Page 10 of Barre Fight
“However, I’ve known you since you joined the company, and as far as I’m aware, this is the first time you’ve done something like this. It does not seem to be in keeping with your character, or part of a pattern of behavior. And I am aware thathaving a video of this incident circulating on the internet must be quite distressing for you.”
Justin swallowed and nodded, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ivy cross her arms, as if in discomfort. Good. She should feel uncomfortable, he thought, as hope gave a tiny flicker in his gut. Perhaps Peterhadcalled her here for an apology, instead of an interview?
“You are a valuable member of this company, and I would like to take you on tour to New York City with us next month,” Peter said, and Justin exhaled fully for what felt like the first time since he’d entered the room. “Under a few conditions. That’s where Ms. Page comes in.”
Justin nodded. “Good. She’s going to issue some kind of a retraction? Take the video down?” Not that it would make much of a difference at this point; there were copies of it all over social media. Still, it was the principle of the thing.
“Not exactly,” Peter said.
“Why not? Can’t she tell her readers that she’s decided it wasn’t newsworthy, and that she regrets publishing it, and that in future she’ll only write stories that are actually stories, like a real journalist?”
In his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Ivy Page cock her head, as though she didn’t appreciate being talked about as though she weren’t in the room. Or perhaps she didn’t appreciate what he was saying about her work. Well, too bad, Justin thought. He wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t true.
“Ms. Page won’t be publishing any more stories about you in theMorning Sun,” Peter said, his tone part quelling, and part reassuring.
“Oh,” Justin said. That was a bit drastic. “I mean, I don’t think she should have been fired over this, but if you think she deservesit…”
On the couch, Ivy made a sound, a small, annoyed exhale, like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
“As it happens, I do not think Ms. Page deserved to be fired over her story,” Peter nodded at the woman in question, “and she wasn’t. But she was laid off on Friday, along with the rest of the arts team at theMorning Sun. A true loss for the paper. But quite a gain for ANB.”
Justin looked at his boss, that sense of dread descending again. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that as of yesterday, Ms. Page works for us. She’s our new publicity associate. It will be her job to make sure that the press is focused on our dancing and not on our extracurricular behavior, and we’re lucky to have her. Please, Justin, welcome your newest colleague to Australian National Ballet.”
Ivy watched as the color drained out of Justin’s cheeks, making his pale brown stubble seem darker than it had when he walked in. He turned towards her, facing her properly for the first time since he’d entered the room, and stared, his mouth open in confused surprise, and his forehead crumpled in horror.
Ivy forced herself to meet his gaze, staring unflinchingly into his horrified hazel eyes, and pulled her mouth into a pleasant, toothless smile that she hoped conveyed confidence and competence in the face of his obvious displeasure. She didn’t feel confident or competent, not with one of the company’s principal dancers looking at her like that. But she hadn’t felt like she knew what she was doing the first time she’d gone to a press conference or a press screening, and she’d made it through, even though she kept waiting for someone to notice that she was an imposter and throw her out of the room. Still, the way Justin was glaring at her right now, he clearly wouldn’t mindtossing her right out of Peter’s window and into Sydney Harbour. The way he’d just talked about her, like her work was worthless—like it wasn’tnewsworthy—had momentarily cut through her first-day jitters and made irritation flare low in her stomach.
“You can’t be serious,” he said, still staring at her.
Ivy frowned. “Are you… talking to me?”
“No,” he growled, “please, safely assume that I’m never, ever talking to you.”
At least he said “please,” Ivy thought, despite herself. She was about to reply when Justin turned to face Peter.
“Youcan’t be serious. Why would you do this?”
Peter raised his eyebrows and gave an elegant little shrug. “Why wouldn’t I do this? Ms. Page has been covering the company for years, she’s a gifted writer, and she was suddenly available. She’ll be an excellent asset to us.”
“Yeah, she has been covering the company for years,” Justin said hotly, apparently back to talking about Ivy like she wasn’t here. “Let’s not forget what she wrote about me in that very first review after you promoted me to principal.”
Ivy cocked her head, perplexed. What had she written? Whatever it was, she’d written it too long ago to remember.
“Justin, it’s never a good idea to pay too much attention to reviews, you know that I?—”
“She called me nothing but a pretty face and a freakish pair of feet,” Justin interrupted with a snarl.
Ivy bit her lip, no doubt ruining the lipstick she’d picked out to match her dress on her first day on the job. She didn’t remember writing that. And in her defense, Justindidhave exceptional feet for ballet, the kind girls in her class had dreamed of having. High arches, and toes that pointed in a tight, perfect curve and made his lines gorgeous as a result. She and Em had both spent hours of their young lives poring over dancewear catalogues and envying feet just like that, and they’dstrapped their feet into foot stretchers that resembled medieval torture devices in hopes of replicating what Justin was apparently born with. And as for his face, well, it was very pretty. He had sharp cheekbones and a square jaw, and to complete the Hollywood heartthrob trifecta, he had a strong nose that was ever-so-slightly off center, as though he’d broken it as a kid and it hadn’t quite healed right. And then there were his eyes, a mottled mixture of green and brown and blue and gold, striking even when he had them narrowed in her direction. He had a few days’ worth of light brown stubble and his thick, wavy blond hair was damp from class around his temples. His cheeks were pink—whether from exertion or emotion, she couldn’t tell.
“Justin, may I remind you why we need to hire a new public relations associate in the first place?” Peter was saying. Ivy shifted against the couch and willed herself to stop thinking about Justin Winters’ pretty face. “It’s because you started a fight in a pub last week and now most of Sydney knows about it.”
Justin’s fists clenched. “I didn’t st—argh! If she hadn’t published that article, most of the city wouldn’t know about it, would they? And you wouldn’t have to worry about any distractions from our tour. Besides, didn’t you just say we shouldn’t pay too much attention to reviews? Or does that only apply to dancers, and the boss gets to?—”
“Justin.” Peter’s tone was sharper than Ivy had ever heard it, and judging by the way Justin fell silent and looked down at his feet, it was sharper than he was used to, as well. When Peter spoke again, his tone was gentler, but it brooked no disagreement.
“This is an unfortunate situation for you, and for me. I want to do everything I can to fix it. You have worked hard. The whole company has worked hard, and they deserve for that work to be the focus of everyone’s attention. Not whathappened in that bar last week. We have a problem, and Ms. Page is part of the solution, and I expect you to work with her and to treat her like the colleague that she is.”
