Pilot look appreciatively at Boh in her gown and whistled. “Damn, woman … how am I supposed to concentrate when you look like that?”
Boh smiled shyly. Her dress was simple in design, but the midnight-blue fabric and heavy beading around the bodice sparkled like stars at midnight, throwing little beams of light up into her face. “It’s just off the rack. It’s my go-to for events. Old thing, really.”
Pilot’s expression was lustful. “Boh … you’re so beautiful it hurts.”
She giggled. “Right back at you, handsome.” He was wearing a black tux with a bowtie, his beard neatly clipped back but his curls still messy. Boh kissed him. “The car’s here.”
In the car, he asked her about the ballet. “So, what’s the story of the ballet?”
“Well, to start with, there’s no story as such. The full ballet is in three parts—it’s calledJewels. ButRubiesis the one we all love to dance. It’s very modern, abstract … I can see I’m losing you already,” Boh joked, seeing his confused face. “Just concentrate on admiring the movement, the shapes they make with their bodies. I think, as a photographer, you’ll find it fascinating.”
Pilot nodded, trying to look convinced, but Boh could see he was a little bemused. She kissed him. “Just go with it. We’re here to support Grace anyway.”
In the foyer, Boh recognized some of her colleagues from the company, and she introduced them to Pilot again, most of them looking at him with curious, admiring eyes. Boh was grateful at the ease with which he chatted to them.
Elliott found her and grinned. “That man is crazy about you,” he said. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you since you got here.”
Boh flushed pink, a thrill going through her. “He is the most wonderful man,” she said in a low voice, then stopped. She saw Kristof and Serena across the bar, talking in low tones. Boh sighed. “I see Cruella and his lapdog are here.”
Elliott looked around and his expression hardened. “Have you heard? Kristof’s been given carte blanche over the showcase. They’ve moved to the Metropolitan.”
“No way.” Boh was stunned. “Really?”
“Liz thinks a bigger venue will bring in the cash injection we need.”
“But I thought you said …”
“That donation was specifically for Kristof. Wonder how many city types he had to blow for that?”
Boh didn’t know whether to laugh or gag, but she had to admit; the move to the Metropolitan would be good for her career too.
As the ballet began, she and Pilot made their way to their box and settled in. Boh looked around the theater, gratified to see it sold out for her friend’s performance. “Rubiesis the second part,” she whispered to Pilot, who put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“Do I have to concentrate for the other two parts or can we make out in those sections?” He had a wide grin on his face and she giggled.
“Depends how you behave,” she quipped back then sighed, snuggling into his arms. “My two favorite things in the world, you and ballet. Goodnight.”
Pilot laughed. “How long is this thing anyway?”
Boh rolled her eyes. “So impatient. Wait and see.”
Soon the lights went down and the performance began.
Eugenie Radcliffe-Morgan stared unseeing at the stage. The ballet had been the one time that her demons calmed and she lost herself in the pure art of it … but now that Pilot had found himself a new model, a ballerina, Eugenie felt betrayed.
When she’d seen them together, downstairs, in the foyer, she’d almost screamed. Instead she’d excused herself politely from her date and had gone to the restrooms. A bump of cocaine and she’d felt an icy calm descend.
Now, she watched them, wrapped in each other in the box across from hers, and the anger was consuming. Her Pilot with a dancer whore … and goddamn if he didn’t look happy. More than happy, he looked besotted, excited …in love.
Her date muttered something into her ear and she gave a distracted smile. He—what was his name again? Seth? Saul? —he had approached her at a brunch for a children’s charity last week and they had talked. She liked that he looked a little like Pilot and had taken him back to her apartment and fucked him. She’d even enjoyed it, especially when she closed her eyes and pretended he was Pilot.
God, how the hell had she ever let him go? She watched him now, laughing and kissing that damn girl—he looked ten years younger.
She looked away, sickened. Her eyes swept the other box. Ah, she saw Kristof Mendelev also watching his star dancer and her ex-husband. Kristof sensed her gaze and nodded at her. She saw the same jealousy that she felt reflected in his face. Interesting. He might be a useful ally.
On the other hand … it had been her fling with Kristof which had finally given Pilot the courage to leave her. It had been the final straw, and as far as Eugenie was concerned, not worth it. It had taken the coked-up Kristof an age to get it up enough to fuck her, and even then, it had been a quick, disappointing coupling. He was handsome, yes, but nothing compared to Pilot. She had been trying to make Pilot jealous and not only had she failed, but she had lost him.
She wasn’t stupid enough to think he would ever come back to her, but that didn’t mean she intended to let him go. Or end up happy and in love with another woman.
