“Kristen is making noises about going to another company. Do you think Prosper will expect to move to principal permanently?”
“Don’t you want her to?”
“I don’t know. I hate to lose Kristen, but if you think Prosper is principal material…”
“She’s definitely principal material.” He looked hard at Lawrence. “Is it only her small size that you don’t like?”
“She’s just so serious in her focus.” Lawrence shook his head so his white-gray hair fell into his eyes. “Almost joyless in a way.”
“A small price to pay for perfect dancing,” Jackson said. “When you watch her Firebird, you’ll see.”
* * *
Tuesday after class Prosper dawdled, stretching and rubbing her legs.
“Tired from all your prima ballerina dancing?” Glenna teased.
“No,” she said. “Just basically tired.”
And she was tired. Prosper hadn’t been able to sleep last night again, this time not from sexual frustration but from ire. Yes, they’d said no strings, but how dare he just totally ignore her? As if nothing had taken place between them at all? And now she was off to suffer the same indignity again. She was waiting outside the rehearsal room as the other dancers filed in, not quite ready to face Jackson yet, when Blake loped up to her side.
“Prosper. Hey.”
The southern lilt to his voice always surprised her, at odds with his ethnic face. “Hi, Blake.”
She wondered what was going on. Even after weeks of rehearsals, he hadn’t deigned to speak to her outside of short exchanges required by their Firebird parts.
“Company rehearsals today. Excited?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“It’s good. When they see what you’re doing, what Jackson’s been doing—”
“They’ve already seen it.” What did he think would change? They’d been watching through the windows for weeks, had already seen Jackson berating her, seen her trying to capture the choreography with debatable success.
“Listen, Prosper, maybe you don’t want to hear this. Maybe you hate me, maybe you don’t want my advice, but I’m going to say it anyway. You’re a talented dancer. You know what you’re doing, and you could very well be a principal soon. You should lighten up a little.”
She moved to leave, but he blocked her and backed her against the wall. She was about to shove him away when she looked to the side and saw Jackson turn and disappear into the rehearsal space. Had he seen Blake cornering her there, leaning in for what could have been a kiss but was only a lecture?
“I mean, you need to learn to network, Prosper. The world of dance is social. Why don’t you try cracking a smile every once in a while?”
“I smile all the time. I’m perfectly happy. But I’m not going to act fake and schmooze and pretend to like your nasty friends.”
“Those friends can get you places—places you can’t get by yourself. Or are you depending on your other friend ?” They both knew exactly who he meant. “Do you think he’s going to do anything for you once this is all done? I’m sure this is what he does, over and over. Picks a ballerina he likes. Uses her and loses her. Moves on when the inspiration is gone. You’re not sleeping with him, are you? Jesus, tell me you’re not.”
She looked up at her partner, then pushed him away. “Thanks for your concern and advice, but I don’t really need it. I know what you and your friends think of me. I know what people are saying. I don’t care. All I care about is getting this ballet perfect. So just partner me, Blake, and shut the fuck up.”
* * *
Jackson ground his teeth as the dancers began to file in for practice. He was still trying to erase the image of Blake leaning over his Prosper in the hallway. His Prosper . Was she his? Blake was no fool. He too probably sensed that a passionate creature lurked beneath Prosper’s demure exterior. It had been a punch in the gut, seeing them together. For all he knew, they’d been hooking up for weeks. It
“Don’t you want her to?”
“I don’t know. I hate to lose Kristen, but if you think Prosper is principal material…”
“She’s definitely principal material.” He looked hard at Lawrence. “Is it only her small size that you don’t like?”
“She’s just so serious in her focus.” Lawrence shook his head so his white-gray hair fell into his eyes. “Almost joyless in a way.”
“A small price to pay for perfect dancing,” Jackson said. “When you watch her Firebird, you’ll see.”
* * *
Tuesday after class Prosper dawdled, stretching and rubbing her legs.
“Tired from all your prima ballerina dancing?” Glenna teased.
“No,” she said. “Just basically tired.”
And she was tired. Prosper hadn’t been able to sleep last night again, this time not from sexual frustration but from ire. Yes, they’d said no strings, but how dare he just totally ignore her? As if nothing had taken place between them at all? And now she was off to suffer the same indignity again. She was waiting outside the rehearsal room as the other dancers filed in, not quite ready to face Jackson yet, when Blake loped up to her side.
“Prosper. Hey.”
The southern lilt to his voice always surprised her, at odds with his ethnic face. “Hi, Blake.”
She wondered what was going on. Even after weeks of rehearsals, he hadn’t deigned to speak to her outside of short exchanges required by their Firebird parts.
“Company rehearsals today. Excited?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“It’s good. When they see what you’re doing, what Jackson’s been doing—”
“They’ve already seen it.” What did he think would change? They’d been watching through the windows for weeks, had already seen Jackson berating her, seen her trying to capture the choreography with debatable success.
“Listen, Prosper, maybe you don’t want to hear this. Maybe you hate me, maybe you don’t want my advice, but I’m going to say it anyway. You’re a talented dancer. You know what you’re doing, and you could very well be a principal soon. You should lighten up a little.”
She moved to leave, but he blocked her and backed her against the wall. She was about to shove him away when she looked to the side and saw Jackson turn and disappear into the rehearsal space. Had he seen Blake cornering her there, leaning in for what could have been a kiss but was only a lecture?
“I mean, you need to learn to network, Prosper. The world of dance is social. Why don’t you try cracking a smile every once in a while?”
“I smile all the time. I’m perfectly happy. But I’m not going to act fake and schmooze and pretend to like your nasty friends.”
“Those friends can get you places—places you can’t get by yourself. Or are you depending on your other friend ?” They both knew exactly who he meant. “Do you think he’s going to do anything for you once this is all done? I’m sure this is what he does, over and over. Picks a ballerina he likes. Uses her and loses her. Moves on when the inspiration is gone. You’re not sleeping with him, are you? Jesus, tell me you’re not.”
She looked up at her partner, then pushed him away. “Thanks for your concern and advice, but I don’t really need it. I know what you and your friends think of me. I know what people are saying. I don’t care. All I care about is getting this ballet perfect. So just partner me, Blake, and shut the fuck up.”
* * *
Jackson ground his teeth as the dancers began to file in for practice. He was still trying to erase the image of Blake leaning over his Prosper in the hallway. His Prosper . Was she his? Blake was no fool. He too probably sensed that a passionate creature lurked beneath Prosper’s demure exterior. It had been a punch in the gut, seeing them together. For all he knew, they’d been hooking up for weeks. It
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