Page 9 of The Virgin's Dance
Boh considered. “I do like that idea, but there’s also a growing trend of urban ballet and I wonder if we could run into trouble there.”
Pilot was tapping into his phone. “Yeah, you’re right and of course, it’s—”
“Already been done?”
Pilot chuckled. “Yep. Damn, I thought we had this.”
Boh smiled shyly at him. “Come on, we’ve barely started. So, no elements, seasons, city dumps …”
Pilot laughed. “And, please, God, no star signs.”
“Amen to that.” Boh stuck a French fry into her mouth. He was so easy to be with.
Pilot studied her. “What’s Kristof’s workshop about?”
“Sex and Deathis the theme. He’s pushing to do the murder scene inThe Lessonas part of the performance. Celine and Liz are fighting him.”
“I don’t know the ballet.”
Boh leaned forward, in her element talking about her art, her passion. “The Lessonis the story of a teacher and his pupil. He’s obsessed with her and during one particular lesson, he becomes more and more aroused by her performance until finally he snaps and stabs her to death.”
Pilot grimaced. “Delightful.”
Boh laughed. “Actually, when performed in the context of obsessive love, it is quite beautiful. The idea of being so in love with someone that you’d hurt them is something a lot of ballets cover.Mayerling, for example.” She saw the strange look pass over his face. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “It’s just … the reality of that kind of relationship. There’s nothing romantic about it.”
She wondered who had hurt this beautiful man but didn’t feel she could ask him directly. “Are you married, Pilot?”
“Divorced. Happily so.”
Boh studied her fingernails. “Girlfriend?”
He didn’t answer for a moment and she looked up to find him smiling at her, his eyes soft. “No, no girlfriend. You?”
She shook her head. Pilot leaned forward and gently brushed his lips against hers then drew back, his eyes searching hers. “Was that okay?”
Boh was having a hard job catching her breath. “More than okay,” she whispered, and Pilot chuckled and kissed her again.
“You realize,” he murmured against her lips, “that I’m just relieving you of ketchup and mustard. You have it all over your face.”
They kissed again, and Boh’s palms cupped her face, stroking the soft skin above his beard.Ask me to come home with you and I will,she silently asked him, shocking herself, but he made no attempt to try to talk her into his bed and she found herself warming to him. Yes, there was damage there, she thought, but Pilot Scamo was different to most men. She felt, in her bones, that he didn’t want totakefrom her and that was new to her.
They talked some more but couldn’t find an idea. “Let’s call it a night,” he said. “You look bushed. Can I drive you home?”
She got into his comfortable Mercedes and noted how worn it looked. Worn but comfortable, like an old friend. She knew nothing about cars, but the fact that he wasn’t prissy about his made her smile. He saw her expression. “What?”
She told him and he laughed. “Yeah, she’s just an old jalopy, really, but she’s been very faithful to me.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure?”
“You come from money?”
Pilot nodded. “I can say that, yes, but there was a time before my dad made his money that I remember very well. Fifty-cent noodles from the bodega and cereal for dinner. My mom, she’s a tenured professor at Columbia, but back then she was working her way up, plus bringing up a teenager and a baby, while Dad was working all hours at his company.”
“What work did he do?”
