Page 34 of The Virgin's Dance
“We will do anything we can, work as hard as we can, to do that, Madam Secretariat,” Boh said, still holding Grace’s hand. “Anything. Perhaps we should dedicate the showcase to her.”
“That’s a lovely idea, Boh, and I’m sure Celine will have some ideas of her own. Obviously, that’ll be something to discuss after the funeral.” She sighed, looking her age for once. “Look, for today, go home, rest. We’ll open the studio tomorrow for anyone who wants to dance but I’m cancelling all classes, all rehearsals. If any of you want to talk, or feel you need counseling, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Boh’s eyes slid to Elliott. Jeremy had brought him back from wherever he’d gone too, but her friend still looked … devastated? They were all in despair, of course, but there was something different about Elliott’s grief.
Later, as they got ready to go home, Boh managed to get him on his own. “You okay?”
He nodded, not meeting her eyes. “Just thinking about Celine, how she must be feeling. To lose your true love …”
Boh wasn’t convinced that Elliott was telling her the whole truth, but she didn’t push it. Whatever secrets Elliott was hiding, they were his to hide.
Boh walked slowly back to Pilot’s studio, thinking about what Elliott had said. The thought of losing one’s true love … God, the pain of that, she couldn’t even imagine. Unbidden, visions of Pilot, dying or dead, horribly injured, came into her mind and she gave a sob.
Boh moved to the side of a building and let her grief flood out, burying her face in her scarf as she cried. When she was cried out, she wiped her face and started towards Pilot’s studio, before stopping and turning around. Running back to the ballet company, she sought out Nell’s office. Her friend was sitting at her desk, head in hands, and she looked up as Boh knocked.
“Come in, Boh. Hell, I thought you’d all gone home.”
“I was on my way, but I need your help.”
Nell looked at her curiously. “What is it?”
Boh drew in a deep breath. “I need an address from you.”
Boh waited for the building manager to hang up the phone, not knowing what the answer would be. She was surprised when he turned back to her and nodded. “You can go up. Top floor.”
She rode the elevator, not knowing exactly what she was going to say, but knowing this was something she had to do.
When she reached the top floor, she knocked on the door of the penthouse apartment. When it was opened, she took another deep breath. “Hello. You know who I am. We need to talk.”
“Well, well,” Eugenie Radcliffe-Morgan said with a smirk, “Then you’d better come in.”
Chapter Fifteen
Months later, Boh would wonder if her visit to Eugenie had done anything but stoke the other’s woman’s insanity, but for now, she faced the woman who had been her lover’s wife for a decade. Eugenie, even thinner when Boh had seen her at Pilot’s apartment, her collarbones jutting from the shoulder-less royal blue dress she wore. Boh could tell it was designer and beautifully cut, but it did nothing for the blonde woman, just accentuated her scrawny body, her frailty. Really, she was thinner than some of the more waif-like dancers Boh worked with. Did she ever eat?
Eugenie seemed to be enjoying her scrutiny. “Comparing our bodies to find out what Pilot really likes?” She looked Boh’s healthy, athletic body up and down. “Hmm. He usually prefers a more … slender silhouette.”
Boh didn’t rise to the bait. For one, she knew that wasn’t true, and two, if Boh was confident in one thing, it was that her body was healthy and strong, even with the odd bout of anemia. This woman was deluded if she thought Pilot would prefer a bag of bones.
“Miss Radcliffe-Morgan, I’ve come here with a request, and a promise.”
Eugenie sat down and lit a cigarette. She motioned for Boh to sit, which she did. “I’m listening.”
“Let him go,” Boh said without hesitation. “Free him, and yourself. He doesn’t want you, Eugenie, and I think you know that. So why are you wasting your own time, and his?”
“And yours?”
“And mine. None of us need this constant denial. Pilot and I are together now.”
“You’re fucking him?”
Boh knew she already knew the answer to that and was just taunting her. “Yes.”
Eugenie flicked the ash from her cigarette into an ashtray. “Wonderful cock. So thick and long. Don’t you think?”
Boh said nothing. Let her get her coarseness out of the way. Eugenie picked a piece of tobacco from the tip of her tongue and studied Boh. “You’re not his type, you know.”
“So you’ve said. The evidence would say otherwise.”
