Page 17 of Dance of Ruin

He turns and starts busying himself with one of the cameras laid out on the table. Meanwhile, I take my bag into the changing area and start pulling out my tights and one of my practice tutus. I pause, grinning when my touch lingers on the paperback libretto ofSwan Lake.

This was my mother’s—a tattered, well-loved “little book” of the performance script for the infamous 1895 production of the ballet. She used it as a study guide when she was acygnetin a production, and it’s got all of her meticulous little notes in blue pen in the margins.

To me, it’s always been like a good luck charm. And it’s only become even more meaningful to me after being cast in the role of Odette and Odile.

I give it a loving rub between my fingers before I stuff it back into my back and start pulling on my tights.

“Your assistant joining us?” I ask, adjusting my leotard.

“Yeah!” Gus calls. “He just had to run down the street for something. How we looking?”

“Good, I think?” I step out and smile, giving a dorky little twirl.

“Magnifico!” Gus beams.

Just then, the door to the studio opens and a fairly good-looking younger guy steps in. When he sees me, he grins.

“Naomi, I presume?”

I nod, smiling awkwardly.

“Seb. Gus’ assistant.” He strides over and shakes my hand. I wince a little at the brutal strength in his grip, which, weirdly, lingers a little longer than necessary before he pulls away. “Boss, you need anything?”

“Nah, we’re all set.” Gus turns to me. “Ready when you are, Naomi. Can I get you anything before we start? Sparkling or still water? A real drink for the nerves?”

I laugh lightly. “Tempting, but sparkling water is great, thanks.”

Gus gives Seb a curt nod, and his assistant walks off to the kitchen.

“Let’s get you set up right…here.” Gus indicates an X on the floor.

I walk over to it, standing there as he fiddles with a few lights.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” I smile at Seb when he hands me the sparkling water.

“It’s peach,” he shrugs. “Sorry, all we had.”

“Peach is peachy, thanks.”

I take a few sips and glance back over at Gus.

“Just another minute, Naomi,” he says, his back to me.

“I’d chug that back,” Seb chuckles. “These lights gethot, and Mr. Perfectionist over here takes his sweet time.”

“Hey, I’m paying her by the hour,” Gus laughs. “If we go over, Naomi, you’re getting double. Promise.”

“Then, please, takeallthe time you need,” I giggle, feeling more relaxed.

Seb’s right. The lights arecrazyhot, and my skin's already getting warm. My forehead feels damp, and I take another big gulp of the sparkling water. Then another.

Why thehellare these lights so hot?

“Why don’t you stand right here, Naomi,” Seb murmurs.

I’m confused when he puts his hands on my hips and physically moves me over a few steps. Then it all sort of melts together as a fuzzy feeling warms through me.

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