Page 72 of Off Balance

When Emile steps back inside, I've already changed. I finished the sports drink and the protein bar, and I'm already feeling a little better.

"I think my blood sugar was just low. I'm fine now."

He eyes me dubiously. "You are sure?" His stare conveys the seriousness of the situation. If I go back out there and screw this up, it could be career-ending. Worse than that, I could hurt someone. But the sugar and protein seem to have done the trick.I've stopped shaking, and my heart rate has slowed. I think I'm okay.

Except I'm not.

As soon as I've stood up and taken the three steps it takes to get to the door, I stumble. The entire room spins as I lurch forward. There are gasps and screams as I fall flat on my face.

The last thing I see before the room blurs is Emile looking down at me, shaking his head in disappointment.

CHAPTER 20

DOM

Something's wrong.

I've watched Cam rehearse every scene and dance in this production so many times, I practically know the steps by heart. Never mind that I've also seen it four times before tonight. There have been other performances when I noted that he seemed tired or less expressive, which is understandable considering how much pressure he's under. He's barely been eating, and gets really upset when I mention it. He insists his costume is too tight, that he keeps having to ask the wardrobe designers to let it out, but I don't see how it's possible. He's practically wasting away, while pushing himself harder than ever. Every practice it's a push to jump higher, stretch farther, spin faster.

Tonight is different from all the nights I've sat in the audience, worrying over whether this is the night he'll fall and break an ankle or simply pass out on stage. Tonight I'm practically waiting for it to happen. I'm at the edge of my seat, ready to run on stage the moment he might need me. Dwayne and Cora are sitting next to me, and I swear they're watching me instead of the stage. Cora even threads her arm through mine, as if she could keep me in the seat herself when it comes down to it.

When the lights come up for intermission, I'm on my feet.

"Where are you going?" Dwayne asks, reaching for my arm. I try to shrug him off, but he won't let go.

I spin on him and Cora both and gesture to the stage. "Did you see any of that?"

They shoot each other furtive glances. "Yes…" Cora says carefully. "It's a much different production than the last one."

It's also not been getting the same accolades as the last one, which Cam has been taking personally. That fucking douchebag has probably found a way to make it out to be his fault, and it will be another reason why he doesn't officially sign Cam as a principal dancer. When we've talked, Cam has made it clear that he knows Alistar is keeping him as an unpaid intern to control him, and he's trying to find a way out of it. Apparently, there might be something with that other dancer, Heath, that might give Cam the leverage he needs to break away from Alistar's clutches. Patience is something I don't have much of when it comes to Cam's safety, but he needs me to trust him. I do trust him. It's that scumbag Alistar that I don't trust.

"Did you not notice the way he was shaking? That girl probably weighs half of what he does, and that's after he's lost more than ten pounds."

"Ten pounds?" Cora looks horrified.

"Yes," I emphasize. After the incident with the camera footage, I've been hesitant to talk about anything to do with Cam around Cora and Dwayne, but I have a really bad feeling right now. I need someone on my side on this. He needs an intervention or something, otherwise the only way he's going to escape Alistar's clutches is by hurting himself so badly that he won't be useful tothe asshole anymore. I can't sit by and watch the man that I’ve fallen ass over tits for lose everything because that demented, conniving dick bag caught him eating a marshmallow.

"Look, it's the last performance this week, and there's only the Memorial Day special performance after this one. He's always stressed out during the thick of it, maybe?—"

"You don't understand," I say, raising my voice enough that it gets the attention of people around us. They turn scandalized expressions on us, but I don't care if I'm making a scene. "Something is wrong. I need—weneed to get backstage and check on him."

"They'll never let us back there," Dwayne says, using a tone our mother would use to calm us down when she thought we were being unreasonable.

I look at Cora. Her green eyes are so similar and yet so different to her son's. "You're his mother. They might let you go back." She stares at me for a moment, and maybe she reads something in my expression that finally gets through. Or maybe she sees that I'm desperate. Whatever it is, she nods. "Thank fuck," I sigh, ignoring the gasps of the pearl-clutchers next to us.

Cora and I weave our way out of the theater and into the lobby, making a beeline for the employees only hallway just past the restrooms.

"I'm sorry, you can't go back there!" A woman calls out. It turns out to be the same bartender I flirted with the first night I was here, before my entire life was thrown off balance. By the smile on her face, she either recognizes me from that night, or she's very good at her job. She's still obviously a beautiful youngwoman, but when I look at her now, I feel no attraction. I'm not the same person I was four months ago.

"Hey. Uh, hi. Again," I say awkwardly. "My, I mean our—Shit. Sorry.Herson is one of the dancers here—Cameron Rae Stevens?" I point to the poster on the wall that he's featured on, the same poster I've been trying to figure out how to get a copy or steal the last several times I've been here. "Anyway, we have a?—"

"A family emergency," Cora interrupts. "Could you maybe ask if there's any way we could see Cameron for just a moment before the intermission is over?"

The bartender has her eyebrows raised to her hairline, but she shrugs and says she'll see if there's anything she can do. Apparently, the wait staff isn't actually allowed past the lobby, either. A minute later, she comes back with a security guard.

"No backstage admission, no exceptions," he says bluntly.

"Not even for an emergency?" I ask, trying so hard to remain patient that I'm vibrating.

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