Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“Really?” Anne’s head swiveled my direction, her eyebrows jolting upward.
“It’s nothing. Maybe. He was the artist in residence before Nutcracker season, and it was more like he choreographed and I just showed him what would and wouldn’t work.” Thinking of late nights in the studio and early mornings in his bed made me grin. He wasn’t Mr. Right—that ship had long since sailed. But he was certainly Mr. For-Right-Now, and that was quite perfect.
“That’s huge!” Anne’s smile could have powered the building. “A ballet of your own—”
“We’ll see.” I kept my smile small, just like my expectations when it came to Isaac, and reached for my costume for act one.
I ran my fingers over the amethyst ring in my right pocket, then unzipped the worn, faded black hoodie with its fraying wrist cuffs and hung it on the back of the chair. Then I shucked off my warm-up pants and stepped into the costume.
“Must be nice to have a zipper,” Eva muttered as Anne reached for mine. “Corps still has hook closures for multiple wearers.”
I pulled my act-one hair out of the way when Anne reached for my zipper, and somehow managed to curb my tongue regarding Eva’s sulking.
“I’m sure you’ll have a zipper next year,” Anne assured her, patting my back once she’d finished with my costume. “Mom was thrilled to hear both of you will be onstage tonight.”
Cue another wave of nausea. The vegetable soup I’d choked down an hour ago threatened to make a reappearance.
“She’s in the family box?” No doubt with Anne’s husband. I scooped the blanket off the floor and tossed it on top of my bag.
“With Finn and Eloise.” Anne watched like a hawk as I rose en pointe a few times, testing my shoes and my arches.
“I thought Eloise was teaching at Vaganova.” I schooled my features as pain shot up my Achilles in protest.
“She just retired. And you have an understudy for a reason,” Anne finished in a whisper, her brow furrowing. “You put too much strain on that Achilles of yours and—”
“I just need the music to start,” I interrupted just as softly, my gaze darting to Eva’s back as she walked toward the hallway. “Any other role, and maybe I’d consider it, but Giselle . . .”
Anne’s eyes met mine, the light catching on a sheen she quickly blinked away before pressing her lips between her teeth and nodding.
“Shall we?” Eva asked over her shoulder as dancers walked by the open doorway, headed for the wings.
“Absolutely.” I plastered on a fake smile and nodded.
Anne hooked her arm through mine and kept her voice down. “You let her get dressed with you? Shouldn’t she be with the corps? Building camaraderie and all that?”
“For all her bluster, she gets nervous. She’s still the new girl to everyone but me.” I’d started dancing with the Company at eighteen, moving from apprentice to principal dancer by the time I blew out twenty-five candles, but Eva hadn’t been invited to try out for MBC until she’d spent several years in Boston, then Houston, working up the ranks. “Just trying to make things a little easier on her.”
“You got her the tryout and agreed to that ridiculous Seconds app account she loves so much,” Anne responded, squeezing my arm gently. “I think you’ve more than helped.”
We stepped into the hallway and found Eva waiting for us with Vasily Koslov, the Metropolitan Ballet Company’s artistic director. My chest tightened. Vasily had the power to make or break us. His silver hair was trimmed neatly as always, his three-piece suit pressed to perfection. It was hard to believe the tall man with the dancing blue eyes had seen the same sixty-four years as my mother.
They’d been in this very company at my age, but Vasily had eventually moved into choreography and marriage to our executive director, while Mom had reluctantly retired in her prime, to motherhood and eventual teaching.
“There she is.” Vasily smiled, reaching for my hand, and I gave it. He brushed a perfunctory kiss over my knuckles, as he’d done before every performance since I’d been promoted to principal. “Ready to dazzle us, Alessandra?”
“I’ll do my best to make you proud.” My stomach rolled.
Hold it together. You’re not going to puke in front of Vasily. He was the closest thing I had to a father since mine had passed.
“She’ll be dancing for our mother tonight,” Eva added.
“Sophie is here?” His gaze jumped to Anne, two lines deepening between his brows as though trying to place her. “She never leaves that exclusive little school of hers except for the Classic. Will she be—”
“I’ll be sure to give her your best,” Anne interrupted, before he could ask to see her and we were forced to make excuses.
“Ah.” His brow furrowed. “Annelli, isn’t it? The daughter who doesn’t dance?”
“She also runs Company events, including the Classic.” My hackles rose in immediate defense of Anne, even though I knew Vasily didn’t mean any harm by it. He had a bad habit of only truly seeing people in his orbit.