Dancer's Body

Chapter 30

They arrived at the company separately, Roman leaving her dorm an hour before she did. When Olivia arrived on the stage, some of the other dancers were already warming up. Nobody looked at her.

She stole glances at him as he dictated notes to Mrs. Burke, who looked pale and thin after weeks in the hospital and home care. Mrs. Burke had her head tucked down, furiously scribbling the short-hand she'd perfected over the years. Is that how I looked to the dancers? Olivia wondered. Like a little mouse happy to lap up whatever I could get?

"Let's move through A Kingdom of Shades to get started," Roman said. "Yes, I know it's in the past now, but let's stay fresh until the board finalizes the next season. Now!" he yelled when one of the dancers lingered on his phone. "Olivia, take the role of Aya. Brigitte, you'll be a garden guest."

"But—"

"Brigitte, don't question me. You were Aya for an entire season. I need to see how Olivia adapts. From scene two." Brigitte glared at her as they took positions.

The music swelled, and the hours Olivia had spent watching the rehearsals, Roman's comments about the quality of movement, sang in her head. What did she know about Aya?

She's a servant girl, underestimated, a clever character. When she gifts the basket of flowers to Nikiya, it's her delivery that makes the lead believe the bouquet is from her beloved.

How am I Aya?

It was a relatively small part, the steps modernized by Roman, and achievable. But what under-handedness must such a girl clutch tight. She smiled, beguiling, at the lead dancer when she presented the flowers. Believe me, for I am trustworthy. Any traces of sexuality lingering from last night or this morning were replaced with manipulation and scheming.

Manipulation, scheming, plotting and lies. This is what it takes to get what you want. She imagined Aya's secret backstory, her own blossoming love affair that took place far from the stage.

At the end of scene two, Roman dropped his clipboard onto the stage. "Good." It's all he needed to say.

The dancers gave each other looks, small flutters of excitement tripping across the stage. Nikiya faded away, and was replaced with Heather, a quiet but skilled dancer who'd largely ignored Olivia so far. "You did very well," she said, offering her a smile.

The remainder of the day was grueling and brutal, but the veil of respect she'd earned from the other dancers kept her going. Olivia didn't know it all, and she fumbled more than anyone else. But there was no more gossiping, and once a dancer even helped her up when she fell.

At the day's end, she shoved herself into the dressing room with everyone else and saw her missing bag sitting squarely on a bench. Without a word, she picked it up and walked outside.

"Olivia," Roman called to her from his office. The waiting room was dark, the only light spilling out from his desk lamp.

She looked up and down the hall, but it was empty. Poking her head inside, she saw him sitting at his desk. "How did you know it was me?"

"I know the sounds of all my dancers' steps," he said.

"What's mine?"

"Long with a touch of caution. Though that's fading. You put the ball of your foot down before your heel."

She grinned and looked down at her feet.

"That was remarkable today. Truly. I didn't expect you to dance Aya like that."