Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two Page 3

  “She still has a few minutes.”

  “Well, I’m not sure what it’s like here, but at our academy, on time is late. Anyway, come on. I’ll introduce you to the people I met last night.”

  As Kelly whisked Alexia from dancer to dancer, it was evident she had met everyone the night before. Alexia greeted them with enthusiastic smiles, but her gaze flickered to the door whenever the opportunity presented itself, anxiously awaiting their star.

  At nine o’clock on the dot, Mrs. Beaumont’s voice rose above the rest. She had drifted to the front of the room, positioned in front of a violin mural—artwork that had presumably given the room its name.

  “Good morning all. I’m thrilled to officially welcome you to Paris, but more importantly, to the first group rehearsal for Le Réveillon de la Saint-Sylvestre. I trust you have all learned your parts, and the next five days will be dedicated only to fine-tuning the performance into a show worthy of your many talents. Now, you’ve all received the schedule, but I’d like to run through it again so we’re all on the same pa—”

  A sudden bang interrupted Mrs. Beaumont. Every head whipped around to the door. Alexia’s heart leapt to her throat as her eyes fell on the face featured in the in-flight magazine. Only now it was animated, alive and in the flesh. The picture had not done the real version justice. Chloe’s skin was a flawless, golden caramel, accentuated by thick black hair that was tied up in an elegant bun. Her eyebrows were manicured into a perfect arch that housed her wide-set eyes, which addressed the room with a confidence as lofty as her stance. Her presence was overwhelming, causing Alexia to rub the goosebumps from her arms.

  “Désolé, le trafic était terrible,” she said, disregarding the International Ballet Alliance’s request for the dancers to communicate in English.

  “That’s quite alright, Chloe,” Mrs. Beaumont replied as a subtle reminder. “I was just going over the schedule. Now then, where were we? Oh yes, today is the only morning we will meet in this room. On all other days, you are to be backstage, ready to perform at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Friday is the official dress rehearsal, and of course, Saturday is the big night…the last day of the year. Have your gowns and tuxedos for the masquerade ball on hand that evening. After the show, it’s straight to the ballroom. Many of the International Ballet Alliance’s cherished benefactors will be in attendance, so please take the time to pose for any requested photographs. Friends and family of yours are entitled to a fifty percent discount on tickets for the performance and the ball, if they haven’t already been purchased. Any questions?”

  Although there were none, an excited energy swelled within the delicate walls.

  “Perfect. Then let’s begin. I’ll show you to the dressing rooms, which connect to the stage. Please meet there when you’re ready.”

  The moment they were dismissed, Alexia turned on her heel, hoping to fall in line beside Chloe. But due to her late entry, Chloe was the first to slip out the door. Alexia only caught a flash of immaculate hair before the principal dancer disappeared.

  “I was a tad jet lagged this morning, but it’s finally starting to hit me,” Kelly said, catching up to Alexia. “The whole thing is surreal, don’t you think? I still can’t believe I was lucky enough to score an invitation.”

  They were Alexia’s exact thoughts, and trying to stay positive, she forced herself to focus on them. There would be plenty of time to speak with Chloe throughout the day. Better yet, plenty of time to perform with Chloe. Kelly was right, this week was going to be nothing short of memorable, and she needed to enjoy every second of it.

  The women’s dressing room was another architectural wonder. Its pastel pink walls were trimmed with sculpted flowers, eternal in their blossom. Off-white lockers blended inconspicuously into the space, with digital combination screens displaying cursive numbers. A delicate smell enveloped the air, accents of rose that brought the stone flowers on the wall to life. Alexia drew in a deep breath, savoring the scent.

  “I feel like I don’t belong,” Kelly whispered. “This place is way too fancy for me. It’s like we’re in a life-size dollhouse. Interesting, but a little creepy.”

  Alexia replied with half a nod as she tried to pinpoint which locker Chloe had taken. Her spirits sank when she saw the two on either side of the star were occupied by the dancers from Sweden and Norway. Jealousy took hold of her when she saw them conversing with the principal dancer. That should have been her.

  Naturally, Kelly opened the closest locker available for Alexia, and then the one beside it for herself. Alexia inwardly cursed her politeness.

  “Thanks,” she said through her teeth, placing Deborah’s expensive bag onto the sparkling clean shelf.

  She shimmied out of her heavy layers, filled her water bottle to the brim, and followed the pack of dancers through the door that led backstage. Crossing its threshold was like stepping into the dark abyss of outer space. As her eyes adjusted, scaffolding emerged overhead, disappearing into the impossibly high corners of the ceiling. Ahead, a curtain blocked the view of the auditorium. If it was colored, the shade was smothered by the faint backstage light. Mrs. Beaumont’s voice swam through the darkness.

  “Everyone space yourselves out and use the next fifteen minutes to warm up. After that I’ll take you through your positions, starting with the group piece.”

  Each dancer dove into their preferred sequence of stretches, but Alexia found it hard to focus with her attention drifting to Chloe every few seconds. The principal dancer seemed unconcerned by the challenging task ahead. Every pose her body bended into was relaxed and assured. Alexia tried to emulate her, tried to achieve the same effortless grace, but it was a challenge to concentrate with her pulse pounding a deafening rhythm in her ears. She was nervous—terrified, actually. It would be so easy to miss a cue…mess up a combination…fall flat on her face.

  She tried to push those possibilities from her mind, but her legs were still unstable when Mrs. Beaumont asked her to stand.

  “Alexia, you’re to be here when the curtain opens for the final number.”

  As if detecting something awry in Alexia’s expression, Mrs. Beaumont lowered her voice and said, “Take a deep breath, ma chérie. It’s just the first run-through. Mistakes are expected.”

  Alexia exhaled some of the tension clamping her heart as she took her position. When the last dancer had been placed, Mrs. Beaumont called out to start the music. Familiar notes bridged Alexia’s memory, transporting her back to the long nights in the studio. Closing her eyes, she waited for her to cue to begin, but before it came, a soft rustle found her ears over the melody. The curtain was opening. Her eyes flung wide. Beyond the velvet veil, the auditorium dazzled in every direction. Gilded banisters, chairs, and balconies all sparkled to life under the room’s grand chandelier. The fixture hung amidst a muraled ceiling of blue sky and angels gazing down upon the seats below. Overwhelmed by the sight, Alexia missed her first step, but thankfully, so had half the other dancers. Mrs. Beaumont’s laugh carried over the music as she waited patiently for them to fall back in line.

  Despite the disorderly start, the rest of the piece flowed well, with only brief pauses to correct spacing. Mrs. Beaumont was gracious with her compliments, and Alexia found the positive reinforcement to be inspirational, wishing every instructor was more like her.

  The next dance to rehearse was the duet by the principal dancers; Chloe Monet representing France, and Olaf Ivanov from Russia. Alexia had been concentrating so fiercely on her own performance that she hadn’t noticed much else. Now, peering out from the wing of the stage, there was nothing to distract her from basking in Chloe’s skill. And skilled she was. Alexia always thought that the fastest way to get to know someone intimately was to watch them dance; it said everything needed to be known about a person. Those who were timid and reserved with their movements tended to be timid and reserved in personality, whereas those who danced boldly, lived boldly. Chloe, however, was hard to judge. Her style fluctuated unpredictably between en
thusiasm and indifference, as if growing bored with the routine until a challenging combination captured her again. But even in her lulls she had a way of moving that was impossible to divert the eye from. Every placement of every limb was sensational, a meticulous work of art. Confidence was not one of her struggles, that much was plain as day. Although, Alexia didn’t resent her for it. Chloe was the best. It was nice she knew it.

  After watching her perform, Alexia was more determined than ever to be noticed by the star, and her pas de quatre offered the perfect opportunity. It was a dance of four, with herself, Kelly, and two male dancers from Brazil and Australia. Alexia poured her heart and soul into the number. With each revolution she sought Chloe’s gaze, praying that it was on her, but the principal dancer’s face was glued to her phone.

  The music drew to an end, and Kelly appeared at Alexia’s side as they walked offstage.

  “I mean, I know everyone here is amazing, but wow, Alexia. You have real talent.”

  Guilt rose in Alexia for not noticing Kelly during the routine. Knowing something needed to be said, she settled for, “Thanks, you were great too.”

  Kelly shrugged off the approval.

  “Everyone here is,” she replied in her jolly, Canadian way.

  They reached the wing, and Alexia’s heart returned to her throat. Kelly had unknowingly led her right to Chloe’s side. The moisture in her mouth evaporated as she fell in line beside the principal dancer, arms almost touching. Alexia shook her head firmly, disgusted by the debilitating physical reaction she was having to Chloe’s presence. She’d never felt like this before, even all those times she had chanced upon the occasional celebrity sighting in New York. Then again, this was different. Chloe wasn’t an actor, or a singer, or popular in a profession Alexia didn’t care for. She was a star in the career Alexia had devoted her entire life to.

  Kelly’s voice floated to her ear from somewhere faraway, asking a question Alexia couldn’t decipher. Her mind wasn’t processing words. All she heard was static.

  “Come again?”

  Kelly didn’t repeat her comment. Her face was too busy scrunching with concern.

  “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  “I’m fine. Just feeling jet lagged myself.”

  Even though the speed of her response was defensive, Kelly took the bait. The Canadian nodded her understanding before her gaze drifted to the side, noticing who was beside them for the first time.

  “Hey Chloe, you were great out there.”

  The nonchalantness of Kelly’s delivery shook Alexia to the core.

  That’s what I wanted to say and exactly how I wanted to say it!

  But Alexia knew she wouldn’t have been able to utter the words even if she’d beaten Kelly to the punch. The best she could do was agree, but even that came out in a strangled squawk. Mortified, Alexia slapped her hand over her mouth, praying that Chloe would mistake it for a hiccup.

  Someone did.

  “Geez Alexia, you must have had a big night last night,” Kelly laughed.

  The remark grabbed Chloe’s attention, and Alexia’s heart stopped when she lifted her eyes from her phone.

  “Did you two attend the welcome function?”

  Her voice, ladened with a romantic French accent, travelled through the air in a hypnotic swirl of sound. Alexia was so entranced that it took her a moment to register that Chloe had asked her a question—well, asked them a question, but that was a trivial detail.

  Before Alexia could detangle her mind from its knot of shock, Kelly stepped in.

  “Yeah, it was a really nice evening. I think you and Alexia were the only two not there.”

  Or maybe not so trivial.

  “I had another engagement,” Chloe replied elusively, and as though in afterthought turned to Alexia and asked, “Where did you go last night?”

  Beads of sweat popped up over Alexia’s skin like chickenpox.

  Get it together!

  Giving herself a stern mental smack, she pried her mouth open to respond.

  “O—out with some friends. Toote La Nute, I believe it was called.”

  When Chloe’s porcelain forehead scrunched, Alexia cursed herself for attempting the French name.

  “Do you mean, Toute La Nuit?”

  Alexia nodded sheepishly, wanting to cocoon herself in the wings of the stage and never reemerge. After a condemnatory silence, Chloe shifted her focus to the stage.

  “Well, make sure that’s not the only bar you go to before you leave. There are far better ones than that in Paris.”

  The coldness of her tone clarified that she would not grace Alexia with any recommendations. A muddle of dejection and embarrassment overcame her, and Alexia wished she could go back in time to when Chloe hadn’t noticed her at all.

  Kelly tried to break the brewing tension with a light joke.

  “What do you call a dancing sheep?”

  When neither Alexia or Chloe could be bothered to shrug, Kelly continued.

  “A baaa-llerina.”

  Kelly laughed at her own joke, completely unfazed that she alone found it funny. And that simple act added envy to the growing list of Alexia’s noxious feelings. Kelly only needed herself to have a good time, highlighting how dependent Alexia was on the validation of others. It was news to her. Likely because she had never needed to grapple for the affections of anyone before. She viewed herself as nice, polite, sometimes funny in her own way. She adapted easily to situations, and because of it, could relate to an eclectic assortment of people. Winning the favor of others was usually easy for her. But Chloe was a different breed of human, so far above the rest in terms of talent, beauty, and charm. As she watched Chloe glide back onstage, the invisible wall thickened between them. One, Alexia realized with a devastating blow, that she would never be able to break down. Meeting Chloe hadn’t brought them any closer together. In person, she remained as elusive as her image in the in-flight magazine. Alexia would always be on the outside of her world. All she could do was look in through the window and imagine how grand life was on the other side.

  It was a fruitless attempt to keep her letdown from infiltrating the rest of the rehearsal. By the end of the afternoon, Mrs. Beaumont had pulled her to one side, asking if she was feeling alright. No frustration hardened the softness of the director’s eyes. In them was only concern that filled Alexia with crippling guilt. She should have been giving it her all instead of wallowing in a cloud of self-pity. A thousand other ballerinas would kill to be in her shoes. Looking up, Alexia sensed she owed Mrs. Beaumont some honesty. Not full transparency of course, but something more sincere than the tired excuse of jet lag.

  “I had a glass of wine last night,” she admitted.

  Alexia waited for a disapproving “tsk” that never eventuated. Instead, Mrs. Beaumont slumped in relief.

  “Oh, I’d be disappointed if you travelled all this way and didn’t indulge in our fine wine! But I have a feeling you won’t be drinking anymore of it until after Saturday’s performance…am I right?”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she grinned, baffling Alexia once again by her peculiar demeanor. Mrs. Beaumont had used a strange sorcery to make it seem as though Alexia had come to the realization all on her own accord, and that she was simply agreeing with her. No scolding. No demands. Just a quiet hint to bring to light what Alexia already knew.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Alexia. We still have five days to pull everything together. Now, go home and rest, ma chérie. It’s been a long day. See you bright and early tomorrow.”

  Alexia bid Mrs. Beaumont goodnight and hurried to catch up with the others. Most of the girls had already cleared out of the dressing room, but Alexia was relieved to find Kelly waiting for her. The day had wreaked havoc on her emotions, and she was thankful for the distraction Kelly’s friendly face and light conversation offered.

  “Everything okay?”

  Alexia shifted her head in an indefinable reply. “Was just one of those days. I’ll t
ell you what though, I sure am glad to have Mrs. Beaumont as our director. She’s almost too good to be true. Are your instructors like that in Canada?”

  Kelly scoffed. “No way. That woman is like Mother Teresa. But somehow, it works. She’s effective. I was more motivated than ever under her direction today. And here I was thinking I never wanted to become an instructor because I thought it would mean shoving a stick up my butt.”

  Alexia’s laugh gave way to a sharp inhale when an unexpected figure appeared beside them.

  “Jesus, Chloe, you scared the living daylights out of us,” Kelly said, muscles relaxing out of their twitch.

  Chloe flashed a humorous smile that didn’t carry an ounce of apology.

  “Forgot my bracelet,” she explained, brushing past them to her locker.

  Her slender hand disappeared into the shadowy space above the top shelf before returning with a sparkling shine; the bracelet must have been inlaid with real diamonds. Desperate not to sink into another black pool of jealousy, Alexia looked away. She had tried and failed with Chloe. Now, the principal dancer was only a distraction to her performance. Best to just avoid her.

  With a new focus on clearing out her locker, Alexia removed Deborah’s bag to ensure she wouldn’t forget it. As she reached for the rest of her belongings, she was painfully aware of the sound of Chloe’s locker banging shut behind her.

  Don’t turn. Don’t turn. She’s not worth a goodbye.

  But Chloe’s voice suddenly commanded her to.

  “Mon Dieu! That’s from Chanel’s new collection! How did you get your hand on one?”

  Alexia’s stomach flipped when she saw Chloe staring at Deborah’s bag.

  “One of my friends works in fashion,” Alexia replied, omitting the fact that the purse didn’t belong to her.

  She wasn’t exactly lying. Chloe had asked where she had gotten it, and she had gotten it from her friend who works in fashion.

  When Chloe’s eyes finally detached themselves from the designer bag, they wandered up to its supposed owner as if seeing her for the first time.