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Clara gave a true smile to the physical therapist and Dr. Brown. A walking boot was gently put on the appendage. She stood and tested weight on the leg. It held but remained weak from lack of use. Clara felt like a child learning to walk again.Each step is a milestone. The recovery starts now.

Getting to LABT was a struggle. Photographers continued to hound Clara. She felt better after her conversation with David. The stress level had not dropped after the cast removal. It was time for a visit to the artistic director’s office. The visits could either be good news or bad. Sure, the artistic director would want to check in and see how her progress was going, however, something in the air didn’t feel right to her. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

When Clara had been promoted to soloist last year, the move felt politically motivated. Almost as if LABT was afraid to lose a dancer they could throw into any role at any given time. Clara understood how valuable her gift was. Had she outgrown LABT? Had she gotten to the point where she might be able to take a chance and become a guest artist? Would she want to take a promotion if they offered it to her? What about her future with David? How much time did she really have left on the stage? She did dearly want to teach.

Clara stood outside the director’s office. The overly friendly secretary of the director waved her in. “Welcome back, Clara. We are excited to hear you snagged yourself a prince. Just imagine how much press it’s going to bring us. Artum is waiting for you. Go on in.” Clara scooted out of the outer office into the inner sanctum of the artistic director.

“Clara, thank you for coming in to see me today,” said the LA Ballet Theater’s artistic director and head of the company, Artum Thomlinson. “We have a few important things we need to discuss, if you have some time.” He indicated for her to take a seat.

“Thank you for seeing me. I have nothing but time at the moment.” Clara attempted to sound enthusiastic. She wiped her palms onto the side of her yoga pants hoping to hide her nervousness.

“You’ve been with us for several seasons now, and we’ve come to appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

Clara nodded. “I have loved being part of LABT. You’ve given me a lot of opportunities as a soloist.” That much was true. She dearly appreciated LABT for being the only company that initially offered her a contract out of the Seattle Ballet Academy.

“We’ve heard rave reviews about your recent performance in London, but I have to ask, how is your foot?” Artum’s tone remained neutral. He sounded like this was his in.

Clara mentally calculated at what he would ask for. “It’s manageable. I’m in a walking boot for two more weeks. Dr. Brown cleared me to start light ballet exercises.”

“Excellent. I’m happy to hear you are on the road to recovery. We have some big plans for you. I want to have a conversation with you about you being our star for this coming season. How would you like that?” he started hopefully.

Clara was taken aback by the question and wasn’t sure why Thomlinson was offering her a promotion to principal dancer, just like that.This is too easy.Was she being over-analytical by questioning a promotion like this? He’d never been so nice to her before. Usually everything was treated like business between them. Clara was not the favorite. She stayed out of the way and did her job. Artum normally promoted the dancers who kissed up to him.

“Being promoted to principal is an honor. I have dreamed about it since I was a little girl.” Clara’s mind drifted to the years of schooling and sacrifices she made.

“I’ve spoken to Peter, the ballet master, and we agree you can dance any role we throw at you. You would be a perfect principal dancer. With all of the attention you are attracting from every news medium as Prince David’s girlfriend, you will bring in so many new audience members. We’ve already added new season subscribers. Do you think you could potentially have him come and host a few fundraisers for us? My budget for this coming year has been slashed. Your romance couldn’t have come at a better time.”

So this was the game. Using David to make money. What about her dancing? Was she only being promoted because of David? “Just so we are on the same page, would you have promoted me if I wasn’t seeing a prince?” She frowned at Artum, disgusted at the entire situation.

Artum flinched. “Clara, you make it sound so vile. You have always been a valued member of our company. This is a business at the end of the day, however, and we need to do what we can to stay afloat. You are a talented dancer and—”

Clara held her hand up and stood, gathering her belongings. She was so angry. Her fists clenched. She tried to control her voice as she spoke with menace. “There is no need to say anything else. You have given me a crystal clear answer to my question. I will not be used as a marketing tool just because of who I am involved with in my personal life. I am one of the hardest working dancers here. I earn everything on my own merit. I’m done with LABT. Thank you for your time.”

Clara tried hard to keep her emotions in check and was able to make it out the door before breaking down. She walked quickly to an empty stairwell inside of LABT, not wanting to go out in public just yet. She needed to be strong. There were so many other companies out there. She would find a company who valued her for the dancer she was.

She couldn’t believe she’d just quit LABT. Was she wrong to be so angry? Had she done this in the heat of the moment? No. She’d known for a while she’d outgrown LABT. She would’ve been thrilled a month ago, but she’d changed. She was a dancer that could choose where she wanted to dance. She was better than just a soloist. She was guest artist caliber.

Clara’s pep talk did wonders for her mood. Wiping her eyes clear of the tears she had shed, she felt better than she had in a long time. A good cry was exactly what she needed. Clara pulled a compact out of her purse making sure the tears were gone and remains of the puffy redness in her face were under control. Clara felt a weight lifted off of her shoulders.

Clara reached for her phone. Double checking once more she was alone, Clara dialed David’s number. He didn’t pick up.I really need you at a moment like this, David. Pick up.

The phone rang several times. Finally, a frantic David answered.

“Clar-Bear, now isn’t the best time. Can I call you later?”

“I really need you right now. Is there any way you can spare five minutes?” Clara pleaded.

“I can give you about thirty seconds. I promise I will call you as soon as I’m free.”

“You promised me you would be free anytime I needed to talk. Thirty seconds? Really? What could be so important that you have to brush me off? You yourself told me you had nothing in your diary planned for today. No, you know what? I just wanted to let you know I left LABT.” Clara clicked the phone off, not giving David a moment to respond.

Her temper was running rampant. She needed to get out of the LABT building. She was so frustrated, she wanted to scream.

14

The Beginning

David wasn’t able to sleep. What had just happened? He really screwed that one up, and he didn’t even know what he’d done. Clara had needed him. Did she realize it was 1:00 a.m.? David had just gotten in from a last-minute meeting in Stockholm. He rubbed a hand over his stubble. He tried calling Clara back a few times. The phone went straight to voicemail.


Tags: Tomi Tabb Historical