Chapter Twenty-Five Cord
Twenty-Five
Cord
It’s never good when the chime of my phone registering a new text message is what drags me from sleep. It either means I slept too late or something is going massively wrong with the show.
Of course this morning there’s an added layer of dread as I reach for my phone, groping blindly through eyes that aren’t quite fully open yet.
I know Allegra said she was fine with my boundaries and me not going to see her perform, but there was such sadness in her voice when she said goodbye.
I hate myself for being the cause of it.
If she hasn’t already texted to end things, I should probably be the one to do it for her.
All I’m going to bring into her life is more pain.
But the text isn’t from Allegra, it’s from my sister.
Chloe: Ummmmm, have you seen this?
She’s included a link to a TikTok, which I can’t open because I refuse to download TikTok, which she well knows.
Me: You know I can’t see that but it better be important for you to text me this early.
Chloe: It’s 9:00.
Chloe: Here’s a different version.
This one is a link to Instagram, and I click on it warily.
My blood runs ice-cold the moment I realize what I’m watching.
I hit call. Texts aren’t going to cut it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Chloe lets out a long sigh. “So this wasn’t intentional.”
“No, it wasn’t intentional. Fucking hell, why would I want this out on the fucking internet?” I push out of bed, running a hand through my hair and tugging at the roots, hoping a jolt of pain might help me think more clearly.
“Well, if you read the comments, you would know that everyone is drooling over the two of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if this sells out your shows for the rest of the year.”
“I don’t need a viral video to sell out shows, Coco. And you know this isn’t about me.” Striding down the hallway, I find my laptop and open it up, needing to see how bad this has gotten, how widespread. I google Allegra’s name and nothing related to the video comes up. Thank god.
I find the video—it’s posted on just about every social media platform—muting the sound so I can continue my conversation with my sister uninterrupted. “This is bad, Coco.”
“It’s one viral video. You know how these things go, it will blow over in a week when the next big thing comes along.”
I scrub a hand over my face. “It might blow over for me, but what about her? Can you imagine how the company would have reacted if something like this would’ve happened when we were still dancing?”
She sucks in an audible breath. We don’t talk about our old company, ever.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” The last thing I need this morning is to piss off my sister.
“You don’t have to apologize, Cord. It’s been a long time. I don’t mind talking about it.” She pauses for a second. “And I can imagine how it would have gone over with the company. Maybe you should call Allegra and see if you can get ahead of this?”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yeah. I probably should.”
“This isn’t your fault, Cord.”
I snort. “She never would have been onstage with me if I hadn’t asked her to.”
“Allegra is a grown woman who is perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Don’t infantilize her because of your own need to take the blame for everything.”
“Shit, Coco. It’s too early for that.”
“Not sorry. Call me later.” She hangs up without saying goodbye.
I know I should call Allegra right away, hopefully catch her before anyone else does.
But first, I turn up the volume on the video and scroll back to the beginning.
I watch the whole routine, finding myself swept away in what’s captured the attention of strangers on the internet.
God, she’s gorgeous. And this dance. It’s sexy and powerful, she is sexy and powerful.
My heart clenches at the thought of this thing we created together possibly being the cause of something that brings her pain.
I want to think that this is no big deal, that I’m catastrophizing unnecessarily. But I know ballet better than that.
I open my phone, focusing on steadying breaths as the FaceTime connects. I know it’s bad form to FaceTime without warning, but I need to see her, make sure she’s really okay. And I need her to see me, too.
“Allegra.”
“Cord, what the hell is going on? Why is everyone acting like someone died? Did someone die?” Her eyes are wide, sleep still crusting in the corners. She sits among a pile of blankets, still in her bed. She never lets herself sleep in, and I hate that this is how she has to wake up.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, half relieved she doesn’t know yet and mostly dreading I now have to be the one to tell her. “No one died. Everyone is fine, physically speaking.”
She lets out a long breath, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair. “Okay. Then why is everyone freaking out?”
I hesitate for a long second.
“Just tell me. Please.”
“Someone posted a video of our routine after the show last night and it’s going viral.” I blurt out the truth in one quick breath.
Relief washes over her and I can’t help but feel like she doesn’t truly understand what the repercussions might be. “How viral?” she finally asks.
I purse my lips. “Last I saw the original video on TikTok had over a million views. But that doesn’t include all the duets and shares. I don’t actually have TikTok so I can’t check on the real numbers.”
She sighs, pairing it with a soft smile. “Well, if it’s only on TikTok, then we should be fine.”
I shake my head. My laptop is still open next to me and each time I refresh the search page, more and more results pop up. “The video that blew up is from last night, but since that one, people are discovering videos from our first performance, too. And those are everywhere, Slippers.”
“What do you mean everywhere?”
“Facebook, Instagram, Twitter…” My email chimes and I navigate to my inbox, the tab open on my computer. “Shit. I just got an email from a local news network.” Fuck the internet.
“Jesus.” She rubs a hand over her forehead. It looks like the reality might be setting in.
“I won’t say yes to anything until you’ve decided how you want to handle this.
” I can already tell this is going to be good for me, business-wise at least. We weren’t exactly hurting for ticket sales, but this is the kind of exposure you can’t buy, and I know it’s going to give Six Pact an all-around boost. And while the New York flagship might be doing just fine, this could really help some of our newer locations, like the one in Texas.
“I have no idea how to handle this.” The realizations begin to sink in and I watch them play out over her face. “Shit.” Her skin goes ashen, her hazel eyes lined with worry.
“I know. I’m sorry, Slippers.” I want to reach through the screen and hug her.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It happened at my club, and I’m the one who pressured you into performing with me. And I’m the one who will reap the benefits of this.” I close my eyes, unable to bear looking at her for a moment longer. “It seems like I’m doing nothing but letting you down lately.”
“Hey.”
I open my eyes.
She meets my gaze. “You are not disappointing me. And you didn’t pressure me into anything. I love dancing with you.” Her phone beeps with another incoming call and the lines around her eyes tighten. “I should go. My mom is calling and she’s probably having a heart attack about seeing my butt.”
“To be fair, it is a pretty spectacular butt.”
She smiles and it seems genuine, which makes me feel slightly better. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Of course. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
She waves and the call ends, leaving me staring at a blank screen. My inbox dings again, and again a minute later. My phone rings a few seconds after that.
I shut my laptop and switch my phone to Do Not Disturb, adding Allegra’s name to the allowed contacts. I know I’m going to have to deal with all of this at some point, but first, I need about a gallon of coffee. Something tells me even that won’t be enough.