Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
A fter the first day of working with Ilya, Mario was impressed that being away from the straps for two years didn’t seem to have significantly diminished Ilya’s abilities. Of course they were only doing the static movements, which were the easiest parts of the choreography Ilya had developed, but it was still impressive. While he’d been hesitant about Ilya’s offer of partnership for many reasons, it didn’t take long for Mario’s fears about Ilya’s skills almost totally allayed.
The following morning, Ilya was waiting for him as he had been the previous day, already warmed up and obviously having spent some time working on the straps alone. Mario considered offering to come in earlier too, but he had the feeling Ilya needed the solo time, perhaps as much to lay his ghosts to rest as to accustom his body to the intense physical requirements. So Mario went through his warm-ups — and, as the previous day, Ilya joined him — before moving to his own set of straps.
“What now?” he asked. “More synchronization?” Ilya had made Mario and Patrick work on the sequence for over a week before he’d moved them to more difficult moves, but to his surprise, Ilya shook his head.
“No, I think we proved we’ll be able to make that work. We just need practice. We can spend all the time we need to perfect it, but unlike with you and Patrick, I am confident we’ll be able to get there.” He seemed to steel himself. “Today, I want to work on pair maneuvers — but you might not like my suggestion for what we do.”
Mario was really curious now. “Why is that?”
Ilya smiled crookedly. “I had you doing most of the base positions before, with Patrick performing most of the more acrobatic moves, because you’re stronger than he is and more certain of yourself. But I spent most of my career as the base position. If it’s all right with you, I’d like you to perform the acrobatics. If you trust me to hold you, that is.”
Mario had done both while performing in the Carnival. What did it matter who did the base? He acknowledged he wanted the partnership to work, no matter what. “Whatever makes you comfortable is fine with me,” he said. “I trust you.”
Ilya nodded, and Mario thought he had said the right thing when he saw the slight smile on Ilya’s mobile lips. “I’ve set up a camera to catch everything for review. Shall we try some basics first?”
Ilya used the crane to lower the straps until they were only about two feet above the floor. Ilya put one of his feet into the loop of the first strap, then climbed to where he could stand. He reached out, balancing on his single foot, and slipped his other foot into the loop of the second strap. He balanced his weight, then gripped the straps firmly. He allowed his legs to part slowly as he let his hands move down the straps. At last he stopped, now suspended just above the floor in the split, the straps angled slightly inward so that Ilya could maintain a comfortable grip.
“Shoulder handstand,” Ilya ordered, and Mario nodded, moving to stand behind Ilya. He put his chalked hands on Ilya’s shoulders, feeling the warmth of Ilya’s skin beneath his palms, as well as the slight tingle he always seemed to experience whenever he and Ilya touched. Then he kicked himself forward, rolling up to balance with his weight on Ilya’s shoulders and pressing his feet upward. When he finished the move, he was in a perfect vertical handstand, his head precisely above Ilya’s. Ilya was steady as a rock beneath him, the straps barely moving.
A thrill went through Mario. As simple as the trick was, they had performed it perfectly. “Kick out!” At Ilya’s command, Mario bent his knees and flexed his arms, then straightened his arms as he tucked himself into a backward somersault, the force causing Ilya to swing slightly back and away from where Mario straightened his legs and landed two-footed on the mat. Mario turned to face Ilya and smiled. “How was that?”
“Not bad,” Ilya said. If he felt any discomfort in partnering with Mario, he didn’t mention it. Nor did his eyes seem haunted by the ghost of Derek, which Mario had been afraid of. Perhaps Ilya was more ready to move on than he’d believed.
Still in the split, Ilya raised himself up and did a forward roll to take a loop of the straps around each thigh. He settled into the split again, before he released his hold on the straps, so that he seemed to float above the floor.
“Now press to a handstand on my hands.”
Ilya held his hands, palms up, next to his head. Mario placed his hands on Ilya’s, kicking up with elbows bent. As Mario straightened his arms, Ilya straightened his own, so that Mario was raised into a handstand, their combined weight now borne by the loop of the straps around Ilya’s thighs. This was a move Mario had been working on with Patrick. It was odd being in the other position, but when Ilya called “Hep!” Mario was ready. Ilya bent his arms, then straightened them rapidly, giving Mario a boost into the air. Piking his body in the somersault, Mario did a full twist before landing.
“Legs okay?” Mario asked.
“Actually, yes,” Ilya looked pleased. “Let’s try that again.”
And so the morning went, as they worked on the static lifts, even progressing enough that Ilya called over one of the silks coaches to operate the crane so they could work at a higher elevation. Only a few adjustments were needed as they got a feel for one another, not as performer and coach, but partners. They definitely had a connection. Mario could feel it, and he hoped Ilya could as well.
When Ilya asked what he thought about a working lunch, Mario readily agreed. As they sat on the mats and sipped at protein shakes, Ilya pulled up his phone and showed Mario a video clip of the current straps duo in Phantasma. The pair were performing a wide swing out over the audience, with the base partner dangling from one strap looped around his arm, and holding onto his partner by their hands clasping around each other’s wrists.
“I think we can put in this move, but make it more eye-catching by having the crane do a dip near the end before coming back up. What do you think?”
Mario thought it would be a fantastic move, but before he could reply, someone stopped behind them. Glancing up, Mario was surprised to see an older man in a suit and tie, who stood out oddly in a building full of workout-clothed performers. He was good looking, if you liked the over-groomed, fussy type, but Mario considered Ilya’s sharp features and expressive brows far more attractive. There was also something about the man that made the hairs on the back of Mario’s neck stand up. He didn’t know what it was, but he was instinctively on guard.
“Well, Ilya, I didn’t think you meant it literally when you said you’d partner him yourself before you’d let me move him to trapeze.”
Mario glanced back at Ilya, who was looking at their unexpected visitor with such a non-expression that Mario was positive Ilya must despise the man. The man’s words were surprising as well, and Mario wanted to ask Ilya if they were true. But Ilya was rising to his feet. He apparently didn’t like the older man having the advantage of the higher position, and Mario followed his partner’s example. He stood up slowly, glancing between the two of them and wondering at the tension that was suddenly so palpable he could almost taste it.
“Do you object to me performing again?” Ilya asked quietly. “I looked my contract over carefully, and nothing says I can’t perform as well as coach.”
The older man raised a brow, then turned to look at Mario, seeming to dismiss Ilya’s words as not worth acknowledging. “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I already know all about you, young man. I’m Gordon Everley, senior assistant to the board of Circo Del Artes.” He inclined his head, but he didn’t offer to shake hands, which seemed like a power play. No doubt honest sweat was somehow offensive to him.
“Nice to meet you,” Mario replied, keeping his voice as quiet and toneless as Ilya’s.
What did a senior assistant do? He was reminded of the various assistants to Gentleman Jim, the knife thrower back in the Carnival — one of whom had actually been an assassin. It took sheer force of will not to laugh as his wayward imagination insisted on presenting him a picture of this carefully primped man in one of the spangled corsets Jim’s assistants wore.
He didn’t think he’d allowed any hint of his amusement to show, but he noticed Gordon’s forehead creasing into a slight frown. The expression crossed his face and was gone so quickly Mario wasn’t positive if he’d misread it. Yet there was something off about this man, something that set Mario’s nerves on edge in a way he couldn’t identify. On a hunch, he let his eyes go unfocussed the way Daphne had taught him, but there was no telltale aura of a Traveler surrounding him. Whatever it was about Gordon Everley that made Mario’s skin crawl, it didn’t appear to concern the Carnival.
Gordon had resumed his somewhat bland expression, although Ilya’s body posture was still wary, bordering on hostile. The air felt subtly fraught for a long moment, then Gordon spoke again, glossing over the momentary tension. “I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do, young man. Circo has a reputation for having the best acts in not only Vegas, but around the country as well. Hopefully, your name can be among those of our brightest stars.”
His voice was a bit patronizing, but Mario didn’t want to make waves — or make trouble for Ilya, who was still regarding Gordon with an utterly deadpan expression on his face. “I’ll try my best, sir,” he said. “I’ve been given a great opportunity to learn from someone with Ilya’s talent and experience, and being his partner is an honor I hadn’t expected, but I don’t take it lightly.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” Gordon waved his hand. “Ah, but I interrupted your work. I just wanted to meet you finally. No doubt you’ll see more of me as we get closer to dress rehearsals for Capriccio. I have to keep the board updated on the progress of the show.”
“We’ll be ready with our routine by the time dress rehearsals start,” Ilya spoke up finally. “If we can get back to work.”
“Of course. Carry on,” Gordon said. He nodded to them both, then turned and walked away with the air of a man who owned everything — and possibly everyone — around him.
Mario watched him go. “Is it just me, or does that guy have a titanium stick up his ass?”
“Be careful around him,” Ilya said. “He’s a jerk, but he has influence with the board. I’ve seen performers cut because Gordon didn’t like them. Some of them were talented people who never found work in Vegas again.”
“But you don’t like him.”
Ilya’s hazel eyes were hard. “I don’t trust him. But it doesn’t matter, as long as he doesn’t get in my way.” He drew in a breath. “ Our way.”
Mario thought it would take a real idiot to get between Ilya and what he wanted. But for whatever reason, as disturbing as Gordon Everley was, Mario got the impression the man wasn’t a fool.
After the interruption, they resumed working on the routine. By the time Ilya declared them finished for the day, Mario was tired, but elated. They were working so well together that it gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be more. If Ilya could see him as a partner in one aspect of his life, perhaps it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to allow Mario close in another.
As he picked up his towel, Mario turned back to Ilya, wanting more time with him. “Hey, I was going to go visit Patrick at the hospital again, see how his physio is going.” Patrick was keeping him updated on his condition, as well as being curious about how Mario’s new partnership with Ilya was progressing. From what Mario could tell, Patrick was fine with it, if naturally disappointed that his own career had been delayed. “Do you want to come with me? We could even grab a bite to eat after, maybe go over the videos from today?”
Ilya stopped in the process of picking up the video camera, turning his head to look at Mario. He was silent for a long moment, seeming to hesitate, but then he shrugged. “Sure. I don’t have any plans.”
Mario couldn’t help but feel almost giddy at the thought. After Ilya had been so standoffish for weeks, he hadn’t been certain if their “partnership” would wind up being just as distant. He knew he had to take it slow, but this felt like a first step. Reminding himself again not to push things, he smiled. “Great. If you want, we can share an Uber over to the hospital. There are a lot of restaurants within walking distance, if you’re up for it.”
As they headed to the locker room to change, Mario felt hopeful. He wouldn’t have wished injury on Patrick for anything, but now that fate had presented him with the opportunity to get closer to Ilya, Mario was going to take advantage of it. Luck was fickle, even in Vegas, but Mario knew that in order to win, you first had to take a chance.