Chaos Choreography
Page 12
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“Are you good enough?” He held up a hand before I could squawk indignantly. “You’re the finest dancer I’ve ever known, but when we met, you were dancing for three hours a day. I haven’t seen you practice your footwork in weeks. Will you be able to meet your own standards on the floor?”
“Yes,” I said. This, at least, I could say with certainty. “I haven’t been doing my dance practice, but the rest of my physical conditioning is still good. I’d have to vary my daily exercise routines, and really focus on my feet and hips between now and the show. That’s no big deal. I’m in better shape than most dancers can even dream of—and dancers are by and large a healthy lot that spends a lot of time in motion.”
“And your Valerie identity, it’s still sound?”
“No one’s managed to blow it yet,” I said. “I’d have to unpack my wigs, and see about getting a few new ones, since the old ones have been in storage since my last competition. But Verity Price has never danced professionally, and we use so much makeup when I’m Valerie that she and I don’t even have the same complexion. I’d basically have to pull my wig off and announce myself.” It was all very Scooby-Doo. A wig and some makeup and nobody knew my name. But it worked, and that was what mattered.
Dominic nodded. “Valerie Pryor, of course, is not married to me.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s why I called you my boyfriend when I was talking to Adrian. I didn’t want to have to explain to him why I didn’t send him an invitation to the wedding. Not that he would have come, and not that there was actually a wedding, but you know what I mean.”
“Miraculously enough, I do know what you mean,” said Dominic. “Your approach to the English language is like a virus, and after long exposure, I’ve contracted a great deal of it. I may, by this point, be incurably afflicted.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. Dominic laughed before sobering, sitting up a little straighter in the bed. He shouldn’t have been capable of looking that grave while half-naked, but somehow, he managed it.
“Do you want this?” he asked.
I hesitated before saying, “Yes. Maybe it’s selfish and maybe it’s stupid, but . . . yes. I do.”
“Then that means you must do the show, unless someone can raise a truly novel and valid argument against it,” he said.
I blinked.
Dominic continued, “I know you. I love you, but that doesn’t preclude understanding what a gloriously stubborn creature you are. If you don’t do this, you’ll forever be wondering whether you made the right choice when you became a fulltime monster negotiator rather than staying on the stage. The universe doesn’t offer this manner of opportunity to just anyone, and I’d rather not watch you abuse yourself with ‘what-ifs’ when the chance to answer them all is right in front of you.”
“If I win, I get a year’s free rent on a studio apartment in New York,” I said. “Is that safe?”
“There’s been no Covenant movement in that direction. New York is a large city. You would be living as a redhead. I could bleach my hair and take a job at the Freakshow. I’m sure Ryan would enjoy the challenge of teaching me how to make a proper martini,” said Dominic. “We would make it work.”
The imagine of Ryan—the Freakshow’s tanuki bartender, a tall, friendly, half-Japanese man with a waheela girlfriend and a perpetually sunny disposition—teaching Dominic to make cocktails was almost enough to make me start laughing. “You think so?”
“I’ve yet to encounter an obstacle we cannot surmount when working together, save for possibly the mice,” said Dominic. “I really think so.”
“Great.” I unfolded my legs and slid off the desk. “Let’s go see if Dad’s back. I need to talk to my parents.”
Dominic raised both eyebrows, giving me a meaningful look. I glanced down. I was wearing a sports bra and a pair of dance shorts, having simply stripped off my outerwear before collapsing into bed. Dominic, naturally, wasn’t wearing anything.
“Oh,” I said. “Let’s get dressed first.”
“What a wonderful idea,” said Dominic, and slid out of bed.
Yup. Definitely naked.
“New plan,” I said. “Let’s have sex first.”
Dominic grinned.
Three
“Anyplace can be a stage. All you have to do is make yourself the spotlight, and shine.”
—Frances Brown
A small survivalist compound about an hour’s drive east of Portland, Oregon
“Yes,” I said. This, at least, I could say with certainty. “I haven’t been doing my dance practice, but the rest of my physical conditioning is still good. I’d have to vary my daily exercise routines, and really focus on my feet and hips between now and the show. That’s no big deal. I’m in better shape than most dancers can even dream of—and dancers are by and large a healthy lot that spends a lot of time in motion.”
“And your Valerie identity, it’s still sound?”
“No one’s managed to blow it yet,” I said. “I’d have to unpack my wigs, and see about getting a few new ones, since the old ones have been in storage since my last competition. But Verity Price has never danced professionally, and we use so much makeup when I’m Valerie that she and I don’t even have the same complexion. I’d basically have to pull my wig off and announce myself.” It was all very Scooby-Doo. A wig and some makeup and nobody knew my name. But it worked, and that was what mattered.
Dominic nodded. “Valerie Pryor, of course, is not married to me.”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s why I called you my boyfriend when I was talking to Adrian. I didn’t want to have to explain to him why I didn’t send him an invitation to the wedding. Not that he would have come, and not that there was actually a wedding, but you know what I mean.”
“Miraculously enough, I do know what you mean,” said Dominic. “Your approach to the English language is like a virus, and after long exposure, I’ve contracted a great deal of it. I may, by this point, be incurably afflicted.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. Dominic laughed before sobering, sitting up a little straighter in the bed. He shouldn’t have been capable of looking that grave while half-naked, but somehow, he managed it.
“Do you want this?” he asked.
I hesitated before saying, “Yes. Maybe it’s selfish and maybe it’s stupid, but . . . yes. I do.”
“Then that means you must do the show, unless someone can raise a truly novel and valid argument against it,” he said.
I blinked.
Dominic continued, “I know you. I love you, but that doesn’t preclude understanding what a gloriously stubborn creature you are. If you don’t do this, you’ll forever be wondering whether you made the right choice when you became a fulltime monster negotiator rather than staying on the stage. The universe doesn’t offer this manner of opportunity to just anyone, and I’d rather not watch you abuse yourself with ‘what-ifs’ when the chance to answer them all is right in front of you.”
“If I win, I get a year’s free rent on a studio apartment in New York,” I said. “Is that safe?”
“There’s been no Covenant movement in that direction. New York is a large city. You would be living as a redhead. I could bleach my hair and take a job at the Freakshow. I’m sure Ryan would enjoy the challenge of teaching me how to make a proper martini,” said Dominic. “We would make it work.”
The imagine of Ryan—the Freakshow’s tanuki bartender, a tall, friendly, half-Japanese man with a waheela girlfriend and a perpetually sunny disposition—teaching Dominic to make cocktails was almost enough to make me start laughing. “You think so?”
“I’ve yet to encounter an obstacle we cannot surmount when working together, save for possibly the mice,” said Dominic. “I really think so.”
“Great.” I unfolded my legs and slid off the desk. “Let’s go see if Dad’s back. I need to talk to my parents.”
Dominic raised both eyebrows, giving me a meaningful look. I glanced down. I was wearing a sports bra and a pair of dance shorts, having simply stripped off my outerwear before collapsing into bed. Dominic, naturally, wasn’t wearing anything.
“Oh,” I said. “Let’s get dressed first.”
“What a wonderful idea,” said Dominic, and slid out of bed.
Yup. Definitely naked.
“New plan,” I said. “Let’s have sex first.”
Dominic grinned.
Three
“Anyplace can be a stage. All you have to do is make yourself the spotlight, and shine.”
—Frances Brown
A small survivalist compound about an hour’s drive east of Portland, Oregon
