The Beast Read online

  “If you leave, that means that Patrice and I will be the only black ballerinas left.” Maddie wrinkles her nose. “Your role is gonna be filled by a white girl. You know that, right?”

  “I’m not responsible for the NYB’s cultural diversity problem. Besides, I just got a look at the new class. They’re hiring a bunch of new faces. Balancing out their monoculture with a bunch of Asians and Latinas.”

  “That’s hardly the point I was making.” Patrice sulks.

  On the screen, Maddie dashes across the stage, leaping and executing several combinations and pirouettes. Toward the end, her movements seem stilted, making the dance seem like something she’s working at.

  I wince but try to keep my face expressionless.

  “Ah. You can totally tell that I’m nervous. Look at how much tension I hold going into that pirouette.” Maddie points to the laptop screen, tracing her finger over the shape of her body as she moves across the stage. “I need to work on that combination today when I get some studio time.”

  “You’re doing a good job of faking it, cause I don’t see a single flaw in that whole scene.” Patrice, my other roommate, looks at me for confirmation. “Right, Ella? You may be out of the company because of your injury, but you’re still Little Miss Knows Everything About Ballet.”

  Casting a glance at Maddie, I shrug.

  “Maddie’s right. She does need to work on that combination. Just do it until you have the muscle memory down pat.”

  “See? Ella spotted it,” Maddie announces. “This is the last week of dress rehearsals before we start showing it to a live audience. I have to nail it this week.”

  Heaving myself up off the couch, I open my mouth to reassure her. But before I can get a word out, a loud pounding sound comes from the front door.

  Shooting my roommates a quizzical glance, I start moving to answer it. “Are y’all expecting a food delivery or something?”

  “Please,” Patrice says. “Like either of us are eating any kind of junk food right now. Maddie just told you we have to be show-ready in less than a week!”

  My cheeks color. Of course I knew that. I’ve been eating the same thing as them this entire time. Chicken, broccoli, and sweet potatoes, on a nearly endless cycle.

  Only, I haven’t been dancing for eight hours each day to burn it off again and it’s starting to make my jeans fit much more snugly.

  Shaking my head, I swing open the front door. To my surprise, my thirteen year old sister beams up at me, with my mother and father bracketing her. She looks perfect, her bright white dress looking prim and proper, her mahogany skin gleaming. Her hair is in two tidy braids and she throws me the most dazzling smile.

  “Surprise!” Joy shouts, throwing her arms wide for an embrace. “We came all the way from Atlanta just to tell you we love you!”

  I open my arms, genuinely at a loss for words. I’m beyond glad to hug my sister. For months now I’ve wanted to see her, to make sure that she was still what I affectionately call my “Mini Me”. But my parents… they’re another story entirely.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper into Joy’s ear, hugging her tightly. “Dang, you’ve grown since I saw you for Christmas.”

  “I missed you so much,” Joy says, squeezing me. She’s at the age where she’s all bones and tendons, no meat to her frame at all yet. She whispers in my ear, “And I have to tell you about my new contract!”

  I look at her, frowning. “What contract?”

  “Later,” she mouths, rolling her eyes at our parents.

  “Sugar Bean, it’s nice to see you. We’re here to see you too,” my mother points out. She tosses her long, perfectly straightened hair and clutches at the oversized puffy pink Chanel purse she holds proudly before her like some kind of armor. “We’re fine, not that you asked. How are you, honey?”

  Reluctantly, I let Joy go and look at my mother. “I’m good. I’m—” I stop, realizing only now what a mess I must look like. Especially compared to my mother, who is dressed head-to-toe in pink Chanel, looking like some sort of Latina Mary Kay spokesmodel. She has deep amber skin, beautiful brown eyes, high cheekbones, and the size of her lush pink mouth is just slightly over-exaggerated by her pink lip gloss and lip liner.

  My hands brush my torn leggings and ratty black t-shirt. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anybody to stop by.”

  “You should always be prepared for any occasion,” my father booms. He slaps me on the shoulder in a casual way, but his expression says that he means what he says. “Are you gonna ask us inside?”

  Chastened, I step back from the door and wave my family in. My father is tall and brown-skinned, in an elegant navy suit with his hair neatly buzzed. He casts a glance around the room, sizing up my roommates.

  “Hello,” he nods to them. “Don’t you girls have somewhere to be?”

  Tensing up, I move between my roommates and my father, diffusing the situation.

  “Daddy, why don’t we go get something to eat?”

  His gaze swings over to me, his eyes narrowing on my figure. “Do you think that is what’s best for you right now? You can’t eat just anything while you’re sitting on the bench because of your… injury. No one likes a girl that sits around all day and eats bon-bons. That’s how you get fat ballerinas.”

  A prickle of pain spreads through my right knee. I lean down and rub it awkwardly, swiftly changing topics.

  “Right. I meant… let’s go out to the park and catch up! I could use a brisk walk.”

  My mother casts an appraising glance at me.

  “Yes, you certainly could.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Patrice and Maddie retreating silently to their respective rooms. The last time my family visited, my father instigated a fight with both of them. So the fact that they cleared out is less than surprising.

  “I’ll just change.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder, toward my room. “Joy, do you want to keep me company? You can tell me all about your adventures with trying to be an Instagram model.”

  My dad clears his throat. “Actually, Ella. Change into a really nice dress. The girls are headed back to the hotel after this. But you and I have two tickets to the Friends of New York City Ballet gala.”

  Freezing mid-step, I blink. That’s known to the ballerinas as The Patron’s Gala, because it is usually reserved for ballerinas who… how do I put it nicely… put on a show of what they have for sale, hoping to attract a potential mate. Or at the very least, a temporary sugar daddy.

  “Dad, I don’t think—”

  He cuts me off. “Go change. Wear that white number you insisted I purchase for your high school graduation party.”

  Joy and I both pale a bit, sharing a surprised look. It’s a short, skin tight body con dress in ivory… and Dad threw an absolute fit when he saw me wearing it. We had the biggest argument of our lives that day and I barely made it to the graduation party because of it.

  My dismay must be written on my face, because my mom shoos me toward my room.

  “Go on. You’ve got ten minutes, then I need Joy to help me back to the hotel. She’s the only one that can work the app that tells you where to go. What’s it called?”

  “The damn GPS, Elena,” my dad replies, his voice tart. He points a finger to my room. “You’d best mind, Ella Mae.”

  He sounds like he means it. Bowing my head, I grab Joy and scurry to my room. I spend the next few minutes hunting down that dress and squeezing into it, then doing some minor primping. When I’m done, I model it for Joy.

  Being all of thirteen years old, Joy is super unimpressed. “It looks like you’re going to spend the whole evening pulling it down to make sure your glory is covered.”

  I wrinkle my nose and laugh.

  “Daddy said it would set everyone’s hair on fire.”

  “Hah! Yeah, it sure will scandalize some older folk. I don’t guess that you have a mess of church ladies to impress tonight, though.”

  Grimacing, I shake my head. “No. I have a
bunch of old white men to avoid hugging. That’s what they never told me when I was a little girl, doing ballet. Nobody ever said that I would end up bowing and scraping for rich old guys to…” I pause, remembering who I’m talking to. My sister is young and impressionable, and she definitely doesn’t need to hear my experience with having my ass grabbed or my hips cradled at gala events just like this one.

  Instead, I smile wanly. “I wonder what daddy has up his sleeve.”

  She sighs. “It’s always something, isn’t it?”

  “I know that’s right.”

  Joy sits on my bed while I rush around, filling me in on her life.

  “Did I already tell you about getting into horse camp for the summer?”

  “Of course.” I sit down beside her, handing her a mirror, and start applying makeup. “We talk on the phone almost every day.”

  “I know. It’s nice to see you, though. Like… in person. We don’t get nearly enough of that.”

  Slicking on a dark purple lipstick, I put the tube aside. I grab the mirror from her hands and pull her into a hug. She burrows in my arms, her eyes misting over.

  “I miss you, Ellie.”

  Smoothing her hair back, I smile down at her. Inside, I feel turmoil rocking me to my core. I should’ve already moved back to Atlanta, for her, if not for my emotionally distant, often emotionally turbulent parents.

  “You too, JoJo. But no matter where I’m living, know that I love you so, so much.”

  Joy straightens, wiping at her eyes.

  “I love you too.” She seems a little abashed at the display of emotion, which is like a punch to the gut. “Mom will be mad if I wrinkle my dress. It’s Louis Vuitton.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course it is. Okay, come on. We should get going. But maybe tomorrow, we can sneak off, just the two of us, and go get ice cream.”

  She twists her mouth to the side. “Mom says I am supposed to be on a diet. She says no sweets and no carbs, or I’ll put on weight.”

  A pang of sadness resounds in my heart at hearing her words. She is way too young to be dieting. And I should know, because I was her age only six and a half years ago.

  Wrinkling my nose, I whisper. “Diets are for athletes. If you have some ice cream, I won’t tell. I promise.”

  She casts me a sly glance. “Well, okay… if you insist.”

  Offering her my elbow, I waltz out of the room. Not excited about tonight, but excited about getting this whole thing over so that I can spend some much-needed quality time with my little sister.

  Unfortunately, the second we step out, we are split up. My mother has a stick up her butt about getting to the hotel for reasons unknown.

  “Hurry up,” she says, her expression irritable. “Malcolm, you don’t keep Ella out too late, you hear?”

  Daddy puts his hand on my back, propelling me out the front door. It’s everything I can do to grab my tiny black over the shoulder purse.

  “We’re already late,” he grumbles. “Taxi!”

  I try to play it cool, but inside I’m growing nervous. What does my dad have planned? And why does he keep impatiently checking his watch?

  I can only wait and see, I guess.

  Chapter Three

  The gala is exactly like every other ballet fundraiser I’ve ever been to. It’s at someone’s opulent penthouse apartment that they probably don’t actually live in, the lights are dimmed, the music is bland and tasteless, the food and drinks passed by servers who mostly look like my peers. They seem to give me quizzical glances whenever I encounter them; they’re probably wondering why I’m dressed up to attend this old peoples’ party.

  I am also wondering that, seeing as how I am one doctor’s visit away from being permanently retired from the New York City Ballet.

  “Look sharp,” my father whispers, digging his elbow into my side.

  I gawp, experiencing a blinding flash of pain that shoots down my right leg.

  “Ow!” I whisper. “Jesus!”

  “You had better be glad that your mother can’t hear you taking the Lord’s name in vain like that,” he hisses. “Now I need to circulate. You keep your head up and look like you’re having a decent time.”

  “What? You haven’t told me why we are here!”

  But my dad is already moving away, his dark skin sticking out like a sore thumb amongst a sea of white people. I touch my hair, conscious that I, too, am the exception that proves the rule.

  “Ella!”

  I turn and see my former colleague Clarissa, clinging to the arm of a much older man. Her smile widens, turning sharklike.

  “I thought you would have flown back home by now. Where is it? Mississippi? Alabama?”

  I glance around, trying to decide if I should engage her or whether I can just find a bathroom and hide. But no, out of the corner of my eye, I can see more ballerinas take notice.

  Like my me-maw always said, sometimes it’s better to kill them with kindness. I smile at Clarissa, showing every one of my teeth.

  “Clarissa. How’s the arabesque? Is it still proving too hard for you? You know, I bet that there are probably some classes at the YMCA that would be helpful. I know, they are basic and for little kids—”

  She sneers at me, tossing her head. “You got what was coming to you—”

  “Ella! Omigod!” My best friend Kaia screams, pushing Clarissa aside gently and throwing herself at me. She is heavily pregnant and glowing, looking chic in all black.

  “Kaia!” I say, genuinely overjoyed. “I had no idea that you would be here!”

  As she grabs me around the waist and hugs me hard, I laugh.

  “My name is still on the guest list. For now, anyway.”

  “Not for long,” Clarissa gripes.

  Kaia’s head swivels toward her. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

  Clarissa glares at Kaia. “I’m new to the company. I was brought in to replace all the dancers who got hurt or…” She looks down at Kaia’s heavy belly. “Dropped out. That’s who I am. Who are you?”

  Kaia’s smile hardens. “Believe it or not, I probably sign your paychecks.” She makes a show of extending her right hand, with its truly huge diamond ring glinting in the low light. “I’m Kaia Fordham, Calum Fordham’s spouse. And you are going to back the hell off and leave Ella the fuck alone, or I’ll have your ass fired at the next Board of Directors meeting.”

  Clarissa turns a truly ghastly shade of white and flees, taking the clueless man whose arm she holds along with her.

  I raise my eyebrows at Kaia, tipping an imaginary hat at her. “Wow, great job scaring the shit out of her.”

  “Well, you know. I learned it from you,” Kaia says, squeezing me once more. “You stuck up for me time and time again. This is just repaying the favor now that I have the ring.” She waves her hand and rolls her eyes. “God, this whole world is so full of shallow people.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I sigh, then take a step back, admiring Kaia’s baby bump. “You’re like… seriously looking fierce.”

  “I’m seven and a half months pregnant and already ready to call it all off. Anybody that tells you that pregnancy is a beautiful miracle is really not telling you the truth.” She rests her hands on her stomach, jerking her head towards the wall. “Do you mind? There are a cluster of sofas over there and they have been calling my name since I got here.”

  “I’ve never met a couch I didn’t like. Lead the way,” I chuckle.

  A few minutes later, we’re installed on a monstrously sized sofa made of dark blue silk. Kaia flags down several waiters, meaning they bring us plates of food and offer to freshen our drinks nearly constantly.

  “This is the life,” Kaia says, toeing off her high heels. “People bringing me food, no stuffy old geezers trying to feel me up. It’s funny that I only had to become pregnant, and thus unattractive, in order to enjoy one of these gala events.”

  Giving her a little side eye, I smirk. “It won’t last forever. Your figure is going to bounce
back and then you will be stuck with the rest of us women again.”

  “I still have time to work on a plan.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “So? It’s been like two freaking weeks since I’ve seen you! What have you been doing?”

  Rolling a shoulder, I shrug.

  “Trying to figure out a plan B, I guess. All my life, all I have worked toward and all I have focused on is ballet. Being the best, being the thinnest, being beautiful but in peak physical condition. And then…” I smack my hand against my open palm, producing a crack. “I ended my career before it even really got started.”

  “Have you had any luck figuring out what your next step should be?”

  “No. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to ignore every single other possibility. Boyfriends, parties, traveling… I’ve never done anything. I’ve never gone anywhere! And now I’m trying to widen my scope and I’m just… I’m having a really hard time with it.”

  My last sentence leaves me in an exhalation of air. Kaia wrinkles her nose and pats my forearm.

  “You’ll figure something out. You’re smart and you’re great at a lot more than just ballet. You just need time and space to make a plan.”

  “What I need is money.” Wrinkling my nose up, I make a disgusted sound. “I’m going to run out of it very soon. The ballet is paying me a little right now, but nowhere near full pay. And I’m not likely to garner a rich patron now that I’m about to fail out of the whole ballet company. So whatever I do next, I have to earn actual money.”

  Kaia gives me a thoughtful look.

  “You know, Calum’s friend is still looking for a nanny. His daughter is a little on the wild side, but I’m sure the pay would be… well, whatever you ask. Keir has money that puts Calum’s fortune to shame.”

  She sips her soda, looking speculative. I wrinkle my nose.

  “What makes you think that I’m any good with little kids?”

  “His daughter is six. So you wouldn’t have to change her diapers or anything. I think you’d be great at taking care of a child. And the most important thing is that being an au pair would give you time to figure out what your passions are.”