Chapter Six  

Alice

ANDREW WAS VISITING his daughter that weekend, leaving Alice for the first time the task of overseeing Tyler's rehearsal on the main stage. Her only experience with this type of rehearsals had been to sit where the cameras would be during the shows, and give Andrew feedback on how the choreography looked from various angles. David was working with another of their contestants in Music Room Two and she had to do her very best for their team.

She'd been slow to focus on what she had to do, but she was finally getting the hang of it when she heard TC. She froze in the middle of the stage at the sound of his voice.

"What do you mean it's not available?" he was saying, irritation brewing close to anger. 

She peered into the darkness of the set, and saw Mike staring desperately at his tablet. TC's head snapped straight to her, catching her panicked gaze. For a second, theater loving Alice fantasized about falling through one of those traps so she could be out of his sight.

This was the stuff of nightmares. Being on the stage, and Tim Carter in the audience looking at her.

"I'm sorry Mr. Carter," Mike said. "Mr. King's team hasn't finished. I'm s-sorry," he stuttered.

Oh, God! Was it her fault? She checked her watch. Damn! She was five minutes overtime. They were on Team Carter's slot now.

She dared to glance in his direction. He squared his shoulders, his left hand clenched into a fist, every line in his face froze, and his eyes were blazing. She dropped her gaze to the floor quickly and shrank expecting his outburst.  People who got between TC and his plans invariably got hurt.

"How long do you need?"

Her heart almost stopped. He was addressing her, and his voice, his beautiful voice was calm. Warm. Not at all what she feared. It was her turn to stutter like Mike.

"Umm. W-we're almost done," she said.

He smiled broadly, anger melting from his body like snow in the spring. Even his eyes, those cold blue-green shards of ice, were smiling at her.

"I can wait," he said. "Of course, if you don't consider this spying."

She looked at Tyler questioningly. The young man shrugged, not caring if TC was watching.

"We need to go through the motions a couple of times," she said steadying her voice. "I hope you won't take it as a sign of mistrust if we don't do the song."

With a Cheshire Cat grin on his face, TC shook his head and sauntered to his Captain chair. He settled comfortably in it, and trained his gaze on her, not on Tyler. Alice wished she could shake the feeling that he was judging her, as if she was one of the contestants.

"Can you show me that bit at the end again?" Tyler said.

She considered refusing, but King hadn't left her there to half ass her job. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

Stumble.

Trip over her feet.

Break an ankle.

Fall off the stage.

That was not a productive line of thought. Just ignore he's there. That was all she had to do. As if that was the easiest thing in the world. To forget that Tim Carter was looking at her.

She went through the end of the routine with the grace of a drunk panda.

"Now you do it," she told Tyler. "Without all the stumbling."

The smile on the young man's face reminded her of Will, the boy she mentored. Since she had discovered his love of music, she had made a lot of progress with the boy from Orsino East.

"Do the whole routine," she said and left the stage.

She headed for King's chair on the far right, but TC beckoned her to sit in the chair next to him. Ryann Ford's chair. Being around TC was never comfortable, but she realized she was shaking when she nearly sat next to the chair instead of on it. She jumped out of her skin when she felt his arm around her waist.

"I got you," he said gently.

She blushed embarrassed by her clumsiness. Being on the stage, being close to him, her very presence there without King was pushing her into a panic attack.

"Thank you," she managed to squeak, something like panic rising inside her because he still kept her in his arms.

No wonder her grandmothers despaired of her. Clara Pellerin had organized fashion shows for forty years, and Tatiana Lewis had been her muse and the image of Maison Pellerin for half that time. Her own mother had been a world-famous supermodel before giving it all up for archeology. None of them had the vaguest trace of stage fright. They had left it all to her.

TC was back in his chair without acknowledging her gratitude. He'd been unexpectedly kind to her this time. She had used all her soothing skills to keep him generally calm because a calm TC was less likely to irritate Andrew. Still, it seemed to have worked a little too well.

Alarm bells were ringing in her head. He was up to something. TC was never kind to people. She knew he disliked her because of her background and because of her friendship with Vy. She expected him to start making fun of her privileged upbringing, and yet he never did.

Maybe her guilty conscience was making her paranoid. Maybe she had expected him to be too much of a jerk.

She watched Tyler go through the motions. If it hadn't been for TC's presence, she would have had him sing the song, but she didn't want TC to hear what they had prepared for the next round. She didn't want him to be disapproving of her methods, or worse, of Andrew's choice of a song for his contestant.

She tried to forget TC was there and corrected Tyler's movements. David would deal with the singing in the music room later on. They went through the routine one last time. She was almost satisfied with his stage awareness. During the live performance, he should not spare a single thought to the stage or his motions. He had to focus on his singing. If Andrew were there, he'd know if it was enough.

"That's all for today," she said. "Go have lunch, and David will be in the music room when you finish."

Tyler waved happily and strolled off the stage. She stood up and looked in TC's general direction, avoiding his eyes as usually.

"Thank you for giving us the extra time. I just don't have the hang of being on stage and…" She shook her head and stopped justifying her failure. "Thank you again," she said and turned to leave.

"Do you want to see mine?"

She stumbled at his words.

"My routine," he said, his voice ripe with mirth. "You showed me yours, I'll show you mine. It would be only fair."

"I wouldn't miss your routine for anything in the world," she said half turning toward him. "But, it won't be you on the stage, would it?"

"Miss Lewis, I'm starting to believe what Vy said. You are a fan."

Her cheeks grew warm as she scurried away. Yes, she was a fan, but she didn't deserve any private shows.