“No,” Laurel said between quick strokes of her needle. “We’re breaking them in.”
They worked as an efficient team, sewing ribbons and elastic, cutting the fabric at the toe and burning the edges with a lighter.
“Time?” she called out.
I glanced at my phone. “Three forty-two.”
“It’s going to have to do.”
In the hallway, I followed the parade of dancers toward the rehearsal studio, ignoring their stunned looks at my badge and gun. When we reached the studio, I assessed the open room, one wall mirrored. There was a wooden bar mounted at the back and more freestanding ones that sat in the corner. The company milled about, some stretching on the floor and others standing and chatting.
I nodded to Laurel that it was safe to come in, and several of the dancers flew at her, pulling her into hugs.
Their questions were fast and furious, and she did a good job of being vague, which we’d discussed on the drive down. I didn’t want to alarm her coworkers any more than they already were. It was clear they didn’t like the police presence at the theater.
Watching her castmates embrace her with genuine affection was... disorienting.
It wasn’t surprising she was well liked, but seeing it made me feel terrible because all of this would be gone tomorrow.
Frey had taken this from her.
A paper-thin bald man materialized at the front, and the dancers scurried to stand in rows. The director wasn’t happy I was here, and he didn’t hold back the side-eye or censor the disdain from his face.
“As soon as warm-ups are complete, I need everyone in places for the final movement. We’ll go over the choreo change that Laurel wasn’t here for.”
He said it like she’d taken an unapproved vacation, and I clenched my jaw.
She hadn’t blown off her obligations. She’d been busy helping the marshals search for a killer, during which she’d been shot at, assaulted, and kidnapped. I knew just how badly she would have preferred to have been at rehearsals instead, and it pissed me off once again that she’d had to make this sacrifice.
I listened to the chatter in my monitor about checks and personnel while the dancers stretched, and when the comments in my ear got too friendly, Caroline came on and told everyone to stay off the comm unless they had something fucking useful to say.
She’d have big shoes to fill if she was going to replace Bill, but I was beginning to believe she could do it.
I’d never felt more out of place in my whole goddamn life while watching the rehearsal.
“Softer landings, children,” the director yelled. “You are not a herd of elephants. Choose to stop dancing like one.”
The dance they practiced required one of the male dancers in the company to put his hands all over Laurel in a series of lifts. It didn’t bother me until the director stopped the routine and the dancer left his hands on her waist. Comfortable. Some of the other couples did the same, and she acted like she didn’t notice or care.
I wasn’t the possessive type, and while this was harmless, every second the guy stood with his hands on her brought me closer to making a passive-aggressive comment.
Imagine how thrilled she’d be about that.
“Late, Beast,” the director said. “That happens on six now. You’d know that if you’d been here.”
Well, fuck him.
I didn’t want to be near the man now. It was dangerous for us both, but more so for the pale, weak-looking director who continued to berate her throughout practice. Yet at one pointwhile they were stopped, her focus found me and she smiled. Like she was happy, regardless of what the director said.
The pain in my chest was tight and made it hard to breathe.
“Dismissed,” the asshole director finally said.
I straightened from the wall I’d been leaning against and watched her hug several of the dancers fiercely. A few of them seemed confused.
They didn’t know she was saying goodbye.
She pulled off her shoes and padded over to me. Whatever expression I wore, it made her worry. “What’s wrong?”
