Chapter Fourteen Allegra
Fourteen
Allegra
Swan Lake opens to three nights of sold-out crowds and standing ovations.
Even though part of my job as one of the Little Swans is to blend in, it doesn’t keep me from blushing each time someone tells me I was the standout performer in our foursome.
We have an opening-night gala for our patrons after our first show and I catch David watching me as guest after guest compliments me.
I meet his eyes, arching one eyebrow, because I hope he is noticing the reactions my performance has been garnering.
He raises his glass, offering me a silent toast.
It should bolster me even further, but instead, his simple gesture turns my stomach. I adjust the hem of my black sheath dress, tugging it down as if I can hide behind it.
Auditions are in a week, I silently remind myself. If ever there was a time to indulge David, now would be it.
The moment it’s safe to leave the party without being rude, I slip away from the lobby of the theater and head back to the dressing rooms to grab my stuff.
I gather my dance bag and my purse and head back out into the dim hallway.
The party is still raging, and will be for many more hours, but I’m far enough away that the theater feels empty.
So when a hand curls around my elbow, I can’t help but let out a screech.
“It’s just me.” The voice is low and all too familiar.
“David.” I remove my arm from his grasp under the guise of needing to adjust my bag over my shoulder. “You scared me.”
He chuckles and doesn’t apologize. “I saw you sneaking out and wanted to make sure I had a chance to tell you how magnificent you were tonight.”
We both know he could have very well saved his comments for our next company class, but I force a smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
He leans against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other wrapped around a glass of whiskey. “Are you still planning on auditioning for the role of the courtesan?”
My throat closes and I subtly move another step away. “I am.”
He leans forward, erasing the distance I just put between us. “I can’t wait to see what you can do.” He removes his hand from his pocket, drawing a single finger down the length of my bare arm.
I wish I’d put on my coat in the dressing room. “Hopefully I won’t let you down.”
“Perhaps we could think of tonight as a little preaudition session?” He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between us. There might be little light in the hallway, but there’s enough to make out the glaze in his eyes. Who knows how much he’s had to drink at this point?
My phone vibrates inside my purse, the rattle loud enough to startle both of us. I welcome the distraction, moving out of David’s orbit as I pull it from my bag.
Cord Donovan flashes across my screen and never have I been more grateful for an unexpected phone call.
“I have to take this, have a good night, David,” I say with a smile, striding quickly down the hallway toward the doors, my footsteps echoing on the linoleum tile, swiping to answer the call as I walk. “Hello?”
“Hey Slippers.” His voice is soft and hesitant.
“Oh hi, thank you so much for taking the time to call me back at such a late hour. I’ve been waiting for your call.” I raise my volume, hoping it’s enough to deter David and keep him from following me.
“Allegra? Everything okay?” Concern laces his words.
I grip the phone so tightly I’m afraid it will leave a mark. I finally reach the doors, pushing out into nighttime air that has grown a little chilly. I never put my jacket on, but the rush of cool air soothes my skin.
“Allegra?”
“I’m okay.” I check behind me, relieved when I don’t see anyone following in my rushed steps.
“What’s going on? Do I need to come get you? Where are you?”
The frantic concern all too apparent in his voice calms my racing heart. I pause on the sidewalk, taking in a few deep breaths before shrugging into my coat and continuing to make my way home.
“I just left the theater, and I’m fine.”
“What happened?” His voice has gone quiet, laced with something bordering on dangerous.
“David cornered me in the hallway on my way out, but you called just in time.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, more firmly this time. “Promise.”
He lets out a long sigh. “Okay.”
“So how can I help you?”
“What do you mean?”
I laugh, and it sounds strained even in my own ears. “You called me, remember?”
“Oh. Right. I was just calling to see how the show went.”
I bite my lip to keep a grin from spreading across my face. We aren’t really pick up the phone and call to see how the show went kind of friends. “It was good. I felt really good about it, actually.”
“Good.” He clears his throat. “Um, are you walking home?”
“Yes. Just a couple blocks away.” The one good thing my studio has going for it is its proximity to the BNY building.
“Mind if we stay on the phone until you get home?”
I roll my eyes. “I make this walk late at night all the time, Cord. When did you get so protective?”
“Just guarding my investment. I provided your lessons, just want to make sure I get to cash in on my performance.”
“Right.” Whatever the reason, it warms something in me.
I reach my building a couple of minutes of small talk later. “I’m opening the front door of my building. I just pressed the button for the elevator. I am now on the elevator.”
“Haha. Your wit knows no bounds.”
“I know.” I step from the elevator and walk down the hall to my door. Where a huge bouquet of pink and purple flowers sits on my doormat. “Huh.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Someone sent me flowers, which is odd because my parents are coming to the show tomorrow so they could have just brought them then.” I scoop up the heavy vase after I unlock and open my front door.
Setting the blooms down on my kitchen counter, I search for a card, finally locating one of those small rectangular ones that come standard from the florist.
Congrats on your opening. I’m sure you were wonderful, even if Swan Lake is vastly overrated.
I run my thumb over the words, a grin breaking across my face. “Are these from you?”
There’s an awkwardly long pause. “Yeah, they are. Congrats on opening night, Slippers.”
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You should get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure. Thanks for calling.”
He clears his throat. “Of course. I’m glad the show went well. I’m sure you danced beautifully. You always do.”
The Sunday of opening weekend is the first day off I’ve had in months, and I start it with an optional class.
When I was twelve, I got strep throat and had to miss three days of ballet.
Upon my return, my instructor told me how much I had lost after just three days away, that even one day away from the barre is enough to show.
I don’t think I’ve missed a day since, unless I’ve been injured, and even then, I would typically push the boundaries and be back in class before it was advisable.
So despite having just finished my third performance of the week the night before, I still wake up early on Sunday. Still slide on my leotard and tights and joggers, still step into my pointe shoes. A day without ballet would be like a day without breathing.
I haven’t spoken with Cord since our conversation on opening night. Every time I walk by the flowers sitting on my table, I can’t help but smile.
Both Bethany and my parents asked about him when they came to see the show, neither fully accepting that the two of us are just friends.
It’s getting harder and harder for me to accept we’re just friends.
But I can’t let myself go there. Auditions are in a week, and one hundred percent of my attention needs to be focused on securing this role, and hoping the role translates into the promotion I’ve been working for since the moment I first twirled around in a tutu.
When I walk into the Six Pact studio on Tuesday evening, I’m somewhat relieved to see both Noah and Cord waiting for me.
I’ve been rehearsing what to say to Cord, and my attempts to sound cool and casual have come out as stilted as any rehearsed conversation might.
Having Noah here means we have a buffer, and it feels like a much-needed one.
“Hey Allegra,” Noah greets me warmly, wrapping me in an unexpected hug. His dark black hair is pulled back into a man bun and though it’s a look I normally hate, it works on him. “How were your shows?”
I toss my bag onto one of the chairs, rifling around before finding my ballet slippers. “They were good, thanks for asking.”
“I was hoping to make it over to one, but we have performances at the same time.”
I pull on the slippers and do a couple of quick stretches. “Do you go to the ballet often?” I know Noah is classically trained, but I would have assumed Cord’s general disdain for traditional ballet was a shared sentiment.
Noah shrugs, reaching an arm across his chest to stretch. I don’t miss how the cotton of his T-shirt pulls tight against his rippling arm muscles. “I like to when I can. I still have an appreciation for the art of it, even if I’m not in it anymore.”
“Hmm.” I raise the volume of my voice since Cord remains on the other side of the room, fiddling with his phone. “So what you’re saying is that ballet is highly entertaining and a totally valid form of art?”
Cord’s eyes roll so hard, I can see it from across the room. “I never said ballet wasn’t a valid art form.”
“Just that it’s boring?” I cross to the center of the studio.
Cord meets me in the middle. “It is boring.”
Noah’s eyes drift back and forth between us. “Perhaps we could focus less on the merits of ballet and more on the lifts you need me for?”
Cord’s eyes meet mine. “Ready?”
“Always.”
“I’ll only be touching you if you need a catch, but is it okay if I put my hands on you?” Noah asks.