Chapter 13
Daisy
I stared at the massive building. I’d never been this close to the Tennant Opera House before. This was where my parents, my Nona, and many of my ancestors danced. This place was more than crumbling brick to me—it was a legacy ripped from under my feet. I had meant to dance here, and then they’d closed the doors.
But now, someone had purchased it. When we got word, it was assumed that the new owner would bulldoze it and start anew on the property, but no, they’d chosen to start renovating almost immediately. It was almost impressive how fast they’d moved.
Almost as if... they knew...
I shook the absurd thought from my head. They didn’t know me. I was just a silly little ballerina. I was nothing in the scheme of things. I cleared my throat and wrapped my shawl around me tighter as I reached for the door handle. Steeling my spine, I tugged on the large door. It made a loud groan as I stepped inside, instantly engulfed in darkness.
I let out a small shriek as security lights flickered on. I frowned, uneasily. I’d been told to come today at 6pm. Shouldn’t someone be here?
“Hello?” I called into the darkness, greeted only by the echo of my own voice. As I stepped forward, the lights seemed to follow, flicking on as I walked. “Hello, I am looking for the owner of the Tennant. He was supposed to meet me here.” I realized they’d never given me a name.
Madame De La Rosa had called and asked me to meet her for coffee, where she’d explained the problem. The owner was receptive to the request for our company performing here when it was reopened, however, the owner wanted to meet the Prima Ballerina, alone.
I walked through the grand hall, admiring the tall pillars and large, over-exaggerated curtains. While it was difficult to see in this light, it was just as I’d seen in pictures. I marveled at the cost of this renovation. Not only were they restoring it to its former glory, they were doing it at an impressive rate. By winter, they’d be ready for their first show, maybe even fall.
I made it to the auditorium. Just as I reached the open doors, a loud bang came from the far end of the room and I jumped. A spotlight had turned on. It lit up the stage, but there was no one there.
Slowly, the room filled with a dim, yellow light.
“Hello.” A voice came from somewhere. It was altered, raspy.
I stepped into the room and walked slowly, cautiously, down the ramp and toward the stage. “Are you who I’m looking for?”
“It depends. Who are you looking for?” the voice asked.
“The owner. They insisted on meeting me. I’m from the Hargrave.”
“I see. You are the Prima Ballerina?”
I looked around for the voice, but I couldn’t pinpoint what direction it was coming from. I suspected they weren’t here at all. Was I being watched from afar?
“Am I on camera?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then why can’t I see you?”
“Do you need to?”
I opened and closed my mouth for a moment, then spoke.
“I think it would be easier than speaking to nothing.”
The spotlight moved, quickly shifting upward to one of the balconies. There was a man, shrouded in the shadows. I clutched my shawl.
“How long have you been watching me?” I demanded.
“You never answered. You are the Prima Ballerina?” His tone implied disbelief.
“Yes. Is that a surprise? I come from a long line of Prima Ballerinas, and I’ve worked hard to earn that position.” I shifted into a defensive stance.
“Ah, so which was it that earned you the top position in your company? Your name or your work?”
“My work,” I replied through gritted teeth. I’d heard it all before, that I’d only gotten as far as I had in my career because of my name. It didn’t faze me.
“Prove it.” The spotlight flew back to the stage, as did my eyes. “I would like to see you dance.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t bring shoes or tights or anything.”
“I have them. I’ve been waiting for you, Daisy.”
I froze. How did he know my name, if he didn’t even know I was the Prima Ballerina? I squinted and looked at the balcony.
“You’ll find what you need behind the curtains. Go, see that it’s to your liking. I’m sure it will be. ”
This man was so sure of himself. He was probably used to getting his way.
“And if I don’t want to dance for you?” This defiant version of myself was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. I didn’t trust this man. How could I when he hid his face and voice?
“I’m not keeping you here. You are free to leave at any time. Although, I doubt you will. You, of all people, know the true cost of leaving tonight. It’s your dream to dance here, Daisy Lovelace. So, dance.”
My gaze swung from the balcony to the stage. Would this be my one and only opportunity to dance in this theater Was this his way of allowing me to live out my dream before giving the company a hot and fast rejection? If so, why?
“Who are you?”
“You don’t need to know who I am. I will await your performance.” He sat in a chair I couldn’t see.
I knew what I had to do. I continued down the ramp, moved through the orchestra pit, and climbed onto the stage. Just as he’d said, I found an emerald gym bag filled with matching pointe shoes of the same beautiful color, a leotard and tights in a lighter shade—perfectly complementing each other.
Quickly, I followed the neon lights that directed me to the dressing rooms. With every step, I admired how the building was being renovated. It was as if he was determined to truly revive it to its previous glory.
I dressed and stretched in the dressing room, then put up my hair and returned to the stage.
“Welcome back, Daisy Lovelace.” The shadow watching from above greeted me as I stepped directly under the spotlight on the stage. “Take down your hair.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer, which made me uneasy. With shaky hands, I reached up and pulled the ribbons from my hair, allowing it to cascade around me. I gave him a glare and then moved into position. A moment later, music played. A song I was familiar with, Juliet’s Theme, from Romeo and Juliet.
I knew this one well. My Nona had taught me all the classics. Closing my eyes, I lifted my leg and began to move. My mind shut off, and the world fell away as my body moved across the stage. In moments, I wasn’t alone, dancing for a strange man, but for a room full of people coming just to see me. I imagined flowers and gasps as I leaped and spun. I put on the performance of my life, as if this was the dance that would define my entire career. The one my children would one day study and say, this was what made her famous.
The music dwindled to an end, and just like the notes, I drifted back to center stage and ended my performance. I bowed, and then looked up and out, all pretense gone. There was no massive audience to tell my story. Just the man without a face.
I stood straight and looked up in his direction, waiting for praise, but none came.
“Did you enjoy yourself, Daisy?”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You wanted to perform here, and now you have.”
My shoulders fell.
“Thank you.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see my tears.
“Why are you upset?” he asked, and I spun around.
“Because I came here to convince you to let my company dance here, and now you’re tossing us away!”
“When did I say that?”
“You didn’t have to.” I sniffled. “I’m not na?ve. Good day, sir, whoever the hell you are. I’m glad I don’t know who you are.” I stomped off the stage toward the dressing rooms, pretending his hands were beneath my feet with each step. I fought back tears until I reached the dressing room and slammed the door shut, collapsing against it. Closing my eyes, I opened them again, my heart skipping a beat as I stared at the table. Slowly, I walked over.
A bouquet of daisies had been placed on the table, along with an envelope. With shaky hands, I reached for the letter and opened it. I lost my breath a moment as I took in the words.
You looked beautiful in green. Next time, I want to dance with you.