Struck By Lightning: Slow Satisfaction Part 19

"You'll have to fly to Las Vegas without me," he told me a few days before we were set to leave, as I lay in bed under the windows. It was a voice-only call while he was taking a quick break from recording, and I had my earbuds in to hear him in stereo. "I'll need to be here until the last possible moment and I'll meet you there. I'm having you and Chandra and a few others take the same flight."

"What about Stefan?"

"He's here with me now."

"Ah, of course." I rolled over onto my stomach. "So I've been meaning to ask you something for Becky."

"Ask away. Has she been liking the new apartment?"

"She loves it. It's so much bigger than our old place. Plus the sink here isn't cracked, and we don't have to jiggle the toilet handle to get it to flush. Even her cat likes it better." I looked at the blank wall across from my bed and wondered if I should get some art to hang there. "Anyway. She's writing her thesis on representations of feminist utopias in your rock operas."

"Excellent!" He sounded giddy about it.

"Is it? Does that mean she's right?"

He cleared his throat and tried to sound more serious, but I could still hear the glee. "Whether she's right or not doesn't matter. Being taken seriously as an artist is the rarest reward."

I decided this wasn't a good moment to remind him that Becky's fan nickname was Baroness Babelicious. "Well, anyway, I said I'd ask if she could interview your ch.o.r.eographer."

"She might be better off interviewing me, if she is trying to ferret out the source material. Though isn't that cheating? Going to the source? I thought postmodern critique discounted the influence of the creator."

"She's not a postmodernist. She's a feminist. I mean, she uses a feminist school of critique, which I think actually takes into account the intention of the artist more than most of the others."

"Ah. Is she in the women's studies department?"

"I don't think we have 'women's studies.' She's in the department of cultural and social a.n.a.lysis, with a fellowship from the Inst.i.tute for Gender Studies."

"That's quite a mouthful."

"You should see it when guys try to hit on her. Their eyes glaze over before she can get halfway through an explanation of it. Half the time she just says 'Culture Studies' and changes the subject. Anyway, it's her dissertation, and I promised I'd ask."

"I'd be more than happy to speak with her and introduce her to whoever she wishes. Hang on." I heard the phone rustle as he turned to speak to someone else in the background. "Sorry about that."

"Do you have to go?"

"Soon. They're still setting up a piece of equipment we need. Almost done. I'm yours until then."

I teased him. "I thought you were mine forever."

"That, too," he said drily. "How has rehearsal been going?"

"Well, we're not really rehearsing anything with Sabine, you know. It's exercises and exercises and exercises, but it's not like we're learning any routines."

"Of course. That's what I meant. You won't start learning the actual steps until the whole troupe is together."

"How many dancers are you hiring?"

"The full troupe is twenty. Several of them are already in Vegas. A few got gigs there after the last production. Everyone else has been hired and vetted."

I imagined the ability to keep a secret was what they were vetted for. "Some of them have been talking about trying out for the part of princ.i.p.al. I really do think some of them are better dancers than me."

"Karina, please don't worry about it. I know one of my goals is to make it harder for Ferrara to meddle in the production, but I didn't hire you for nepotism and I'm not hiring you because of the hard-on I have for you, either. Speaking of which..."

The delay in his return meant I had m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed every day, often with his supervision and input, but as planned, there had been no insertion. Not even my finger. "Don't you have to go soon?"

His voice was low and silky. "I do, but touch yourself until I do. Describe to me what you're doing."

"I'm running my fingers along the edges of my lips where I'm shaved. Slowly. Lightly." I pushed my panties down to my ankles. It was good to have the privacy of my own bedroom, again! "Now I'm letting my middle finger graze the tip of my c.l.i.t where it sticks out. Ngh."

"How long do you think it will take you to come? Can you do it in under two minutes?"

"I don't know, James. It's like you rewired me! I feel empty. It's hard to come sometimes from my c.l.i.t alone."

"You don't know how much I wish I was there to fill that emptiness." He sucked in a breath and I wondered if he was rubbing his c.o.c.k through his clothes or what. "I am somewhat tempted to bend the rule."

"To let me slip a finger in?"

"You know, you can always use your a.s.s."

"It's not the same!"

"Have you tried?"

"Well, not yet, but-"

"I suggest you try, if you're having trouble coming. But no, I was thinking of something small that would make the long flight to Vegas more interesting for you..."

I rubbed myself harder and faster as he talked.

"Perhaps if you were flying alone," he concluded. "No, you'll just have to wait, and so will I. And now I must go, sweetness." He made a kissing sound into the phone and hung up.

The flight to Vegas was uneventful. The most interesting part was getting to know Chandra a little while we were sitting around at the gate waiting to board. She was older than I realized. She looked to me like she was in her twenties, her dark brown skin flawlessly wrinkle free and her figure fashion-model tall and thin, but she had just turned forty. She had been a dancer and backing singer when she and James met, but she had a knack for organizing and that led to him hiring her as a personal a.s.sistant for a tour a few years back. She'd quickly moved from tour a.s.sistant to full-time a.s.sistant to full-time manager.

The hotel was quiet and luxurious, exclusive rather than touristy. Once we arrived, Chandra checked in for us as a group and provided our keys. As we rode the elevator upward, the others in our party got off on lower floors until it was just her and me.

I wasn't surprised to see we went all the way up to the top floor, the "club" level. We came to my door first. "Your room has a connecting door to a suite," she said. "I suggest keeping it closed for appearance's sake."

She didn't have to tell me who would be staying in the suite.

"I'll be directly across the hall," she added. "And you have my cell phone number. The van to rehearsal leaves right from the driveway outside the lobby at ten-thirty a.m. Don't be late."

"I won't."

"Order room service if you want it." She looked me up and down like she had something more to say, but she didn't say anything other than, "See you in the morning."

Eleven.

Leading Us On and On We would have two days of rehearsal on the main stage in the theater before the actual audition. I was soon very grateful for the rehearsal time. I knew I was going to want to get used to performing in the s.p.a.ce, but it hadn't occurred to me that the stage would be raked. It had a tilt down toward the audience so that people in the orchestra seats could still see the whole stage. It took some getting used to.

The other thing that took some getting used to was the fact that there were two dancers who looked like James, at least at a glance. The only reason I didn't think he'd arrived early himself was that when I caught sight of them they were talking to each other, so I knew at least one of them couldn't be the real thing... and on closer inspection it was obvious neither of them was. I wondered if he used stunt doubles at various times in the show. That seemed likely.

Chandra introduced us first thing to the ch.o.r.eographer, an Asian-looking woman named Alicia Bogovich. I was expecting a Russian with a name like that, but Annika told me later it was her ex-husband's last name, and she kept using it professionally after they split up. She was American, from California, and she ran us through some warm-ups before giving us the schedule for the rest of the day. She was in tights and a sports bra with a chic-looking knee-length knit cardigan over it, a clipboard tucked in one arm as she paced the edge of the stage, looking over the rest of us sitting scattered across the stage.

"Nice to see you all again." She was answered with a smattering of claps and "you too" from the dancers. "You all know Barnaby, the house manager." She pointed to a guy walking through the auditorium. His T-shirt was untucked, his hair grown over his eyes, and his pot belly protruding over the edge of his jeans. He waved without looking back. "And of course Ramon, my a.s.sistant." A young-looking guy with a thin mustache waved from the sound board, which was placed among the curved tiers of tables. The whole main floor was made up of tables, while the upper level was regular theater seats, and there were opera-style balcony boxes on the sides.

"Now. Jasper's not here yet, but he'll be conducting a review for a partner role the day after tomorrow. Female partner, I should specify." She walked along the footlights as she talked. "You ladies who are working on solo pieces for that, I've blocked the four hours at the end of the day today for you to have a half hour each on the stage. Tomorrow, same thing. I've got you in alphabetical order today, the reverse tomorrow. Right now, I want us to get started on an ensemble piece. Any questions?"

One of the male dancers from Las Vegas I hadn't met yet raised his hand. "Are we doing Bride of the Blue? I've heard we were, but I've also heard we weren't."

Alicia nodded at him. "There's a reason for that confusion." She looked at the clipboard and touched it with her finger, making me realize it was actually a tablet computer, not a clipboard after all. "Let me play you something. This is the brand-new overture to a show that incorporates a few elements of Bride of the Blue, but which also pulls in songs from several other Lightning alb.u.ms. The t.i.tle is still to be determined." Music came from the sound system then, the sound of synthesizers and violins soft at first, but then growing louder. Then the drums came in. It reminded me of the music from a Cirque du Soleil show, only not so French-sounding. I liked it.

A voice from the wings made everyone look up. Ferrara pushed a curtain aside and strode onto the stage. She was dressed in skintight jeans with lace-up boots. Her heels were loud on the hollow stage. "What the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l is this?"

Alicia faded the music out. "Ferrara, I was wondering when you were going to grace us with y-"

"I asked you a question, Bogovich."

Alicia pursed her lips. "As I was just telling the group, it's an entirely new overture."

"I didn't approve this."

"I wasn't under the impression that your approval was necessary."

Ferrara laughed and gave Alicia a feral smile. "I'm the executive producer. I'm financing Bride of the Blue."

"Jasper told me he calls the shots."

"Jasper likes to feel like he's in control. You know that." She glanced around as if she were expecting that line to get a laugh. No one moved. "And this whole princ.i.p.al dancer s.h.i.te? Totally unnecessary."

Alicia looked like she was trying hard not to roll her eyes. I liked her already. Her att.i.tude made me feel less afraid of Ferrara, too. "Jasper intends for the princ.i.p.al to do a lot more in this show than the bride did in Bride of the Blue."

Ferrara waved her hand like she was dispelling cigarette smoke. "Oh, does he? Well. Jasper knows best." She snorted dismissively.

"Could I ask you to clear the stage?" Alicia cleared her throat. "We've got a lot to learn in a little amount of time."

"You're wasting your time. We're doing Bride of the Blue and that's final. Anyone who partic.i.p.ates in this audition nonsense can put their names on my s.h.i.t list right now." Ferrara stalked toward Alicia, but turned before reaching her, going down the hidden steps at the front of the stage and up the side aisle to the back of the theater. The sound of the door opening and shutting echoed loudly in the empty auditorium.

The moment she was gone people began talking. "Is she serious?" Annika said to Roland.

"Yeah, is she going to arm wrestle Jasper for control of the troupe or what?" he said back, before Alicia demanded everyone quiet down and get to work.

We worked on learning the first part of the overture, and before I knew it, it was time to break. Alicia called us all in close.

"Okay, people," she said, looking around to see if Ferrara was about to pop out of the curtains again. "I guess I need to know who's still planning to audition for Jasper."

I raised my hand.

"Okay, Karina, that's one. Are you the only one?"

I looked around. They were all looking at me. "Annika, weren't you planning to try out, too?" I asked.

"What if she blacklists me?" Annika answered. "Jasper's getting out of the business."

"Yeah, that's what he said last time," someone I couldn't see in the back of the group said, causing laughter.

"No, seriously, you guys, it's not worth it. Karina, don't make an enemy."

What Annika didn't know, of course, was that Ferrara was already my enemy. "I'm still going to do it. Jasper's my boss. It's going to be up to him."

A girl with a black bun and part of a tattoo visible along her collarbone raised her hand then. "I'll try out. Ferrara doesn't scare me."

Alicia nodded. "All right. Change of plans, then, people. Let's break for lunch, except Karina and Natalie. You do your rehearsal runs with Ramon. Everyone else take thirty. When we come back, we'll continue blocking this piece and let Jasper and Ferrara duke it out later."

Ramon climbed onto the stage and came toward me while the others drifted away. "Are you Karina? You're the one I haven't met yet."

"Yes, nice to meet you." We shook hands. I introduced myself to Natalie, too, and she exchanged fist b.u.mps with Ramon.

"What are you guys planning to use for music?"

Natalie shrugged. "I haven't prepped anything. This was a spur-of-the-minute decision. What have you got in your iPod?"

"Here." He dug a music player out of his pocket and handed it to her. I got the feeling they had a bit of a history together. "Go in the back where it'll be quiet and come back when you've picked something."

"Thanks." She slipped easily off the edge of the stage and disappeared.

"I have my song in my phone." I dug it out of my bag and pulled up the track. "Here it is. And I need a stool for a prop. I saw one in back?"

"Okay, cool. I saw it, too. Hang out here while I go get it." He came back with a chrome-legged stool with a round black seat and set it down. He spun the seat with his hand, which gave me an idea. "Now, let me go set the music up." He held out his hand for the phone and I gave it to him with a little pang of worry. He loped up the aisle to the sound control board, though, never leaving my sight, and a moment later the sound of the drums echoed through the huge sound system.

Fortunately for me, Ramon didn't care how many times I needed him to start it again at the beginning, because I had to have him try it many times. But the rake of the stage didn't bother me too much, and the moves I had been working on in the living room of the apartment seemed like they translated well enough to the big stage. At first I had put the stool at center stage, but then decided it worked better downstage and off to one side.

Then my time was up, and I grabbed a sandwich from the green room where everyone else was getting ready to continue. I didn't have much time, but I checked my phone for messages: none. I texted James: Ms. Trouble is here, scaring off everyone else from auditioning. She insists we're doing Bride of the Blue and she doesn't like the new music you sent. Is that why things are taking so long in London?

I was surprised a reply came back right away. No, that's not why. You have inspired me. Must go. Love you.

He said nothing about Ferrara, but I figured I'd ask him later. Love you, too! Get here soon!

I failed to reach James for the next two days, other than to receive text messages from him so brief they were almost cryptic. I gathered that he was working until the last possible moment and then he would hop on a plane, arriving only shortly before the audition was to be held.

He wasn't there yet when Chandra and I got in the van with some others to head to the theater. One of them was a black man with some of the most impressive biceps I had ever seen. He took off his suit jacket to keep it from getting wrinkled as he got into the van. Under it, his chest and arm muscles stretched a plain black T-shirt to its limit. Chandra introduced him as Ty, head of entourage security. He gave me a professional smile and a nod as he shook my hand. I got the impression he was ex-military.