Page 4 of Skating the Blue Line
“I guess that's our cue.” Elliot says, finishing up his drink before giving me a nod and heading into the theater.
Instead of following Lane and everyone else into the theater, I stay behind to savor the rest of my drink.
The second the last drop of whisky hits my tongue, I think about asking the bartender for another one, but decide against it.
It will be bad form to get shit faced at an event like this. Especially with the number of fans and press that are here. One bad picture or video and I can kiss my whole career goodbye.
Instead of asking for a second drink, I make my way into the theater and take a seat in the back row. I’m in no way small. Being a two-hundred- and twenty-pound, six foot four hockey player has some advantages but definitely not in a theater like this. Sitting in the back doesn't put me in anyone’s way of seeing the stage and it gives me a better opportunity to sneak away.
A few minutes after I take my seat, the theater fills up and they close the doors, the lights above flickering to announce that the show is about to begin.
From where I’m sitting, I can see the whole room, and every person in it. Apart from the select few individuals that I know from Archwell and Elliot Lane, the room is filled with stuffy rich people.
There is no doubt in my mind that not only am I one of the youngest people in the room, I’m probably the poorest.
I may have multiple multimillion dollar contracts in my name but that isn’t enough to reach the magnitude of wealth in the room.
Now I know why Archwell decided to have the event in Chicago. It will bring millions into their pockets.
The wealth in the room is forgotten when the lights dim down.
Given the darkness that envelops me, maybe I will be able to take a nap during this thing.
I start to get comfortable in my seat, thank whatever stranger decided not to sit next to me and start closing my eyes to take a quick cat nap. My eyes are nearly closed when the spotlight on stage shines and takes all of my attention.
The room is quiet, as the light shines bright, as if everyone here is waiting to see what happens next even if they already know.
Even me, who was getting ready to sleep, is sitting here in anticipation.
I start counting in my head and it takes someone thirty seconds to step onto the strange and take their place at the center.
A woman from what I can tell even in the darkness.
Her back is to the audience, and we all watch as she gets into formation.
She stands facing away from us for another half minute before she turns.
The center stage light shines bright and lights her up beautifully. Everything about this woman, this dancer, glows, especially her eyes.
Even though I’m sitting far away, I can still make out a twinkle in them. A twinkle that tells me that she might be her happiest while on stage.
She’s beautiful and when she gives the audience a smile, even more so.
Music starts to fill the room and soon the curtains are pulled back and the first dancer is joined by others.
For the remainder of the show, I forget about my nap and feeling any type of boredom for three hours.
I forget about not wanting to be here and how I wanted to stab my eyes out at the beginning of the night.
I forget about my distaste for penguin suits and being in a room filled with rich old people.
Everything I thought this night would be is completely forgotten, and I spend three hours being captivated by what is happening on stage.
Not only by what is happening on stage but also by one person.
For three hours, I follow the first female dancer and everything she does. Smiling, cheering her on and admiring her as if she is the one and only star of the show.
And in my eyes, she is, and I don’t even know her.
