I don’t tell Blitz what I did. We have dinner as usual, and he comes with me to ballet practice the next day. If he notices that I’m jittery or anxious after my close call running into Gwen, he doesn’t bring it up.
I half expect a shoe to drop. For Danika to call, an anxious Gwen having let her know I was on her street.
But it never does.
We’re halfway through the day with Amelia, the new ballet teacher, when my phone rings. My nerves are still on edge, so I hurry over to look at who it is.
It’s Dmitri.
“Livia! Do you have a moment?”
I glance up at Blitz and Amelia. Blitz raises his eyebrows.
I mouth the word “Dmitri.”
He gives me two thumbs-up, and he and Amelia head back to the mats.
“I do,” I say.
“Dominika would like to do a rehearsal with you this week, if you are available. We want to assess how the two of you will look together in Act 1 where you give her the spindle to prick her finger.”
“So we’ll be dancing together in that scene? Sometimes it’s just acted out.”
“Yes, Ivana has this entire concept of how Carabosse should be. It’s not unprecedented. Several versions have Carabosse as a dancing ballerina fairy. She scoffs at the versions that have a non-dancing hag.”
“Okay,” I say. “When can we do this?”
“Tomorrow, perhaps, or if that is too soon, then Thursday or Friday?”
I might as well get this over with. “Tomorrow is fine. At Jenica’s?”
“No, we’ve reserved a more private place for the rehearsals. I’ll send you the address.”
“That sounds fine.”
“Eight a.m., then?” Dmitri asks.
“I’ll be there,” I say.
“I look forward to seeing you together,” he says.
I wish I did.
Blitz bounds over. “So what did he say?”
“I have a rehearsal with Dominika tomorrow to see if we fit together well in the parts.”
Blitz grasps me by the waist and lifts me in the air. “This is so great! You’ll be a real pro ballerina!”
He brings me down and turns in a circle with me against his chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby! I always knew you had that extra spark!”
Did he? I wasn’t sure of it myself. But I’ve gone down this path now. I’ll see it through.
The next morning, Blitz and I drive over to the new studio. It’s on the opposite side of town, and by the time we white-knuckle it through traffic to be fifteen minutes late, I’m glad I have him with me.
“You run in,” Blitz says as we pull up to the door. “I’ll come in after I park.”
I really, really hate being late. I’m the sort of person who shows up stupidly early to avoid the possibility. My hand fumbles with the handle as I jerk open the door and race inside.
It really is a small studio, only a tiny foyer the size of a closet that leads to the open door of the dance space.
Inside, Ivana is working with Dominika at the barre. Dmitri and Alexei sit in chairs in a back corner. Another girl works with Evangeline.
Dmitri stands. “Livia, so good of you to make it!”
Alexei waves from his chair as Dmitri comes forward.
Ivana and Dominika look up for a moment without smiling, then return to their work. I definitely feel the chill coming off them.
“Traffic was super bad,” I say in a rush. “I’m so sorry to be late.”
Dmitri waves the words away. “Do not trouble yourself. Just be on time to curtain calls!”
Ivana does speak up at that. “We pride ourselves on punctuality, Dmitri,” she says. “Do not pamper the TV star.”
The sneer on those last two words tells me all I need to know about how she feels.
I set my bag down and sit to change out of my Crocs. Dominika is in toe shoes, so I pull mine out as well.
Blitz rushes into the room, then stops short when he sees me on the floor. “Thought I’d stop in and hang,” he says. The end of his sentence with its casual tone rings falsely in the stiff, formal room.
Ivana rolls her eyes. I can almost hear her thinking, “Uggh, these TV people.”
“Good to see you again,” Dmitri says, polite as always. “We shall find another chair for you with the rest of us observers.”
“I’m good,” Blitz says. “I can pull up some floor.”
I focus on my shoes, getting them straight and tight. I love Blitz, but right now, he’s adding to my anxiety.
“Evangeline, can you warm her up?” Ivana calls.
Evangeline turns to me with a frown. “I suppose that’s more important than working with Angelique.” There’s a negative note that makes me grit my teeth.
“I can do my own warm-up,” I say. “Just give me a few minutes.”
“Eight a.m. means warm and ready at eight,” Ivana says, shooting a glance at Dmitri. “For future reference.”
“Got it,” I say.
We’re definitely not in Hollywood anymore. Nobody is going to be catering to us here.
Blitz’s expression is dark now. He approaches to go through the warm-up with me. We have several stretches we are used to doing together.
When we both drop our heads to our knees, Blitz whispers, “They are drama queens.”
I shrug. I was late. It’s fair to call me out on it. Besides, every corner of the entertainment world has its issues. I put up with plenty when I had to work with the Dance Blitz finalists.
Suddenly I’m not sure I want this anymore.
“I’m thinking about walking out,” I whisper.
Blitz squints one eye as he considers this. “A dramatic exit is a classic tactic.”
“I’m not negotiating anymore. I’m outta here!” My voice rises a little at the end, and I hurriedly glance around to see if anyone has heard me.
Dmitri is watching us, but he’s too far away to catch our conversation. The four girls are still deeply involved in their dance steps.
“Let’s see how this goes,” Blitz says. “Think of it as a social experiment between drama queens and rational people.”
I sigh but nod. It would probably be poor judgment to burn this bridge.
We stand up and begin running through the basic positions, then spins and small leaps. We’ve done them together so many times that we are perfectly in sync.
When we finally pause, we discover everyone has stopped to watch us, even Ivana and Dominika.
Dmitri leans forward with a gleam in his eye, but Ivana squashes it quickly. “Male roles are cast,” she says.
When he’s about to say something else, she adds, “Even the corps. With backups. Contracts signed.”
He sits back again in his chair.
I glance at Blitz and we share a conspiratorial smile. He leans in and whispers, “I wouldn’t anyway. This is your gig. I just want to watch.”
“You ready?” Ivana calls. She sounds a little less put out now. Maybe I’ve calmed down her concern that she is stuck with someone who doesn’t know a plié from a cartwheel.
I glance at Blitz and walk over to their corner. Dominika holds out her hand in greeting. It’s delicate and finely boned. I imagine that her entire skeleton is make of filigree. She’s as dainty and poised as a glass figurine.
“Can we get someone on music?” Ivana asks. “We could really use it for this part.”
Dmitri jumps up and heads to the corner, where a sound system sits on a shelf. “The confrontation in Act 1, I presume?” he asks.
“Yes,” Ivana says. She turns to me. “Most ballets just act this out, but I want the presentation of the spindle to Aurora to be a dance. Aurora will be intrigued, but her ladies-in-waiting will pull her away. Carabosse will entrance her with a dance and, ultimately, get her to prick her finger.”
I nod. All this makes sense.
“Start the music,” Ivana says.
The sound begins, and Ivana listens. “Not yet, not here. Aurora is doing the dance with her ladies-in-waiting.” She moves her hand, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay, hear that dark note there? That’s when the audience will first see Carabosse.”
She moves with sudden, menacing steps, then as the music goes on, she gets lighter and straighter. “When the brighter line comes in, this is when you will first approach her with the spindle.” She pretends to hold an object in her hand.
“Aurora, you will come forward, then back, forward, then back.” Ivana makes the movement. “Then dance away like a lark.”
We watch her make small leaps, her hands out and open as if she has nothing to fear.
“Then you, Carabosse, will approach, matching her dance with a heavier note, circling her and holding out the spindle.”
She immediately changes position, her shoulders slightly forward, but still executing perfect turns.
“That’s enough to get a feel for how well the two of you fit as opposites,” Ivana says. “Even through Aurora’s costume is pink and Carabosse will be cloaked, everything from hand gestures to posture to dance style must indicate good versus evil, light versus dark.”
Dmitri stops the music and starts it again.
“Dominika has her steps, so I’ll work with yours,” Ivana says. “Mirror me. I expect it to be rough. We shall work on technique later.”
I turn to stand beside Ivana so I can match her as best as possible. Sweat pops out on my hairline even though I’ve done things like this before. When I first learned routines with the choreographers of Dance Blitz, we went through the same process.
It takes concentration to follow Ivana, keeping my posture dark, my movements threatening but evocative, and following the steps. I miss most of the turns, but get most of the arm movements. It’s only a short bit, perhaps thirty seconds.
“Again,” Ivana says. “Try to get the blocking so we can add Aurora.”
On the second run-through, I catch a couple of the turns and stay mostly on pace.
“Dominika, bring in your part,” Ivana says. She moves away to give Dominika room to interact with me.
I know this is when they will really start to watch. How quickly can I learn? How do our heights, body styles, postures, and acting work together?
This is different from what I’ve done before because I never had to prove myself on Blitz’s show. I had the part. I just needed to perform it as well as I could.
But at least a live audience isn’t sending in votes and commentary today. I’m not sure which is worse. Impressing a million people or just one.
Dmitri restores the music. It feels very different to run through the motions with Dominika so close. She’s obviously worked on this segment for a while, as her dancing is flawless, down to her expression. I remember that she lost her parents and wonder how she copes. Maybe I’m seeing it now.
I stay somewhat bent, keeping a less-than-perfect posture during the first attempt to hand over the spindle. But when Dominika spirits away, I straighten to full power, putting more beauty and strength into the moves.
I’m still missing a turn and several movements are way off, but I have the rough positions. When Dmitri shuts off the music this time, he’s smiling.
“She’s divine,” he says. “Did you see how she adjusted, just like Carabosse would do, when Aurora did not believe her the first time? She’s a natural.”
“Her dancing is immature,” Dominika says.
“She just learned the part,” Dmitri says.
“If you must cast her, then put her here,” Dominika says. “At least in this role, a kind critic will play off her lack of skill as part of the character.”
I bite my lip and catch Blitz’s eyes in the mirror. His eyebrows are high, and when his gaze meets mine, he makes a horror-scream face.
This make me almost laugh, but I straighten my expression quickly when Evangeline turns sharply to me.
“I want the other girl,” Evangeline says. “She is too good for the corps and has ten years of dance.”
“Who was that one?” Ivana asks.
“The one with the strange name. Weeza, or something.”
No way! My gaze snaps back to Blitz in the mirror. Another horror face.
Dmitri shakes his head. “Give this Weeza a storybook character. Or make her a fairy. If Livia will do, just think of the publicity. I can picture the poster, Dominika in all her beautiful glory, and a sinister image of Livia menacingly behind her. It will be the talk of the Americans.”
For some reason, the mention of Weeza makes me want to win this role, despite what I know will be a battle for six months, or at least the months of rehearsals. Weeza has been the voice of my opposition almost as long as I’ve known Blitz. She’s what I have fought against to get where I am.
So I do something I didn’t think I’d ever do.
I go full diva.
“We can reach twenty million Twitter followers with that poster,” I say, my voice hard. “Live streams of rehearsals. We can make tickets sell out in minutes.”
Then I shrug and glance at Alexei. “It’s not my money to lose.”
I head over to my bag. “Let me know if you decide you want anyone to actually show up for your little ballet.”
I pick up my Crocs and bag and don’t look back.
Blitz catches up with me right as we walk out the door.
“Now that was some seriously bad-ass dramatic diva action there!” he says. “Damn, I wish I’d seen you at that negotiation.”
He takes my hand to lead me to the car. I don’t want to tell him I was a total wuss in the meeting, letting Juliet do all the talking, feeling like an outcast and a sham.
But I’m starting to see what makes people like Blitz get where he is.
You don’t let people make you feel small.
You believe in the power of what you can do.