Dance (26 page)

Fenix
grabbed a magazine he saw lying around when he heard voices coming closer to
the dressing rooms. He started casually flipping through the pages as if he had
nothing better to do.

“Not
tonight, mate. I just want to go home and pass out in my own bed. I’ll take you
up on that offer soon, though,” Jared was saying to someone right outside the
door. Fenix perked up, trying to hear everything that was being said. What
offer?

“No
worries. Catch you later,” Adam replied.

It
was only Adam.
Jared’s first-lover-turned-best-friend Adam.
Fenix had never gotten along with the guy, but they used to have an unspoken
agreement to be civil to each other for Jared. Fenix could imagine how much the
guy hated him now, because, he supposed, Adam had been the one who’d tried to
put Jared back together after Fenix had left.

At
least Jared had someone close to him to help.

The
door opened and Jared walked in, closing it firmly behind him.
The moment he noticed Fenix sitting on the sofa he stopped mid
stride and glared at him.

“Why
are you here? Your show doesn’t even start for two weeks,” he said with a scowl.

“I
was rehearsing my lines,” Fenix said and pointedly turned the page of the
magazine he was holding.

“Your
lines are printed in
Attitude
?”

“Yep.
You know how much
they love their musicals,” Fenix replied without missing a beat. “The whole
issue is dedicated to me and my Tony award.”

 
Jared rolled his eyes and didn’t comment any
further. He started stripping off his stage costume, throwing the clothes over
the chair in front of his dressing table. With all the mirrors in the room
Fenix had a perfect three hundred and sixty degree view of Jared’s body. They
were pretty much the same height – around six feet, but Jared was
built
. He had broad shoulders and defined
muscles on his back, stomach, arms and legs. Fenix knew from his own experience
that Jared didn't work out simply for vanity. He needed to be fit for
performing – there were no breaks in the show for the actors and dancers to
catch their breaths. It was all one big, dynamic whirlwind, and if you weren’t
fit enough to dance and sing and say your lines without looking like you might
topple over and die, you had no place performing on stage.

Something
clattered on the floor and shook Fenix out of his thoughts. His eyes focused on
Jared once again to find him stark naked, walking around the dressing room, and,
judging by his annoyed expression and things falling to the floor as he
rummaged through them, was looking for something.

Fenix
licked his lips unintentionally as he stared at Jared. He wanted nothing more
right than to drop on his knees and beg Jared to take him back. That, and suck
his cock until he couldn't remember why they’d broken up in the first place.

“What
are you looking for?” he asked instead, his voice wavering a little.

“My fucking towel.
I’m sure I put
it in my bag this morning. Now I can’t find it.”

“Here,”
Fenix stood up and went to his side of the wardrobe, opening the door. “Use
this. I brought a few in today.” He offered Jared a fluffy white towel, but he
eyed it suspiciously and didn't immediately reach to take it. Now that Fenix
was standing an arm’s length away from Jared, he could actually feel the post-show
heat radiating from him. He smelled so delicious – sweat mixed with cologne and
his fruity shower gel. Fenix could not stand here any longer and be held
responsible for his actions – the man was temptation reincarnated.

“It’s
clean,” he said, prompting Jared to take the towel. Jared took another second
to consider the offer, but in the end snatched the towel off Fenix’s hands and
headed for the bathroom.

“You’re
welcome!” Fenix called after him. The only response he got back was the
bathroom door slamming shut.

Jared
would probably expect him to be there when he finished his shower, but Fenix
decided against it. He’d give him the space he needed.
Tonight.

Fenix
saw Jared’s phone thrown casually on the coffee table and took it, programming
his new British number in the contact list. Then, he sent him a text saying,
‘call me’ and quietly left the dressing room.

Fenix was
staying in Hotel 41 on Buckingham Palace Road while he managed to find a more
permanent residence. It was a luxury, boutique hotel with direct views of the
heart of London. It took him less than twenty minutes to walk from Queen
Victoria to the hotel and he welcomed the brisk walk. It was the beginning of
August and London was beautiful at that time of the year. Fenix had forgotten
how much he missed his adopted city. New York was great – it was where he was
born, where he fell in love with musical theatre, where his parents lived. But
London was his home.

Beware London, Fenix
Bergman is back! Did you miss me?

Fenix
smiled as he strolled down The Mall towards Buckingham Palace.

He’d
booked the Conservatory Master Suite because he’d fallen in love with it just
looking at the photos on the hotel’s website. It was a penthouse with a
living-room area, two bathrooms – one with a whirlpool bath – and a master
bedroom with a glass ceiling. It felt like sleeping under the stars, only
surrounded by exquisite goose down duvets, Egyptian cotton sheets, floor
heating, and room service.
 

The
hotel was also known for their impeccable customer service and discretion.
Fenix had been here a few days and the press hadn’t gotten a whiff of where he
was staying yet, and he hoped it’d stay that way. The concierge greeted him
warmly yet respectfully as he walked into the main reception area. Fenix
requested a light dinner to be delivered in about an hour and headed for the
elevator. He had a whirlpool bath waiting for him upstairs and intended to take
full advantage of it.

This
is
soooo
goooood
,
Fenix groaned internally. The water was hot and the whirlpool jets were doing
wonders for his sore muscles. He’d had a good workout today in the rehearsal
room and his whole body felt tired. Add that to the jetlag he still couldn't
get over and Fenix was in sharp need of a full body massage, and a few extra-long
nights of sleep.

Fenix’s
phone rang the moment he stepped out of the bathroom. There were a handful of
people who knew his new number, so Fenix wasn’t surprised to see Joy’s name on
the display.

“Hey,”
he said when he picked up. “Are you all packed yet?”

The
cast were supposed to arrive next week, but Fenix couldn't wait that long and
had hurried ahead.

“Almost.
I wanted to check on
you, see how you’re settling in.”

“Yeah, right.
You want
gossip,” Fenix said and laughed.

“That,
too,” Joy said, her voice full of mischief. “So, how’s Jared, the man
responsible for relocating a whole Broadway musical across the world?”

After
the faithful night of the
Tonys
when Fenix had made
his decision to return to London no matter what, he’d taken both Joy and Ned out
to dinner to apologise for the hurtful way he’d been behaving and to ask them
if they were OK with what he was about to do. After all, it was their life and
their careers, too. Joy was glad they were moving back to the West End –
Broadway had been a bit too much for her lately. Ned had been ecstatic! His
love for English men was widely known and he couldn't wait to get back to ‘a
country full of them’.

Not
everyone in the cast had taken the news well, and a couple of people had quit.
The musical theatre world was unpredictable, and at any given time a show could
be moved to another continent or sent on tour for six months. If people weren’t
ready to sacrifice their personal lives for the show, then they had no place in
it. Despite that, Fenix felt guilty about costing people their jobs, and had
asked his agent to put a good word out for them, hoping they’d manage to find
something else.

“Fenix?
Still
there?”
Joy’s voice rang in his ear, dragging Fenix back to the
conversation.

“Yeah,
I’m here. Sorry,” Fenix mumbled. “Um, Jared is good. Really good,” he added,
inserting the appropriate amount of double meaning into his words.

“Oh my god!
Do not tell me
you guys kissed and made up already?”

“We
didn’t make up, yet. But he did fuck me against the dressing room door,” Fenix
said casually.

“Fenix!”
Joy shrieked,
followed by a laugh.

Fenix
refused to volunteer any more information about Jared and in the end Joy gave
up. They
chatted
a bit more before Fenix started
yawning uncontrollably and wrapped up the conversation. It was good to hear
from Joy. He’d missed his friends, and it was his own fault they’d stayed away.
But all that was in the past now – Fenix had no intention of falling back into
the darkness that had consumed him and push everyone away again.

Fenix lay
exhausted in the big, comfortable bed, but sleep wouldn't come. He’d relaxed
his muscles in the bath, had some wonderful, fresh sushi for dinner, and read
until his eyes got tired and blurry. And yet, he couldn’t sleep.

The
sky above him was unusually clear and he could see the stars sparkling in the darkness.
What was the point of paying extra for this glass roof if even the fucking
twinkling stars couldn’t get him to sleep?

Sighing,
Fenix threw the covers off and rubbed his hands over his face. He was restless,
tired, hot, anxious... His mind drifted to evaluating the choices he’d made in
his life so far and the choices he was about to make in the future. How long
could he dedicate his life to the stage?
To the show?
He loved to perform, but he was tired of everything else.

This
business was so cut-throat that if you were one of the best you had to watch
your back all the time. There was always someone who felt they deserved your
place and would do anything to get it. The performers were brainwashed since
they were kids – they needed to be perfect, beautiful, composed,
talented
.

Emotionless.

Uncompassionate.
 

Cruel.

Although, they called it determined.

If
it meant wrecking your body with too much practise, or drugging yourself on
coke or morphine so that you didn't feel the pain during a performance, so be
it. You could go and cry and scream in pain later, when the show was over. If
it meant sabotaging someone else, stomping all over them, and never turning
back until you’ve reached the very top, so be it.

What
not all of them knew was that the top was a fucking miserable place. Fenix had
been there. Fuck, he still was, and he
knew
.
It was cold and lonely and so empty. You didn't have friends, you had people
who kissed your ass and waited for you to fall; you didn't have a family, you
had people who endured your constant absence, bad moods, and injuries until
they got sick of it and left.

His
mother had been at the top as well and that was why she was stuck in a
wheelchair for the rest of her life. She understood. One look into Fenix’s eyes
the day after the
Tonys
and Evelyn had known. She’d
looked towards Fenix’s dad and the man who loved them both so much that had
stuck by his wife even when she had returned on stage three months after giving
birth; that incredible, strong, generous, loving man had said:

“Son,
you’re holding everything you’ve ever wanted in your hands right now and you’ve
never been
more unhappy
. I can’t watch the other
person I love most in this world get wrecked by dance.”

Fenix
had broken down then, his mother had hugged him and whispered gentle words, and
his dad had made tea, and they had talked. Fenix told them everything he’d felt
and they’d understood. Their support had given him courage to do what he
desperately wanted – go back to Queen Victoria, to London, to Jared. Fenix wanted
to dance, to perform, but being the best, being a Tony award winner, didn’t
mean what he’d thought it would. It didn't make him as happy as he’d thought it
would.

Chapter twenty seven

Jared

Jared woke up
with his phone ringing loudly somewhere close by. He groaned, rolled over, and
sighed heavily. It had not been a good night. He’d tossed and turned until the
wee hours until he’d fallen into a fretful sleep. The annoying ringing was
still going on, so obviously whoever was calling had no intention of hanging up
before Jared picked up. Unfortunately, he had no recollection of where he’d tossed
his phone after he’d stared at it for hours, trying not to call Fenix.

“For
fuck’s sake!” he swore, and patting the covers, tried to locate his damn phone.