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Sugar Baby Beautiful(55)

By:J.J. McAvoy


“Do you need me to—”

“I got this. Just start working with the understudy.”

“I should be the one to tell—”

“Walter,” I said sternly.

Sighing, he nodded. “Just tell her I’m sorry.”

I slid open the door, expecting her to be in bed. Instead she was holding a crutch and digging into her bag. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a bun, and she wore glasses instead of her contacts.

“Walt, did you see my meds? I’ll be good to go once I get—”

“You can’t dance, Violet.”

Her head snapped up. “Theo? What are you doing here? It’s not that serious. I’m fine—”

“You’re done, Violet. It’s over.”

“What are you talking about? I—”

“VIOLET!”

She jumped, startled, her whole body shaking. She threw the bag to the ground.

“You can’t stop me from dancing, Theo! I’m—”

“We know! I’m so sorry, Violet, but you can’t dance. Not for the company, not for anyone. It’s over—”

“Fuck you!” she screamed. “Fuck those two-bit idiot doctors who don’t know a goddamn thing! I am fine! I am Violet Montgomery, prima ballerina assoluta! I’ve danced in The Mariinsky Theatre, the Paris Opera House, and with the New York City and Royal Ballet. It is not over until I say it is over.”

The tears that rained down her now red face hurt me, and I knew it killed her to shed them.

“It’s over when your body says it’s over.”

She shook her head at me and faced her bag, still packing to leave. “No. I don’t end this way.”

I wrapped my arms around her. She stood still before breaking down into sobs.

“What am I if I’m not a dancer, Theo? I gave up everything for this. All I am is my dancing. I can’t stop now—”

“You aren’t your dancing. You are a person, someone who will always land on her feet.”

She backed out my arms, wiping her eyes. “Why did I break up with you?”

“Violet, let’s not go there.”

“We could work now.” She smiled. “The family you wanted, that house. We could move into it now, and I could be like your mom. Throw the best parties for your work friends—”

“I never wanted you to choose me because you had no other options.” I held her hands before she could touch me. “Right now just focus on healing. Don’t worry about the contract. I will handle it.”

“You’re leaving?”

I nodded, heading to the door. “I have to go to the office. If you need anything else, let me know.”

“Are you still with that waitress?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t that your type?”

I almost wanted to say yes, but she was wrong. “You weren’t complicated. You wanted to dance, so you went and danced. Now you can’t dance, and you want something to go back to, but we can’t. I can be your friend but nothing more.”

I closed the door on her, both literally and figuratively. I cared about Violet but not in that way.

Walt stood just outside, his arms folded.

“I thought I told you to start working on her replacement?”

“I know who I want to replace her.” He pushed himself off the wall, facing me. “Felicity.”

“No,” I said, already headed toward the lobby.

“Theo, you saw her—”

“We saw her do a three-minute piece. She doesn’t have the training or the time—”

“She’s one of the best dancers I have ever had the pleasure to work with.” He jumped in front of me. “No, she doesn’t have the title or background like Violet. But she learned that routine in seconds after only seeing it once and nailed it. We still have a week. Imagine how great she would be if we train? If Dancing with the Stars can take random celebrities and make them dancers, I sure as hell can take a former Juilliard dancer and put her on stage!”

How did he know? “Who told you she was used to attend Juilliard?”

He looked at me like I was stupid, and I very well may have been for even listening to him.

“There was no way someone that talented and passionate in their dancing was unknown. I called one of my instructors, and you should have heard him. He could not stop talking about Felicity. He said she was a child prodigy in dance and music, and if it hadn’t been for some incident, she would be a household name.”

The very first time she played the piano at my house and then wrote it down from memory in my living room, I’d known she wasn’t just any musician. She’d been a child prodigy. She could have been a world-class pianist, but instead she’d worked as a waitress.