Page 156 of Facing Off
It’s an open-ended question. Designed to flip the script and get everyone engaged. Those milling around us light up, cycling through different answers. Like anyone would, they love sharing their own stories. I step back and gently nudge Sonya to stand in front of me. “You must have heard about Bob Pepita’s last ballet,” I say. “Sonya’s one of the front-runners to be selected as a principal dancer for his final swan song.”
Eyes widen. They didn’t know?
My hand on Sonya’s back flexes. My wife should have more name recognition than this. The fact that she doesn’t tells me Madame Kozlova, the person hosting this illustrious gala, and also my wife’s mentor for so many years, hasn’t been supporting her properly.
My pulse throbs along my jaw.
I pull Sonya closer, my hand secure on her hip. Hers flattens against my chest. “I promised I wouldn’t embarrass you, darling. But can I? Just once?”
My ballerina has no idea where I’m going with this. Her eyebrow twitches up, but she’s nodding. Trusting me. “I guess. If you must.”
I take my phone out of my pocket. “This is my favorite performance of hers.” I gesture. “Everyone needs to watch this.”
News spreads fast. A big chunk of the gala wants to meet a famous hockey player. I shake my head and raise my voice, “People in the back can’t see. How about we share the link around?” I give it to a few people around me, then nudge them to turn around and pass it along. It’ll spread like wildfire.
“Which performance is it?” Sonya wonders, whispering in my ear. She’s got a crinkle between her eyebrows.
I smile. “All of them. It’s a link to my custom playlist.”
Her mouth drops open.
The commotion we’re making attracts Madame Kozlova. She slices a pathway forward, gliding to stand in front of us. A curt nod is given to Sonya before her hand brushes my arm. “How lucky we are to have you with us,” she exclaims. The gown she’s wearing is blue sequins, the same shade as the Wings logo.
Facing the crowd, Madame Kozlova, declares loudly, “I knew Mr. Hughes would make it out tonight. He sees the great work we’re doing as one of Canada’s premier dance companies. He knows more than a thousand great ballerinas have worked for us, inspiring audiences with our unparalleled productions.”
She turns back to me. “Mr. Hughes, I would love to introduce you to all our biggest supporters. I’m sure they are huge fans of yours.”
In my arms, Sonya stiffens.
I pulse my hand on her hip a few times, until she relaxes by a degree.
Then I cock my eyebrow at Madame Kozlova who’s looking expectantly at me. Is she kidding? Assuming I’d abandon my wife to go around the gala with her?
She doesn’t know. I’m obsessed with my wife. A lovesick puppy glued to Sonya’s side for as long as she’ll have me.
“Actually, I was wondering who can I talk to about donating? I’m ready to make the largest contribution this company has ever seen.”
“Oh my.” Madame Kozlova’s hands flutter. “Of course! Of course! Let’s have everyone take a seat.” She points to the front of the ballroom. Across the tables andchairs, centerpieces and dangling chandeliers, is an encompassing stage. “We’ll announce it up front, so all our cameras capture it.”
With that, she rushes to organize, leading everyone to take their seats.
Sonya’s hand curls around my wrist. She pulls me to the side until we’re alone.
I cup the underside of her elbow and rub my fingers there. She’s gone tense. “I know I’m talking a lot for you. Is that still okay?”
“What?” She frowns. “No, that’s… It’s been—nice. Really nice, actually. Thank you.”
“Then?”
“What’s this about a donation?” she demands. “We never talked about that.”
I open my jacket and pull out an envelope kept inside the inner pocket.
“What’s that?”
“A check.”
“How much?” She pushes at the envelope, sending it back in the direction of my pocket. “Never mind. Anything is too much. You’re already here. I couldn’t ask?—“
