“It’s the most pivotal part of the ballet. And I think you've rehearsed the village enough. The corps isn’t together at all in Act Two. And we need to decide who will play Myrtha—Queen of the Wilis.”
Madam’s lips tightened. “I think it’s endearing that you want to take such an active role in our ballet, Director Reynolds, but as the Ballet Master, I must ask you to let me do my job, just as I am happy to let you do your job as director by filling in and being our rehearsal pianist—since you took my pianist away.”
Every eye shifted to Jane, the small dark-haired girl standing near the edge of the wings, dressed to dance in her black leotard and tights.
Liam rocked back on his heels. “And I am happy to let you do your job, Madam, which is to do what I tell you to do.”
Liam moved away from the piano and motioned the small girl close to him.
“Jane, I’d like you to do an arabesque turn for me.”
Her eyes widened and she shuffled back a step.
“Don’t be afraid. Jane, please show everyone your arabesque turn.”
She slowly moved forward, her head darting side to side. The other girls giggled but parted a way for her. She stepped onto center stage, then glanced back to Madam Benée.
“Go ahead, child,” Madam said.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Jane pressed into the floor and spun onto her standing leg, her other leg stretched out behind her. She fell halfway around. The girls snickered.
“What went wrong?” Liam asked.
Madam quirked a brow. “She’s weak. She doesn’t have enough strength to get over her shoe and to carry her through the turn.”
“Wrong.”
Liam walked up to the slender girl. “I want you to really dig into the floor. Don’t be afraid of it. Put all your weight into it before you press upward into the turn. Can you do that? It’ll give you enough momentum to make it all the way around. Okay?”
Jane nodded, dark strands flying from her bun.
“Okay. Again.”
Jane took a shaky breath. She glanced around nervously before she glisséd into the floor and pressed up onto her pointe shoe. Halfway through, she stopped, stumbling again.
The girls covered their mouths, smirking. Madam’s lips curved upward.
Liam put a comforting hand on Jane’s shoulder. He bent down so his gaze connected with hers.
“Try again. Remember. Use the floor.”
Jane sucked in another breath, preparing again, her mouth set tight. Liam waited intently.
This time, she pressed deep into the floor and spun effortlessly around, landing in a solid finish. Her eyes lit up and her mouth spread into a wide grin.
Liam crossed his arms and gave a crisp nod. The other girls’ mouths flopped open.
Madam marched over and gripped Liam’s arm, her fingernails biting into his skin.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. “Giving her hope? She has no prayer of becoming a ballerina. Look at her smiling. Now she actually thinks she can accomplish something—you’ve ruined everything.”
Liam’s brow furrowed.
Madam’s heels clicked away as Charlotte and a few other girls bounced up to him.
“That was amazing,” one girl said. “How did you do that?”
“He studied at the Bolshoi, of course,” Charlotte said, twisting a loose blonde curl around her finger. “Liam has already promised to work with me on the mad scene.”
“What else did you learn at the Bolshoi?” a bubbly girl asked.
“Yes, please tell us!” another girl pleaded.
“I mainly studied piano composition,” Liam said blankly, unable to take his eyes off Jane.
“Madam has never helped us this much. What else can you teach us?”
Jane stared out into the audience, her palms pressed to her cheeks.
“But how did you learn all that with composition?”
“I was the studio pianist for all of the Bolshoi classes,” Liam answered automatically. “I watched every single class. I played at every single rehearsal. I picked up a thing or two.”
Liam watched as Madam yanked Jane by the arm and dragged her out of the theater. He started to move forward, to stop Madam from hauling Jane off, but the girls circled around him, stopping him.
“Where is Madam taking Jane?” Liam asked. “Why does she care so much?”
The girls glanced at each other, eyes dancing with delight.
“Why, she’s the Madam’s daughter of course.”
Chapter Ten
Shady Lane
* * *
Red slipped outside the courtyard and onto the narrow, dark street behind the theater. A “No Outlet” sign creaked in the wind. Old shops were squeezed together, flowers hanging from their upper story windows. The stores should have been cute, but the decrepit scene reminded her of a haunted version of Main Street, Disneyland. She pulled her backpack closer to her, her breath foggy in the night air.
Everything had changed since her father had died. She remembered the live music that used to fill the streets. Fiddles. Singers. Kilts. Twinkling lights. Now everything was… dead. Silent. Dark. She couldn’t even remember where the old pawnshop was. A horn honked in the distance.
Laughter sounded, and two men staggered down the alleyway, arms wrapped around each other. They sang at the top of their lungs, both sporting smeared stage makeup from earlier. Without seeing Red, the men stepped up to a rusted metal door and gave a series of knocks.
A white, bony hand peeled the door open.
“Bart, my man!” they shouted.
A red fluorescent light buzzed above them.
“You know you’re not allowed inside. Not ’til daylight.”
One man held a beer bottle up to Bart’s face. “Ah. Come on. Don’s not still holdin’ by those rules, is he?”
“If you want in, come back at daylight.” The door shut.
One of the men squinted and knocked again. The door opened a second time, and the theater man stuck his face up into Bart’s.
“But… but what if it’s true?” he asked, his voice low. “With the… Bridegroom Killer? We’re not safe out here.”
“Then you will have to try and survive until daylight,” Bart said, glowering.
Red peered down the street, then back at the three men. Talk of the Bridegroom Killer sent shivers down her spine, but she didn’t have time for it. She was leaving. She didn’t want anything to do with this place any longer. She moved under the flickering red light.
“Question.”
The men stopped.
“Where is the pawn shop?” She tucked her bag closer to her. “I remember there being one around here.”
With Bart distracted, the two men exchanged a quick glance and darted inside underneath Bart’s cloaked arm. Bart glared after them, then turned on Red. A stony expression jutted from his features, his sharp jawbones grinding together. Red lifted her chin.
Bart stretched out his arm and, without saying a word, pointed down the street.
“Er… thanks.” Red backed away, her shoulder blades tight. She wondered what was up with the grim reaper.
Garbage reeked in the trash containers. Red rubbed her arms, wondering if she should just head back to the theater. The further she moved down the street, the darker the road became. She eyed the boarded-up windows, piles of trash, and stray cats. She wrapped her hands around her stomach, shivering.