First Position Page 9

  Chapter Six

  Ana’s earliest memory was of sitting in the corner of a dance studio and watching her parents rehearse a pas de deux from Balanchine’s Allegro Brillante. She wore a purple tutu of her own and did her best to mimic her mother’s movements, which earned a laugh from her mother that she could still hear to this day. She treasured that memory, one of the few she had of her mother, and pulled it out whenever she needed cheering up or a reminder about why she pursued the work she did.

  There had never been any doubt about what she would be when she grew up.

  Dancing had been in her blood. Still was.

  Ana glanced at her watch as she crossed Sixty-Second Street and mentally celebrated that she had time to stop at the deli on the corner for a chai latte and a plain bagel, one of her favorite indulgences, before work. As she hurried across the street, the ever-present burst of pain in her left foot said hello, and she winced in reply—her least favorite part of her job. Ana did what she always did and pushed the recognition from her mind entirely. If she paid no attention to the pain, she gave it no credence, it would fade to the background. At least, it usually did.

  She gave it a shot and concentrated on the day ahead. When she’d left her apartment that morning, she had been a little surprised to see Natalie still fast asleep on her couch, given that they were attending the same morning class. Ana had paused and stared down at her houseguest, debating whether to wake her or leave her to her own devices. What she found herself doing instead was taking in how unexpectedly peaceful Natalie looked as she slept. Her hair fell delicately down one shoulder, with one hand pulled in beneath her chin. Natalie’s go-to vivaciousness had been tucked away for the night, it seemed. The easy smile Ana’d grown so accustomed to on Natalie was also gone, and in its place was the face of angelic girl, curled into herself on the couch, the covers shrugged to her waist, revealing a black camisole and the smooth olive skin of Natalie’s bare shoulder, which led Ana’s gaze to the curvature of Natalie’s neck, and downward to the dip in her cleavage, a visual that sent a warmth through Ana that—okay, no more of that, thank you very much. Work to do! Ana gave her head a little shake in annoyance and grabbed her jacket from the coat rack across the back of the door.

  “Class in an hour, Natalie. Don’t be late,” she said without looking back. The mumbled reply from the couch gave her additional pause. She sighed and faced her houseguest. “Hey, Natalie. You awake?”

  “I am now,” Natalie said, her voice scratchy from sleep. “You make it hard not to be.”

  “An hour until class,” Ana told her firmly.

  “Yeah, I’m aware. Thank you.” She took firm hold of the blanket and snuggled herself beneath it in a display that had Ana kind of jealous. Natalie, all relaxed and cozy, looked like she had all morning to luxuriate under that blanket. How was that even possible, given the day ahead of them?

  “Okay,” Ana said, consulting her watch. “I just say that because the train is crowded this time of morning and you only have—”

  “You realize I’m an adult, right?” Natalie raised her head and regarded Ana through one eye, as the other was scrunched up.

  “I’ve had my doubts.”

  That seemed to have snagged Natalie’s attention, as she sat up fully on the couch, exasperated now. “As fantastic a drill sergeant as you would make, you’re a much better ballet dancer and should stick with that. I got this waking up part taken care of, okay?”

  Ana held out both palms and then let the topic drop, refusing to battle this girl who was determined to do things her own way. “Fine. You’re right. See you there.”

  She’d shaken off the exchange on her way uptown in favor of enjoying her morning, and thus far, she had. Ana took a last swallow of her chai latte before rounding the corner to the shoe room to check with Henry about the custom adjustments she’d asked for. There were a few dancers from the corps already there, consulting with Henry’s assistants. The two young girls nodded to her politely and made way for her to pass, intently watching her as she did so. She nodded in return, then remembered her new social directive and added a smile. It seemed to have made a difference, as the girls smiled back.

  Ana remembered what that was like to be them, looking up to the more established dancers in the company and hoping one day that might be you. Yet here she was, at last a principal dancer, and she didn’t feel much different than she had dancing in the corps herself. Maybe it hadn’t sunk in just yet…

  “Ana,” Henry said, emerging from the back of the shop with a box in his hands. “Special delivery for you, my dear. They’ve arrived. Pairs and pairs of them.” He flipped open a box to reveal a rather large supply of pointe shoes that had been specially adjusted for her by her shoemaker in London.

  “They’re here!” Ana exclaimed, cradling a shoe wrapped in plastic in her hand and examining it. Gorgeous. There was nothing more personal to a ballet dancer than her pointe shoes, and achieving the perfect design was everything. In search of it, Ana continued to tweak and tuck each year.

  “I know you’ve been waiting,” Henry said, his eyes sparkling as he began stacking the shoes onto the shelf with her name on it. She and Henry had worked together to come up with this most recent adjustment, cutting down some of the fabric on the sides and back of each shoe so she’d be left with less bagging in the satin, making the shoe nice and tight, tailored to her heel. She couldn’t wait to sew herself into a pair for class that morning, already excited for the cleaner lines she knew the shoes would provide. “Thank you, Mr. Henry. I owe you.”

  “All you owe me is a beautiful performance. I already have my seats picked out for Aftermath. On one of the nights you’re dancing the part.”

  Ana smiled at the show of support, and the friendship she had with Henry. Frozen or not, she’d established several relationships that mattered to her, and Henry was at the top of that list. “I will do my best not to let you down.”

  “You could never, Ana.” He threw a glance to the front of the room and then quietly just to her, “So how’s this new girl? It’s been three weeks now.”

  “Oh, um, Natalie? She’s…coming along.” She thought back to the visual of the innocent-looking girl on her couch, who really was anything but. “She’s coming along, a talented dancer.”

  “Not as talented as you. Impossible.”

  She placed an appreciative kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Henry. I’m off to sew myself into a pair of kick-ass new shoes.”

  “Let me know how they feel.”

  “Will do!”

  She moved to the studio and joined her colleagues in warm-up for class. She made an effort to smile more, exchange pleasantries with the other dancers, Natalie’s words about loosening up ringing in her ear whether she wanted them there or not.

  “Hey, Ana,” Helen said as she snatched the spot next to her on the floor. “How are rehearsals going?”

  “You know, not as smoothly as I’d hoped, actually.”

  Helen straightened from mid-stretch and regarded her. The surprised look on her face told Ana that she hadn’t been prepared for a substantive answer to her question. That’s because you never offer one, she reminded herself. Her go-to would have been “fine.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s up?”

  Ana decided to make the effort and confide in Helen, who’d always seemed like a nice enough person. So she took a breath and went for it. What was the worst that could happen? “The choreo in the ballet is difficult, but the character stuff has been a whole separate challenge. I’m not much of an actress, I suppose, and finding that out the hard way.”

  Helen turned to her. “I have a feeling you’re better than you think.”

  Audrey joined them. “Who’s better? Me? Am I better?” She dropped her dance bag and went about unlacing her boots.

  “I was telling Ana,” Helen said, adding extra emphasis to her name, “that she’s probably doing a much better job in Aftermath than she thinks.” Audrey’s head swive
led in Ana’s direction expectantly. Her blue eyes held interest and blinked at Ana, awaiting further explanation.

  “Because I think…I might be crashing and burning.”

  “Not what Natalie says,” Audrey offered.

  Ana paused at this new angle. “Natalie’s talked to you about rehearsal?”

  Audrey smiled. “Says you’re always a few steps ahead of her.”

  “Well, that part’s true,” Ana said. When Audrey’s eyebrows shot up, she played back the sentence in her head and tried again. It sounded different than she meant it. “What I mean is in terms of picking up the steps, yes, I’m quicker. But she’s got the character worked out in a way I haven’t, and when she dances, it’s kind of…electric,” she said. “You should see it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ana turned to see Natalie standing behind her and felt the blush hit her cheeks instantly.

  “I’ll take electric,” Natalie said and met her eyes and held them.

  Ana shook her head. “I just meant…that you show a lot of emotion when you perform.”

  “Guilty.” Natalie sat down with the group and went about sewing herself into her shoes, a task she didn’t quite finish before it was time for class. Ana shot her an I-told-you-so look as she left to take her spot at the barre, to which Natalie only shrugged.

  For the remainder of class, Ana should have been concentrating on the exercises, on her form, or even how wonderful her newly cut shoes felt on her feet. Instead she tracked Natalie’s movements, hyperaware of her place in the room, her form when they moved away from the barre into arabesque, and the concentration in her green eyes. Natalie had all the makings of a world-class ballerina. She just didn’t want it badly enough. Why wouldn’t she put in the work?

  “Are we having fun yet?” Natalie whispered to her on a break.

  Ana turned to her, anger flaring. “You could be really good. You’re beyond talented.”

  Natalie inclined her head to the side and regarded her. “Okay. That was apropos of nothing. But I appreciate the compliment, even as angrily as you delivered it.”

  “It’s frustrating is all,” Ana said and reached aggressively for her water bottle, which she didn’t even want.

  Natalie grinned. “And you’re all fired up about it. Is this because of this morning? I just needed a few extra minutes of sleep, and look.” She gestured to herself. “Here I am. I’m sorry if I was grumpy. I blame Russian whiskey.”

  Ana brushed off the comment. “You need to pull in your hips when you move into arabesque.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes, and use your stomach muscles. Keep them tight.”

  “Okay,” Natalie said sincerely, blinking back at her with those big expressive eyes. “I can give that a whirl.”

  “Don’t ‘give it a whirl.’ Just do it. It’ll make you better. And get here on time.” With that Ana stalked away, unable to fathom why she seemed intent on helping Natalie.

  “Hey, Ana?”

  She paused. “Yeah?”

  “Maybe we could work on some of that after rehearsal tonight? Stay a little late in the studio and hammer it out?” She tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail behind her ear in a move that had Ana struck. Mesmerized. Enraptured. “Ana?”

  “What? Right.” She ruminated over the proposition, knowing it was a good suggestion. Plus, the look on Natalie’s face was so hopeful, and Ana couldn’t find it in her to say no. In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Great. See you then.”

  *

  Picture-perfect extensions.

  Impeccable turnout.

  Unmatched control.

  Natalie stood there, awed as she watched. Ana exhibited a weightless existence as she moved quickly on her toes through the expanse of the studio.

  Natalie shook her head and drummed her fingers against her upper lip as she took in Ana’s performance of the new variation Roger had added. She’d been watching her dance the Aftermath solos for a better part of an hour. How it happened, she wasn’t quite sure, but somewhere along the way, she’d lost herself in the beauty and the rhythm of the ballet. The more she watched Ana dance, the more in awe she became.

  Of Ana herself.

  Her ability.

  Her body.

  Jason looked over at Natalie and smiled. “She gets better every day.”

  “Understatement,” Natalie said and threw her towel at him good-naturedly. “She was born to do this.” When Ana danced, ballet was more than just a stuffy niche of what Natalie referred to as real dancing. It was…beautiful. Art on display, right in front of her eyes.

  “What?” Ana asked, as she came off the floor, all eyes on her.

  “Looking good out there, Mik,” Jason told her.

  “Well, that’s the goal, right?” she tossed back to him.

  Roger gave notes to his assistants in the corner, likely about to bring rehearsal to a close for the day. They’d gone hard for five hours and made some decent progress. Ana especially.

  “Until tomorrow, everyone!” Roger shouted. “We’ll be in the larger studio, incorporating the background dancers as they appear in the underworld sequences. Natalie, you’ll be up first. Come prepared, please.”

  “Got it.” Natalie stood and stretched. Somewhere there was a bucket of ice water with her name on it. Icing down her muscles would be the only way she could dance those combinations again the next day. Because God, her body screamed.

  “Are we still on?” Ana asked her, toweling off.

  After dancing for the last hour, she still had energy for more? She was kind of a ballet machine, this girl.

  Natalie stared up at her. “Um…I’m game, if you are.”

  “Great. Why don’t we take fifteen and meet back here? We can go over the opening and I can show you a couple of tricks I think will smooth out your transitions.”

  “Cool. See you then.”

  Natalie took the time to roll out her muscles and decompress a little in the green room. When she returned to the studio, the lights were at half and the place was now empty, everyone having packed up and headed home for the night. She stared at her reflection in the mirrors that lined the wall. Her hair was up, but strands had fallen here and there throughout the day. She pulled the rubber band out entirely and gave her head a little shake, prompting her hair to fall to her shoulders. In the corner of her eye, she saw Ana’s reflection watching her from the doorway and something decidedly sexual moved through her, making her very aware of her body and the effect Ana’s stare had on it. Was she crazy, or was there an abundance of chemistry there?

  “Hey,” Ana said, still in the doorway. “I’ll put on the music and we can go from there.” In the empty room, her quiet voice echoed.

  “Ready when you are,” Natalie said, and took her spot in the middle of the room for the opening sequence. Something about the one-on-one work session had her nervous, that her flaws would be so clearly on display. She shoved the unease aside and took a deep, settling breath. Once she heard the music, she was off, but it was only a matter of moments before the room came to a halting silence, causing her to halt as well. She turned to see that Ana had paused the music and was walking toward her with purpose.

  “The thing is that you’re too liberal with your movements. Too loose. You bring this whole reckless quality to the character, and it works, but for the sake of form, you have to tighten up.”

  “Right. I’ve heard that before from Roger. Okay, cool. I’ll try again.”

  Except when she did, the results were much the same. Ana shook her head. “The choreography is there but you lack precision. You have to finish each extension before moving on or the transitions are muddled.”

  “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

  “It’s not,” Ana said matter-of-factly. “You’re rushing. But don’t get frustrated. It’s going to take time. Try again and focus on that one thing. Finish what you start.”

  Natalie danced until th
e music stopped and again turned to her tutor. “Better, you did just what I asked. But now you need to pull yourself in. Keep your hips underneath you.” Ana moved until she stood behind Natalie and met her gaze in the mirror. “Feel that?” Ana asked and placed her hand against Natalie’s abdomen. Natalie nodded, hyperaware of the contact and the warmth that hit her cheeks and spread downward.

  “I do.”

  Ana’s voice was quiet in her ear. “You’re going to pull in here, and push through the toe.”

  Natalie nodded at Ana in the mirror, the contact unbroken. She could feel Ana’s breath tickle her neck, and with Ana’s hands still on her body, her mind wandered to places outside her control. As if sensing the shift, Ana took a step back and released Natalie, moving them on from the charged moment.

  “One more time.”

  Natalie nodded and focused on what she needed to do. As she spun on her toes, she took Ana’s advice, pulling in just beneath the touch she could still feel against her skin. She closed her eyes, concentrated, and before she knew it, she’d made it to the end of the variation. When the music came to a stop this time, Ana didn’t say a word.

  “Well?” Natalie asked. “Any better?”

  Ana blinked back at her, as if awaking from a dream. “Yes. That was…beautiful actually.” And then, finding herself again, “But there’s more to cover.”

  “Okay. I’m game.”

  They spent the next ninety minutes going through a proverbial list in Ana’s head of the techniques Natalie had apparently been murdering throughout their entire rehearsal process. While it was a humbling experience, the thing was, Ana was dead-on each time, and her fixes were working. They were the same notes Roger had given her from the start, but Ana explained them in a way that made sense to her. It wasn’t easy for Natalie to put the notes immediately into her performance of a ballet her body had already memorized, but if she worked at it daily, she was confident she could incorporate the notes more fully and improve. Hopefully before opening night.

  “Are you ready to try the whole thing together?” Ana asked.