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Chapter 4
January 17th
The number 81B bus pulled up at a busy stop on Liberty Avenue and Katrina had to fight to get off before it pulled away again. She weaved skillfully through the crowd of people pushing in the other direction, narrowly avoiding pushchairs and umbrellas. It was raining heavily and she sprinted the last hundred meters to the entrance of the ballet center. It was a large red-brick building, resplendent with royal blue "Ballet Pittsburgh" flags which now hung limply in the rain. Checking the address one last time, she pushed open the double doors and entered.
Inside the cool, quiet hall, a blonde receptionist, lit cigarette glowing in her manicured fingers asked for identification. Katrina pulled out her driver's license and showed it to the receptionist who stubbed out her cigarette and checked the license under the light, lipsticked lips pursing.
"Seems fine, go on in to the office on the left." She said, pointing.
"Thanks, I'm Katrina by the way-" she tried to make a good first impression. The lips pursed again, worse than before, she's going to get wrinkles if she carries on like that thought Katrina.
"I'm Josie Lawrence." She said unsmilingly
"Nice to meet you."
Silence was the stern reply so Katrina smiled in what she dearly hopped was a winning way and sped past the desk into the corridor.
Katrina found the office on the left and knocked tentatively.
"Come in!" came an accented voice from inside.
Katrina crept in and almost freezing on the spot at the sight of the man standing by the window. Knowing instantly who he was, she nearly leapt out of her skin.
The man was Dorian Toulouse the infamous director of the famed Paris Opera Ballet. Tall, and broad across the shoulders like a rower with a shock of pewter grey hair and proudly Roman features so still and statue like, he resembled a bronzed Zeus. The man was reputed to be one of the greatest womanizers in the dance world, its enfant terrible and its most beloved star. Only having seen him in photographs Katrina was struck dumb by his presence and rooted to the spot.
What the hell is he doing in Pittsburgh? Wondering in a panic, Katrina blushed to the sodden roots of her hair.
The man sitting behind the desk coughed and Katrina realized she'd been staring rudely. She felt the heat rise further in her cheeks. The man behind the desk was Daniel Klein director of the Pittsburgh Ballet and her new boss.
He was very like Dorian Toulouse, the same air of aristocracy and intensity; he had a harshly beautiful face, slightly weathered with age but with sharp, dark eyes and hair untouched by grey. At the moment those sharp eyes were turned on Katrina who blushed yet harder, feeling her ears turning red.
"Hello, I'm Katrina Christiansen, the new junior soloist?" she ventured at last.
"Yes. We've met before. When I gave you the job."
"Yes" If she blushed anymore she would spontaneously combust. Thankfully Daniel smiled at her, the edges of his eyes crinkling slightly, he was what her friend Casey would have called a "silver fox".
"So, today is your fist day, nervous?" Katrina could only nod dumbly. Dorian Toulouse turned towards her, leaning on the edge the desk; Katrina felt the scrutiny of his gaze.
"Well," Daniel Klein lent forward eyes fixed on her, "You're not dancing for your school anymore and now you're out of the corps you'll have more responsibility, I really hope to see you develop as a dancer while you are here." He leant back in his chair, regarding her closely, "You understand that the position of junior soloist isn't a permanent one; so this is your chance to sink or swim as they say."
"Yes of course."
"Good."
"You see Daniel," said Dorian in a husky, languid baritone, "This is what I need. Fresh talent, fresh young talent." Katrina found she could blush harder after all.
"You're right of course Dorian, but I found her first so hands off." Daniel laughed, throwing his head back, very white teeth flashing.
"You're free to go Miss Christiansen, Dorian and I have more business to discus." She smiled shyly at both men and left, feeling like a schoolgirl who's just seen Justin Beiber at the corner shop.
The studio was stating to fill by the time Katrina had negotiated the locker rooms and changed into her dance clothes, she didn't know what kind of dress code they had in Pittsburgh so she'd kept it smart in a dark blue leotard, light tights and a pink wraparound cardigan. At the Jeoffrey she and the other girls had regularly worn shorts and crop-tops to dance in but she wasn't quite ready to be wearing her Michal Jackson tribute t-shirt to class just yet.
The other dancers all looked as she entered the studio but none of them approached her and she saw a lot of whispering going on behind hands. Typical she thought and tried to keep her chin high, not to be intimidated. At the barre she found herself in front of a blonde ballerina wearing an electric blue shrug, turning around, she introduced herself.
"Hey, I'm Katrina, the new girl." She stuck out her hand.
"I'm Lauren Meyers. Soloist." The other girl smiled thinly, not taking Katrina's hand, thankfully the sudden slamming of the studio door. In walked an older woman with ash-white hair and shocking blood-red lipstick, which put Katrina in mind of a geriatric Snow White. It was the same lady who had been present in the auditions along with the director, Katrina recognized her but did not remember her name. A hush fell across the whole room as the lady all but floated to the front and turned to face the dancers.
Clapping her hands for attention, she spoke in ringing tones. "Okay class, plies, first variation. Ready Jack?" she turned to the pianist who hurriedly started to play. Katrina copied the dancer in front, trying to fit the familiar motions to a new routine.
Forward, out, up, down, point your feet, turn them out! She thought to herself. They continued variation after variation, the lady walking up and down the aisles of dancers correcting and encouraging. As she approached them, Katrina tightened her grip on the barre out of nerves.
"Relax dear," said the lady, pushing Katrina's shoulders slightly further back, "Its only your first day." Katrina smiled nervously at her and she passed on to correct the man in front's posture.
Three hours later and they broke for lunch, not knowing anyone Katrina consigned herself to a lonely sandwich until a small dancer with shocking red hair jogged up to catch her before she slipped out of the locker room.
"Hey" she said, beaming brightly, "I'm Sonja, you're the new soloist, Katrina, right?" the red-headed girl extended a freckled hand.
"Yeah," Katrina replied, shaking it.
"Cool, wow, you must be so excited about your first day, right?"
"More like nervous really, it's a pretty intense class." Both girls started walking out towards the reception.
"Madame B is pretty strict, keeps us on our toes. No pun intended." Sonja giggled. "Anyway, come have lunch with us, get to know everyone?"
"Us?" Katrina questioned.
"Yes, look-" Sonja pointed to three dancers standing in the street the other side of the glass studio doors, waving and motioning for them to hurry up.
"I'd love to." Katrina smiled, relieved to have found someone so friendly.
"Cool, now come and meet everyone." Sonja swished her bright red hair and all but skipped out into the street, flinging the door open and earning herself a glare from the tight-lipped receptionist. Katrina laughed and followed maybe Pittsburgh wasn't so uptight after all.
On the way to what Katrina was assured was the cheapest café all of Pittsburgh the other dancers made their introductions. Mark, a tall, African man with a wicked sense of humor and flashing, dark eyes was the lead male soloist. Danni, the youngest of the group was in the corps having just graduated from Princeton Ballet School, she had a soft lilting voice, a slight lisp, and long blonde hair held back with an Alice-band. Danni knew Sonja from school and they were old friends. Vlad, a Russian soloist, son of defected parents was an inordinately cheerful skinhead who bounded along talking at a million miles an hour. He and Sonja were dating, to the stern disapproval of both sets of parents. Unusually for a ballet dancer, Vlad had several tattoos, one of the Moscow skyline and the Kremlin, which he lifted his shirt up to show everybody.
"I just got it finished a few weeks ago" he said, explaining, "Look, here's where my parents used to live" her pointed to an outline map of Russia on his ribs, "and here's Putin!" he pointed again to a little caricature devil in a suit on his left side.
Laughing, Sonja kissed him on the cheek "Put your abs away babe it's a girlfriend's privilege to see that sort of thing you know." They were about to kiss again when Mark forcibly dragged Vlad away by the ear. Katrina looked at him alarmed. "Don't worry," said Danni "If they start kissing it'll be the end of break before we get to the café." She took a slightly put out looking Sonja by the arm and frog marched her the rest of the way.
The café, when they finally arrived, was dark, smoky and cramped with builders having midday cups of coffee and burgers. They trooped in and took a seat at the back.
"What's good to eat around here?" asked Katrina, eyeing a burger with longing.
"They do a good line in salad actually," said Danni, helpfully pointing to the back of the menu, "Chicken Cesar is the best one in my opinion anyway."
"Oh no, you gotta have the BLT" encouraged Mark from across the table.
"Mmmh, I dunno, this little lady needs to watch her figure."
"No, way" Sonja elbowed her, "you're really slim."
Katrina blushed yet again and stammeringly asked Sonja what she was having.
"Plain salad… this little lady needs to watch her figure too." Sonja pouted.
"I'll watch it for you." Said Vlad from the seat opposite, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Apparently the couple were banned from sitting next to each other in public because of what Danni termed their "wildly inappropriate behavior".
The quartet laughed and joked all through their lunch hour, Katrina joined in with the conversation and filled them in on life in Chicago and her friends there. All too soon it was time to go back to class. Katrina sighed, laying down some money for her salad.
"What's up?" Asked Danni.
"Nothing, not really looking forward to hours more of the "dragon lady" in class this afternoon." Katrina's toes still hurt form the morning's exertions.
"Don't worry" Piped up Sonja, wiping on some lip-gloss and checking her reflection in her compact. "It's all good practice, and we'll need it too, I heard that auditions might be as soon as next week."
"Next week?" the others chorused back, horrified.
"Yeah, I overheard smoky-Josie Lawrence talking to Dan Kline about the scheduling of auditions. Apparently it's a nightmare." She smiled wickedly, imitating the receptionist's clipped tones.
"No way Sonja." Said Danni, looking a little shell-shocked, "we don't even know what we're doing for this season yet!"
"Well, I'm sure we'll soon find out."
On that gloomy note the dancers filed mutely out of the café and into the icy streets outside, Sonja and Vlad hand in hand once more.
A/N Thanks for reading! xxx