Page 26 of Barre Fight
Peter looked at the two of them for a long moment, then reached over and pulled a sheet of paper from his inbox. It was a print-out of the newsletter, the silly little piece of lite journalism she’d hoped would salvage this situation. She’d been so naive. Ivy watched as Peter ran his eyes over it in silence, and dread simmered in her chest.
“Justin, if you refuse to apologize, then I’m not sure what else there is to do. I had hoped that a little emergency public relations would help, but it seems that’s not enough.” Peter sighed, dropping the paper onto his desk.Not enough. Ivy stared at her own words on the page, letting Peter’s next, inevitable words wash over her in a miserable wave.
“I’m sorry, but you have to understand that the tour is now off the table for you. If your public behavior has made you and the company the subject of this volume negative attention, and you refuse to make amends for that behavior, I can’t very well put you on stage at Lincoln Center.”
Ivy had known it was coming, but it didn’t stop her stomach from bottoming out. Next to her, Justin opened his mouth, probably to object to Peter’s pronouncement, but no words materialized. She turned to look at him and saw defeat written all over his face. She’d failed. They’d failed. It had taken him some time to come around and begin to trust her, but when he had, he’d made a real effort. He’d taken her out into the bush andtalked to her, let her poke and probe enough to try to fix this mess for them both, but it hadn’t been enough. She’d failed, and now the company was going to fly off to New York without him, and someone else was going to dance his favorite part.
Ivy glanced over at Justin, who was clenching his jaw so hard it looked painful, and she could tell he was working hard not to swear in front of Peter. She’d managed it, but only just. This was a catastrophe.
“And what about the apology I deserve?” Justin snapped.
“You threw the first punch,” Peter reminded him. “I’m not a lawyer, but you can’t very well claim that his face caused you a hand injury. It’s clear that you were provoked, but there’s video evidence that you escalated the conflict from a verbal one to a physical one.” As he said the words “video evidence” he flicked his eyes towards Ivy, his unspoken words very loud. Because of her, millions of people had seen that video evidence. Not for the first time in the last few weeks, guilt crawled up the inside of her ribcage.
“Peter, come on, there has to be something else we can do,” Justin argued, desperation quickening his speech.
Peter’s eyes went wide and dropped his hands onto the desk, his wedding ring clattering as it hit the glass. In her years of covering the company, she’d never seen him look so frustrated. “You can apologize personally. The company can issue a statement saying that you’re sorry. Those are your choices.”
Justin looked over at Ivy, then back at his boss. “I can’t,” he said beseechingly. “Please don’t make me.” Ivy was about to argue with him, but the catch in his voice stopped her. He sounded so anguished.
Peter was quiet for a long moment. “There is one other option. I don’t personally approve of it, and I’d hoped we could avoid it. But several members of the board seem to think it’s appropriate. Apparently they’ve received a number of calls fromthe corporate sponsor whose generosity is making this tour possible.”
“What is it?” Justin asked. He cast his eyes around the office, as if the solution to his problem was in Peter’s filing cabinet or on his bookshelf.
Peter sighed, and Ivy resisted the urge to snap at him to hurry up. Didn’t he realize the stakes of this, for her as well as for Justin?
“You could come to New York,” Peter said slowly, “if a minder came with you. Someone who could ensure that you don’t do anything else to embarrass the company.”
Ivy blinked. Next to her, Justin stiffened in his chair.
“Like a babysitter?” Justin asked, his voice faint with disbelief.
“Like a handler,” Peter corrected. “Someone who can keep any eye on you and make sure that your behaviour reflects well on the company at all times.”
“So, a babysitter,” Ivy concluded.
Peter tsked in evident exasperation. “Like I said, I do not think it’s appropriate—or necessary, for that matter.” He looked at Justin, his gaze intense and authoritative. “You are a grown man who should not require handling in order to behave in a professional manner.”
“I don’t,” Justin retorted, but Peter was still talking.
“However, Ivy’s profile reminded us all of how well you perform the Pearson choreography, and it is important to me that we bring our best performers to New York.”
Well, that was a kind of victory, Ivy thought, even though it didn’t feel like one right now.
“So this is the position I find myself in. According to the board, I can only bring my strongest performer on our most important tour in years if I also bring a member of the publicityteam with us to make sure he isn’t a liability to the company. Of course, an apology would be cheaper.”
And less insulting, Ivy thought.
“Not to me,” Justin shook his head. “Please, this tour is really important to me. I was just a kid last time we went to New York and…” He swallowed. “And we don’t know how long it’ll be before we go back again. Peter, I’m 33.”
Many men danced into their late thirties, if they were lucky. But injuries could happen at any time, and they could end a career in an instant. If another ten years went by, or even five, Justin would never dance in New York again.
Peter sighed and shook his head. After a moment, his gaze landed on Ivy. “The donor in question liked your profile. They’d want me to bring you to be Justin’s… to keep an eye on him.”
He’d just barely avoided repeating the word “babysitter,” she was pretty sure. Ivy looked at Peter, then at Justin, eyes wide. They wanted to send her to the other side of the world for a week to be a nanny for a 33-year-old man?
Next to her, Justin leaned forward and opened his mouth to respond, but Peter held up a hand to cut him off, and Justin froze.
“I suspect you have objections,” Peter told Justin quellingly. Uh, as did Ivy. And as did Peter, by the sound of it. “But we are out of time. And, frankly, this decision is not yours to make. It’s hardly even mine.” Ivy watched as he breathed in sharply through his nose, and she was fairly sure he was holding himself back from complaining about the board and its meddling. He let the breath out slowly, then looked at her. When he spoke, his voice was steady and businesslike.
