“Yes!” Lincoln shouted, and I wondered how much of his vision was drugs and how much of it was Senan the muse. “The black swan being evil is so dated. It goes back to black bad and white good, and I want to change the focus of that. Now the black swan is merely a pawn, under a spell himself. He’s being used to lure the prince to the dark side of sex and lust.”
What? How could both swans be gay, and why would—I had to stop myself from even caring. There were missing pieces, but I had no desire to point them out. “This is going to be a disaster,” I informed Lincoln. “The princess instead of a prince was enough of a change for most of our patrons. You’re too far outside the box for them.”
“You’re an idiot,” Senan snapped at me.
“But more importantly, the press releases have gone out,” I reminded him, ignoring Senan. “That’s where the issue lies—in what you said versus what you’re actually doing.”
“He’s not wrong,” Delon barked at Lincoln. “Have you lost your mind?”
“You need to open yours!” Lincoln yelled. “We finally live in an age where we can take these chances and—”
“Then make these things positive, change it all, everything, not just parts for shock value, and not with our patrons.”
They were going to have it out, the entire production suddenly up in the air, but none of it concerned me. The reviews would write themselves and would all begin with:What the hell did I just see?It was a clusterfuck, but since my input would be in no way considered, I turned around and headed out as quickly as I’d stormed in. Halfway down the hall, I heard Delon roar at Senan to get the hell out. I didn’t hurry, but on the landing, I stopped and turned to face him.
“What?” he sneered. “You think I’d shove you down the stairs? For what? I don’t need to do anything to a has-been but watch you fall.”
As he walked by, I breathed through my desire to trip him. “Good one, Senan. Did it take you all morning to come up with that?”
“It’s the afternoon,” he corrected, needing to have the last word.
He reached the floor and turned to the left to return to the practice room.
Needing a moment before I followed him, trying to calm my racing heart, suddenly there, at the bottom of the stairs, was my favorite person.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Eli, so relieved to see him, I almost broke down.
He squinted up at me. “I was on my way to the First District to talk to the commander there, but I wanted to stop and see if—what’s wrong? You look like crap.”
I felt my brows lift as I crossed my arms.
“I don’t mean like—you always look good, you know that,” he groused at me. “I mean your face. Why do you look like you’re going to cry?”
I tipped my head toward the practice room. “There were some issues, but…it’s fine,” I assured him before adding, “And you know I never cry in front of people.”
“I’ve seen you cry lots,” he countered.
“You’re not people, you’re you.”
Eli smiled and nodded. “Listen, I want you to have dinner with me and the mayor’s wife and God knows who else tonight.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Dinner. With me.”
“No, I got that,” I replied, “but I think I missed something about Lydia Grainger, the mayor’s wife.”
“You don’t want to have dinner with me?”
I scowled at him. “I always want to have dinner with you,” I said flatly. “Get to the part where you explain what’s going on.”
“We’re hosting this night-of-dance thing in June and––”
“In June?”
“Yeah, the mayor’s wife is hosting a fundraiser for––”
“No,” I said, chuckling. It was too good. Of course the clusterfuck that was about to happen was going to include first, a fundraiser hosted by Lydia, and second, the event that closed out our season. “Oh dear God.”