Page 26 of Slow Burn

‘Are you finally ready to talk about press night, then?’ he asked, swivelling around so that he was full-on facing me. There was no escaping his gaze now.

‘Well, obviously it was a mistake,’ I said.

‘Obviously,’ he said with smirk.

This man was infuriating. It was like he could see right through the fake nonchalant vibes that I was trying to give off.

He knew I wanted to sleep with him, it was probably seeping out of every part of me.

And sure, if there was nothing at stake, I’d probably just walk across the room and straddle him on the spot.

‘I can’t mess up this show,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘The reviews were good. Did you see?’

‘Yes. They loved you.’

‘They loved us both ,’ he said.

I dug my fingernails into the door behind me. Was it hot in here? At this rate the mirror would be steamed up all over again.

‘We’re going on tour in a few days,’ I said.

‘And visiting some of the most romantic cities in the world,’ he said, teasing me.

‘There’s nothing romantic about what we did the other night, Gabriele,’ I said.

He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Then what would you call it?’

Fuck. What would I call it?

‘I call it getting carried away. I call it a high from being out on stage and you being in the right place at the right time.’

‘So you would have kissed anybody like that, is that what you are saying, Lira?’

‘Not anyone,’ I said. ‘But if I’d been thinking straight, I also wouldn’t have kissed you .’

I tried to remember to breathe. I couldn’t read Gabriele’s expression, but surely we were on the same page with this.

‘Message received,’ he said, never taking his eyes off me.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Glad that’s all sorted.’

As I turned to leave, he called after me.

‘Lira?’

I turned to look at him over my shoulder. ‘Yes?’

‘You do know that one day we are going to have to talk about Paris?’

My heart sank. ‘I tried that once and you said it would be a waste of time. You couldn’t see what good it would do,’ I said. Was it weird I’d remembered our conversation word for word?

‘I changed my mind,’ he replied.

Fuck. Really?

Since I didn’t have any comeback to that, I turned and left the room, my whole body fizzing with God knows what as I walked to the shared dressing room. The first person I saw was Daniella, of course. The two of them were making my head spin.

From now on I would keep my distance from both of them and let them get on with whatever it was they had going on.

Six hours later, I was back home and sitting at the kitchen counter with my laptop open in front of me.

I’d taken off my stage make-up and had changed into my favourite sweat pants and top, which was made of the most deliciously cosy peach felt fabric.

I’d poured myself a glass of wine to celebrate the success of our performance, even if I was drinking entirely alone; even if it felt a bit crap not to have anyone to celebrate with.

I was about to speak to my sisters and I wasn’t convinced they’d even ask me how it went.

How sad was that? Especially in a family of dancers.

Was putting myself first really such a crime?

I started the Zoom call, downing a huge mouthful of wine before the two of them joined, although I knew that nothing was going to make this any easier.

We had a WhatsApp group called Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves – Sedi had come up with the name – and usually we were pinging messages back and forth all day, and sometimes all night.

But the group had been strangely silent of late, with my messages going mostly unread, leaving me wondering whether they were having private chats elsewhere without me.

The screen pinged to life as Nolo joined the call – it was a running joke in our family that she was always early, I was to-the-minute on time and Sedi was perennially late.

Since it was only early evening in New York, Nolo was still dressed like the epitome of an off-duty ballet dancer.

I imagined she’d walked home from her rehearsal space on the Lower East Side and hadn’t long stepped through the door of her cool but grimy Brownstone walk-up.

‘It’s good to see you,’ I said, leaning closer to the screen.

‘You, too,’ said Nolo.

Okay, this was a good start, although I supposed she hadn’t actually been there to experience the full horror of the row at the studio. Clearly she’d been told what had happened, and I wondered what she thought. Whatever it was, I suspected she wouldn’t hold back from telling me.

‘How did rehearsals go today?’ I asked her, stalling for time until Sedi made an appearance.

She shrugged. ‘Pretty well. It’s tough doing back-to-back shows. There’s talk of us getting a proper break at some point, but probably not until after the summer.’

‘Hopefully you can come home for a bit, then? It’s been ages since we’ve seen you properly.’

I craved spending more time with my youngest sister, who had moved to the US when I was twenty-one.

She’d lived with a family friend initially, attending classes at the dance academy for a year until she was chosen to join the principal company at seventeen.

I’d been to New York a few times to visit and I loved the place, but it was expensive to get there, and much as I loved travelling, it had always been difficult to get more than a few days away from the studio.

‘Maybe,’ said Nolo non-committally.

Sedi finally joined the call. She was in her pyjamas like me, but still looking as striking as ever with a full face of make-up and her gorgeous afro hair worn in a natural style.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Sedi, not looking as though she was sorry in the slightest.

‘I was just telling Nolo how much we miss her,’ I said.

‘Hardly,’ scoffed Nolo. ‘Mum and Dad are never at home, anyway, and you’ll be off on tour again soon, Sedi. It’ll only be you at home,’ she said, looking pointedly at me.

‘Probably. Although you never know, do you?’ I said, suddenly irked by the assumption that things would go straight back to normal after Slow Burn had finished its run.

That I’d be back managing the studio where, in their eyes, I belonged, all notion of performing forgotten.

They’d probably been talking amongst themselves about how maybe I just needed to get it out of my system so that, afterwards, everything could return to its rightful place.

‘What do you mean “probably”?’ asked Sedi.

‘Oh, so you are speaking to me, then?’ I said. ‘Only I haven’t heard from you for days.’

‘I’ve been busy,’ she snapped.

‘Too busy to come and see me perform?’

Sedi shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘Look, I tried to make it, but I’d already made plans I couldn’t get out of.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure why I expected anything different.’

I’d lost count of the number of times I’d happily travelled to see my sisters perform, and my mum on occasion, too. If I was in their position, I would have dropped almost anything to show my support.

I took another sip of wine, buying myself some time. I could already feel things getting heated and that hadn’t been my intention when I’d suggested a chat.

‘Look,’ I said, getting to the point of the call. ‘I asked us to meet tonight because I hate that we’ve all fallen out. Let’s talk it out. And why don’t we start with you two telling me exactly why all of this has upset you so much?’

Sedi rolled her eyes. ‘Do you have to be so dramatic, Lira?’

‘I don’t even know why I’m getting pulled in to all of this, anyway,’ complained Nolo. ‘What can I do about any of it from over here?’

I bit my lip, trying to be gentle with them, because if I went in hard, they’d only get defensive and we’d end up worse off than we’d been before the call.

‘That’s kind of my point,’ I said. ‘Since I agreed to help Mum and Dad run the studio, it feels as though you’ve all carried on regardless while my hopes and dreams have been pushed to the side.

Both of you have done exactly what you wanted to do.

You’ve moved halfway across the world, you’ve made a home wherever you feel like it, and you’ve had the freedom to audition for something without having to think about a million other things before you said yes. ’

‘You’re the one who said you were happy to be a dance teacher. Mum said you’d realized the professional dance world wasn’t for you,’ insisted Sedi.

‘You know how hard I found it – still find it – to say no to Mum and Dad. How persuasive they can be, especially with me.’

‘You’re too weak-willed,’ said Nolo. ‘I know you probably think we’re selfish or something, but at least we’re not putting other people’s needs in front of our own all the time. Why shouldn’t we go after what we want?’

‘Fair point,’ I said, ‘which is why I decided – when the opportunity unexpectedly arose – to do the same thing myself. How could I not have done?’

Sedi sighed. ‘I think what bothers me is that it all feels so deceitful. Creeping around, pretending you had GP appointments when actually you had auditions. It leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.’

I nodded. ‘And I’m sorry. I definitely should have been honest with you both from the beginning.

It was just that it felt like such a huge thing.

Something I was very likely to fuck up. I’d convinced myself that it was best not to say anything until I was sure Carlos Torres had meant what he said – that he wouldn’t instantly regret hiring me and fire me on the spot in front of the entire cast.’

‘That’s ridiculous. You’re a beautiful dancer and you know it,’ said Nolo.

‘But I don’t know it, not really. Choreographing at the studio is hardly pushing me to my limit, is it?

I had no idea if I’d be able to keep up with Gabriele, and it was obvious he was looking for something very specific, and that it had been Carlos not him who had wanted to hire me.

I had a lot to prove, and part of me wanted to focus on that without also having to deal with talking about it to all of you when I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d get. ’

‘We could have helped you if you’d asked,’ said Sedi, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. ‘It’s okay to have doubts, you know, and that’s what sisters are for – to champion each other. To give each other strength and encouragement.’

I believed the same thing myself until all of this – where had Sedi’s strength and encouragement been on press night?

‘Sedi’s right,’ said Nolo. ‘You’ve spent years looking after us, but sometimes it feels as though you won’t let either of us in.

Maybe we’d like to see you mess up sometimes – it would make us feel better about ourselves, instead of having this perfect and always-together older sister to have to compete with. ’

‘I didn’t realize we were competing,’ I said quietly, knowing deep down that they had a point. To me, asking for help meant revealing a weakness, but what Sedi and Nolo were saying was that it would actually show strength of character to admit that everything wasn’t wonderful all of the time.

‘Well, you wouldn’t, because in Mum and Dad’s eyes, you’re always number one. Imagine what it’s like for us, desperately trying to live up to the high expectations you’ve set for us all,’ said Sedi.

I swallowed hard. I’d had no idea they felt like this, nor had I ever imagined that they thought I’d had it easy compared to them.

‘Maybe we all wanted what the others had, instead of appreciating what we did have,’ I said quietly.

‘Maybe,’ said Sedi.

Nolo leaned closer to the screen. ‘Does it feel right what you’re doing, Lira?’

I didn’t have to think about it for long; the answer was right there on the tip of my tongue.

‘One hundred percent right. It’s what I’m meant to do, I know that now, just like it’s what you two are meant to do. And now it’s my turn to make something of myself, and I don’t know what that means for us, or for the studio.’

‘Mum and Dad have already said they expect me to do more for the business if you decide to carry on with this,’ said Sedi, looking less than impressed. ‘Maybe they shouldn’t have opened the business in the first place if they didn’t have any interest in actually running it.’

‘Now you know how I feel; how I’ve always felt.’

‘I’m going on tour with Barbed Wire soon, though. I’ll be on the other side of the world,’ said Sedi. ‘I’m going to tell them that unfortunately I won’t be available to give couples with two left feet wedding dance lessons!’

‘Well then we’ll have to find another way to make it work,’ I said, refusing to back down.

‘Talking of Barbed Wire, have you met Tate Fellows yet?’ asked Nolo, changing the subject completely, no doubt before either of us could ask what her contribution to the running of the studio might be.

Tate Fellows was the lead singer of Barbed Wire, who were currently the biggest rock band in the world.

A loud, American, slightly unhinged – in my opinion – man with tattoos covering at least seventy percent of his body.

He was cute, I supposed, if you liked that kind of thing, but boy did he know it.

He was photographed with a new model or actress practically every week.

‘I met him at the final casting, yeah,’ said Sedi, casually.

‘What’s he like?’ gasped Nolo, clearly finding this line of conversation a whole lot more engaging than my dance career and the running of James Jive Studio.

‘He’s okay,’ said Sedi, shrugging.

‘Gorgeous, though, I bet?’ said Nolo.

‘ Full of it,’ declared Sedi.

‘Anyway,’ I said, wanting to bring the Tate Fellows-fest to an end.

Although I’d lost momentum now, and until I actually got another dancing gig, there probably wasn’t much use in me pushing my point.

‘I’m going to go. I’ll be at the studio in the morning and then straight to the theatre late afternoon. It’ll be a long day.’

‘Fine. I need my bed, anyway,’ said Sedi.

I hesitated. ‘I’m glad we had this conversation.’

‘I’m not,’ said Nolo miserably.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I decided to leave them a parting shot.

‘Oh, and I know I’m supposed to be looking after you while Mum and Dad are away, but I reckon you’re old enough to fend for yourselves, don’t you? You know where I am if you need me.’

Then I cut the call and closed my laptop, proud of myself for opening up about some of the things that had been festering in my head for years and that, until now, I’d never had the guts to say.