“You’re both insane,” Eli muttered.
But he loved us both, and that was all that mattered.
13
ELI
Over the weekend, the story broke about CBC and Lincoln Palmer and his ties to the Mazzara cartel. All the reports portrayed Senan Weaver as an innocent bystander who paid with his life for something he had nothing to do with. The part about Senan blackmailing Palmer into getting him a job as a principal dancer at the CBC was, of course, left out.
When Senan’s father came from San Francisco to take his son’s body home for burial, all the dancers met with him and said how sorry they were. Cel talked to him last, held his hand, and promised him that Senan did not suffer. Mr. Weaver was thankful to know that and hugged Cel hard.
“He always said, when we spoke, that everyone at the CBC was so gifted and he was thrilled to be working with all of you.”
“We all felt the same,”Cel had lied kindly.
Out having drinks later with the other principals, Cel was shaking his head. “Can you believe him?”
“Lying to his parents,” Luna said, closing her eyes for a moment. “What an asshole.”
Even with everything that happened, no one was giving Senan Weaver any slack. But since he’d never given any to others, it made sense.
Cel stepped in and choreographed theSwan Lakethat had been promised, casting Luna as the princess deciding between a saint and a sinner—the virtuous, gentlemanly white swan, or the bad-boy black one. My money was on her picking the spicy black swan, since they could change it up if they wanted, but Cel assured me that in the end, everyone picks the good guy when they grow up.
“And so will the princess,” he said flatly.
“That’s so boring,” I told him, picking him up from practice two weeks later.
“No. We all want the guy who will stay and not run off after another pretty bird. We want the guy who’s going to be a rock, not driven solely by his libido.”
I wasn’t convinced.
But the production itself, a month later, was spectacular. Maven made an amazing evil enchantress, way over the top, and got a standing ovation at the end of the second act and five curtain calls before intermission. Zoey was a sprite Cel had added just for her, and the critics raved about her “mischievous turn as the fairy friend of the princess that we all wished we had.” She was invited to dance with the ABT in New York over the summer based on the strength of her performance, and when she told Cel over dinner, she cried.
“Careful,” Maven cautioned her. “Don’t drown the choreographer. We need him.”
“It was just the once,” Cel told her.
“Uh-huh,” Maven agreed, nodding.
She was right. He got a taste for it, and when he went to Copenhagen to honor his commitment, they asked him to choreograph a piece for their gala. I didn’t end up going, work got nuts, but I was thrilled for him. I was especially glad that he was keeping up with his visits—video calls while he was in Denmark—with Dr. Butler. George’s guy turned out to be the perfect therapist for Cel, and was helping him work through more than the lingering issues with Senan’s death. I was thankful for both the doctor and Cel’s willingness to talk to him.
I redid my office while he was gone, invited my mother in to help me, and it was beautiful when she was done, with navy accents and the rest in a blue close to the color of Cel’s eyes. I had a feeling she did it on purpose.
Maven chose to stay with the CBC after Delon had individual meetings with everyone in the company and basically promised that going forward, a toxic environment would not be tolerated. He was sincerely sorry for his role in allowing the situation to get out of hand, and hoped that everyone would give him another chance. Cel wasn’t surprised that every single person stayed. They were all looking forward to their next season.
I was picking him up from the airport after him being away for three weeks when I got a call from my boss.
“Sir?”
“Kohn,” he growled, “the mayor’s wife has a new benefit fundraiser lined up in the fall, and you’re going to be back in charge. The organizers asked for you personally.”
And that fast, I was on track to have a migraine.
“Evidently,” Kage went on, “the mayor’s wife is a superfan of your boyfriend, and when he called to talk to her aboutBallet Gone Wild—can that be right?”
“It’sBallet in the Wild, like untethered, unchained, free for all and without restraint.”
“Okay, well, that’s better than the other,” Kage said flatly. “But whatever he and his team are doing is something the mayor’s wife wants to help fund, and she called me and asked for you,specifically, because, and I quote, ‘My boy is in love with your boy. Isn’t that romantic?’” He was silent a moment. “I did not enjoy that call.”