“Done,” I say, but Baylee is holding her breath, more realistic while I try to dream about a happy ending in all of this.
Geoffrey chuckles at me. “That’s funny that you think I trust you. You know you’re in AE’s artist database with everyone else? You want to know what a former choreographer wrote in your file? He typed: will lie to protect other artists. Here’s what I’m going to write in yours.” He mimes writing on the air. “Nuisance, not worth the time or effort, soulless—”
“Stop,” Baylee interjects, setting a glare on him.
Geoffrey’s brows spike, and he appraises us. “I asked around about you two…to your…aunt, was it?”
Baylee recoils. “You talked to my aunt?”
“About two weeks ago. I wanted to know if I could trust you two to stay separated. I didn’t let her in on your current ‘relationship’ status, but I casually asked about your history together. She didn’t give me much at first, just said you were best friends. Then I asked if she’s ever seen Luka yell, and she said yes.” Geoffrey tilts his head at me like he caught me in a lie.
(He didn’t. Not really.) I blink a long blink.
“She said that Baylee was upset one day, overslept, and you were defending her tardiness at practice to a staff member. You were suspended for two days. Your aunt warned me that you both used to try to fight each other’s battles. One would fall, the other would scream. That sort of thing.”
We’re both eerily silent.
Baylee is scared. I can feel her stiffen beside me. Maybe she’s afraid he’s going to use this against us. I shake my head a couple times, and Geoffrey backs up, leaning against a Ziff machine full of sports drinks.
“You know what I believe?” he says. “I believe that you’ll always go an extra mile if you keep seeing each other at work. I believe it was a mistake to put Luka in Infini, and I don’t know why Marc Duval would even tempt it.”
He’s just as clueless as us about the reason then. And I can’t even disagree. Me being in Infini—it changed everything.
“What else do I believe?” Geoffrey continues. “The only way to ensure you abide by the rules is for one of you to quit Aerial Ethereal.”
“What?” we say together.
“I reread your contracts. There’s a stipulation that says if you both leave the company, the no minors policy is enforced. But if only one of you quits, there’s no harm done. You won’t be able to ever talk to each other, you’ll live your lives separately like you agreed to do years ago, and Infini won’t be damaged.”
I flinch back, numb to the bone.
Baylee’s face is in her hands.
My thoughts speed up, and it hits me. “You don’t want the no minors policy to happen, so you’ll never rat us out to Marc. We don’t have to comply.” I’m grasping for a glimmer of control.
(It’s always fleeting. I’m not holding my breath.) “Wrong,” Geoffrey snaps. “There’s a timeline. Seven days to quit. If you don’t by then, I’ll say you physically attacked me today, in this vending area, and I’ll fire you.”
My stomach clenches, and I look to the ceiling for answers. We could break our contracts and leave our jobs together, but it’d also enforce the no minors policy.
I already know she won’t do it.
Just like I won’t. Not if there’s another option, and he’s giving us one, our second handout from someone I deplore. Only I despise him way more than I ever hated Marc Duval.
This seems worse than the first time.
Because I’m older.
I’m twenty, and what I feel for Bay isn’t a dream or fantasy. I have my head somewhat on my shoulders, and the naysaying voices in our ears aren’t even here. We don’t need our stand-in parents to tell us where to go. What to do.
And I wonder what I would’ve decided if I had the two contracts at this time in my life. I wonder if I would’ve quit AE to be with Baylee right then and there.
Maybe.
But that’s not what’s on the table today. We can’t walk away without hurting the dreams of potentially thousands of children. We’re not going to do that.
One of us is quitting for Geoffrey’s “offer” and it’s about to be me. I open my mouth to volunteer so she can stay in the circus, but I see the way he’s staring at me.
And a realization sinks in.
He directed his whole firing and quitting speech to me.
“We don’t have a choice who quits, do we?” I ask, more calmly than he probably likes.
Geoffrey almost smiles like he won a game I didn’t even realize we were playing.
Tears slip out of Bay’s eyes, and she chokes, “No, let me—”
“I need you,” Geoffrey cuts her off. “I don’t need him.” He steps off the vending machine, coming forward again. “They say you’re irreplaceable because you’re a Kotova? Because of chemistry with your siblings and cousins? You’re just a number to me. I can easily rewrite the choreography of every act you’re in. Like you weren’t ever there. Invisible—”
“Wheel of Death,” Baylee combats, voice cracking.
I whisper, “It’s okay, Bay.” She can’t quit. Infini…it’s her mother’s memory.
She can’t quit.
I can leave. I’ll…do something. I don’t know what. I blink a couple times, blocking out the names of my family members. Of never seeing Bay again. I crack my knuckles.
I don’t want to confront all that I’m losing.
(I’ll puke.)
Geoffrey says, “I can move Erik Kotova onto Wheel of—”
“You don’t have that authority,” Baylee interjects, and I frown. Does he?
“Shut up, and don’t interrupt me again.”
I instantly stand and step in front of Baylee.
Geoffrey laughs like it’s too late.
I don’t want to leave her in this dude’s presence. I’ll have to warn Brenden before I go. Who else? Dimitri? They’ll make sure Geoffrey doesn’t mess with her when I’m gone, right?
(What am I saying? It’s like I’m preparing for my death.) I can already feel the uncertainty tormenting me. Not knowing if she’s happy or sad. Or just doing okay. All of it. All over again.
Looking directly at me, Geoffrey says, “I’ve been given the authority to swiftly axe Brenden and Zhen’s aerial straps routine anytime I like, so yes, you better believe I have the authority to shift around artists and fire them.”
Baylee caves into herself, and I turn to comfort her— “Don’t touch.”
I freeze at his words.
“You’re going to leave separately. Luka go first—”
“No fucking way,” I actually say out loud. I think it stuns him, but I don’t drink in his expression. I crouch down to Bay, careful not to touch her like he said. I don’t toy with that risk. “Baylee. Hey, go outside. Call your brother to come get you? Can you do that?”
Brenden doesn’t have a car, but he’ll probably take a cab. I don’t want her to be alone right now, and I’m not leaving first so she’ll be alone with Geoffrey.
Baylee pinches her eyes, attempting to stop the waterworks. My gaze sears.
She curses, and she tries to stand. I know she must feel like a million pounds of sorrow, but she has to get up.
In a full minute, she rises on her own, her hand pressed to her collarbones.
“Call Brenden,” I say.
She nods once.
“Please.”
She nods again.
“Okay.” I glance back at Geoffrey, who’s watching too keenly. I hate this dude so fucking much. I try to follow her out of the vending area, but he clamps a hand on my shoulder.
He yanks me back, and I shove him off out of defense.
I lost sight of her, but I remind myself that I’ve been given a choice. To quit or to be fired. I have seven days until I decide, and that’s seven days left with Baylee.
He’s not taking that away from me.
Act Thirty-Nine
Baylee Wright
12 Days to Infini’s Premiere
Luka likes pretending that doom isn’t waiting in the horizon. For six days, I’ve done a decent job at pretending too. We sneak off together when we can. As though Geoffrey never caught us. And we try not to talk about his impending departure.
Well, he’s quitting tomorrow, and I couldn’t stomach attending an Aerial Ethereal artists banquet in the Masquerade’s ballroom tonight. Most go for the free food and booze.