Chapter 4
Maxime
I suppress a yawn as I rise from the velvety chair. I take a few steps to the sideboard on the opposite wall of the imposing mahogany table, trying to loosen my stiff legs. We have been sitting together in the conference room for hours. The sun has already set, and it's no wonder that only four of us are still here. Cyrille Perret, the main sponsor of the academy, left immediately after the auditions. He was convinced he wouldn't be of any use, and he’s probably right. After all, he knows little about dance; his interest lies primarily in prestige. While other billionaires buy football clubs, he acquires the stars of tomorrow.
The lingering scent of his sharp aftershave fills the air. I pull aside the floor-length velvet curtain and open one of the double-winged windows.
"Now on to couple number forty-two, Liana Herbst and Marco Laudon." Marie Durand seems energetic. "What are your evaluations of the slow waltz?"
From the corner of my eye, I see David lean forward at the conference table to refresh his memory with the help of the photo Madame Durand presents of the couple.
"Music: eight. Balance: also eight. Movement sequence: seven. Dance characterization: five." He looks significantly around the room. "A solid start."
As the academy's artistic director, he knows what it takes to spot young talents. He was my biggest supporter when I was accepted here four years ago. Today, we're friends, and the fact that I'll be working as a dance instructor in the coming academy year is solely thanks to him.
Madame Durand frowns. "They were quite decent. Juli, what do you think?"
Juli has no opinion of her own. She may be a gifted dancer, but over the past few hours, it has become clear to me that she lacks a sense for talent. No wonder she's now more or less parroting what David said earlier, while nervously fiddling with her tightly tied ponytail.
I approach the sideboard, reach for the coffee pot with the golden trims, and fill one of the cups set on the serving tray.
"Maxime?" Madame Durand asks.
With the coffee in hand, I turn around. "Did you not notice that the dancer wore shoes with extra-wide straps for better support? I think we should take that into account for the balance points."
I notice a cautious nod from Juli while David grumbles something about "such a long day" and amends his evaluation on the form in front of him. The boss raises her thin eyebrows and aims her pen at me.
"Impressive, Monsieur Rousseau. Very impressive," she says, even smiling at me.
Unbelievable.
During my training here, we all used to call her theIron Lady. Never before have I seen her mouth defy gravity like this. But now, friendly creases even form around her icy-blue eyes. In my confusion, I nod briefly at her and return to my seat.
"Couple number forty-three." Madame Durand retrieves another photo and places it in the center of the table where the chandelier's light illuminates it. "Aurora Olivetta and Enzo Santoro."
This is the only dance couple for which I don't need a photo to remember. I still have the captivating smile of the dancer in my mind.
She has been haunting my thoughts since she entered the room for the auditions. She carries a natural grace that can hardly be described. Everything about her screams that she is a star in the making. I’m sure she will capture the hearts of all the dance judges and every audience.
"Your evaluations, please," the boss says in her typically controlled tone. "Juli."
She shrugs, pretending to study the photo more closely before responding. "In no category would I give them more than three points."
I massage my stiff neck. Juli being wrong doesn't surprise me.
David bites his lower lip. "I also see them toward the back." Absentmindedly, he pulls the photo closer. "They lack rhythm. Even though their posture was consistently graceful, the dance was... wooden."
Excuse me? How can he not be impressed by the delicate beauty with the fiery Italian expression this morning? David's judgment is not only hasty and generalizing but also simply incorrect.
"Amateurish," the academy's boss adds. "Besides, they’re too old. How did they even qualify for the audition?"
"Wait." I raise my hand because I can't let this stand. Even though Aurora Olivetta is twenty-two, three years older than the other beginners, she deserves a chance. "Did none of you recognize it?"
"Did their shoes have narrower straps than necessary?" David asks with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Recognize what?" Juli wants to know.
I grab the photo and tap on the dancer energetically. "She's a star."
