Prima

I wanted the fresh air to help me forget about everything, but somehow it didn’t quite work out that way. Instead, ballet was all I could think about. I remembered my glory days when things were amazing. I recalled when dancing was my entire life, when it was all I cared about. I tried to picture being back on the stage again. Tried to imagine how it might have been if I’d not fallen into the arms of Nikolai Kosloff and had not stepped into the pile of shit that came later. Would I be able to do it? To go back to that life. Even though it had been four years, would the rest of the world still blame and hate me for what had happened?

Brushing aside the furry green leaves of a plant, I plucked the red berry and added it to the colander. Why did Alek have to come and complicate my existence by offering me a chance to regain the life I’d thrown away? Another berry was exposed, picked, and added to my harvest even as I had to blink again. The man might have succeeded in bringing tears to my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. The raucous scolding call of the jay had me damning another male for re-sparking my heart’s deepest desire. Giving an angry swipe of my sleeve against my cheek, I moved to another row of plants, lifting leaves and snatching ripe strawberries from their stems before allowing the leaves to fall back into place to cover those not yet ready to leave the sanctuary of their home. Why couldn’t Alek have simply let things lie? Why had he planted the seed of my stepping from the safety of my own hiding place? Shaking my head didn’t keep the devil on my shoulder from joining the conversation.

Would it be totally crazy to go to the theater if you think of it as working out rather than a potential career change?

I pondered the question and then shook if off. It wasn’t only crazy, it would be stepping into dangerous territory. One that would suck me back in before I knew it. Wouldn’t it be letting my students down if I stopped teaching? I didn’t want whatever I did to be something I ended up regretting.

Seriously? Like a few adjustments of class schedules won’t allow you to do both?

I suppose the largest elephant in the room was the question of if I stayed behind in the safe little boring world I’d created, would I always wonder what if? And speaking of what ifs, if I went, would it just be another mistake?

I’d barely survived the first time I’d failed.

Would I be setting myself up to fail again?

What was that saying? Oh right…

Once a fuck up, always a fuck up.

Finding no answers, I sighed and, deciding I had enough fruit to prepare breakfast, and making sure there was no trace of my tears, I went back into the house.3AlekI flicked my eyes over the potential candidates entering the theater for auditions today. Unfortunately, I wasn’t experiencing positive vibes from any of them. This certainly hadn’t been the way I’d hoped this would go. Clara Simyoneva vehemently had declared the ballet was something she was no longer interested in, and while I’d seen the lie in eyes that were the most incredible shade of green, there really wasn’t much I could do. I’d made her an offer, and when that hadn’t worked, I’d taunted her. Hell, I’d even tossed down the gauntlet by stating perhaps she was out of shape and suggesting a younger woman could dance rings around the former star.

Who was I kidding?

She could attempt to hide beneath that wrinkled shirt hanging off her frame and the plaid pants flapping around legs that were the envy of millions of women, but unless she pulled a paper bag over her head, she couldn’t fool me.

High cheekbones told of a timeless beauty. The prominent hollow of a collarbone revealed when the oversized shirt slid off a shoulder, the long thin fingers clutching a stack of mail and the delicate wrists that could hold a pose for hours told the true story. Clara’s beauty had only been enhanced by the inner demons she’d been fighting for the past few years.

As much as I wanted the beautiful, tortured ballerina who had turned every male head and possibly many a female’s since she’d completed her first pirouette, I had a company to run and a ballet to produce.

Sighing, I looked down at the list in front of me and picked up my pencil. I’d forced myself to sign up some other dancers to audition. Although my gut told me they wouldn’t be anywhere near as good as Clara, they were at least newbies, which meant there shouldn’t be any contractual issues or arrogance. They needed Volkov Ballet more than we needed them. I did prefer to be in a position of power.