Off Balance (Ballet Theatre Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

“You’re butting in where you shouldn’t be.”

“My housemate’s welfare is not a work-related issue. I don’t have to offer you deference there. Why shouldn’t I try and help, advise a vulnerable, impressionable young woman? And I’ve shown discretion, to boot. When I think of the things I
could
have been telling her about your sleazy escapades of the past.”

He stabbed a finger at Alice. “It’s that attitude right there that’s coming through. You’re poisoning her mind. You’re injecting your opinion, over and over, into this equation. Your bitchy, suspicious opinion.”

“I’m telling her the truth. Tell me, Gil. Tell me what isn’t true here.” Their voices had risen. She didn’t care.

“And you’re trying to live through her success. The dancing you can’t have anymore.”

“That is such bullshit and you know it. Everything I’ve done has been to help either you or her.”

“You’re jealous, then.”

“I am not jealous of her.”

“No. You’re jealous of me. That she’s in love with me.” His face lit up, as if he’d just found a fifty-dollar bill crumpled in his pocket when he’d thought he was broke. “You want her for yourself. That’s what this is all about. You’ve gone dyke on me, haven’t you?”

She was so angry, she could hardly speak.

“You fucker!” she sputtered. “You son of a bitch. I could slap a discrimination suit on you right there. Or whatever it is. Defamation of character, harassment. Inappropriate language.”

He rose and slammed his hands on the desk so hard the pencil jar rattled and tipped over. “Inappropriate language? And you think you can get away with calling your boss a ‘fucker’? Huh? Mess with me, Alice, I’ll mess with you.”

“Oh, right. Mister Tough Guy. What are you going to do, Gil?”

“I’ll fire you.”

“Just try it.”

“All right. You’re fired.”

There was a dizzying, tunnel-vision moment as they stared at each other, as if neither could believe what he’d just said.

Gil recovered faster. “You’re fired, Alice.”

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t.

“Oh, right.” She injected as much scorn as possible into her response. “Just try explaining
that
to Andy.”

He matched her scorn. “Andy doesn’t give a shit about you.”

He does too!
she wanted to cry out.
He likes me!

“We would have never gotten those party invitations if it hadn’t been for me,” she burst out instead, well aware that she was bringing the argument down to the schoolyard level.

“Oh, that’s right. You and your holier-than-thou great-grandfather.”

“Great-
great-
grandfather.”

“Whatever! Your magical upper-class family name. Well, guess what? You wouldn’t have had it in you to see this account to fruition. You’re a nobody in this scheme.”

She shot him a poisonous glare. “Since the business portion of this meeting is clearly over”—she made little quote marks in the air over the word “business”—“I think I’ll just make my way out of here now. I’ve done enough work for the day, bringing in that signed letter of agreement for $250,000.”

“Go ahead and leave. Pack up your office before you go. I fired you, remember?”

“What’s the point in packing up when I’d just have to bring it back? After you’ve called me to apologize and begged me to return?”

“That’s not going to happen, Alice.”

What frightened her the most about his last words, which echoed around in her head as she marched over to her office, shut down her computer, grabbed for her purse and jacket with icy, trembling fingers, was the calm way in which he’d spoken. His rage she could handle. Words spoken in a low steady voice were something different entirely.

He couldn’t have been serious.

He couldn’t do that. Not on the day of their biggest triumph together.

She left.

He didn’t try and stop her.

Somehow she made it out of the building, into her car, through traffic, into her home, her haven. It felt strange in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, the sun casting rays of dappled light into her living room, setting dust motes aglow. She sat on the couch, but sprang up a moment later and began to pace.

Montserrat. She’d be a good, understanding listener. She’d call Montserrat.

She called the house and Carter picked up on the second ring. “Oh, good,” Alice said with an exhale of relief. “You’re there. What are the chances Montserrat’s there too?”

“She is.” Carter sounded guarded. “She’s packing for a trip. She leaves in a few hours.”

“What good timing on my part.” She could feel her shoulders, all her tense muscles, beginning to relax. “Can I talk to her?”

Carter hesitated. “I have to be honest here, Alice. Is this something that can wait? She's got a big performance tomorrow night with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. And, well, she was pretty upset after your last visit here. It wasn’t a bad thing, she told me, but I could tell something you two talked about really shook her up. That kind of thing can mess with her concentration. I don’t want to risk the same thing happening, not before Baltimore.”

“Oh.” She was momentarily thrown. “Sure.”

“So, I hate to do this, but I feel like I need to watch out for her.”

He sounded as miserable as she felt.

“Um, sure,” she managed.

“She’ll be done performing on Sunday afternoon. You can call her any time after that.”

“Okay, sure.” She was sounding like a parrot, she realized. “Just tell her I said hi, and good luck.”

“Will do. And, hey. Thanks.”

“No problem. Glad to help.”

After she hung up, she stared bleakly at the wall and drew a deep, shuddering breath.

Niles. She had to risk it; she was desperate to talk to a friend right then.

She called his work number, her heart thudding. Soon it was thumping so loudly she was afraid it would override her speech, her hearing.

“Niles Rowley speaking.”

His clipped voice, the implied impatience even when he didn’t know who it was, made her feel faint.

“Niles.” She had to pause, clear her throat and repeat herself. “It’s Alice.”

If he was surprised or nervous to hear from her, his voice didn’t betray it.

“Alice. How are you?”

She’d planned to tell him the truth, to unleash her woes, but his cool tone made her reconsider. “I’m fine,” she said instead. “Great.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He offered nothing more.

“When did you get back from Asia?” She tried not to sound accusing.

“Sunday. The same day Christine arrived.”

“Ah. Party boy.”

“Hardly.”

She realized, belatedly, if she wasn’t going to share her bad news with him, the most obvious subject to discuss would be their recent encounter.

“I was surprised to see you last night,” she said in what she hoped was a casual voice. “That was a fancy restaurant.”

“It wasn’t a date I was on, if that’s what you’re getting at. Christine paid. She wanted to go to a nice restaurant in San Francisco before she left, and thank me at the same time for a week of free housing.”

“She seems very considerate.”

“She is. And your dining partner seemed quite considerate as well. Attentive.”

As she was searching for the best reply, he spoke again. “So. Did you go home with him?”

Of all the questions he might have fired at her, this was one she was the least prepared for.

“Niles. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Did he take you back to his place?”

Silence.

“I thought so. I could tell.”

She found her voice, her wits. “Look. Let me explain.”

“Answer me one thing. Has this been going on since before I left? Because it looked like the two of you were very good friends.”

“Niles. That was Andy Redgrave. Gil’s Andy Redgrave.”

“Oh. Well. It all makes sense now.”

“Nothing was going on. It was a charade. He’s a business client, nothing more.”

“And you just happen to make house calls.”

“Look. At his place we listened to music. Nothing more. He saw I was upset and offered a diversion. The same thing at the restaurant—he noticed that seeing you upset me. Did
that
variable ever creep into your mind? That it devastated me to see you there, with another woman?”

“You didn’t show any pain or insecurity.” He sounded suspicious. “Not one bit. Watching you laughing with that guy, leaning into him, all I could think was that it was over between us and you’d moved on just fine.”

“No! That wasn’t the case in the least. I was just protecting myself by acting cool.”

“I don’t think you realize how effective your use of coolness as a weapon is. That goes for last night and that night at your house as well. When you told me not to call you.”

“Niles. I’m sorry. That hadn’t been my intention, either time. Please. I don’t want it to be over between us.” Her voice trembled. “God, if only you knew how I’ve been hurting.”

“But I didn’t know, did I? You failed to transmit that message to me.”

“Niles. Please believe me.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. He sighed, a tortured sound. “Look. I’m sorry. I need some time here to straighten things out. In my head. And Christine’s still here.”

She understood, in a rush of glacial clarity, what he was choosing not to say.

Something had happened between him and Christine last night. She could just see it, that pretty young girl roping her arms around Niles’s neck, wishing him a good night, sweet dreams, telling him she appreciated his help, his company, so very much, and was there anything she could do in return? Some comfort, perhaps?

She wouldn’t have thought she was the jealous type. But this cold, sick feeling washing over her, this territoriality, choked the words right out of her. Had Niles been looking for a fitting punishment for her, he’d certainly found it.

Even he seemed to realize this. When he spoke next, his voice was gentler.

“Look, I said I’d call you when I was free, and that’s still my plan. Christine leaves on Sunday morning. I’ll call you after that, okay?”

She prided herself on the fact that she’d never cried in front of him. She wasn’t going to start now.

“Sure. Whenever it works for you. I’m here.”

Lana came in an hour later and looked stunned to see Alice there, sitting on the couch, beer in hand. She gaped at her and in response, Alice lifted her beer bottle in Lana’s direction.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Lana asked.

“Oh, work. That.” She took a swig of beer.

“Alice. What happened? Something happened between you and Gil, didn’t it? Oh, God, I blew it again. I got you into trouble.”

In response, Alice only shrugged and offered a polite belch.

“Tell me.”

“Oh, only that Gil tried to fire me.”

Lana’s eyes grew wide. “What are you saying?” she gasped.

“You heard me.”

“What do you mean, he ‘tried’ to fire you?”

“Well, he said, ‘You’re fired.’ And I laughed in his face.”

“And what did he do? Take it back?”

“Hardly. No, he stood there like some sheriff in a bad Western and held his ground with a mean look on his face. All that was missing was spurs and a six-shooter.” The image made her laugh. Or perhaps that was simply the three beers doing their job. “I told him I was leaving and just walked out.”

Lana looked uneasy. “So, he didn’t un-fire you?”

“Well, no. Not yet.”

“Alice. This is serious.”

Alice gave an expansive wave, brushing aside the terror that was growing with each passing hour. She’d been so sure he was just trying to call her bluff in walking out. Gil was the one bluffing, she was positive. Right at this moment, she could almost visualize him, standing there, hand on the phone, ranting to himself, saying he would
not
call her first, that he’d make her stew in her fear a little longer.

As if on cue, the phone rang.

“I’ll bet you money that’s him.” Alice said. “See, I know him. This is just one of his games. We’ll argue some more, we’ll make up and by tomorrow it will be like nothing ever happened.”

She struggled to her feet, went over to the machine and pointed at the incoming call number. “There you go. It’s a WCBT number.” She peered closer. “Except that’s not Gil’s number.”

She let the answering machine pick up the call.

“Alice, it’s Lucinda. I just heard the news.”

Alice and Lana exchanged uneasy glances as Lucinda’s voice filled the room.

“I just want you to know that I think what Gil did was wrong. He had no right. You’ve shown so much loyalty to the WCBT, and for it to end like that? I wanted you to know that if you want to contest it, I’ll back you up.”

She felt sick. She picked up the phone while Lucinda was still talking.

“Oh! Alice, you’re there?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I was slow in getting to the phone. But you’re saying you heard that Gil…”

She couldn’t even say the words.

“That he fired you? Yes.”

“How did you hear that?” Maybe Lucinda had just been nosy, she told herself. Overhearing their argument, eavesdropping on her nemesis to see what trouble she could stir up.

“He told me. He’s telling everyone, Alice. He was on his way over to HR to document it, in fact.”

“He can’t fire me!” Alice cried. “He has no grounds.”

“I know, that was my thought, too. I don’t care what disagreement you were having today, you did not deserve that. I say you contest it. Like I said, I’ll back you up. I mean, you have
history
here.” Her voice quivered with indignation.

Alice somehow made it through the rest of the conversation, mind awhirl, thanking Lucinda for her support. She wasn’t sure which was more difficult to believe—that Gil had actually fired her, or that it was Lucinda who was so fiercely standing up for her.

It was turning out to be a very bad day.

She hung up and stared at Lana.

“He did it,” she said in a dazed voice. “Gil fired me.”

Luke called Lana after company class on Friday while Lana was finishing the last of a granola bar snack. At the sound of his high, uncertain voice, a rush of fear clutched at her heart.