something who could only dance on something close to morphine before the holidays. Taking time to heal has given her this extra pocket of time.

  Finally, Victoria appears, but she’s not alone. She walks down the center aisle with a tall, slender woman. Dark-haired and in a dress coat that’s a shade too light for New York’s climate this time of year. Momentarily distracted by Delphine’s question about the time signature, of all things, Anna looks to see what argument is breaking out with the orchestra conductor. Apparently Delphine doesn’t care for his interpretation of 6/8 time.

  Only when Anna glances back to Victoria, sitting out in the main house this time instead of among the footlights, does she recognizes her companion.

  That’s Meredith Prince, one-time prima at Paris Opéra and lately the head of recruitment at the Royal Ballet in London. She’s the only dancer Anna tried to save up enough money to go and see in Paris, having to settle for a tour performance in Boston in the end. It was worth the wait.

  Not many companies would allow the competition into their rehearsal like this, so Anna can’t help wondering if this is some kind of sabotage on Victoria’s part. Only there wouldn’t be time for Meredith to have flown in from London, not even by private jet.

  Delphine has a tough time with her footwork, usually her strong point. It’s a relief, because if Anna messes up in front of such a high-pressure viewing pool, it won’t be quite so embarrassing. She waits for her cue, for David’s attention to be on her instead.

  When the moment comes, Anna steps forward, only for something quite unexpected to happen.

  As she takes her careful steps, arrogant, domineering, as Victoria called for every day before now, Anna feels her shoulders settling back and her spine straightening. She lifts her chin, regal, just shy of sneering. This is her role. This is her breakout. There’s a baton being passed. From Victoria, through Irina, to Anna. So many boys and girls will have seen them and chosen to follow in their satin-clad footsteps. Will Anna be someone mentioned in Playbill and programs in years to come? Will some eleven-year-old see her next week and apply to ballet school the very next day?

  She thinks of Henri and his little girl, Yara, and makes a mental note to leave him two tickets at the box office for this show, after his enthusiastic email.

  Anna is a ballerina. A principal dancer. And for the purposes of this ballet, a star. She stands in fifth position, throws a quick smile in Victoria’s direction, and begins.

  CHAPTER 40

  Victoria knows letting Meredith into the auditorium is probably beyond the pale, but they had a wonderful year in London together, both far from home and adjusting to the British snobbery that seemed to confront them at every turn. Having her show up is just the kind of statement Victoria didn’t realize she wanted to make.

  So when Meredith admits to being in town on recruitment business, Victoria simply gives a knowing smile and leads her into the meat market. Clearly Meredith thinks she owes her further explanation, but Victoria isn’t especially interested. Her two weeks’ notice has been silently received by Rick, and now it’s just a question of exactly what state she’ll leave Metropolitan Ballet in. Whole and hearty, ready to evolve and progress? Or stripped for parts, shuddering to a close in a year or two?

  “So—”

  Victoria shushes her. It was one thing to keep talking during Delphine, but she won’t risk putting Anna off while she’s still relatively inexperienced.

  But the change in Anna’s posture is obvious right away. It’s finally clicking. She isn’t the misplaced corps dancer anymore. She’s a principal, and she’s owning it.

  Part of Victoria wants to rush the stage and kiss her senseless for it. The professional part wins out, but she leads the assembled group in an uncharacteristic smattering of applause. Having smiled at her before starting, Anna gets bold enough to blow a kiss in lieu of taking a bow. Victoria allows an indulgent smile while everyone else is still too terrified to look in her direction.

  “So who is it you’re after?” Victoria asks Meredith as the next scene rolls on. “Delphine’s got her heart set on San Francisco, and Irina might actually be retiring this time. The boys… Well, only Gabriel is worth the plane fare.”

  “No, silly.” Meredith says with a laugh. She’s always been so kind, so easily amused. There are a striking number of similarities between her and Anna, making Victoria idly wonder why she hadn’t attempted to date Meredith back when she had the chance. “I’m here for you.”

  Victoria is incredulous. “There’s no way Covent Garden want me to…what? Coach? Even for my favorite place in the world I won’t take a demotion.” It’s a front. There could realistically come a time when that’s her best chance, particularly if Rick goes all scorched earth over the resignation.

  “If I were here in my actual job capacity, do you really think I’d have walked in, middle of the day? Just hoping you had time?”

  “But you were in town already.”

  “Yes, I had a meeting. With the same people who told Rick they’d buy him out at a profit, just as soon as he got rid of you. I think he put up some resistance, but that stunt you pulled with the Times put him over the edge, darling.”

  “I’ve already resigned,” Victoria starts to explain, but Meredith waves her off, flipping her long braid back over her shoulder.

  “I’m not here to warn you. I would have been amazed if you weren’t already two steps ahead of all this.”

  “I’m not as omnipotent as I’d like to think, these days. So what is this, Mere? A social visit?”

  “You have an admirer who’s a dear friend of mine. Someone I owe a great deal to. She’s thinking of making some changes but can’t move in any direction without the right successor in place.”

  “I’d say I know the feeling, but some of us are too busy jumping out of a building they want to burn down behind me.”

  “Victoria…Vicki…Queen of Ballet…” Meredith has been mocking that title for years, asking about lines of succession and if the crown is very heavy to wear when dancing. Anyone else would have been instantly blocked. “What would you say if I told you I ha
ve an offer for you from Paris?”

  “I’d say you’d finally lost your mind. Not that it had far to go.”

  “Victoria, the moment I heard about trouble here, I put in a call. Olivia wanted you the year you started here, but knew there was no point competing with your history with Rick. You know she’s who advocated to make you their first American prima in the first place.”

  “And instead they got Liza,” Victoria recalls all too well. “If this is some kind of pity interview, I’d rather not waste the airfare.”

  “She’s been watching. Heard all about the girl prince. Knows you’re staking your season on a new find. The French like that, a touch of…well, the Brits would say brass balls.”

  “I’m sure they would.” Victoria’s heart is racing so hard she worries that she never looked up the symptoms of heart attacks in women.

  “And it will save a fortune, with no contract to buy out. You just got even more appealing.”

  “I still don’t want to take a step back.” Victoria feels something inside her clench at even the thought of turning this down. She can’t look at Anna, still on stage and listening intently to David. “But you’re sweet to come and ask me in person. I’ll shoot Olivia an email, let her down gently.”

  “Can you please stop being dense?” Meredith sounds tired. “She wants you running the show. Artistic director.”

  “Of the Paris Opéra Ballet?” Victoria wonders where the hell the punchline is.

  “Mm-hmm,” Meredith answers quite seriously. “Qu’est-ce que tu vas dire?”

  What else can Victoria answer, when asked what is she going to say? “Oui.”

  “We’re going to dinner with Meredith Prince?” Anna pours them both a glass of wine. “When?”

  “After you open, don’t worry. She’s here for a while yet.”

  “But I don’t get why she came to rehearsal? I mean, we don’t let people from San Francisco in, so why a headhunter from London?”