Page 27 of On Dancer
“Same to you.” My voice came out like sandpaper scraping against a set piece. It certainly felt like I’d been stripped bare. I wanted to escape, yet when I moved to stand, I got a slushy ice pack on my feet for my trouble. I made a frustrated noise as I flopped back against the couch. “Gah. I’m a mess. My ice packs are melted, and I forgot whose turn it is. I’m a terrible guest.”
“You are not.” Rudy was nothing if not loyal. He picked up the ice packs, setting them aside before straightening the throw around my shoulders. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
He handed me the dice, apparently ready to let me escape into the game if not from his apartment. And damn if I didn’t take the offer rather than leave like I should. This friendship might be destined for heartbreak, but all I could do was roll the dice and hope for the best.
Fourteen
Tech week: the week leading up to the performance that contains the dress rehearsal as well as stage setup, lighting, sound, and other technical elements of a performance.
Rudy
Monday morning hit like an express train trying to make up time before the next station. December was upon us, and the countdown was on for the upcoming performance. The ballet school hummed with activity. The children were back at the elementary school after their Thanksgiving break, but the professional dancers were ramping up their preparations along with all the various committees covering costumes, sets, technical details, promotion, and more.
My mother also wasn’t immune to the chaos. Her hair was extra spiky and her manner decidedly frazzled as she worked through her inbox on her laptop at her desk before her weekly coffee date with Alexander’s mother.
“Are we ready for the reporter?” My mother looked up from her monitor to glance over at me. “What do you need from me for her visit?”
“All you’ll need to do is help me greet her.” I held up a folder full of papers. “I prepared information for her on the history of the ballet school, the theater,The Nutcrackeritself, the relevant dancers, and our show times and prices.”
“Excellent work.” She gave a small sigh before returning her attention to her computer, only to swivel back my direction. “There’s a board meeting this evening.”
Luckily, I had another folder at the ready. “I have the minutes prepared and emailed to all our board members, including the most updated ticket numbers.”
“Well, that’s one less thing on my list.” She continued scrolling through her email, and it didn’t take long for her to groan again. “The set committee wants earlier access to the theater next week.”
“Already arranged that for them.” The historic theater across the street could be fussy about setup and teardown times, especially if they had other performances scheduled, but I’d sweet-talked my contact at the theater into access for next Tuesday and Wednesday prior to the dress rehearsal on Thursday. “My reply email to the committee should be further down the discussion thread.”
“Ah. There it is.” Apparently reaching the end of her new messages, Mom snapped her laptop shut. “I suppose I might as well get ready for coffee since there’s not much for me to worry over.”
“That would be the entire point of my work here.” I raised my eyebrows at her. She was supposed to be relieved, not put out, and definitely not have a vague air of frustration.
“You’re such a blessing.” She scooted her chair closer so she could pat my cheek. “Helga on the board keeps making noisesabout staff expenses, but I couldn’t have done this last year without you.”
“It’s been my pleasure.” I smiled back at her. Making her day easier truly was rewarding, but her comments about funding made my back itch inside my sweater.
“And it’s good experience for when you get a real job,” Mom added breezily before standing and fetching her coat to go meet Elaine. She left the office with a lingering hint of the same lightly floral perfume she’d worn my whole life.
Real job.My mouth puckered from the sour taste of those words. Mom was worried about the ballet school budget and my future, but her comments still stung. This was a real job, one she had to admit I’d done rather well. It might not be my forever job, and I might not have a prestigious title like my siblings, but I’d worked hard to ensure the school’s success. This was more than a résumé builder for me.
Along with my irritation was a little fear. What would my next move be if the board didn’t want to keep funding my position? Remembering my joke to Alexander about being a house husband, I gave a barky laugh.I wish.
Almost as if I’d conjured him up like a spell, Alexander chose that moment to stride into the office and plunk a steaming coffee cup on my desk. He wore his heavy wool coat and gloves over warm-ups.
“What’s this?” I eyed the paper cup with no small amount of suspicion.
“A coffee. The overly sugary version you seem to prefer. And I managed to procure it without being spotted at the coffee shop by our mothers, so win.”
“Win,” I echoed before taking a sip. Sure enough, it was the same basic pumpkin spice latte he’d seen me with before, but I hadn’t realized he’d registered my order. “But why?”
“No ulterior motive.” Alexander held up his own steaming cup. “I wanted a tea to warm up, and I thought you might need a break as well. I poked my head in earlier to ask about that reporter visit, but you were deep in concentration.”
“It’s been a morning. A break is good.” I took another experimental sip, feeling topsy-turvy, like I’d taken one too many spins on the merry-go-round at the playground. Alexander Dasher was bringing me coffee. Me. Of all people.
“It’s coffee, not arsenic.” Alexander frowned as if he might yank it back from me.
“Sorry.” I offered him more of a real smile. “And thank you. I’m used to being the one doing the nice things for others, not the other way around.”
“Yes, well, you deserve them too.” Apparently satisfied with my thanks, Alexander leaned against my desk as if this were a regular occurrence. It wouldn’t be though. He’d be gone by New Year’s, back to Seattle, no matter what friendship we’d developed in the meantime. Something had changed since Friday, though, a certain softness about his expression as he studied me. “You’re always fussing after me. It’s about time someone fussed after you.”
