“Why the sudden urgency?”
She groaned and beat the back of her head against the headrest a few times. “Okay, look, you know how this works. I’m thirty-one. I’ve been in the company since I was eighteen. I’ve done my time in the corps, and I’m one of the oldest girls there now. Women. I hate when they call us ‘girls.’ And I love dancing. I even loved it under Mr. K, and he ran the place like a dictator. But I’m tired. My body’s a bowl of Rice Krispies.”
“I don’t follow.”
“You know, snap, crackle, and pop? I’m getting old, and I’ll have to retire soon. I’ve got maybe two, three years left in me, if I don’t get injured. And I don’t want to retire as a corps member. I want to get promoted and dance a few great roles before I’m too busted and broken to get out of bed in the morning. You know?”
Nick nodded. Yeah, he knew. He felt busted and broken, inside and out, and retirement had only made it worse.
“You know why I hateSwan Lakeso much? It’s not just because Odette dies at the end. It’s because I’ve danced it basically every season for thirteen years and all I ever get to be is a random swan and a random villager. Do you know how tiring it is to stand there in a straight line and keep perfectly still for five minutes while Odette and Siegfried dance their pas de deux? Or to spend most of act one flitting around in the background holding a broom while everyone watches the principals they actually came to see? I could walk off the stage in the middle of the performance and no one would notice that one of the peasants was missing. I might as well be part of the set.”
It had been years since Nick had danced in the corps, but he didn’t remember it being that bad.
“So, that’s what’s wrong,” she sighed, sounding defeated. “Either I get promoted soon, or I finish my career as Peasant Maiden #4 and no one even remembers I was there at all.”
Nick shifted a little in his seat and kept his eyes on the road. So that’s why she’d asked about retirement. He couldn’t blame her for being afraid of it. He should have been more afraid than he was, but he’d been so cocky about photography, so sure that he could make the transition seamlessly. It turned out that even with his connections in the dance world, he didn’t have the talent for that.
“Retirement’s not that bad,” he lied, his stomach twisting again.
“So you said.”
“Really,” he insisted. “And just because we never get to see Peasant Maiden #4 do much besides wave a garland back and forth doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a rich inner life. It just happens off stage. And at least she lives to the end.”
Carly didn’t dignify that with more than a scoff. Okay, so it wasn’t his strongest argument.
“I know dancing in the corps can be repetitive and unrewarding at times, but the corps is really important,” he tried again.
“Easy for a former soloist to say.”
“But it’s true. There’s no ballet company without a corps. ImagineLa Bayadèrewithout all the Shades, or even something modern likeRite of Springwithout a corps. You hateSwan Lake, but imagine how much worse it would be without the swans. It would just be …Lake.” He glanced over at her, hoping she’d crack a smile, but she looked unmoved. “The corps is what makes those ballets as impressive as they are. Principals are great, but the corps is what really fills the stage.”
“Oh, so we’re filler?” she retorted hotly. “Like I said, I don’t want to spend my entire career as a glorified set.”
“That’s not what I said,” he said quickly. It wasn’t what he’d meant, either. But he could feel the fragile truce that had developed between them starting to crack. He could sense another Carly Montgomery Shit Fit coming on.
“I just mean that the corps is essential. And it’s where some dancers do their best work.”
Carly turned to him, and even without looking at her, he could feel dislike rolling off her, filling the entire front seat. “Some of us are just destined to live on the bottom rung forever, while the special ones are destined for bigger things? Do you know what an asshole you sound like right now?”
“I—That’s not what I’m saying!” God, she was impossible. “I’m just saying that lots of talented people spend their lives in the corps because the corps needs talented dancers.”
“Oh, I get it,” Carly said, suddenly baring her teeth in the wide, sickly fake smile she’d been using with him whenever Heather or Marcus was around. “I should be grateful? I’ve spent a decade as one of thirty-two interchangeable Shades, and never getting to dance Sugarplum, because I’m so talented and fortunate?”
“Yes! Getting to dance that long is a privilege! Just ask Marcus, or anyone else whose career ended early because of an injury. Or are you too much of a brat to see how lucky you are?”
Carly inhaled sharply. Nick kept his eyes on the road, ignoring the stab of guilt in his gut at the sound. They were over the Spit Bridge now and not far from Freshwater. She didn’t say anything for a long moment, and the silence swirled around him, thick and uncomfortable. Nick heard her take three slow, deep breaths in and out.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and lethal, that blue-hot rage again, and it shook slightly. “How convenient for you that you were one of the chosen ones, Nick. But being stuck in the corps means no one notices when you retire, and no one cares when you get fired on a whim, either. You are dispensable.”
“I—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Especially not with you.”
Fine, he thought.You win. But a few minutes later, when he pulled the car up in front of her building and she shoved the door open and climbed out without so much as a see you later, nose pink and eyes watering, she didn’t look like she was relishing the victory at all.
Chapter 7
“Here you go,” Carly said, placing the jeweler’s small glossy bag carefully on the kitchen table. “Two wedding rings, sized, polished, and ready for the big day. Marcus, the jeweler said you should double check that they sized yours right, because they can resize it pretty easily if you need. Heather, the jeweler said you should have included more diamonds.”
