Act Thirty-Eight
Luka Kotova
“Baylee?” I say.
She looks numb, staring off as we stand in a tiny vending area within the hospital. One of the only secluded places Geoffrey could find after he corralled us in the hallway.
I didn’t even have time to hug Bay before he said, “Don’t touch.”
I rake my fingers through my dark hair and then fit my baseball cap on backwards. I reach out to her, but she shakes her head once. “We can’t.”
Geoffrey will be back soon. He said to, “Wait here.”
I have no idea what he’s doing.
I rest my forearm against a Fizzle machine, and I’m turned towards her. “What can I do?” I want to fix this. I want to take her pain away. I’ll feel better knowing she’s alright. “Bay?”
“I don’t know.” She looks up, eyes welling.
My heart is being ripped to shreds.
She crosses her arms like she’s trying to hug herself.
I reach out. “Let me, please. He’s not back yet.”
Baylee takes a breath, looks over her shoulder, and then she walks into my arms. I hug her so tight, and I feel her exhale just as I do.
Softly, she whispers, “I don’t want this to be our last hug.”
I shake my head, weight piling on my chest. Eyes burning. “It’s not.”
She doesn’t believe me. I don’t even believe me. “This hurts,” she says. “God, this hurts.”
I pull back some, and Baylee has her hand on her chest like it’s her heart.
My hands slide up to her cheeks, and she feverishly traces all of my features. I try to engrain all of hers, just as urgently. Our eyes dancing.
And then we hear footsteps. The sound of metal scraping the floor. My hands fall, and we separate two feet which feels like ten thousand leagues.
Baylee presses the buttons to a snack machine, sadness blanketing her brown eyes. I feel like I’ve been kicked repeatedly. My whole body aches, and I keep rubbing my face, wishing I’d stop wincing soon.
When Geoffrey returns with two chairs, Bay actually sighs in relief at something to sit on and sink into.
“Sit,” he orders.
She’s already sitting, one leg tucked beneath her ass.
I take a seat and lean back some, my hands on my knees. “What is this about?” I speak first, knowing Baylee is quieter in these situations.
Geoffrey crosses his arms, his goatee a little fuzzier than yesterday, and his ash-blond hair is askew like he’s been anxiously grabbing at it. I’m surprised he’s not pacing in front of us, but he is trying to tower. Which is probably why he only brought two chairs.
It’s working more than I want to admit.
“You know what it’s about,” Geoffrey snaps. “When I first signed onto Infini, I thought I’d be the reason this show succeeds for a decade longer. I thought I’d be the hero.” He laughs like it was foolish. “Then I have a private meeting with Marc Duval. He tells me that through the transfer of a colleague, he needs someone new to be his eyes and ears towards two artists. I hesitate.” Geoffrey holds up his hands. “It sounds like babysitting to me. I’m here to reinvigorate a dying show, that’s all. Marc tells me that if I don’t do this, I lose out on the Infini job and the biggest sum of money in my career.”
I ball my baseball cap in my hands, listening and now knowing our far-fetched thought about Geoffrey is real. That he was told by Corporate to spy on us.
The no minors policy is coming.
Baylee stares so far off, wide-eyed; I worry. And I turn more towards her than to Geoffrey.
Our choreographer continues, “So I agree to make sure Luka and Baylee don’t even sneeze on each other outside the gym unless it’s about work. But let’s be honest here, you’re both far from professional at this point. Vince thought he spotted you on the strip during a lunch break. Did you know that?” He steps closer.
It forces me to crane my neck to look at him.
“Did you know that I also talked him out of entering the Urban Outfitters he was sure you were hiding in?”
Baylee snaps out of her stupor, and my brows furrow in confusion. We’re both shaking our heads. Why would he help us?
“I also cancelled lunches. I thought you two would take the hint. Surely you both know what’s at stake if I or Vince relay news about your sex buddy to Marc.”
My jaw muscle tics, but I’m not back-talking right now. Not to prove a point that he couldn’t give two shits about.
“Why didn’t you tell on us?” Baylee asks with a shrug, face pained. “Why even pair me with Luka on the trampoline?”
“I’m here for one purpose.” Geoffrey points at the ground. “For Infini. Not to babysit two stupid kids.”
(Fuck you.)
Geoffrey looks to me. Like he’s waiting for me to attack. Show some raw emotion.
When I give him none, he sneers at me, “Unbelievable.” He crosses his arms again and scrutinizes Baylee. “I actually think you two have promise together on stage. You have real chemistry, and I took advantage of that for the betterment of the show. You know what I’m not willing to lose? My underage girl who will be kicked off Infini the second I go tattle to Marc. I need Milla. The show needs Milla, and the no minors policy is threatening the creative value and potential of Infini.”
He’s going to help us?
It’s what I’m hearing.
He’s not planning on running to Marc Duval.
I straighten up. “What do you want then?”
“I want a guarantee that you two won’t ever be caught by Vince or Marc himself.”
“Done,” I say, but Baylee is holding her breath, more realistic while I try to dream about a happy ending in all of this.
Geoffrey chuckles at me. “That’s funny that you think I trust you. You know you’re in AE’s artist database with everyone else? You want to know what a former choreographer wrote in your file? He typed: will lie to protect other artists. Here’s what I’m going to write in yours.” He mimes writing on the air. “Nuisance, not worth the time or effort, soulless—”
“Stop,” Baylee interjects, setting a glare on him.
Geoffrey’s brows spike, and he appraises us. “I asked around about you two…to your…aunt, was it?”
Baylee recoils. “You talked to my aunt?”
“About two weeks ago. I wanted to know if I could trust you two to stay separated. I didn’t let her in on your current ‘relationship’ status, but I casually asked about your history together. She didn’t give me much at first, just said you were best friends. Then I asked if she’s ever seen Luka yell, and she said yes.” Geoffrey tilts his head at me like he caught me in a lie.
(He didn’t. Not really.)
I blink a long blink.
“She said that Baylee was upset one day, overslept, and you were defending her tardiness at practice to a staff member. You were suspended for two days. Your aunt warned me that you both used to try to fight each other’s battles. One would fall, the other would scream. That sort of thing.”
We’re both eerily silent.
Baylee is scared. I can feel her stiffen beside me. Maybe she’s afraid he’s going to use this against us. I shake my head a couple times, and Geoffrey backs up, leaning against a Ziff machine full of sports drinks.
“You know what I believe?” he says. “I believe that you’ll always go an extra mile if you keep seeing each other at work. I believe it was a mistake to put Luka in Infini, and I don’t know why Marc Duval would even tempt it.”
He’s just as clueless as us about the reason then. And I can’t even disagree. Me being in Infini—it changed everything.
“What else do I believe?” Geoffrey continues. “The only way to ensure you abide by the rules is for one of you to quit Aerial Ethereal.”
“What?” we say together.
“I reread your contracts. There’s a stipulation that says if you both leave the company, the no minors policy is enforced. But if only one of you quits, there’s no harm done. You won’t be able to ever talk to each other, you’ll live your lives separately like you agreed to do years ago, and Infini won’t be damaged.”
I flinch back, numb to the bone.
Baylee’s face is in her hands.
My thoughts speed up, and it hits me. “You don’t want the no minors policy to happen, so you’ll never rat us out to Marc. We don’t have to comply.” I’m grasping for a glimmer of control.
(It’s always fleeting. I’m not holding my breath.)
“Wrong,” Geoffrey snaps. “There’s a timeline. Seven days to quit. If you don’t by then, I’ll say you physically attacked me today, in this vending area, and I’ll fire you.”
My stomach clenches, and I look to the ceiling for answers. We could break our contracts and leave our jobs together, but it’d also enforce the no minors policy.
I already know she won’t do it.
Just like I won’t. Not if there’s another option, and he’s giving us one, our second handout from someone I deplore. Only I despise him way more than I ever hated Marc Duval.
This seems worse than the first time.
Because I’m older.
I’m twenty, and what I feel for Bay isn’t a dream or fantasy. I have my head somewhat on my shoulders, and the naysaying voices in our ears aren’t even here. We don’t need our stand-in parents to tell us where to go. What to do.
And I wonder what I would’ve decided if I had the two contracts at this time in my life. I wonder if I would’ve quit AE to be with Baylee right then and there.
Maybe.
But that’s not what’s on the table today. We can’t walk away without hurting the dreams of potentially thousands of children. We’re not going to do that.
One of us is quitting for Geoffrey’s “offer” and it’s about to be me. I open my mouth to volunteer so she can stay in the circus, but I see the way he’s staring at me.
And a realization sinks in.
He directed his whole firing and quitting speech to me.
“We don’t have a choice who quits, do we?” I ask, more calmly than he probably likes.
Geoffrey almost smiles like he won a game I didn’t even realize we were playing.
Tears slip out of Bay’s eyes, and she chokes, “No, let me—”
“I need you,” Geoffrey cuts her off. “I don’t need him.” He steps off the vending machine, coming forward again. “They say you’re irreplaceable because you’re a Kotova? Because of chemistry with your siblings and cousins? You’re just a number to me. I can easily rewrite the choreography of every act you’re in. Like you weren’t ever there. Invisible—”
“Wheel of Death,” Baylee combats, voice cracking.
I whisper, “It’s okay, Bay.” She can’t quit. Infini…it’s her mother’s memory.
She can’t quit.
I can leave. I’ll…do something. I don’t know what. I blink a couple times, blocking out the names of my family members. Of never seeing Bay again. I crack my knuckles.
I don’t want to confront all that I’m losing.
(I’ll puke.)
Geoffrey says, “I can move Erik Kotova onto Wheel of—”
“You don’t have that authority,” Baylee interjects, and I frown. Does he?
“Shut up, and don’t interrupt me again.”
I instantly stand and step in front of Baylee.
Geoffrey laughs like it’s too late.
I don’t want to leave her in this dude’s presence. I’ll have to warn Brenden before I go. Who else? Dimitri? They’ll make sure Geoffrey doesn’t mess with her when I’m gone, right?
(What am I saying? It’s like I’m preparing for my death.)
I can already feel the uncertainty tormenting me. Not knowing if she’s happy or sad. Or just doing okay. All of it. All over again.
Looking directly at me, Geoffrey says, “I’ve been given the authority to swiftly axe Brenden and Zhen’s aerial straps routine anytime I like, so yes, you better believe I have the authority to shift around artists and fire them.”
Baylee caves into herself, and I turn to comfort her—
“Don’t touch.”
I freeze at his words.
“You’re going to leave separately. Luka go first—”
“No fucking way,” I actually say out loud. I think it stuns him, but I don’t drink in his expression. I crouch down to Bay, careful not to touch her like he said. I don’t toy with that risk. “Baylee. Hey, go outside. Call your brother to come get you? Can you do that?”
Brenden doesn’t have a car, but he’ll probably take a cab. I don’t want her to be alone right now, and I’m not leaving first so she’ll be alone with Geoffrey.
Baylee pinches her eyes, attempting to stop the waterworks. My gaze sears.
She curses, and she tries to stand. I know she must feel like a million pounds of sorrow, but she has to get up.
In a full minute, she rises on her own, her hand pressed to her collarbones.
“Call Brenden,” I say.
She nods once.
“Please.”
She nods again.
“Okay.” I glance back at Geoffrey, who’s watching too keenly. I hate this dude so fucking much. I try to follow her out of the vending area, but he clamps a hand on my shoulder.
He yanks me back, and I shove him off out of defense.
I lost sight of her, but I remind myself that I’ve been given a choice. To quit or to be fired. I have seven days until I decide, and that’s seven days left with Baylee.
He’s not taking that away from me.