Black Butterfly (3 page)

“No, you were great! I could barely keep up with you. You just landed wrong. It happens to the best of us.”

“It’s not supposed to happen to me,” Sydney said through her teeth.

Oh, stop being such a baby, her inner voice teased. She couldn’t help it. To come so far and then stumble backward seemed to be the story of her life. Her father had once warned her that she would be a victim of her own pride. He should know, since his rejection of her only lasted because of his own.

“So who is she?” Sydney mumbled.

“You really don’t know, do you? She was once the top prima ballerina in Europe. It was in the papers that she’d be choreographing this show. She has trained with the best. The only way she will do the show is if she has the final approval of dancers. That’s why we got to do this old, stuffy, funky routine for the first audition.

I mean five minutes to learn it? Whatever.”

“Oh?” Sydney, shrugged, feeling stupid. How many times did Portia warn her about doing her research?

Sydney had thought knowing everything about Xenia Minetti would be the key to success. Evidently she was wrong.

“Well good luck. Now that you’ve caught her eye, you’ll need it.” Frowning at the warning, Sydney nodded her thanks. Her stomach soured, and the pain in her ankle throbbed. “Hey, can you cover for me? I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

“Sure,” Bet agreed, and Sydney hurried off. She avoided Gustav and shouldered past the other dancers, who were congregating at the door. She felt like she’d burst into tears at any moment. She needed some privacy.

The winter snow flurries moved him along. Annemarie, half his size in height, struggled to keep the umbrella above his head. Nolen made it even more difficult by entering the studio ahead of her. He swept the faces before him. Then finally locked in on Xenia. She stood at the end of the hall speaking with several of her staff members. When she turned to walk away, she looked up and met his stare. Nolen watched her walk toward him with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Glad you could make it,” she said, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

The dancers, now lined up against the wall, stared at him. Some were even bold enough to bat their eyes, trying to get his attention. None of it went unnoticed. Second only to his love of money was his love of women.

Xenia fingered her diamond pendant and moved in closer. Nolen leaned forward to speak into her ear.

“You’ve got an hour.”

“It’s all I need, handsome,” she said, taking his hand to lead him down the cramped hallway to a side stage door.

“Mr. Adams, wait. I have to speak with you,” Annemarie said as she passed him her phone. “I’m sorry, sir, but the office called the studio. They just gave me the message. It seems that Lance Delstar has threatened to pull his portfolio for Delstar Textile. No one at the branch office can deal with him. I can get him on the phone in Ms. Minetti’s office, for privacy.”

“Nolen, don’t.” Xenia groaned.

He winked at her before he left her side. “Go ahead. I’ll find you.” Nolen stepped away, despite her protests. The dance hall was crammed with the anxious chatter of both men and women. Xenia’s office was down the opposite hall in a less populated area of the studio. Annemarie was ahead of him. She had already dialed the number as he approached the desk. He accepted the phone.

“This is Adams. What’s the problem?”

“Adams, fuck, I’ve been trying to reach you for the past three days! Did you see the financial report your office sent to me? You are supposed to be managing my capital issues. Not trading.”

“Lance. We’ve discussed this before. My people have a long-term strategy. A little loss is expected. The financial markets in India are growing, you’ll recover.”

“But—“

“I explained this. I’m managing your assets, buying and selling shares now.”

“I’m no fool Adams! I know you’re good at what you do, but you’re taking too many risks. I’ve already closed two factories. I need to be conservative now––”

“Fine.” Nolen said in a disinterested tone. He’d already made the money he wanted from Delstar. The insider information he had would bring in another three million before the market closed with Hollister. “We’re dumping the Delstar portfolio.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Get another investment firm. I don’t work under these constraints. Good luck to you Scott.”

“Wait! No I don’t—.”

Nolen slammed down the phone and strolled out of the office. He’d make sure Annemarie got in touch with the attorneys to cover their tracks. He walked down the hall then paused. An unmistakable scraping noise echoing throughout. It was as if a chair was being dragged. Nolen finally took in his surroundings. He noticed the warped floorboards and molding along the walls. In this part of the studio Xenia could have a rat infestation that could shut down her business. He made a mental note to alert her before again turning to leave.

“Darn it!” a woman cried out. Nolen’s gaze was drawn back over his shoulder. What sounded like a plea instead of a curse came from behind the only door in the hall. Who in the hell said darn it nowadays, he thought with a smirk.

Nolen acted on his curiosity. There behind a stained bathroom door he spotted a young woman seated with her back to him. She wore the number thirty-two. Nolen dropped his shoulder against the doorframe and watched. Her face remained hidden to him, but her pain wasn’t. She worked her hands over what looked to be her raised foot, which rested in her lap.

“What am I doing here? How did I ever think I could pull this off?” she asked herself with a drawl that sounded Southern. She then lowered her foot and a soft moan of what he thought to be regret escaped her, before she dropped her face into her hands. “I’m such an idiot! I’m so stupid!” Nolen’s curiosity peaked. The young woman had poufy hair, dark auburn-brown locks that rested on her shoulders. He wanted to see more of her, but to do so would probably embarrass her. His instinctual need to do her no further harm, kept him silent. She sucked in a deep breath and lowered her hands. “Ok, calm down, just stop it, Sydney. It ain’t over yet. You here and it didn’t take some fancy dance school to do it. All you gotta do is get through the audition.” She wiped her eyes. “It ain’t over. . . I can do it. It’s not over,” she mumbled, forcing herself to rise. After a deep intake of breath, she pressed down on the foot and put all of her weight on it. “See, it feels better. I can do it.”

Sydney? He displayed a sly smile at her name. Nolen slipped back into the shadows and walked out of the hall. In search of Xenia, he checked the time. It might serve him best to meet with the attorneys personally.

There were some nasty details on what he had the investment team assigned to Delstar doing. He didn’t need another brush with the SEC. He had no time or patience to stick around for this dancing stuff. When he found his bedmate she was seated in the second row. She looked at him with relief. Nolen heaved a sigh then walked over to the second row and eased inside.

Xenia touched his leg once he sat. “I thought I lost you.”

He looked to the stage and watched the girls coming out to line up. “Why did you bring me to the auditions? I won’t sit through this. I have things––”

Xenia squeezed his hand and he cut his eyes back over to her. “I needed you to see the nuts and bolts of my production. You’ll finally understand my commitment to picking the best talent out there. This way you will be more inclined to invest. Now please, Nolen, it won’t take long. And I followed the rules.” A renewed objection formed, but she dismissed him with another quick pop kiss. She reached for her microphone and turned it on.

“Let’s begin.” Xenia called out, prompting the lights to lower over the spectators, brightening for the dancers onstage. Nolen rested his elbow on the chair’s edge and reclined, stroking his chin as he scanned the ladies. One by one the women got in position. Then number thirty-two stepped out last on the stage. He narrowed his eyes on her.

“Sir, should I––”

“Not now, Annemarie,” he snapped. Number thirty-two’s thick hair was pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her delicate features. He couldn’t see her face, as clearly as he wanted to, but there was a striking contrast to this dark beauty that didn’t go unnoticed as she stood beside rail-thin women and men. He immediately noticed how she favored her foot as she got into position.

The music started and so did the dance. Number thirty-two sprung up on her toes. She matched the other dancers’ sideways steps with grace. Nolen's gaze never left her. Impressed that her movements were masterful and her leaps as agile as the others, he watched, sharing in her secret. She danced toward the back; however, her presence and determination seemed to influence the dancers in front of her.

Nolen heard Xenia speak to her producer. The choreographer leaned in to share her opinion. The three began to systematically check off lines on her clipboard. And then the show came to an abrupt end.

Xenia cleared her throat. “When I call your number, step forward—thirty, twenty-seven, three, twenty-six, nineteen.”

The dancers stepped forward. His number thirty-two raised her hand to her brow, staring into the bright lights. He could read her hope and fear in the way her other hand opened and clenched several times.

“Thank you for coming out. If your number was called, you have not been invited to stay for the next round of auditions.”

Number thirty-two lowered her hand, and her eyes stretched wide with disbelief. Nolen found that amusing after witnessing her personal pep talk. The rejected dancers gave their thanks and walked off stage.

Nolen’s eyes lowered to the foot thirty-two favored. She was an expert in concealing her pain, something he shared in common with her.

“Now,” Xenia said to the dancers who remained onstage. “Please go with Madame Gustav. You’ll be allowed to audition individually.”

Annemarie touched his shoulder, but he put up his hand to silence her. Obediently she sat back. Nolen then slid his hand over Xenia’s thigh, easing it up her skirt. “I want to see number thirty-two audition before I leave.”

“Huh?”

“Your hour is up, but I’ll watch one audition and make my decision. I want to see number thirty-two.” Xenia checked her notepad to see whom he was talking about. “Ah, the birthday girl?”

“Birthday?”

“Nothing. Today’s her birthday.” Xenia scoffed.

Nolen looked back at the stage. “Really?”

“Why do you want to see thirty-two?” Xenia asked. Nolen’s hand dipped in further between her thighs, and his eyes lowered to the hint of cleavage she had left exposed. Shifting in her seat as a signal for him to remove his hand before anyone saw, she spoke into the microphone. “Juan, please come to the auditorium.” Immediately Juan came onto the stage. “¿Que pasa?” he asked, staring into the lights with one hand on his hip and the other blocking the glare.

“Change of plans. Pull thirty-two. She’s up first.”

Sydney enjoyed her small victory. She couldn’t stop grinning.

“I said, Ms. Thang!” Juan’s high-pitched voice cut through her thoughts. Sydney snatched off her earbuds and spun around to find Juan and several dancers staring at her.

“Me?”

“That’s right. Chu, honey! I don’t have all day. C’mon, get your diva stroll on a roll. You’re up next!” He breezed back out, and Sydney hurried to collect her things as the dancers ahead of her stared in disapproval.

The girl next to her whispered, “Break a leg, or should I say foot?” She was the one who made the jab at her earlier, and now she was flanked on both sides by dancers with envious eyes. The hens snickered at the joke.

“Oh, shut the hell up!” Bet snapped. She smiled at Sydney. “Don’t pay the evil one any mind.”

“Evil one?” Sydney asked, glaring after the little group who walked away.

“Emily. She was top of the class at the Academy. She pretty much thinks this is her show. Her father is the chancellor over there, Ben Mendoza.”

Sydney froze at the mention of Mendoza’s name and her face went pale. Stuffing her bag, she tried to mask her discomfort. “Never heard of him.”

“Hey, you ok? You’ll do fine,” Bet said, touching her arm.

“Thanks!” Sydney hurried out of the practice studio.

So Mendoza’s daughter competed for the part. The day just kept getting better and better. With no other choice, she forced down her anxiety over the piece of bad luck. She had a bigger problem to consider. If the dancers saw her favoring her foot, then Xenia Minetti might as well. She had to be careful. Her eyes darted through the moving crowd of dancers and staff before spotting Juan talking to two technicians.

He looked up at her approach. “Girlfriend, mmhmm, look at cha. It’s your time,” he said. “Now, what you dancing to?”

“Black Butterfly,” she said, reaching into her bag to retrieve her CD.

Juan turned up his nose. “Black what?”

“My friend has a local band. It’s something we put together.” Juan shook his head. “I thought you’d have something with a little more flava?” Sydney smiled. “Oh, this has ‘flava.’ Just play it. You’ll see.”

“Whateva.” He accepted the CD, then tossed it to the audio tech. “Go on!” Juan said, shooing her off toward the stage.

Sydney dropped her bag. In her haste to get back to the stage, she had forgotten to pull her hair back into the ponytail that she’d removed after the first audition. Her thick mane tumbled carelessly down her back.

She would just have to leave it that way.

The stage remained as terrifying as it was when she left it, and the stakes were much higher since this performance would decide her fate and she had to prove herself alone. Sydney could barely make out the small audience, so she chose to ignore them all. She walked confidently to center stage; she lifted her chin to the bright lights shining on her. Two deep breaths and she gave Juan a slight nod.

The saxophone solo poured out of the speakers like warm honey, charming the notes from the pianist that rippled through the air. Sydney spun into her routine. The tips of her toes kept her feet from the ground and she forced a smile to her face, giving herself up to the performance as the sweet voice sang of beauty emerging from darkness—her voice. Soon she transformed into the natural performer she was, letting the feel of the music control her body’s movements with a seductive ease. Her mind centered on the words she’d written.