Who is he? What did he want? Why is he looking for me? How did he know where I would be? Did he see my headshot? Is he really going to wait for me after the show? Can I sneak out the back and jump in my car?
Well the answer to the last one was easy, Carrie realized dismally. She switched legs so she could stretch out the muscles in her left one. She could not just sneak out the back. She was expected, as was the rest of the cast, to exit through the main lobby. There were hands to shake and programs to sign. She doubted she would be missed if not for her "uncle." If she didn't show up after the show and he started asking questions, there would be hell to pay tomorrow.
She took down her left leg and straightened out her leotard under her skirt. Just then, the other two girls that entered with her from this side of the stage tiptoed around the massive set piece used in the finale of Act I. Carrie smiled at them in the dim light.
"Break legs," she whispered.
"Break hearts," they whispered back in unison. Carrie smiled at their long-running joke and temporarily forgot her earlier preoccupation as she heard their cue to go onstage. She ran out to her mark next to her friend Melissa and took the few moments before their dance began to survey the audience. Not a bad house for a Friday night, she thought.
She had just put her right foot behind her and set her arms to begin when she saw him, sitting in the front row. The two chairs on either side of him were occupied, but then the next few seats were empty. She was unable to look closer because the dance had begun. Her mind, previously racing with worries and fear, was empty of all but the dance.
Tombé, pas de bourrée, glissade, assemblé. Balancé, balancé, balancé, turn.
Once she got into the rhythm of the movement, she afforded quick glances down into the first row. She could tell the man sitting to the right of her 'uncle' was a short man, despite the darkness and the fact that he was seated. She glimpsed a lot of auburn hair and a big bushy beard. All in all, he had a very rough appearance.
Great, she thought. He's brought thugs with him. I'm so screwed. She chasséd upstage, her back to the audience, around a big circle until she reached her next mark, right in front of the three men. She stepped back in preparation for the upcoming set of pirouettes and fouetté turns. As she extended her leg, her eyes quickly darted down to the third man.
She almost fell out of her turn.
Sitting there, next to the man who claimed to be her uncle, was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. No, that was not right. 'Beautiful' did not even begin to describe him. Somehow, she managed to complete her turns and run off stage with the rest of the dancers. The first portion of the opening dance was over, but she would have to go back out in a few minutes for the second half.
Carrie snuck between the curtain and the proscenium so she could peek out into the audience, unseen. Her eyes traveled immediately to the men in the front row, particularly to the one sitting all the way to the left. Her stomach executed a slow flip as she studied his face. He was the polar opposite of the other two men. In contrast to their dark hair and scruffy look, he was clean-shaven with long blond hair, tied neatly back. The other two appeared to be older; in their 40s; the short one maybe even 50s, but he appeared to be around the same age she was. She could tell the blue of his eyes from the stage, almost as if they glowed. His fair skin also appeared to have a glow to it, and it was absolute perfection. Her eyes lingered a moment longer until she had to make her next entrance. She crept back and lined up with the other dancers.
As they entered the stage, she tried with all her might not to look at the men, but her eyes automatically focused on them, almost immediately. For a moment her eyes locked with those of the blond man and she felt her body go weak. It was only hours upon hours of relentless dance practice that kept her legs moving in unison with the other girls'.
She redirected her focus to the back of the room, willing her body to become responsive again. Belatedly, it dawned on her that all three men had been looking intently at her. She wasn't sure what was more disturbing: that, or the fact that her body was completely out of her control whenever she so much as glanced down at them. There were butterflies in her stomach doing a dance frantic enough to unnerve even the most seasoned performer. Her mouth was dry, her palms were soaked and her mind was grasping unsuccessfully for control. But still, she couldn't help looking over from time to time. To see if they're still watching me, she lied to herself.
Just admit it, sister, another voice said. You can't take your eyes off of Blondie over there. It was almost as if he exuded some kind of power over her. The thought crossed her mind that it may not be all bad to meet up with her 'uncle' after the show, as long as he brought his friends.
She shook her head to clear it. That's ridiculous, she chided herself. She finished her dance and ran offstage again. You still don't know who he is, what he wants, whether or not he's dangerous. She smiled nervously as she rubbed her hands on the sides of her tights, trying to dry her palms. Did any of that matter, if it meant she got to meet his friend? Her eyes widened at the uncharacteristic thought. It was not like her to let a man remove from her all semblance of reason.
As she stepped around set pieces backstage, heading towards the door out to the hall where the dressing rooms were, she saw Scott, talking with some other crewmembers. He intercepted her by the stage door and grabbed her arm, pulling her close so his mouth was close to her ear.
"I saw your friend in the audience before the show," he whispered.
Carrie leaned back to look up at his face. His expression was inscrutable.
"Mmm hmm," she responded, noncommittally, but she was sure he could feel her elevated pulse. Well, she could always blame it on the exertion of dancing.
"He must be a big fan of yours; he sat right in front." Now, a smirk was beginning to reveal itself on his face.
"I know!" Carrie's voice was a little more than a whisper and she was shushed by the other stagehands. Scott led her out into the hall where they didn't have to be as quiet. "I almost messed up the dance when he looked at me... I mean... when I saw him there," Carrie stammered.
She felt the red start to creep up her cheeks and was sure Scott could see it. She reminded herself that although the face that had popped into her head did not belong to the man Scott was talking about, he couldn't possibly know that, could he? She looked everywhere but at Scott, unwilling up to see his reaction to what she believed was a very obvious blush.
"Carrie." She could no longer avoid the inevitable. Slowly she raised her head up to meet Scott's gaze.
"Yes?" she asked innocently.
"I saw you hiding in front of the curtain. I saw you staring at him."
"So?" Carrie knew she sounded defensive.
"So," Scott began, releasing her arm and looking at her seriously. "I recognize that look."
"What look?" Carrie demanded, and then realized she spoke too quickly and strongly, confirming what Scott obviously thought, judging by the thin line he pressed his lips into.
"You know the look I'm talking about." Scott sighed. "Look, just don't do anything rash or stupid, ok. Remember how freaked out he had you backstage."
"So he had me freaked out." Carrie shrugged. "So I was staring at him and his friends. So what?"
Scott stood silently for a second, his eyes narrowed at her.
"I didn't say anything about his friends," he said quietly.
Carrie tried desperately to think of a valid response, an excuse for bringing his friends into the conversation but before she could, a look of understanding crossed Scott's face replaced quickly by knowing half-smile.
"It was the blond guy you were staring at!"
"What?" Carrie stalled. "No I wasn't. I mean ... what blond guy?"
Scott nodded smugly. "Yes it was! Either that or you have really weird taste and were looking at the other one."
Carrie sighed, knowing she was defeated. "Fine." She shrugged. "So he has a good-looking friend. So what?"
Scott shook his head at her, all smugness gone and his eyes full of concern. "Like I said before; just remember how much his buddy creeped you out before."
Before Carrie could respond, the stage door opened and one of the stagehands popped his head out, looking for Scott to help with the scene change. He grasped Carrie's shoulder quickly.
"We'll talk later. Remember... I'm watching you." And with a wink, he was gone. Carrie took a deep breath and headed towards the dressing room to prepare for her next scene.