Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
“ W hat did you say?”
Mario’s eyes were wide and round, and Ilya could tell he’d caught him off-guard. He supposed it was a better reaction than Mario laughing in his face or grimacing in disgust. He removed his hand from Mario’s arm, and Mario sank back down in his seat.
“Since you don’t despise me, would you consider me letting me step into Patrick’s position?” he asked again.
Mario’s expression was somber, his forehead creased. Ilya had no idea what the younger man was thinking, but it was easy to see that the thoughts were intense. He waited patiently while Mario worked through whatever was going on in his head, and then, finally, Mario spoke.
“I have some questions of my own,” he said. “The first of which is, why now? If you were willing to come back, why spend so much time on Patrick?”
That was a fraught question, but Ilya answered it truthfully. Since Mario had been open and honest with him — and Mario’s answer was something Ilya needed some time of his own to process — he owed Mario that much in return. If their partnership was going to work, their dynamic had to change. A coach called the shots, but partners needed to be equals. They needed to have honesty and trust.
“Because I’m not sure I’m ready to perform again,” he admitted. Mario nodded in understanding, so he continued. “You know about the difficulty I had finding you for the act, and I tried to find a partner for you who was already experienced on the straps. But no one was available, which is why I brought in Patrick as my back-up plan. Even Patrick knows he will never be on your level, but it would have worked. So I had no reason to consider a return.”
“Patrick brings more to the table than talent,” Mario said, and Ilya was pleased at his loyalty. “I hate he can’t continue.”
“As do I. But losing him means I’m back to where I started: I have one exceptionally talented performer and no obvious candidates for the second.”
“Didn’t you have a couple of other straps people you were considering?”
Ilya nodded. “Not only were they not as strong as I would like, they’re working on the silks now, so they’re unavailable. I spent quite a while today calling every contact in my list, looking for an existing aerialist who was either already familiar with straps or strong and talented enough to learn them quickly.” He spread his hands. “Again, no luck. Straps are the most difficult aerial apparatus, with the fewest performers. Doubtless there is someone else out there who would make you an excellent partner, but we don’t have time to go through a lengthy search process to find them.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” Mario said slowly. “But I still don’t get it. Why not scratch the act? If you aren’t ready to put yourself back out there, that’s not good for either of us.”
This was where it got complicated. How could Ilya explain that his pride had been stung, and now he had something to prove?
Until he’d made the offer to Mario, he hadn’t even been sure he was going to do it. But after a working lunch that Ilya had spent trying to locate someone to take Patrick’s place, he’d run into Gordon in the hall.At first, the encounter seemed fine. In fact, Gordon was the one who had given Ilya the fudge.
“A consolation prize of sorts. Feel free to share it with your duo,” Gordon had said as he handed Ilya the box. “I take it you’ve had no luck finding a new partner for our wunderkind?”
“Not yet.” Ilya wasn’t about to air his woes to Gordon, and he was suspicious of the proprietary way Gordon spoke of Mario. But just because Ilya disliked him didn’t mean Gordon had sinister motives. “But I’m still making calls.”
“Hm.” Gordon had always been fond of that noncommittal noise, and it irritated Ilya no end. But then Gordon changed the subject abruptly. “That video of Mario from yesterday was jaw-dropping, wasn’t it? Do you have any idea how he managed that dismount? I’m no aerialist, but that looked impossible.”
It had taken sheer force of will for Ilya to keep from scowling, partly because he himself couldn’t figure out how it was physically possible for Mario to have done it.
“Obviously it was possible, since he did it,” he said. “Unfortunately, Mario doesn’t remember how he managed it. I’ve read that panic can often lead to people being able to perform extraordinary feats. I guess we’ll have to chalk it up to adrenaline and desperation.” Ilya said the words with enough conviction that he almost convinced himself.
“Too bad — a move like that would be a showstopper, wouldn’t it? I mean, if there was even going to be a straps act in the show, which isn’t looking likely.” Gordon smiled with fake sympathy. “Don’t worry, Ilya, if you can’t find Mario a partner, Martin Duchense has already told me he can incorporate Mario into the trapeze group. He’ll even make Mario the star, if that makes you feel better about giving him up. The boy is too talented to waste.”
“I’m not giving him up, so you can tell Martin to forget about it,” Ilya said hotly. He wasn’t sure if it was Gordon’s smarmy attitude or something else that made him feel possessive, but there it was. “Even if I have to partner him myself.”
Gordon hadn’t commented on that, and had merely raised a brow before bidding Ilya a good afternoon and going on his way. But that was how the idea first got into Ilya’s head — or at least it was the first time he was ready to admit to.
Now facing Mario, he shrugged. “I’ve toyed with the idea of coming back over the last few months, but it was never a good time. I’m not sure it’s a good time even now, but this is the time we are given. Capriccio will be beautiful, perhaps the best show Circo has ever done. Straps need to be a part of it. If you will work with me, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to deal with any issues that arise. That includes mental as well as physical.”
Mario still hesitated. “You’re not going to feel weird about me having a crush on you? If it’s awkward, this won’t work for either of us.”
“I’m… flattered.” And intrigued, his treacherous mind whispered, but he shut it down. Why had his thoughts started sounding like Derek always did when he’d nudged Ilya to take risks? “There needs to be a connection between us for this to work, anyway. That’s why I had to make sure you didn’t secretly hate me. Don’t let a childhood crush bother you. You and Patrick had friendship. I think we could have the same.”
Ilya could almost see Mario about to reject the idea, but then he peered at Ilya, his green eyes intense. “All right,” he said at last. “What have we got to lose? Either we’ll make a connection, or we won’t, but we can’t find out without trying.”
The words eased a knot of tension that Ilya hadn’t even been aware of carrying. He still worked out on the still rings and had maintained his musculature, even if he hadn’t been on the straps in two years. Yet muscle memory was so ingrained in him that sometimes when he’d watched Mario and Patrick, he could feel his own arms and legs tensing in an echo of their movements, his body knowing exactly what to do. He might have to work his ass off to catch up, but he could do it.
“We can start tomorrow morning.”
Mario drew in a breath. “Tomorrow.”
They parted ways, and Ilya went home to get some rest, knowing that the next day was going to be a challenge, in more was than one.
He went in early in the morning, having woken up before his alarm clock with a sense of something he didn’t want to call anticipation. He warmed up, then went to the training straps, checking them carefully to make sure the rigging was secure. And he was glad he was alone, because the first time he took the straps in his hands and did a simple press up, he felt tears sting his eyes, and his throat closed up on him. It wasn’t because of sadness, or even from the pain of missing Derek — though there was an echo of that, lending its own bittersweet edge to the moment. Instead of the grief he’d dreaded, he felt a sense of rightness so profound it created an ache in his chest, and he realized he’d been wrong in denying himself the one thing that could have helped him heal. He needed to be on the straps. They were as much a part of his concept of himself as his name, and he’d been foolish not to realize it earlier.
It took him a few minutes to recover, which he spent walking around the area and getting his emotions under control, glad no one was there to see him. He wasn’t at all ashamed of what he felt, but the moment was too personal for him to share it with anyone.
After a time, he addressed the straps again and started on a slow set of movements to test himself. He wasn’t about to fly, since he needed to be certain of what he could still do, plus he’d admonished Mario about the dangers of doing it solo. The warning was still true, but he was safe enough practicing roll ups, hangs, low spins, and planches. He felt a twinge in muscles that were no longer used to some of the purely strap-based movements, but he was pleased he could manage them without too much difficulty. He even made it through the solo sequences he’d had Mario and Patrick doing. Now all he needed was practice.
By the time Mario arrived, Ilya felt as ready as he could be.
“You’re here already?” Mario seemed more amused than surprised by Ilya being flushed and sweaty at seven in the morning. “Let me warm up, then what? Synchronized movements first?”
“That makes sense,” Ilya replied. He had to step back from coach mode a bit, though technically that was still his position. He didn’t know how Circo was going to manage job titles, but he didn’t care. “I’ll warm up with you. I don’t want to cramp.”
So they went through the stretches and cardio that Mario used for his warm up before moving on to the straps. Anticipating the need for something they could synchronize to, as well as wanting to check their form, Ilya set up his phone to play a cadence, then positioning it to record their practice. He could have asked one of the assistant coaches on silks or trapeze to do it for him, but he wanted to make sure he and Mario could work together before making public the knowledge that he was considering a return to performing. For now, he could claim he was working with Mario in Patrick’s stead if anyone got nosy.
“Up!” Ilya commanded, performing the maneuver himself even as he was aware of Mario mirroring him. It was hard not to glance over, but he focussed on his own body as he pressed up. They started the sequence, the steady beat of the cadence keeping them on count. They ran through the sequence several times, slowly and steadily, before Ilya called a halt, releasing the straps and moving to retrieve his phone.
Mario dropped to the ground as well, picking up a bottle of water before he walked over to stand next to Ilya, obviously curious about how they looked together. Ilya felt warmth as the heat of their bodies overlapped, and he caught Mario’s scent — clean and slightly spicy — as he stopped the recording and hit play on the video. He held the phone so that Mario could watch as well.
What struck Ilya was that the two of them were built much more alike than he’d thought — much closer than Patrick had been to Mario, or even than Ilya had been to Derek. Not that they looked like twins, but once they were in costume and wearing makeup, Ilya thought it would be hard to tell them apart, especially from a distance. Mario moved more easily than he did, but he chalked that up to his own need to practice. They weren’t perfectly in sync, but Ilya was pleased to see they weren’t so far off that it would be a struggle to match.
The playback ended. “Not bad,” Mario said. “You can’t tell you haven’t been on the straps in years. You’re still a natural.”
“Trust me, I can tell.” Ilya snorted. “At least in my muscles. But at least I don’t look like I’m struggling to keep up with you.”
“We match well.”
“We do.” Ilya glanced at Mario, and he could tell that they both saw the potential. They wouldn’t know for sure until they flew together, which Ilya wasn’t ready for yet. He told himself he needed time to get his head back into the game. “Let’s go through some of the floor moves, and then we can try the straps again.”
Feeling more confident in his impulsive decision, Ilya slipped back into the performer mindset. He wasn’t completely there yet, but he had taken the first step. Maybe now that he was past the initial hurdle, he could get back some of what he’d lost. If he was lucky, maybe he could once again learn how to fly.