by L G Rollins
“And you’re trying to say you wouldn’t care if I did?” He didn’t believe that. She may have pushed him away more times than not, but there had been moments when she’d let him be close. Times like now, when she didn’t pull herself out of his arms.
“If I care or not, it doesn’t really matter. Either way, you’ll either hurt me or leave. Every man does.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Ju. I’m not going to do either.” How could he get through to her? Make her understand? “You can’t honestly say that every man has treated you ill.”
“I guess Dapo and Master Chandler have both been gentlemen—but neither of them have held me close, either.”
He tightened his arms around her. “So just because I love the feel of you next to me, I must be a rake?”
“That’s what my experience tells me.”
Gads, she was truly bent on believing the worst about him. “How can I convince you? What can I do to help you see I am not going to hurt you?”
She folded her arms, a small wall between them. “I don’t know.”
She was pulling away. Again. She was shutting down and shutting him out. “Please, tell me what I can do.”
“Jasper, you are a fickle flirt. You jump from one thing to the next, just like your agent said. I’ve seen it for myself.”
And she’d been hurt by flirts too many times before. “Is there no hope for us then?”
“I don’t know. But I’m too scared about what Leng may do to Mama and I’m too wrapped up with always looking over my shoulder. I don’t think I can worry about this right now.”
He could see that. Asking her to take a nerve-wracking leap of faith on him at the same time she was already pulled thin worrying over her mother? Well, it was bloody unfair.
Jasper lifted his hands to her face. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. He wanted to kiss her full on the mouth, but he was trying to convince her he wasn’t a cad, so this would have to do for now. “You’ll see, when this whole debacle with Leng is over, I’ll still be here. I’ll still care for you and want you. Promise me you’ll still be here too.”
For a moment, her walls fell. Her arms were still folded between them and she didn’t in any way reach for him. But Jasper felt her lean slightly in toward him and the tension in her face eased.
“I’ll still be here. I promise.”
***
Jasper stared at the long strip of paper hanging on the wall. The many-colored footprints across it blurred as his gaze flowed out of focus.
Blast it all—if he couldn’t convince Ju that he was in earnest, what was he to do? He couldn’t just walk away from her, pretend he wasn’t madly in love with her. Jasper sighed, tipping his head back, eyes going to the ceiling. He’d just have to stay close to her until she realized he wasn’t just flirting; he wasn’t just temporarily interested in her. She wasn’t just another pretty face.
She was Ju. Fiery, blunt, disciplined. Gears above, she was his future.
“We’ve failed.”
Jasper shut his eyes. “Please, Mr. Zhi, not now.”
“Now is all I have.”
Jasper turned to face the ghost.
Mr. Zhi stood as ramrod straight as ever, his face stern. “It is the last night of Ghost Month. In a few minutes, Leng’s curse will push me back into the afterlife and I will not be able to return until next year.”
“Then go knowing I will not allow Leng to win. You can count on that.”
Mr. Zhi’s voice turned caustic. “Count on you? Mister fickle artist?”
Why did everyone have to keep calling him fickle?
“I will take care of them.”
“Like you took care of Wixcomb?”
“What?”
“He’s dead, Jasper. Leng got to him.”
Dead? Holy gears above. Jasper placed a hand on a nearby table and leaned heavily on it. “I had no idea.”
“You should have known. You should have better protected him.” Mr. Zhi’s voice grew louder. “This is Leng. He has no honor; there is no limit to the reach of persuasion.”
“I understand that!” Jasper snapped. It was bad enough that Ju didn’t trust him. Now Mr. Zhi was intent on screwing the same disbelief even deeper into Jasper. “I know the man is dangerous. I know we’re up against someone with more resources, wealth, and social power than I’ve ever even considered one person having. He is as close to the top as I am to the bottom.”
“You should have tried harder.”
“What would you have had me do differently?”
“You should have thought ahead—realized Leng was going to find Wixcomb and silence him instead of working on . . . that.” Mr. Zhi pointed toward the footprint art piece.
Jasper shook his head. There was no point in explaining to Mr. Zhi why he’d bothered making the piece, why he’d felt taking a break would prove beneficial. Of all the people he knew, Mr. Zhi was the least likely to understand.
“What is that supposed to be, anyway?” Mr. Zhi demanded. “Proof you can’t stay focused for more than five minutes at a time?”
Jasper’s gaze slid over to the art piece. He’d been trying to capture the idea that people often don’t realize the paths they are taking or the legacy they leave behind in going there.
Everyone leaves footprints, but since they aren’t usually visible, no one thinks about them. Jasper sighed. Ironically, he was guilty himself of doing just that.
“I can assure you,” Mr. Zhi ground out, “your silence is not building my confidence.”
Jasper faced Mr. Zhi. “You’re right. I should have realized that Leng would have the resources to find Wixcomb.”
It wasn’t just Wixcomb, though. Jasper had never taken the time to think about the influence he was having on Tom, or how Ju would naturally assume she couldn’t trust her heart to him. He may be a good man with good intentions, but if he never stopped to think through his actions and his future, he was only going to continue to prove to those around him that he wasn’t trustworthy in the long term.
“Your apology does nothing.”
“You are right. It doesn’t help us and it doesn’t protect your wife or daughter. It certainly doesn’t bring Wixcomb back.”
Mr. Zhi’s fury seemed to have burned itself out, though his tone was still nowhere near friendly. “I suggest you take some time and figure out the next best move because, as much as I hate to admit it, you are all my wife and daughter have left. You are the only thing standing between them and Leng.”
“You truly have to leave?”
“I can feel the pull of Leng’s curse even now.” He let out a long sigh. “I will spend my last few minutes as close to my family as possible.”
He floated toward the door. “I am sorry, Jasper. But, after this, you’re on your own. I pray you will be enough.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ju checked the laces on her dancing slippers, her head swimming. Within the hour, she would be dancing before Ginevra’s judges once more, yet all she could think about was Jasper.
The way he’d held her a few days ago, the way he’d kissed her forehead, the way he’d promised to still be around in the future.
Every time she thought back to that moment, Ju got lightheaded and a heavenly sort of tingle spread over her skin.
He’d walked her to Ginevra’s today, though he was asked to wait outside with the family and friends of the other dancers. Their conversation had been comfortable. Jasper was always immensely comfortable to be around, yet at the same time, there was a heady excitement which coursed through her each time his hand touched hers. He seemed to be patiently waiting for her to choose him.
Could she trust him? A familiar tightness squeezed against her chest and throat. Trusting any man to be more than a friend felt like an insurmountable task. But if ever there was a man she wanted to trust, it was Jasper.
She let out a long sigh and dropped into another stretch. Music started up from a nearby room. Gracious, if she didn
’t get her head on straight, and right this moment, she stood a very likely chance of ruining her opportunity to get into Ginevra’s. Ju would worry about Jasper later.
“Miss Zhi.”
Ju stood up to find Master Chandler walking around the half a dozen dancers filling the room, heading toward her.
“Master Chandler.” She curtsied.
“I wondered if we might have a word before you perform.”
“Of course.” She followed him as he moved toward the back corner of the room, away from any eavesdroppers. Though Ju had never asked Jasper to, he apparently did some rigorous research into Master Chandler after she brought up her concerns regarding him. As far as Jasper could find, Master Chandler was an upstanding gentleman. Apparently “as far as Jasper could find” meant, not an officer, not a newspaper reporter, not a rumor was to be found at Lords which showed any proof of foul play when it came to Master Chandler.
Stopping, Master Chandler turned toward her, one hand behind his back and the other tapping at his chin. “I wanted to speak to you before you audition and before any decision is made.”
She nodded for him to go on.
His eyes darted to something past her. Ju glanced over her shoulder. Several dancers were watching them. One young woman leaned over to her companion and whispered behind a hand. The two smirked.
“No doubt,” Master Chandler said in a flat tone, “you have heard rumors regarding me.”
“Yes, sir. I would be lying if I said I had not.”
“May I ask your opinion on such rumors?”
She hadn’t expected that question. But she supposed if one had to deal with the worst sort of rumors every day, one would probably grow quite guarded.
“May I be blunt?” Ju knew most women of the ton, which is where nearly every ballet dancer in the room came from, were not usually permitted bluntness. Ju, however, preferred nothing less.
“Please.”
Good. She would hate to risk her place in Ginevra’s simply because she didn’t care to mince words. “If you are asking my opinion on trading favors, I am most assuredly against it, as I think any woman with a modicum of self-respect is. However, if you are asking my opinion on if I think you expect such favors, I would have to say no. I believe rumors are typically just that, rumors. I have neither seen for myself nor learned from others anything that would make me believe they are true.”
His shoulders dropped and he smiled. “I am pleased to hear that, Miss Zhi. It will be nice to know there’s at least one student among the fold who does not believe the worst of me.”
“If I get in tonight.”
He waved off her uncertainty. “Dance the way you did for the first half of your last audition and you will get in.”
The first half. That was when Ju had only focused on the music and not on being ‘European’ enough. It was a humbling bit of enlightenment. Ju had been so caught up in fitting in and letting go of her past, she’d nearly thrown away her future.
Master Chandler bowed politely and then turned to leave.
“If it would be agreeable to you, sir,” Ju said before he could walk away, “you may stop by Wei shu’s dance school sometime next week and I’ll introduce you to her.”
His smile came back, light and boyish has it had been the moment he first asked her to introduce them.
“That would be most agreeable. Thank you.”
“I have to warn you, though,” Ju added. She felt for his sake, she should. “Wei shu is a vehement, impassioned woman who doesn’t play second fiddle to anyone.”
His smile only grew. “Then I most certainly will be by next week.” With a simple nod of his head, Master Chandler moved back through the room and toward where the other judges were speaking.
Ju’s gaze moved from him to the other judges, then to the dancers around her and she once more heard the musicians warming up. She opened and closed her hands. This was it and she was ready. Especially now that she understood that she didn’t need to be less of who she was to excel here. She had been trained in the Chinese method of dance and, while that made her different, it also made up the best parts of her.
Her great-grandmother had grit. Her grandmother had brilliance. Her Mama had love. That is what she, Zhi ju, was made of, and she was done ignoring and pushing that part of her away in the foolish effort to be more “European”.
Dropping into another stretch, Ju didn’t bother watching the other dancers this time. Instead she stretched the same way she’d been taught all her growing up years. She stretched and prepared the way thousands of Chinese women had before her.
***
Ju lifted her hands above her head. Her hands separated and she gently let them fall to either side as she lifted a leg and bent backward. The song was slower than the last time she had performed before judges here at Ginevra’s.
The competition must be harsh; slower songs were inherently harder than fast songs. While fast songs were challenging since it required one to leap from one pose to the next as fast as one could blink, slow songs allowed no room for mistakes.
Songs like this one begged the dancer to slow their movement, to gradually flow from one pose to the next. It required far more muscle mastery and attention to expression.
Ju let the music flow over her, then seep through her skin as she moved, not to the music, but with the music. She blocked out any awareness of judges or other dancers and instead breathed in the notes, thinking of nothing else.
The music softened and Ju used her hands and fingers more, emphasizing the impression of fragile peace. The low notes rumbled, readying the audience for a crescendo. Ju anticipated the music’s end and grew with it. Though the notes were few and held for multiple breathes between, Ju filled the space with a complicated tumble-jump-twist step closing the dance with her arms up once more and her face turned toward the brilliant dance school lights.
The room grew perfectly still. Ju returned to a resting position. Instead of curtsying as the other dancers had done, Ju placed her hands, palms together, in front of her chest and bowed respectfully low.
Still there was no noise. Ju stood straight once more. The judges looked at her, surprise evident on each face. Only Master Chandler seemed to have expected her performance. He looked at her with sparkling eyes and a straight-lipped confidence. Almost imperceptibly, he gave her a nod. That was all she needed. Ju knew she had done her best, and Master Chandler, the Premier Maître de ballet en Chef, was pleased with what she’d accomplished.
Ju moved gracefully toward the wall where the other dancers waited. The rest of the performances went by in a blur. Ju saw very little of who did what, but her heart remained warm with hope and her chin stayed up. More than once, a judge glanced her way. They seemed not quite sure what to make of her.
After looking over at her, one judge leaned over to the next, whispering far too quiet for anyone to overhear. The second judge then whispered to Master Chandler. Ju couldn’t hear his response any better than she had heard the first comment, but he spoke with an intense nod of his head. There was something about his posture, upbeat and positive, that fueled Ju’s optimism.
Once the last few dancers had finished, all the women were asked to leave. Results would be posted in a few days’ time.
Ju sighed. Back to waiting. She followed the other women through the door, pausing only to glance over at Master Chandler. He was deep in discussion with the other judges. Ju felt the woman behind her growing impatient at her slowing the line, so Ju moved out the door.
The instant the dancers passed the threshold back into the hallway they burst into nervous chatter.
“Oh! I can’t believe I tripped up!”
“That was certainly more intense than the first auditions.”
“Do you think they liked me? Did they look as though they liked me?”
Ju allowed herself to be pushed to the edge of the group. Now that her second audition was over she was starting to feel the pull of exhaustion brought on by the weeks of worry.
“Ju!” Dapo rushed over to her.
“Dapo?” What was he doing here?
“Something has come up, and Jasper has gone to investigate. He asked me to keep you safe.”
Oh, no. “Is Mama safe? Is Jasper safe?”
“This way.” He started toward a side door and she fell into step with him. “Don’t worry. It sounds like nothing more than a small accident. Everyone is all right now, but I’m sure they’ll want to see you.”
“Of course.” If something had happened, Ju wanted nothing more than to be with Mama and Jasper. She picked up her pace, having to take a little hop every few steps just to keep up with Dapo’s quick stride. He opened the side door and let her walk through.
“Please,” she spoke to him over her shoulder, not bothering to slow down as she charged out toward the front of the school. “Tell me all that happened.”
“I’m so sorry, Ju.” Dapo’s tone was suddenly flat, almost guilty. “I had no choice.”
No choice? What was he talking about? Ju turned toward Dapo. His face was twisted in sorrow.
A firm arm wrapped around Ju’s middle, pinning one of her arms to her side. A piece of fabric pressed up against her mouth. The smell was sharp and biting. Ju screamed, but the fabric muffled the sound.
Dapo stood before her, watching, but not moving. Why wasn’t he helping her? She kicked and beat against the man holding her with her free arm, but he only laughed.
Her limbs felt weak. She willed strength into them, but they refused to respond. She eyed Dapo. Why was he just standing there? Her arm fell to her side. Her legs wouldn’t move. They felt like heavy logs attached to her torso and not like her own legs at all.
Dapo spoke, but his voice sounded muffled. “I did as you asked. Now let Shuang go.”
A strange gruff voice came from behind Ju. “Oh, this was only the first half. You get to play spy for a little bit next.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” Dapo shouted.
“I’ll kill this one here now and then I’ll go do the same to your other little darling if you don’t. Now shut up.”
