“I’m serious, Val. You’re a great dancer—usually. What happened tonight? I expected better from you. There was no fire in your performance, and that song demanded fire.” Clint tilted his head. “Is everything okay back at the housing? Are you getting along with the other dancers? You know you’ve always been one of my favorites. I want things to be as comfortable for you as possible.”
“Everyone’s been great, honest,” I said. “I just climb when I’m stressed, that’s all. I know I didn’t do so good tonight. I didn’t even need you to tell me.”
Clint nodded. “I could see the knowledge in your eyes when you came over to talk to us. See, that’s part of why you’re one of my favorites. You have a degree of self-awareness that’s unusual in a dancer of your age. You didn’t answer my first question.”
I paused, reviewing the conversation in my head before deciding to go with the excuse that would best match the rumors he might have already heard. “My sister’s in town, and we don’t talk much.” Referring to my grandmother as my sister was never not going to be weird. “I just let her throw me off my game, that’s all. I’ll work harder next week.”
“You’d better, or next week could be your last,” said Clint gravely.
His back was to the basement door. He didn’t see it open, or see Pax’s startled expression when he was confronted with Clint’s unmistakable silhouette.
Be smart, I thought, while nodding and trying to keep a downtrodden expression firmly in place. “I know. I just have to hope America will show me mercy. If we get something in the ballroom category for next week’s show, I think I can carry Anders through it, and remind people why they let me make it to the finale last time.”
“Remind them of more than that.” I wasn’t expecting Clint to move when he did. He stepped forward, grabbing my hands before I could shift out of the way, and said seriously, “Remind them how they blew up the message boards when Lyra edged you out for the title. Remind them that they love you, and that they want you to be America’s Dancer of Choice.”
Years of living with Aeslin mice had given me the odd ability to hear it when someone stressed a word hard enough to capitalize it. I smiled and tugged my hands away from him. “I’m flattered, Clint, but I don’t think we should be having this conversation. If the other dancers start thinking you’re favoring me, it’s going to make rehearsals awfully uncomfortable.”
“Adrian has his favorites every season. You know he does. Bits of fluff who know how to waggle their asses for his approval. He’s never slept with any of them—Lindy would have his balls if he tried—but that doesn’t change the way he looks at them. He’s undressed them with his eyes a thousand times.” Clint’s expression hardened, mouth thinning into a disapproving line. “He cuts deserving dancers because he wants to keep his favorites as long as he can. Why shouldn’t I come down on the side of the dancers who actually deserve to be here? You’re good, Valerie. I expected you to turn us down because you were setting the competition stage on fire, or starring in some new Broadway extravaganza. What happened after you left us?”
I remembered who I was, I thought. Aloud, I said, “It’s hard out there for a dancer. I guess I just got overwhelmed.” Which was technically true. I’d been overwhelmed by the discovery of a giant sleeping dragon under New York City, and by the presence of a Covenant field team. I’d been overwhelmed by the effort of doing my job and starting my career at the same time, and when I’d been forced to choose one over the other, I’d chosen the one I couldn’t imagine living without.
And now I had to do that again. Insulting a judge was a quick way to wind up on the bottom, but I didn’t see where I had a choice if I wanted to find the others.
“I’m really sorry I was climbing; I just needed to clear my head,” I said, taking another step backward. “I was hoping to catch Leanne before she left to get her things. I’m sorry. Can we talk later, maybe?”
“I thought I saw her on the stage,” said Clint. He closed the distance between us, taking my arm firmly in his. “I’ll walk you.”
Shit. There was no way to get out of this: not without blowing my cover, and potentially getting myself tossed out of the theater. “All right,” I said, glancing over my shoulder toward the basement door and hoping that Malena would take the hint.
This was all on her and Pax now.
Clint chatted vaguely during the walk back to the empty stage. I don’t think I heard more than one word in three. I was too busy watching the corners of the hall, waiting for something to lunge out at us. If there were any dancers remaining in the building apart from the ones I knew about, our route avoided them; it was just Clint and me, right up until we stepped out onto the echoing vault of the stage.