“Literally and figuratively,” I told him. Thinking of Seth diminished some of my earlier good mood. “This transfer . . . it was kind of a shock. I don’t know how it’s going to affect our relationship.”
Bastien shrugged. “Bring him here.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Not if he wants you badly enough. Here.” Bastien waved to get the waitress’s attention. “Have another round with me. That’ll fix everything.”
“Not when I might have to dance soon!”
But I shared the round anyway and found my cheerfulness returning. It was hard not to with Bastien. I’d known him for a long time, and there was something so easy and comforting about being in his presence. We swapped stories and gossip on immortals we knew, and I got the scoop on some of the more colorful ones I’d eventually be meeting here in Las Vegas.
Phoebe returned just as we were paying the bill, having swapped her work attire for casual dance clothing. She led us back through the labyrinthine glitz of the casino and into the quieter and much more subdued back halls of the building. They in turn led to a backstage door to the casino’s theatre, which wasn’t yet open to the public. We found the vast space empty, save a couple guys installing tables in the seating area. The pounding of their hammers echoed through the room. A moment later, I did a double take when I saw a man sitting off to the side of the stage, so still I’d hardly noticed him. He glanced up from a sheaf of papers at our approach.
“Phoebe,” he said. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to introduce you to someone,” she said. “Matthias, these are my friends Bastien and Georgina. Georgina’s moving here next month.”
Matthias looked like he was in his late twenties, early thirties at most, and had sandy blond hair in need of a haircut. There was something cute about its disheveled state, and he took off wire-rimmed glasses to peer up at me. I couldn’t help but think Ian would’ve liked those glasses, but unlike Ian, Matthias probably needed them. Matthias blinked a couple of times, and then his eyebrows rose in surprise.
“You’re a dancer,” he said to me.
“Er, yeah, I am. How’d you know?” Per Phoebe’s suggestion, I’d made myself put on some height while we were walking down the back halls, but that was hardly enough to tip him off.
Matthias got to his feet and studied me up and down, not in a leering kind of way . . . but more like how someone assesses the value of a piece of art. “It’s in how you walk and stand. There’s a grace to it. An energy. It’s exactly what she does.” He nodded toward Phoebe. “Are you guys sisters?”
“No,” said Phoebe. “But we’ve taken some of the same classes.”
Bastien choked on a laugh.
Matthias was nodding, completely enraptured. He picked up his papers and flipped through the pages. “Yes . . . yes . . . we could definitely use you here and here.” He paused, checking a few more places. “And here. Maybe even here.” He jerked his head up, blue eyes alight and excited. “Let’s see what you can do. Phoebe—do the opening part of the second number.”
Phoebe responded instantly, springing to center stage and instantly falling into line as Matthias began counting off beats. When they finished, he looked at me expectantly. “Now you do it.”
I started to point out that I was in heels and a dress but then realized showgirl attire probably wouldn’t be too different. I took a spot near Phoebe and mirrored her as Matthias counted again. We repeated the combination, and by the third time, I hardly had to look at her to get the steps. He directed her to a different number, slightly more complicated, and a similar performance ensued as I sought to match her. When we finished, he clicked his tongue in approval.
“Amazing,” he said. “You guys need to tell me where you trained so that I can recruit all your classmates.” Turning back to his papers, he began scribbling notes. “Phoebe, can you lend her some clothes for practice? Not that it’ll affect her performance, of course, but I imagine she’d be more comfortable in something else for two hours of rehearsal.”
Phoebe winked at me. “I’m pretty sure we can get her a change of clothes.”
I glanced between her and Matthias. “Rehearsal?”
“Sure,” said Matthias, still not looking up. “That’s what we do to get ready for performances around here.”
“You want to be in the show, don’t you, Lucy?” teased Bastien.
“I understand . . . but I’m not moving to Las Vegas until January,” I explained. “I have to go home tomorrow night.”
Matthias finally glanced up briefly from his beloved notes, seeming as pained as Seth often was when interrupted while writing a book. “You’re here right now, aren’t you? Might as well get started. Unless you’ve got something else going on?”
I looked helplessly at Bastien and Phoebe, who were grinning like idiots. The incubus slung a friendly arm around me. “Of course she doesn’t.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I gave a slow nod, still a little overwhelmed at how fast things were moving here. “I . . . I’d love to rehearse.”
Chapter 8
It was hard to believe that in only a couple of days I’d gone from doubting my transfer was real to suddenly signing on to be in a Las Vegas stage production. Things happened so fast that it was easy to get swept along, and Bastien and Phoebe’s gleeful encouragement just made things happen that much more quickly.
Shape-shifting took care of my clothing problem, and Bastien soon left us, allegedly to go get a drink and try his hand at the blackjack table. Once he left the theatre, though, Phoebe leaned over to me conspiratorially and whispered, “Here’s a wager for you. How much do you want to bet he comes back with a glow?”
I laughed and whispered back, “I won’t take that bet. Are you sure you haven’t worked with him before?” Admittedly, an incubus looking to get laid wasn’t that far of a stretch, but I liked how adeptly Phoebe was able to pick up on my old friend’s personality quirks.
“Nah,” she said with a smile. “I’ve just known his type.”
Other dancers began trickling in. Phoebe introduced us as they arrived, and most were friendly and excited to have someone new in the group. They weren’t yet at their full number needed for the show, so everyone was anxious for that to happen. I brought them one step closer, though it surprised me they were still short. From my experiences, there were always groups of girls lined up to try to make it in show business. Phoebe confirmed as much.
“Oh, yeah, tons have tried out. And you should have seen them at the beginning, when they first did the open casting. Matthias is just really selective, that’s all. Cornelia—the head choreographer—is just as bad.”
“And yet he took me on a five-minute audition,” I pointed out.
Phoebe grinned. “Sweetie, he just knows talent when he sees it. Besides, he’s in charge of this gig. If he says you’re in, you’re in.”
Matthias wasn’t the only one running the show, of course. Along with the dancers came other management and staff, like the aforementioned Cornelia. Everyone had a part to play. The rehearsal was fast-paced and aggressive—but also lots of fun. Phoebe hadn’t been joking. The other dancers were good—really good. It had been a very long time since I’d danced with any sort of group, even longer since I was with one of such caliber. I was used to being the standout at anything dance related, and it was a surprise—a good one—to find myself surrounded by so many equals. I had to work to keep up with them on the first day, and even if I didn’t walk out as an instant star, I left confident that I’d held my own.
Before I could go, one of the show’s costumers asked to take my measurements backstage. Phoebe told me she’d go hunt down Bastien and meet me at the casino’s central bar. The seamstress appeared with her tape measure, and I made a mental note of my height for future shape-shifting. Matthias came by, carrying his notes, and paused when he saw us.