by J Q Anderson
“Ay, Palacios. At this rate we’ll be here all night.” He looked up at me and I winked.
Without responding, he picked me up with one hand, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me into the kitchen while I squealed.
I popped the Chinese leftovers into the microwave and yawned. The wall clock said it was 4:00 a.m. I turned to get the dishes, and a yellow bakery box at the end of the counter caught my eye.
“What’s this?” I reached over and opened it. My eyes widened at the single vanilla cupcake, the delicate swirl of frosting a perfect work of art. I looked up at Sebastián, and he was smiling.
“I got it for you earlier. Reminds me of our day in Colonia, sitting at the curb by that bakery while you devoured that vanilla cupcake.”
“You are unnervingly romantic.” I turned to him and kissed his lips softly. “Seriously, what did I ever do right? You know you’re nuts by putting up with me. I’m disorganized, distracted, my friends are rude…What are you doing with me?” I whispered.
“I’m in love with you,” he said, his expression serious. And I kissed him so hard I almost knocked him off the barstool.
We ate in comfortable silence, our legs intertwined under the kitchen bar. He wiped a crumb off my lip, and I kissed the pad of his thumb.
“So when are we leaving?” he asked.
“Where?”
“New York.”
“Oh, the performance dates are in a little over three weeks. Will you be able to get away from work?”
“I do own the studio, Camila. I can take a few days off if I want to.”
“Right.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t be mad,” I said, looking up at him. “It’s none of my business, but…”
He sighed. “What?”
“I overheard your argument with Julián last night.”
He frowned. “And?”
“And…I don’t know. Is it a good idea for you to take off while so much is going on at the docks?”
His jaw flexed. “This stuff with my father, it needs to end.” He took my hand and kissed it. “It will all settle, soon.”
An image of Marcos and his friends around Sebastián barged in my mind, then Julián’s voice, What did this girl do to you? And the thought of anything settling anytime soon never seemed more impossible.
Chapter 35
I set the alarm to 6:00 a.m. that Monday. We had had two days to rest, and it was time to get back to work. Two days had also passed since the cast party and since I had last seen or talked to Marcos. I was still angry at him. Being Marcos’s partner had always been a distant, elusive dream for me. The last few days, however, I wanted to kick him in the balls. But I had to fix things between us or our partnership wouldn’t work.
I hurried into the studio, shrugging off my jacket as I dropped my bag by the barre where Marcos was already warming up.
“Morning,” I muttered.
He looked up, assessing my mood. “Morning.”
“I’m not going to give you a lecture,” I said without looking at him. “Just cut the shit with Sebastián. Whatever your problem is, leave him out of it.”
“Funny, I thought I was doing just that.”
“I’m serious. Cut it out.”
“I’m not afraid of him, Cams.”
I looked up at him. “The only reason he didn’t kick your ass last night was because I made him promise me he wouldn’t. The last thing I expected was for you all to act like a bunch of fucking cowards. But if you or your boys go near him again, I won’t give a shit what the outcome is.”
“Is that a threat?” He smirked.
“Since you’ve met him, you’ve done nothing but provoke him. So stop. We’re partners now, but it’s not going to work if there’s constant tension between us. Let’s go back to the way things were at work.”
He stepped closer. His gaze paused on my mouth before moving to my eyes. “That’s what I want too.”
The countdown to closing night for Giselle began, overlapping with the rehearsals for the tour in New York. Time was precious, and Madame warned every dancer that, for the next month, our time inside and out of the studio belonged to her.
The days became long routines of classes followed by rehearsals, followed by costume fittings and after-work meetings to address adjustments to the variations. We were all consumed by it. Balance went out the window, as it usually did during busy times at the theater. Sebastián was patient with the hurdles of my career and the little time it left for us.
It didn’t help that my upcoming principal role ticked inside me like a time bomb. I was determined to seize the huge opportunity Federico had given me. Detaching myself from the world, I walked around like a zombie, mentally counting steps. Sebastián said on the nights I stayed over, I even mumbled them in my sleep.
Madame’s voice took precedence in my head, her corrections replaying with no end as I obsessed to perfect the things she pointed out.
One morning, Madame and Federico called the soloists to run through their main variations alone. I was third in line and hurried to a barre in the back to warm up and rehearse. I looked around for Marcos—he was always here before me—but couldn’t find him.
In the center, Nata and Diego performed the pas de deux while the others watched with the familiar glint of jealousy betraying the admiration in their expressions. Madame gave Nata and Diego minor corrections, but overall, they were flawless, beautiful. Nata wiped the sweat off her face as she listened to Madame attentively, her ivory skin misted with a sheer glow. My turn was approaching, and it was normally Marcos who eased my nerves before rehearsal runs like this one, but he was still missing. I pushed deeper into a split and squeezed my eyes shut to keep my insecurities at bay. Where in the hell was he?
A shadow came in my periphery. A body warming up. I immediately recognized the scent. The venomous fragrance of lilies. Beside me, Verónica propped a leg up on the barre, letting out an obnoxiously heavy sigh. I ignored her, keeping my eyes on the couple dancing in the far front.
“So, how’s it going? Nervous?” Her voice was laced with the usual sourness.
“No. But you should be. Your développé is sloppy. You are screwing up the corps line.”
“My form is perfect,” she snapped. “It’s yours that needs work.”
“Don’t project, it’s pathetic. But hey, thanks for caring.”
“Oh, I do care,” she said, her voice lower but equally charged with detestation. “Your luck will run out sooner or later.”
“Go be a better dancer. Maybe then you’ll get lucky too.”
She leaned toward me as I stretched into my other leg, her face uncomfortably close. “Myrta was my part,” she hissed. “I worked my ass off for it. I don’t know what you did with Federico to secure these roles, but things will change eventually. I’m a better dancer than you. Sooner or later you’ll fuck things up, and I’ll be waiting.”
I fought the bile that rose to my throat and met her raven eyes straight on. “All you’ve got is venom,” I said. “Spit it out on someone else.” I stood and pushed past her, causing her to stumble back as I clenched my teeth to bite back my own venom. From the farthest entrance, Marcos walked in, followed by Andrea, the choreographer. Her face was flush.
“Where the hell were you?” I spat out.
“Got a little caught up in something.” He grinned like the cat who just ate the canary. I glanced at Andrea, who was at the front, going through her notes, her hair slightly disheveled.
“Her? Marcos…” I frowned.
“Ah. Don’t worry about it,” he said, kissing my shoulder. I shrugged him off. “It’s all good. Help me warm up?” He ushered me to the back while another couple took the floor.
I helped him warm up in silence. In the front, Federico leaned on the barre with his back to the mirror, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched the dancers intently, making suggestions here and there as each performer gave everything they had, pouring their hearts out to gai
n the approval of the man whose opinion mattered to us the most in the world.
Our turn came and we stepped into the middle, my pulse still charged from the exchange with Verónica.
We dove into the choreography for Aurora and the prince’s wedding dance, and I focused on each movement. Flying through the steps I had practiced, I counted to stay precise, my body warming up as we danced the pas de deux. When we finished, my heart was flying. I wiped my forehead, catching my breath as Federico approached. He gave a few minor corrections to Marcos, then turned to me.
“Looks good, but remember to keep your shoulders down. I can see the tension.” His hands clasped my shoulders gently and turned me to the mirror. “When you lock your shoulders, you can’t engage your back,” he said, lifting my shoulders slightly. “See? You also lose that beautiful look of a long neck. Use your abs more.”
“Okay,” I said. He must have seen the anxiety in my face, because he gave me a reassuring nod.
“Do some push-ups to improve your core strength and three minutes of planking every night before bed. Really focus on keeping your back straight. Think of your posture even when you aren’t dancing.”
From the mirror, Madame nodded knowingly, having corrected my posture a gazillion times. I knew it was just stress, but at this level, you were expected to manage it.
“I will. Thank you.” We stepped away to let the next dancer get into position.
Marcos nudged my shoulder. “You’re doing well. Relax.” He ambled toward the back, and Andrea gestured for me to approach.
“Camila,” she said. “There are a couple of things I want you to think about for this variation. For the wedding dance, remember that Aurora is a princess dancing at her own wedding. An aristocrat. It's important for that to come through in every step, even as you greet the guests. Keep working on the long port de bras sequence and the ménage at the end. Remember the king and queen are watching. As you finish, show confidence and humility. Aurora knows she's done well. She walks forward, carefully, with elegance. It would never occur to her to run.” She demonstrated as I took mental notes, absorbing every move. Andrea was very good at her job, passionate. I could see why she had managed to turn Marcos’s head. But a member of the staff? Did he have no boundaries?
“Let's work on this again later,” she said. “But you did exceptionally well. Good work.”
I thanked her and assured her I would apply her corrections to my variation. Madame caught me as I headed to my bag for water. She was all business. Notebook and pen in hand, spectacles halfway down her nose.
“Navarro, I want you to stay after class today. Andrea’s schedule is very limited. She can stay late tonight, so I want you to start working on the changes she made for you. We are very short on time.”
Fuck. “Okay, no problem.” I let out a deep breath. Another night working late. Another evening I wouldn’t spend with Sebastián.
At lunch break, I scurried to my apartment and sank into a cold bath. My body burned, and the pain in my ankle wouldn’t let up. I had seen the sports medicine doctor, and he said to stay off of it. Right. I iced it every night and that helped, but I knew it wouldn’t go away until the season break. Being in pain had me on edge. My phone rang as I was rushing back to the theater.
“Hi.” Sebastián’s deep voice lifted my spirits instantly. “Baby, where are you? I came to take you out to lunch, but you’re not at work.”
“Oh, no. I came to my apartment to take a bath. I wish you’d told me.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Tears prickled. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tonight. We have the dinner with the Germans. I’m looking forward to finally having an evening with you.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Dammit. I totally forgot about that. I’m so sorry, Sebas, I have to stay at work tonight. Madame needs me to work on some last-minute changes.”
He let out a long sigh. “Babe, you’ve been working long hours every evening. This is a huge deal for the studio. Can’t you get a pass? Tell her you’ve had this planned for a month. It’s important.”
“She’s staying after hours too. I can’t tell her I have a dinner. Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I can join you later?” I hurried across the street.
“What time will you be done?” The strain in his voice was discernible even over the background noise of the city.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you, okay?”
“All right,” he muttered, then hung up.
I now understood why most dancers didn’t date outside of work. Our world was foreign, inhospitable. Like a planet where nobody could breathe but us. Blending it with Sebastián’s world was like forcing two opposite ends of a magnet together.
I didn’t make it to the dinner with the Germans, or to any of the other social events he wanted me to attend in the days that followed. Part of me was frustrated he didn’t fully get it. Another part simply longed for our relationship to go back to a happy place, without hectic schedules and tension.
Thursday I was alone for lunch. I needed to boost my energy and decided to hit the smoothie place around the corner.
I winced at the midmorning sun. The air was dense, simmering into spring. I nodded at Alexei’s oversized frame leaning on the wall. Tilting his chin up, he put out his cigarette. He was less distant now that things between the Zchestakovas and Sebastián’s family weren’t as tense.
“She coming out?” he asked.
“No. She has to rehearse through lunch. I doubt she’ll come out at all till this evening.”
He acknowledged with a nod and pulled out another cigarette.
“Alexei, those will kill you.”
A tiny comma curved up a corner of his mouth. “You take care, printsessa.”
I was about to cross at the light when two bodies eased out of a silver Audi a few steps ahead. I immediately recognized Julián’s purposeful stride. Fuckdammit. What did he want? A chill slithered down my neck. The light changed, and I blended into the moving crowd.
“Camila,” he said, catching up with me as I reached the sidewalk. I cursed inwardly and turned. He smiled widely, flashing his perfect teeth. His feline green eyes captured mine, confident, stunning. “Do you have a sec?”
“Um, I only have fifteen minutes to get a smoothie.” Damn, why was my voice so small? I gestured to the shop a few steps away.
“I’ll join you. I need to ask you a favor. It’s important.”
A favor? Me? What the fuck. “Oh…okay.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another guy following a few steps behind. His bodyguard?
“Look, this is going to sound weird…” We got in line at the smoothie shop, and he ran a hand through his hair the same way Sebastián did. A good fifteen people stood ahead of us. He pressed his lips then turned to his bodyguard. “Order her a…” He glanced at me. “What would you like?” I frowned and he sighed. “I need to talk to you and you don’t have much time. Santi will get you whatever you want.”
“Just a green smoothie,” I said. I already didn’t like where this was going.
Julián guided me to a table on the sidewalk tucked under an umbrella. He pulled out a chair for me, and I reluctantly sat, fighting the impulse to dash.
“I’ll try to be brief,” he said, taking a seat across from me and leaning forward like he was tackling a business deal. “Look, the studio needs Sebastián here for the next month. We may be in trouble if he’s away.”
“Okay?” I frowned.
“Sebastián told me yesterday he’s planning on going to New York with you. You can’t let that happen.”
“I—Excuse me. What?”
“It’s important. I need him here for the next month, and his father wants him here as well. We have some crucial shipments arriving, and Sebastián is key to things going smoothly.”
“That’s something you need to discuss with him.”
“You don’t understand. Don Martín won’t let him walk away in the middle o
f all this. Not without a consequence. Our most affluent clients at the studio also do business with Don Martín. If he gives the word, they will pull out their accounts from our portfolio. If that happens, our business won’t survive. Camila, that studio is Sebastián’s dream. What he’s worked his entire life to achieve.”
“Then his father has to respect that,” I snapped.
“Look,” he said, reining in his impatience. “You don’t know this family. In Don Martín’s eyes, having his son at his side comes first. Sebastián’s always kept a safe distance, but when he met you, he made the decision to finally walk away.”
“Even if I wanted to help, I don’t know what you think I can do. I have nothing to do with all this.”
He watched me with a How are you not getting this? expression. “In Don Martín’s mind, you’re the reason why his son is distancing himself from the family business.”
“Just in Don Martín’s mind?”
He scanned the lunch passersby. “Frankly, right now, you’re in the way.”
A slow shiver traveled through me. “That’s not…by choice.”
“You can’t let him go with you to New York.”
“Look, I don’t know why you’re talking to me about all this. Sebastián is not a child that you and his father can manipulate. He’s a grown man and he knows what’s best for his business, just explain things to him the way you’re explaining them to me. He’s not stupid.”
“Christ, have you not heard a word I’ve said? Sebastián’s determined to do this. For you. And he’s a Palacios. He would rather lose everything than back down. That’s why I need your help.”
“What do you want from me?” I sighed in irritation. I wanted to leave. This was nuts.
“Get out of the way,” he said softly. “He needs to sort this out without you.”
