chapter 24

Retroactive Silence andBetaFlight were gone. The Reed-Whitmer Ballet Company had made it to the third challenge. Lillian stood in a beachfront parking lot sheltering from the wind behind one of The Great American Talent Show tour buses. It was cold on the Oregon coast, the sky blue but with a bank of dark clouds in the distance. The rest of the performers had hurried out to grab muffins from the windblown craft services table and retreated to the warmth of the buses. They were early. The call sheet read, 8:15 a.m. meet with fans, then joyful frolic on the beach wearing Lie in Wait Outdoor Wear—Where Style Meets Survival. The buses had pulled in around seven. But Lillian couldn’t sit on the bus with the eyes of her dancers on her as she tried to choreograph something that showcased their skills and said neon survival wear. Imani would ask if she wanted help. Pascale would ask if she wanted them to stretch or run through some basic formations. Did she? Maybe? Probably?

Getting to the beach had meant a five a.m. wake-up. Lillian wasn’t tired, even though she’d been up all night replaying her moment with Blue in the alcove, her mind drifting over Blue’s body, between her legs… what Lillian would do for her. The questions she would ask to learn about Blue’s body. Now Lillian was taut with unspent energy. She was distracted. There was no denying it. She hadn’t masturbated. She should have. Maybe she wouldn’t feel as restless as the wind whipping around the bus if she’d released the tension in her body. But how could she look at Blue after she’d clutched her vibrator to her clit thinking about sucking Blue’s nipples? How could she—

“Hey.”

Lillian let out a startled gasp. Blue stood beside her, coffees in hand.

“I thought you might want one.”

Lillian had conjured Blue with her illicit thoughts. She fumbled for words.

“Or not,” Blue said.

If only it were coffee that left Lillian speechless.

“Thank you.” Lillian quickly took the proffered coffee and hid her nerves behind its steam.

“Should I… go?” Blue motioned toward Velveteen Crush’s bus.

“No. No.” Yes, she probably should. “No.” Lillian never got nervous around women. Who was she?

Blue leaned back against the bus, sipping her coffee along with some of her hair. The wind wouldn’t leave it alone, and it whipped around her like a storm.

“Not long enough for a ponytail.” She pulled a lock out of her mouth and shook her head. “Too long to not do that.”

Would anyone see them if she held Blue’s hair out of her eyes and kissed her?

“Is this awkward?” Blue asked cheerfully as though they were in it together, not separated by a gulf of innuendo and conflicting intentions.

“Yeah?”

“I thought so.” Blue took another sip of her coffee, watching the crew unpack gear and a few contestants get off the buses and then rethink their decision. “Do we mind?” she asked after a beat.

How could a moment be awkward and good? Somehow it was.

“I don’t.”

“Me neither.” Blue spread open her arms and did a slow circle. “Like my outfit?”

She sported full Lie in Wait Outdoor Wear. Lillian did too, but she’d hidden hers beneath her white boiled-wool coat. Out of sight. The only appropriate place for it.

“You know that saying No one ever lost money underestimating the taste of the American public?” Lillian said. “I think this is the exception.”

“It’ll sell when they see me in it.” Blue put a hand on her hip, exhibiting her neon-pink one-piece. “The Lie in Wait rep said neon scares omnivores because it looks like poisonous fruit. And the coat scares away puffer fish.”

Blue had pulled the front zipper low enough to reveal the tops of her breasts in a tight black tank top. Over the one-piece, she wore a puffer coat. Lillian put her hand on Blue’s shoulder and turned her around again, even though Lillian had seen the back of the coat, which was painted with the face of a giant puffer fish. Mostly she just wanted to touch Blue’s shoulder.

Blue managed to make the ensemble look good.

“When are you going to wear a ski jacket and need to be protected from puffer fish?” Lillian asked.

“Better safe than sorry. I have an exciting life. What have you got on under that coat?”

“I’m hoping we’ll break into groups and you’ll never have to see it.”

“Come on,” Blue said, pretending to pull on Lillian’s coat. “How could you not look gorgeous?”

Lillian had been assigned a pair of the cougar-deflecting jeans, baggy, urban-wear jeans with giant eyes painted on the thighs and, regrettably, on the ass (to protect from stealth attacks).

Lillian pretended to pull away. “I think they gave us the worst ones because we’re the uptight ballet company.” Every season had one. “I will wear this outfit for exactly as long as I have to and not one minute more.”

Had she just told Blue she was planning to strip the second they finished filming?

Blue smiled, catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Adorable. Devastatingly sexy. What was Lillian doing? Staying focused wasn’t just about not having sex. It probably included not hiding out beside the bus and flirting when she should be in the bus giving her dancers a lecture about… something.

On the other side of the parking lot, Bryant lifted a bullhorn to his mouth, calling the contestants and cameras to him.

“I’m safe from puffer fish, but what does your white boiled-wool coat protect you from?” Blue asked as they headed toward the gathering spot.

“Mermaids.”

Blue chuckled. “You know what happens when you hear the sirens.”

You crash onto the rocks.

“They seduce you.” Blue hurried toward Bryant. It seemed like she only walked ahead so she could look back over her shoulder, her smile saying, Run away with me.

A tiny voice in the back of Lillian’s mind said, Yes.

“Thank you to our corporate sponsor. I know when I go out in the wild, I feel safer wearing Lie in Wait.” Bryant was geared up in colorful outdoor wear as well. “We have kites for all team members,” Bryant went on, “for your frolicking.”

Production assistants were starting to hand out individually packaged kites.

“We’re looking for the spontaneous fun you get to have when you’re wearing Lie in Wait.” Static screeched on Bryant’s bullhorn. “Today we want you to show America your playful side. You’re not just fierce competitors fighting to make it to the quarterfinals, you’re human beings who take time to relax occasionally. And of course, we can use friendships you make now to generate conflict later on. Be thinking about alliances and rivalries. Please sign all consent waivers. Then down to the beach, everyone. The cameras are waiting.”

“The puffer fish waits for no one,” Blue said, heading toward her troupe.

Lillian watched her. She jumped when Kia—allowed on the bus because she had a badge—threw an arm around her shoulder. Kia tsked, raised the flip-up shades of her turquoise glasses, and then flipped them back down emphatically.

“What?” Lillian demanded.

“Hooked.” Kia’s eyes followed Blue.

Down on the beach, the dancers set about flying kites. It was harder than it looked. Jonathan unfurled his kite and chased Pascale with it, holding its flapping wings. Malik ran after them, the crocheted scarf he’d added to his outfit flapping behind him. Elijah skipped, swishing his hips. The dancers scattered as the kite nosedived. Imani swore she’d do better. Her authoritative tone reminded Lillian of herself. Imani got tangled in the strings before she’d gotten her kite off the ground. Then she and Pascale carefully detangled it only to crash it into the surf. None of the contestants were doing any better. Their squeals and laughter carried over the sound of the wind and waves, interspersed with “Watch out!” and “It’s going down!”

“Get in the shot,” one of the camera operators instructed Lillian.

“Come on,” Imani commanded. “It’s fun.”

Reluctantly, Lillian removed her coat and handed it to an assistant. She got in the shot and followed the camera operator’s instructions to wave a kite over her head. She held her kite up for the required amount of time, then wrestled it back to the ground and handed it to Imani, who’d lost hers in the water. The camera operator moved to the next group, but the dancers kept playing, chasing each other and crashing their kites. Lillian stood on the sidelines. If the company disbanded—and, face it, how would they beat Effectz?—she’d only have memories of these people she’d worked so hard beside. She wanted to fix the moment in her memory. The dancers had so few opportunities to be these people. Playful. Carefree. And part of Lillian longed to run into their midst, but they weren’t her friends. They were her dancers. Her job was to make them stars.

Imani waved to Lillian.

“Look.” Imani pointed.

Blue was walking toward them.

“I get to see your outfit after all,” Blue called out.

“Doesn’t she look dope,” Imani said as Blue approached. “How do you do that?”

“What?” Blue asked innocently.

Imani’s eyes traveled upward. The bank of charcoal-colored clouds was rolling in, turning the day into twilight.

“There.” Imani pointed to the sky.

Lillian looked up then back at Blue’s hands. She was holding the spool of a kite as casually as she’d held her coffee. And up in the sky, like a seagull riding the currents, soared her kite.

It was like turning a perfect grand allegro contretemps on the stage of the Palais Garnier. One second of immortality.

“Oh, that?” Blue’s hair blew back, the same color as the sea. “I’m just showing off.”

Suddenly, Imani was busy asking Malik what kind of yarn he’d used for his scarf.

“Do you want to fly it?” Blue held out the spool.

“I’ll crash it.”

“You won’t. It’s too high up to go down without a fight. When you’re getting up there, you have to edge it up and back.” Blue swayed as though dancing to a slow song. “I like edging.”

“Does that really work on women?” Lillian gave Blue a gentle shove, just to feel Blue’s arm beneath her puffer coat.

“Edging? Of course. Oh, Lillian, you have heard of it, haven’t you?” Blue opened her eyes in mock distress. “It works on lots of women. Do you want me to explain?”

If Blue had said, Do you want to fuck on the sand? Lillian might just have said yes.

“No. I do not need you to explain,” Lillian hissed, glancing at Imani and Malik. “I meant talking dirty about your kite. Does that work on women?”

“I only talk dirty about my kite”—Blue nipped the word kite with her teeth—“to you.”

Lillian blessed her dark complexion, which hid her blush. She could feel heat flush up and down her body.

“You’ll feel the string get tight.” Blue sighed the word.

Lillian was a breath away from dying of lust. Famous ballerina drops dead on beach. Cause of death unknown.

“You don’t think you can go any higher, but that’s when you can really fly. I got it up there for you. Do you want it?” Blue asked with shy pride.

Blue looked beautiful and rakish and vulnerable as she held out the spool.

Of course Lillian wanted it.

Blue kept her hands around Lillian’s until Lillian’s grip tightened on the spool. It was exhilarating, the tension in the string connecting her to the soaring kite, like a part of her soul was flying. She wasn’t up in the sky, but in another way she was right there.

It was a lot like making love to a woman.