The Calling (4 page)

“I guess we would have looked for jobs in the spring, after school is out. You got ahead of me, Miki.”

“I'm sorry, Paige. I didn't mean to. This just happened. You aren't mad at me, are you?” Miki reached out and squeezed Paige's arm.

Paige hugged Miki. “Yes, but I'll get over it. You have to get me free tickets. When will they have a show ready?”

“I have no idea. They just started working, and I'd think they'd have to get the building ready, too.”

“I wouldn't want to be in that place at night.” Paige shivered. “Isn't it terribly spooky?”

Miki laughed. “It could be, but it's not like I'm there all alone.”

“No, you're there with a bunch of vampires.” Paige made a face. “You won't get a new best friend, will you, Miki? And you'll keep coming to classes.”

Paige was one of the most insecure people that Miki knew. She was smart, a great dancer, had a wonderful family, but somehow she missed out on self-confidence when it was being handed out. Maybe Miki had gotten Paige's share. Paige would have folded up and died last night instead of taking advantage of an opportunity.

Miki didn't believe in luck. A person made her own luck. Last night she was in the wrong place at the right time and she took advantage of it. This wasn't the first time this had happened. When the studio needed a teacher for the youngest dancers, Miki had applied with confidence. Paige said Ms. Lawton would never hire her, but she had.

Guts, hard work, opportunities taken advantage of—Miki believed in possibilities. And doors opened for her.

The door to the stage was unlocked last night. Probably by mistake. She smiled at remembering it.

“Paige, you'll always be my very best friend. You know that. We're practically sisters. Not that you need one. Remember when we pricked our wrists and put our blood together. That meant a lot to me. I won't forget you.”

They walked to first-period literature class in silence. At the door, Paige said, “I just realized. If the dancers are vampires, you're going to be a vampire, too.” She giggled at the idea and placed both hands around her neck to protect it from Miki.

“I guess so.” Miki laughed and made an awful pun. “If you can't bite 'um, join 'um.”

Ms. Stephens didn't ask why Miki and Paige were late to class, but she did signal for them to hush laughing and sit down.

Miki followed her orders, but she knew she wasn't going to hear a word any teacher said today.

Tonight she started rehearsal for her first show. Tonight she was turning pro.

Five

M
IKI HAD ALREADY
pulled on her coat and boots, and was getting ready to leave dance class when Paige stopped her. “Miki, are you sure you want to do this? I don't feel real good about it.”

“Oh, Paige, everything makes you nervous.” Miki spoke sharper than she meant to.

“That's not true, Miki. I'm thinking about you. You don't know these people. You don't know anything about them. What did your mother say about your doing this?”

Miki pretended to adjust her boot.

“You didn't tell her, did you?”

“I left her a note. But, Paige, my mother doesn't care what I do. She doesn't care where I go, or where I am at any given time. You know that.”

“I don't either. She cares, she's just busy.”

“So am I.” Miki started to leave but Paige took her arm.

“Miki, it sounds funny to me that they'd move into that old building and do such a weird show.”

“Wait till you see the dance, Paige. The idea may sound weird, but it's truly beautiful—magic. There's something—something—” The first word that came to Miki's mind was sensual, but she sure wasn't going to say that to Paige. That wasn't exactly the right word to help her stop worrying about Miki. “Well, magic is all I can think of to describe it. But I love the swings. I feel like a little girl on them.”

Except when Romney put his lips to my throat, she remembered. That was no little girl–little boy gesture. The gesture was sensual. Not that she was physically attracted to either Romney or Kyle. But she had reacted the way any woman would. She had rather liked it.

Her heart pounded faster as she waved to Paige and almost ran to the next block where the old stone Sullivan building hunched over the corner. The ornately carved windows and cornices dated the place back about a hundred years. There had been talk of saving it by making it a historical structure. But no one wanted to take on the task of raising money. Look at how that dance teacher had saved the Lafayette Theater, only to have it burn—and under mysterious circumstances at that.

Where would this dance troupe get the money to renovate this place? Miki gazed up at broken boarded-up windows, and the smoke and pollution darkened stone—once pink, the original color was revealed now only by the chipping. The rock was coated with charcoal and gray dingy soot that would take sand blasting to remove. Could renovation possibly pay off?

Maybe when she had worked for the troupe for a time, she could ask about their plans. She could then inquire about their backing and the finances of the troupe. She did have some concern. She realized she'd never asked about pay. At the moment, she'd pay them to dance in their show. But unless they were really struggling, they'd pay her something, wouldn't they?

Romney leaned against the alleyway door, waiting for her, she realized. He smiled, followed her inside, and locked the door behind them. The metallic click echoed through her brain for a few seconds, but then she put her nerves aside. Starting any new job would make her nervous. All performers were nervous before they went on. Those emotions made their senses sharp, made them give a good performance.

Everyone was stretching, bending, working kinks out of legs and backs. Primavera waved, then yawned, her jaw stretching wide. Rima grinned at Primavera, then ran for the black swing as if to claim it first.

“My turn, my turn, my turn.” The childish words skipped around in Miki's head. She ducked her head and smiled, then started to stretch her own body without speaking to anyone. She sensed that no one wanted to talk. But the silence was comfortable.

Barron turned and called to the square box in the balcony. “Let's test the lights as we work, Elah.”

“I thought Davin was running lights,” Miki whispered to Kyle.

“Just last night. He can repair anything electrical. But Elah usually is in the box. He doesn't dance.”

That's why he's so grouchy, Miki thought.

“Barron doesn't dance anymore, either.” Kyle stood close to Miki and filled her in on some background. “He only directs. Your partner will be Davin.”

“Oh.” Miki hadn't realized that there would be partners, but if they had three women and three men, that would be natural. She wondered what kind of dancer Davin would be. And she felt her pulse quicken in anticipation of meeting him.

Both Kyle and Romney were tall, thin, and beautifully muscled. Their faces were too long to be truly handsome, but they really did look like twins, even though they had denied it. Brothers? Maybe she'd find out later when she got last names.

“Where's Davin?” Barron asked, getting impatient.

Primavera shrugged. “Don't ask me.”

“Probably still asleep.” Rima started off the stage. “You can take my place, Miki. I'll find him.”

Romney grabbed Miki's hand and tugged her toward the black swing. “My lucky day.” He grinned at her, his white teeth glistening like rows of pearly corn. Wherever he had started life, life before vampire, he'd had a good dentist and braces. Some parents who probably hated what he was doing now.

Not many parents said, “Yes, become a dancer.” Miki was lucky. Her father had been a dancer, yet her mother urged her to follow in his footsteps. Her mother had always supported the arts even though a broken ankle had sent her in a different direction.

“You sleep here?” Miki asked softly as Romney lifted her onto the trapeze and their faces were close for a second.

“Cheap lodging.” Romney nodded. “Want to see my room?”

“No, silly. I was just curious.”

Really curious, but she put the snippet of information aside to think about later. Maybe she would look around the building during a break. “You often arrive in a van. If you—”

“We often go out—to eat.” He smiled and leaped up behind her.

Romney pumped the swing high. It flew out and up much higher than the red swing. Miki's heart rose and fell with the sensation of flying. She'd have to work carefully if she was expected to move around with the bar soaring.

Suddenly, with an abrupt movement from Romney, the trapeze bar bounced and bucked. She had to squeeze her hands tight on the velvet ropes to hold on.

Romney placed his feet on the floor and stopped the swing abruptly. “When I fly off to the side like that, you have to keep the swing balanced.” His face grew red with anger.

“I'm sorry. You have to tell me beforehand. I didn't know what to do.” Miki felt foolish. Did he expect her to know all the routines without some teaching?

“Watch me.” Romney bounced back up behind her and pushed on the bar with his feet, sending it up again. “When I move, you counterbalance. It should come naturally to you.”

It should? Miki watched and tried. She couldn't believe the ease with which Romney twisted on the side rope, spun, somersaulted, and landed on the floor, continuing to move. But this time she did try to feel the balance, make up for his twisting the trapeze and keep it straight.

“That's better.” At least Romney was as quick to praise as he was to fuss at her. “Now when I spin away on the floor, you're free to spin on the bar yourself.”

“With it going high?”

“As high as you're comfortable with at first. You'll learn it fast. Just be a part of the swing.”

Miki longed for some gymnastic background. And her arms weren't as strong as her legs. In no time they ached from her wrists to her shoulders. But soon she could do a simple spin around the bar and light on her feet gracefully.

“I think she's doing well for someone who's never been a flyer.”

A deep voice behind her resonated right through her skin, sending shivers up and down her spine.

She took a deep breath before she turned around. The new voice had to belong to Davin.

When she did see him, she grabbed onto the trapeze bar for support. Not only was his voice magnetic, but his dark eyes and his ready smile made her go all fuzzy inside.

Davin, her new partner, was one of those men who are so handsome they're almost beautiful.

How could she possibly be expected to dance with this perfect, god-like man?

Six

“Y
OU'RE LATE
, D
AVIN
,” Barron grumbled without looking at Davin. It sounded to Miki as if Davin was often late and that Barron was resigned to the fact. Shouldn't he demand that Davin come to rehearsal on time, or did Barron have less control over his troupe than Miki had originally thought?

Perhaps Davin was really conceited and spoiled. Maybe he did what he felt like doing without any concern for the rest of the dancers. Maybe he was the star and had star privileges, or took them without asking. Miki realized she was thinking up a lot of negative things about Davin to keep herself from falling madly in love with him at first sight.

“Sorry, I was up late.” Davin grinned and Romney giggled. “Had I known what a delicious creature was waiting for me here, though, I would have forced myself to get up on time.” He stared at Miki until she had to look away.

Her stomach tightened and she could feel her cheeks flame. Her eyes met those of Primavera who walked her way. The slight girl circled Miki's waist with one arm and spoke.

“She's not—”

“Could we get to work now.” Barron cut Primavera off. He stood up, signaling the end of standing around staring at each other. Or staring at Miki. She was glad for that. “We have to work Miki into the first three numbers, then start to choreograph the next. Davin, take Miki to the back and climb the ropes. Primavera and Rima can continue the trapeze work. The fixed ropes are easier.”

As the two other couples started the swings in motion, Davin reached for Miki's hand. She ignored him and ran to the back of the stage. Before he could help her, she climbed halfway up the rope-covered wall. She had postponed his touching her for now. She knew though, he'd have to put his hands on her if he was her partner, but she needed to get some control of her emotions first.

The large ropes, stiff and scratchy, bit into her bare hands and feet. She almost welcomed the slight pain that kept her mind alert.

Davin's hand stopped her ascent as he clasped her ankle. “That's far enough. Leave some room to continue to climb during the number.”

His hand released her, but his touch remained, like a burning leg cuff, holding her prisoner. She didn't dare look at him, but stared at the rope she clung to.

She also listened to the dark, somber music that filled the stage and her head with longing. Late nights, alone in the loft apartment, she had felt this way. Lonely, lost, yearning for someone to share her life, her thoughts, her hopes and fears.

“The piece is called
Arachnid,”
Davin whispered, beside her now, his breath warm on her ear. “When the music darkens, but speeds up, pretend the ropes are part of a web.”

“Are you the spider?” She hadn't meant to speak to him, but she couldn't resist.

“That's right, and you're afraid. Climb away from me.”

She climbed in rhythm to the music, which had now become a little faster. Twice she looked back to see Davin watching her, his green eyes intense, then playful, and occasionally fired with an emotion she could only call passion. A languid lustful look that said he knew he could catch her any time he pleased. She tasted the fear of an innocent victim.