Page 12 of Glitz & Goals

I don’t linger. I’ve done enough for today. As I walk through the tunnel, the weight of the ice, the team, the job... it all settles in, heavier than ever. Tomorrow’s another day, but tonight, I need space to breathe.

I’ve got to find a way to let go of the past.

Or it’s going to ruin everything.

Chapter Four

Vivian

“How are you feeling about it now?” I ask Mia, fussing over the mermaid costume that has already taken over the majority of my day. I’m pretty fit, with only my large boobs getting in the way, but Mia’s role in the show means she’s in crazy good condition, and the outfit is just enough looser on her that she can remove it without getting stuck like I did.

“I think you fixed it,” she says, wriggling a little. “But am I wrong, or are there still pins in the material?”

“There are,” I admit. “I didn’t want to topstitch anything until you felt safer with the harness.”

Mia adjusts the outfit, wrinkling her nose as she wriggles. The outfit is perfect on her. The silver and aqua material is a bright contrast against her darker skin, and when she moves, the shimmering sleeves make it look like she’s gliding underwater with distant sunlight filtering over her from above.

“I think you’ve got it,” she says at last. “It felt better this time. Thank you.”

I release the breath I’d been holding. “I’m glad. However, if there are any other issues, I hope you’ll tell me right away. I want you to feel safe.”

Mia shuffles in a half circle to face the stage. “At this point, I’m more worried about Jaime.”

This, I understand. Mia gets to be in a harness, but Jaime’s maneuvers don’t have a safety net. The current act is called a banquine. In this version of the stunt, a pair of spotters—including Jaime—lift and toss a third acrobat in the air, while the flyer performs a series of tricks. There are four trios, allof whom are performing the same tricks in sync. At least, theoretically. When it’s done right, they move with the elegant precision of clockwork in a routine that manages to look effortless.

Unfortunately, there’s a lot that can go wrong. Poor timing might throw off the effect of the show, but it can also result in someone getting kicked, dropped, strained, or sprained. While most eyes will be on the flyer, I know that Mia, like me, is watching the intense concentration on our friends’ faces as they run through the routine. Without enough practice, someone could get seriously injured. Too much practice, though, can leave everyone overexerted, with fatigued muscles and delayed reaction times.

“I’m afraid he’s going to overdo it,” Mia whispers.

“Jaime knows his limits,” I reply, even though I’m worried too.

Jaime and the other spotters are dressed mostly in skintight blue, with white headdresses to make them look like waves. The flyers are dressed like various sea creatures: a dolphin, an orca, a seal, and a whale. Because their outfits can’t interfere with their movements, the costume designs are fairly abstract, but I’m pleased with the overall effect.

If only the production was as satisfactory.

Just as Jaime and his fellow spotter are about to toss their flyer into the air, his mouth pinches and his nose wrinkles. The trio hit their cue, but I can tell something’s off when the flyer doesn’t reach the height of the other performers. Worse, when Jaime tries to catch her, his hands slip, and she’s thrown off-balance. I suck in a breath, and Mia gasps, pressing her hands to her mouth in horror.

Fortunately, Jaime’s able to catch her before she falls. The production director calls for everyone to stop, and a varietyof ocean-themed performers go scrambling to make sure everyone’s okay.

“Can you check on him?” Mia takes a few shuffling steps in her mermaid tail to demonstrate how long it will take her to get to our friend’s side. I’m familiar with the issue.

I leave her there and rush to Jaime. Up close, I can tell that his arms are trembling, and he’s sweating through his costume.

“I’m fine,” the flyer tells everyone, looking sheepish. “It was my fault, I didn’t have my weight centered…”

The producer looks like she’s about to erupt, so I’m grateful when one of the choreographers clears his throat and says, “It’s time for our lunch break. One of the hotel staff just told me that everything’s set up. Let’s eat, cool off, and be back in half an hour to take it from the top.”

Jaime and the other two members of his banquine trio exchange a few words before he strides over to me. “Hey,” he says, voice clipped. “We eating together? Where’s Mia?”

Our mermaid comes shuffling over. “I’m starving. Do you guys want to get in line, or—oof!” She lets out a cry of surprise as Jaime scoops her up and carries her toward the lunch line. At least they’re both smiling now.

Say what you will about Dante Giovanetti—and trust me, there’s a lot to say—but he isn’t stingy. The performers have to be careful with what they eat, especially since they’re going to keep doing strenuous exercise all afternoon. The Mona Lisa has provided an elaborate lunch buffet with a variety of light, protein-packed dishes. I’ve worked on productions that settle for offering cold cuts and a fruit plate, but the food on offer looks like it came from the same kitchen as the upscale restaurants inside the Mona Lisa: platters of sushi and sashimi, grilled kabobs served alongside miniature crudites, carpaccio, and a huge assortment of finger foods that leave my mouth watering.

“Is it wrong to eat sushi when I’m dressed as a fish?” Mia asks, craning her neck to get a better view of the spread.

“Cannibal,” Jaime teases. He’s already calming down from the earlier mishap. He sets her down since the line is moving pretty slowly anyway, and her costume isn’t much of an impediment.

The three of us fill our plates from the buffet and find a table where we can chat in private. As soon as Jaime’s settled, I ask about the issue in their performance.

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