Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
I lya was impatient, but he wasn’t about to show it.
He was eager to get started with his new performer as soon as possible, anxious to see what the boy could do with the choreography Ilya had been developing for over a year preparing for Circo’s latest show, which the directors had named Capriccio. It was an ambitious endeavor, but to Ilya it felt almost like a new start in more ways than one. A new team, a new show, different acts and costumes and staging that wouldn’t be haunted for him the way everything to do with Phantasma had been.
It wouldn’t do for any of the performers around him to see his restless energy, but that barely helped him to keep from tapping his foot or looking at his watch. All he could do for the moment was wait for Mario to arrive, while keeping an eye on the practice routine of the silks act as they warmed up.
He’d been extremely lucky that Mario had accepted the position. While he’d been impressed with Mario’s audition, it had been the video of Mario performing with his family that had convinced him that he had to have Mario for Capriccio. He’d never seen anyone, not even himself or Derek, with the sheer amount of raw power and ability of Mario Gallier. The whole Gallier family was talented as hell, but there was something special about Mario.
As if summoned by his thoughts, Ilya saw Mario approaching him from across the gymnasium. He was dressed in practice clothing, the tight-fitting lycra garments emphasizing every bulge and ripple of muscle on his body. He was even better toned than Ilya had been in his prime, which caused a ripple of something Ilya would not call lust to zing down his spine. It was the first time since Derek had passed that he’d felt an attraction to someone else, but he firmly clamped down on it, allowing no hint of that wayward feeling — or the annoyance it caused him — to show.
Mario was looking at the other performers with eager curiosity, but then he glanced toward Ilya, and their eyes met. Again, that tingle of awareness washed over him, and again, he refused to acknowledge it. Theirs was going to be a professional relationship, nothing more.
“I made it,” Mario said, his green eyes intent as he gazed at Ilya. “Sorry if I’m late. I biked over from the apartment Circo found for me, and it took longer than I was expecting.”
Ilya blinked in surprise. “You rode a bike over here? In this heat?” He could see that Mario was rather flushed, but he didn’t look any the worse for wear.
Shrugging, Mario gave him a lopsided grin. “I don’t know how to drive a car, even if I had one, and it wasn’t far enough to call for a ride. Besides, it’s a good warm-up for my legs, right?”
“Just don’t arrive so tired and overheated that you can’t work,” Ilya replied. “You’re hydrated?”
Mario nodded, not seeming concerned. “I know not to overdo it.”
The insouciant response made Ilya frown, but he had to trust that Mario was a professional who could manage his own health. “Very well, then. Let me introduce you to the person who will be your new partner.” He raised his voice and beckoned to a red-haired young man who was doing pushups on a mat a few yards away. “Patrick!”
The redhead immediately stopped his exercise, bouncing to his feet and heading toward Ilya. He looked at Mario with frank curiosity, which Ilya could understand. Although salaries were kept private by management — each performer had a contract equivalent to the value they brought to the show — Ilya had heard a buzz of speculation already about the “new pro” that had been hired. No doubt someone had leaked Mario’s name, and it wouldn’t be difficult for anyone to find the information about both the Carnival of Mysteries and the recording of Mario’s performance.
“Hey,” Patrick said, holding out his hand to Mario. “I’m Patrick McKinney.”
Mario gave his new partner a look of frank assessment as they shook hands. “Mario Gallier.”
“I saw the video of you,” Patrick said, his tone casual, but Ilya could sense a bit of awe in Patrick’s tone. “You’re really good.”
“Thanks.” Mario seemed to accept the compliment with good grace and no arrogance, which boded well for his relationship with his fellow performers. “I look forward to seeing how we work together.”
“So do I,” Ilya said. “That will be the first order of business today: some simple exercises to get the two of you used to one another. Patrick’s background is on the silks, but I believe he’s strong enough for the straps, and I have had him learning the basic moves for the last two weeks.”
Frankly, Ilya was overstating the case, but it was to bolster Patrick’s confidence. Despite excelling on the silks, the young performer had seemed hesitant with the more physical requirements of the straps. Yet he was the only performer Ilya felt had any chance of making a pair with Mario, at least for the time being. Ilya would continue to search for someone who could match Mario’s ability, but to make the show deadline, he had to go with who was available.
He started them off warming up, monitoring how Mario moved, since he was already familiar with Patrick. One element of a straps duo was being able to move in synchrony, giving the audience the illusion of two people moving as a unit, or as a mirrored pair. Fortunately, both Patrick and Mario had experience at this, and he could see them watching one another, trying to match their movements to one another. In reality, the two were very different — Patrick had a leaner build than Mario, and Mario was slightly taller as well — but with the addition of makeup and costuming, the illusion would be good enough to the audience, and Ilya was pleased.
“All right, enough ground work,” Ilya said finally, then led them over to the practice straps apparatus. “Let’s try to coordinate some basic moves.”
Both young men chalked up their hands, and then Ilya led them through the most elemental straps moves. As they moved through press ups, muscle ups, basic low spins with both one arm and two arms, they seemed decently well matched. Not perfect, of course. They would need a lot of practice to synchronize their movements, but at least they didn’t seem out of balance.
But it was when Ilya started them on the strength moves that he could see more of a difference. Patrick didn’t lack the muscles for a controlled roll up, where the performer did a series of forward somersaults, slowly winding their way up the straps, but Mario made it seem so effortless that Patrick, by comparison, appeared to struggle. Patrick was flushed with exertion by the time he’d made the three rolls Ilya had directed, while Mario hung in the straps, his body a perfect T, and he didn’t even seem to be breathing hard.
To be fair, Ilya could see that Mario was keeping an eye on Patrick’s speed and matching his own to it, but the gulf between their abilities was definitely noticeable. Patrick had done a creditable job, but Ilya sighed silently to himself, knowing that he was going to have his work cut out for him — and also a job in making sure that Patrick didn’t lose confidence in the face of Mario’s ability.
“Roll down, try to stay in sync,” he said. “Go!”
Fortunately, the rotations down were better, but that move required more control than strength.
“All right, let’s take a break.”
Ilya considered them as they both released and dropped to the floor. Even in that, there was a difference with Mario landing on his feet with cat-like softness, while Patrick seemed to plummet. If Ilya didn’t know better, he’d think that gravity somehow worked differently for Mario than for his partner.
Ilya stood watching them as the two young men picked up towels and bottles of water from a table on the side of the room. The disparity in their abilities was greater than Ilya had thought, and he wondered darkly if he could bring Patrick up to speed. There were still six months until the first performances were slated to start, but in Ilya’s opinion, that was barely enough time to develop and integrate a team with choreography, practice to perfection, and finally be ready to face an audience.
Mario and Patrick were talking quietly, and Ilya was relieved they seemed to be relaxed around one another. Heaven knew what he would have done if they’d taken an instant dislike to one another. He’d seen it happen before, and it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. Perhaps Mario could inspire Patrick to train harder.
“All right, you two, let’s get back to it,” he said after a few minutes, and both men hastened to comply. “I think it’s obvious Mario had more strength.” He glanced at Patrick, knowing that he needed to be careful not to shake Patrick’s confidence in his abilities. “That is no disparagement of you, Patrick. You come from a different apparatus which requires different skills, and you have an elegance from the silks that Mario could learn from.” That was an exaggeration, but it didn’t hurt to throw Patrick a bone. “But it means we are going to have to add more weight training to your regimen. There should be time, especially if we get you on a high protein diet at the same time. We’ll discuss it with the director of training.”
“I can do it, Ilya,” Patrick said quickly. “I want to do it. This is an opportunity I never thought I’d get. I’ll train hard.”
“I’ll help,” Mario joined in, offering Patrick an encouraging smile. The boy had charm, Ilya admitted. “My brother was a taskmaster from the moment he first saw Circo a few years ago. He wouldn’t let me have any peace. It was always weights and training and training and weights until I was bulked up enough to suit him.”
“Thanks.” Patrick smiled, then looked at Ilya with a bit of anxiety. As a Circo veteran, Patrick was well aware that Ilya had complete say over who would be on straps. “Will that work?”
I certainly hope so , Ilya thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. “As long as I see effort and progress, it will do.”
Ilya wanted to give Patrick the opportunity, but he had the entire show to consider; that meant he would also be frantically searching in the near term for an experienced performer who might already be close to Mario’s level.
“I won’t let you down,” Patrick said.
“Then you go hit the weights,” Ilya directed, pointing toward the training room. “I want to talk to Mario.”
Patrick gave him a quick smile, then hustled off to carry out Ilya’s orders. Ilya could feel Mario’s gaze on him, and he turned to meet it levelly. Mario’s green eyes were dazzling, alight with intelligence and something else Ilya couldn’t quite name. Perhaps it was their color that made Mario seem so predatory suddenly, like a cat. A very large, well-muscled cat.
“We can speak in my office,” he said, then cleared his throat, annoyed at how husky his voice sounded.
Mario inclined his head, and Ilya led him off to one side, where several of the people who managed the various performer groups had offices. It wasn’t a large space — there were a couple of conference rooms for various sized meetings — but it was big enough for Ilya’s desk and computer, as well as two straight chairs for his visitors. Ilya pointed to one of those, then took his place behind the desk as Mario sat down.
He could almost feel Mario’s curiosity; the young man didn’t seem very good at hiding his feelings, or perhaps he didn’t feel it was necessary. Maybe performing with his family had led Mario to feel secure in expressing his emotions, which was something Ilya found he envied. He had been raised by a stern father who had expected him to be perfect, and he’d learned quickly to hide his emotions lest he be punished for them. The only person he’d ever felt comfortable being open with was Derek.
But now was not the time to be thinking of his deceased partner, so he made himself focus on Mario. “Are you settled in well enough?” he asked.
“Well enough for now,” Mario replied, giving a rueful smile. “Circo has been very helpful. They found me a furnished apartment not too far away.”
Ilya raised a brow. “But…?”
Mario chuckled. “But it’s very odd being all on my own, after sharing a trailer with my parents for so many years. Almost too quiet. Living in the midst of a carnival for….” He hesitated for a moment. “For a long time. I got used to the sounds and the smells. Plus, I’ve never really had to prepare meals for myself before. But I’ll learn.”
“I’m sure you will.” Mario wasn’t the first youngster straight from home or college that Circo had hired, which was why the relocation service existed for those inexperienced with such things. They needed performers to be focussed on practicing and performing, not fretting about mundane issues.
Ilya leaned forward. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you Patrick is not on your level.” Not even close to it, he thought .
Mario nodded, but it was simply an acknowledgement. “I have a certain natural ability that he doesn’t,” he said frankly. “I don’t hold it against him, and there is a lot he can do to build his strength. I had to do it myself.”
“You don’t mind that?” Ilya asked. If Mario was comfortable with directness, Ilya was all for getting to the point. “Partners have to work together and have trust in one another. I am hoping he can train up closer to your level, given time. What I don’t know is if we’ll have that much time.”
“Is that going to mess up your choreography?” Mario asked.
“I think it’s going to require some changes.” Ilya hated to make the admission, but he needed to make certain he wasn’t going to waste months putting a routine together, only for Mario to be unhappy with it because it ended up below the level of his skills. It was a quick way to lose a good performer. “My biggest question is if you are going to end up resenting Patrick if the routine we end up with winds up being catered more toward his talents than yours.”
Mario seemed to consider the question seriously. “I don’t think so,” he said, and at Ilya’s surprised expression, he shrugged. “I grew up with older siblings, all of whom have more experience and different skills than me. Paul can outdo me in balance, and Irina is far more flexible. Jamie has endurance, and they never seem to get tired, no matter how long they go. I’m fortunate to be strong, but I’m still not as strong as other performers in the Carnival, like Samson. Just as I can’t see the future like Amelia or throw knives like Gentleman Jim. It takes many talents to make a show successful, not just one star.”
Ilya was surprised to hear such a mature assessment from someone so young. “So you don’t have an ego about your abilities? You would be the first performer I’ve ever met with that attitude.” Even Ilya had to admit to a bit of pride in his own talents, and he wasn’t certain even he would be happy with a partner who he felt couldn’t match him.
Mario gestured to one wall, where Ilya had a poster from Phantasma, one that was made when Ilya and Derek had been the stars. “Sure, I’m proud of what I can do. But when I first saw you and Derek perform, I couldn’t have matched either of you on the straps. It took time and effort to get where I am, not just natural ability. One thing being in the Carnival has taught me is that everyone has talents. Sure, I tease my siblings about who’s the best at something, but that’s because it’s family. You think I might look down on Patrick, but I don’t.” His eyes grew dark for a moment. “When you’ve seen people with the talents and natural abilities that I have, you learn to be happy with what you can do and to help others to be the best they can be.”
Ilya leaned back in his chair, regarding Mario intently. Either the young man was sincere, or he was better at dissembling than anyone Ilya had ever met. He believed it was sincerity, so he nodded.
“Very well, I’ll take you at your word,” he said. “Now, go on and hit the weights with your partner. Maybe he can learn a few things from you.”
Once Mario had left the room, Ilya stared for a long time at the door. Mario’s words had a wisdom to them he hadn’t expected, and he was seeing Mario in a different light. Not as a hot-shot young performer who had the ego to match his talent, but as a man who had apparently learned a great deal from everything he had experienced. Mario’s strength seemed as much internal as external, reminding Ilya all too much of Derek. It was a dangerously attractive combination, and Ilya knew he was going to have to be careful not to let Mario get under his skin. He didn’t need any more reminders that even though Derek was gone, Ilya Mirov was still alive.