Chapter Six Ben
Slow dancing with a ballerina feels strange, but not in a bad way. It’s just that she makes me feel so… ordinary. She should be twirling on her toes, and I should be standing back in quiet awe. That’s how it has been between us for months, even though she doesn’t know I’ve been in the audience during her performances.
I don’t want her to dislike me. Not just because it’s something I’m unaccustomed to, but also because it feels like her hatred for me comes from somewhere deeper than the fact that I’m apparently senseless.
When Ruby steps out of my arms, my hands remain suspended in the air for a moment too long, as if my body can’t comprehend not touching her.
You can’t, she said. As in, you can’t fix the fact that I hate you.
My arms drop to my sides. When she takes a step away from me, I follow her.
“Why not?” I ask.
Ruby sighs. Around us, the music changes to something more upbeat and a few people in the crowd cheer loudly. It all sounds oddly muffled, as if coming from far away.
“Never mind,” she says, taking another step back. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
She turns to walk off the dance floor, but it’s easy enough to keep pace even with her long, graceful legs thanks to my own substantial height. I manage to gently encircle her wrist in my fingers and halt her escape at the edge of the ballroom. The way she whirls back around and glares at me makes me feel like I’m at risk of dissolving into ash on the spot.
Just beyond her, french doors open up into the elegant, sprawling gardens of the estate. She’s framed by shadows and roses and starlight, and I’m starting to wonder if meeting this woman might actually inspire me to start a career as a poet.
Can she still be my muse if she despises me?
“Please, tell me what I’ve done,” I practically beg. “It’s going to drive me crazy, Ruby.”
When I say her name, it seems to thaw her—albeit only slightly.
She turns away again, but her body language tells me that it’s okay for me to follow this time. Still, she all but stomps out into the night-shrouded gardens. At least as much as a ballerina can manage to stomp.
“It’s stupid,” she admits, speaking over her shoulder to me as she makes her way toward a large stone fountain that depicts a trio of mermaids spouting water from their hands.
She dips the tips of her fingers into the large basin and looks up at the crescent moon.
“I want to apologize again,” I blurt. “For making it seem like I’m too good for this town. It really is nice here. I don’t know why I was so obnoxious about it. I’m not usually a snob.”
Ruby’s expression is unreadable. I expected visible disbelief, or that she might argue that snobbery is my middle name. Something snarky but amusing like that.
“Don’t worry about it,” she grumbles after a moment.
I lean against the edge of the fountain. “So… if that’s not why you hate me, what is it?”
A long beat of silence passes. For a heartbeat, I’m worried that she’s not going to tell me, but then her pouty lips part and, even if what’s about to come out of them is scathing and poisonous, my heart leaps with anticipation.
“You cancelled Giselle.”
I feel my face drop into a frown before I can master my confused reaction.
“Pardon?”
“Giselle,” she repeats. “It was supposed to be part of the summer season if you’ll recall. Then you came in with your family influence and decided to change everything at the last minute, just because you think you know so much better.”
“Oh.” I’m still trying to figure out why that would make her this furious. “And you… enjoy dancing in Giselle? You were looking forward to it?”
Ruby throws her hands up in exasperation. “Yes, I was looking forward to it! Because I was going to have the titular role! Don’t act like you had no idea Katia Nikov had to take the season off.”
I blink fast as I try to process this realization. “Well, yes, I knew that, but I didn’t know that you were her replacement. I thought another principal—”
She barks out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, exactly. You thought. You didn’t bother to know the facts. You didn’t take the time to realize that a soloist had been given a once-in-a-career opportunity to prove she’s worthy of principal status. You just wiped Giselle off the schedule in favor of something more modern and trendy, and probably didn’t even think twice about the fact that you messed up not only my upward trajectory, but plenty of other dancers’ careers too!”
“But, I—”
“Because Giselle also has a lot more opportunities for stage visibility if you’re in the corps too. Tons of lower-level dancers were looking forward to their chance to perform a classic on one of the most famous stages in the ballet world.”
“Ruby—”
“Not to mention that I would have had an understudy. Two understudies, most likely. Those girls had the chance ripped from them too. Do you have any idea how damaging that is? The entire reason I was promoted from the corps to a soloist three years ago was because I got to be Katia’s second understudy in a production of Sleeping Beauty. Just one random matinée performance when both her and the first understudy were sick with the stomach flu, and boom, I had a promotion. That could’ve happened again with Giselle. It could’ve happened for more than just me.”
I gape at her like an idiot. When she’s done speaking, her hands are clenched into fists at her sides. Her cheeks are flushed pink with anger, her eyes bright with righteous fury. I hate to admit it, but she’s somehow even prettier when she looks like she’s about to breathe fire.
White-hot shame licks down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem, Ben. You had no idea. You waltzed into the company and made decisions based on what you thought, not based on what might actually be best for the dancers. Do you even realize how little opportunity this upcoming summer season has?”
I let out a frustrated sigh, unable to stand the heat of her anger. I feel like I’m burning alive. “I guess I was thinking more about the audience and what they might want to see.”
“The majority of the audiences will clap for any halfway decent spectacle,” Ruby scoffs. “And those who are content spending their entire careers in the corps will be fine this summer, but I have less than thirty seconds of solo stage time for the next two months once I return to the city, and I’m lucky for that. There’s only one principal role in the entire ballet, Ben.”
“I see.” I take a deep breath. “Yes, I—I understand why you would think that I’ve made a bad choice in that regard.”
Ruby purses her lips. “Oh, can you?”
“It’s just that running the NYC Ballet isn’t just about making sure everyone has their time in the spotlight. It’s a business, Ruby. We have to sell tickets, and we have to make sure that we remain one of the top companies in the world, especially since the American Ballet Theatre is our neighbor and constantly attempting to outdo us. We need to be at the forefront of the ballet world, and to do that, we need to be cutting edge. We need to be interesting.”
“That’s a lot of we for someone who wouldn’t ever deign to put on a leotard.”
I snort. “Trust me. Nobody would want to see that.”
Her eyes flare with annoyance again. “Whatever. You can make the NYC Ballet as interesting and cutting edge as you like, but if you’re not giving the dancers the opportunities they need to flourish, the company will become stunted.”
It’s a fair point.
“I’ll take that into consideration as we work to confirm the autumn season,” I tell her, hoping that I sound reasonable and diplomatic. “But I’m not the only one with decision-making authority, Ruby.”
She rolls her eyes. “The fact that you believe that is laughably na?ve.”
I straighten to my full height. If there’s one thing I won’t stand for, it’s being called na?ve. I get enough of that from my father, and my own siblings have underestimated me for my entire life too.
“I’m not na?ve. I’m pragmatic.”
“You’re so rich that I wouldn’t be surprised if you bleed gold. If you really think that means you don’t have the power to bend the entire company to your whim, then you’re more of a threat than I realized.”
A threat? To her career? Does she truly think I would purposefully stand in her way like that?
“Ruby, you’re a wonderful dancer. A unique talent, honestly—”
“Save it,” she snaps. “I’ll dance whatever you tell me to, because at the end of the day, I have no real choice in the matter. Even if I auditioned for the ABT or another company, we both know that my best shot at being promoted to principal is staying right where I am. I’m stuck. You have all the power. Congratulations. Whatever.”
She turns on her heel and stomps away from me. Again.
I’m too confused and frustrated to follow her. I don’t think I would know what to say, even if I did catch up with her again.
I don’t know what to think. I still believe that cutting Giselle was the right decision to make. I feel bad that I unknowingly ruined an incredible opportunity for Ruby in doing so, but it’s not the end of the world. She’s extremely talented. She’ll get another chance. She still has about a decade left of her career too.
She’s just… too hard on herself. Too stubborn. Too unwilling to relinquish even the slightest bit of control.
I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to give up this position on the board just because one ballerina thinks I’m a careless fool. I take this new responsibility of mine very seriously. Once I find a way to prove that to Ruby, I’m sure she’ll see my side of things.
Then she won’t hate me anymore. Problem solved.
I just need more chances to earn her trust.
Left alone in the gardens—save for the couples who have broken off from the reception inside to engage in midnight trysts among the flowers—I find myself staring out across the cliffs toward the starry horizon. It’s getting late, which means that Sebastien and Eva will be jetting off to start their honeymoon in just a couple of hours, but I still have a little bit of time before we send them off.
I start walking. Not further into the gardens, but out toward the edge of the cliffside. The sounds of the party drift away into the background, overtaken by the roaring crash of the frigid waves against the jagged rocks below. There’s a horrible sort of beauty to it. It’s deadly and fascinating. If I take a wrong step, I might plunge to my death. It’s a decent metaphor for ballet.
Ruby thinks I don’t understand her, or that I have no true appreciation for her art form, but she’s wrong.
I notice a narrow path leading down the perimeter of the cliff toward the large boulders clustered in a small cove below. It’s a bit treacherous, but the moon is bright enough to light the way as I make the conscious decision to ruin my Italian leather shoes and step onto the sandy path.
Even if that conversation with Ruby was anything but pleasant, it made me admire her even more. She’s not afraid to fight for something she wants. Not even if it entails snarling in the face of someone on the board of the company. A lesser man might seek to punish her for being so bold, but I wouldn’t dare. Ruby is too good to lose.
For the company to lose, that is.
As I pick my way down the path, I notice a lone figure standing down on the rocks. It’s a willowy, feminine shadow, clad in loose layers of flowing fabric that dance in the ocean breeze.
I pause on the path, not wanting to spook the stranger and cause them to lose their footing. If they fell into the rocky, churning sea, I’m not confident I’d be able to pull them out. I’m a strong swimmer when it comes to doing laps in designated pools. Add riptides and currents to the equation, and I’m easily reduced to useless.
The figure seems to know that I’m there, though, and smoothly turns away from the sea to look up at me.
“Hello!” I call out, somewhat stupidly. “Are you alright?”
The woman has long silver hair. She’s wearing so much jewelry that it makes her joints gleam in the moonlight. I glance up toward the top of the cliff, feeling inexplicably nervous.
The mystical, shadowy creature says nothing at all. She merely waves, the delicate tinkle of silver bangles audible even over the growling surf, and then turns away from me once again. I watch as she crouches down on the rock and then sits comfortably, her long legs tucked under her. Her face is turned down to the surface of the water as if she’s talking to something within.
I shake my head, wondering if I’m seeing things. I don’t believe in ghosts, but it would certainly make a good tourist attraction if these shores were haunted. What was it that one of the bridesmaids said at the rehearsal dinner? That this town is guarded by sirens, and that’s why it’s called Mermaid Shores?
Silly, of course. Absolutely ridiculous.
Yet, I decide it’s in my best interest to leave the mystical woman alone and climb back up the cliffside. I tuck my hands into my pockets and discover not just a stray white ribbon from one of the wedding favors, but also a small stone. Another stone… and I have no idea where this one came from either. I left the pink one—rose quartz, apparently—and the raw ruby on the bedside table of my hotel room.
From what I can tell from the silvery light overhead, the stone is pure black. It’s oddly shaped, as if chipped away from a larger chunk, but I can’t see any scratches or accidental imperfections on the surface. It must be a fairly hard stone, then. Maybe tourmaline, if I can recall what I gleaned from the brief internet search I conducted when I was trying to figure out what the pink one was.
Rose quartz. Raw ruby. Black tourmaline.
What sort of message is this?
I stare down at the stone in my palm as I crest the cliffside once more.
When I look back down toward the frothing waves, the woman is gone.