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“I am pleased to announce that we have secured a commission from the foremost choreographer of our time… Stilinski,” the Director of Atelier, the premiere American Dance Troupe announces to his assembled company. The members jump up and down, whistle, clap their hands, and jabber excitedly to each other.
Lydia, the female principal dancer, maintains her composure but is visibly elated. A huge smile crosses her normally passive and slightly irritated face.
Allison and Scott, two of the soloists, hug each other and jump around in a circle. After calming down, he asks Allison, “Who is Stalinovosky?”
“Stilinski”, she corrects. “Why were you so excited if you don’t know who he is?”
Scott shrugs and tilts his head. “Because you were excited, I guess. Who is he?”
“He’s only the most successful, accomplished choreographer around today.” She taps him gently on the nose. “He’s won commissions all over the world, choreographed numerous music videos, and has worked with every major company in the world. He’s choreographed four Broadway musicals, a tap show, the tours for Britney Spears, Janet Jackson, and Li’l Kim, among others. I’ve always wondered why we’ve not had him before. I’m so excited he’s here now though. He’s like a rock star in the dance world!” she squeals.
Derek Hale, the company’s notorious, enfant terrible, male principal dancer remains slumped sideways in his chair, arm thrown over it’s back, and deepens his scowl as he rolls his eyes. “Good Lord,” he mutters under his breath to no one. “What’s next, a Disney parade with Mickey Mouse as the lead?”
After allowing the clamor to die down, the Director continues, “He has created a piece for our 50th Anniversary Showcase next month. And without further ado, here he is now – Stilinski!” He flourishes his hands towards the wings of the theatre and out strolls a gangly, 28 year old man with a crew cut, wearing an expensive T-shirt and jeans. A well-worn hoodie completes his look. He enters to the renewed screaming and clamoring of the troupe, waving as he enters. He hugs the Director and shakes hands with several of the squealing crowd members near him. After allowing the din to quiet some, he addresses the group. “I am so pleased to finally get to work with this august institution – it has been the missing gap in my resumé of things I’ve wanted to do. Thank you, dear Director, for allowing me to be here and create something for such an important occasion as your 50th! The piece I’m envisioning has important parts for every single company member. The corps work includes intricacies you won’t believe as well as a chance for each of you to shine individually. I want to show off every one of you. I doubt there will be another company in the world capable of performing it, due to its difficulties and complexities. Soloists? Where are you?” Six dancers raise their hands including Scott and Allison. “You will each have a solo that will highlight your strengths as well as performing a pas de six. I think you will each be very pleased. Now, I’d like to address my principals. Where are they?”
Lydia, standing nearly in front of him, demurely steps forward and tilts her head slightly. “Oh, the ever fair and lithe Lydia. Your famous grace and beauty of movement has got my creative juices flowing. I think you’ll like your solo work - I predict it will become your signature.” She smiles again and dips her head. “Plus the pas de deux you’ll be doing with Mr. Hale will leave the audience awestruck.”
“And the male principal – Mr. Hale. Where is he?” The company parts and allows a direct visual line between Derek and Stilinski to form. Derek remains with his arm thrown over the chair, picking his teeth with the other hand.
Stilinski strides through the parted crowd and grabs Derek’s unprofferred hand and shakes it heartily. “Mr. Hale - the notoriously gifted and brilliant dancer. I’m especially excited to work with you. This piece for you will show off your amazing technique, strength, balance, and very essence. It will build on all your many assets and prove to the world once again why you’re the greatest dancer alive today. Your reputation will be burnished for all time.” He releases Derek’s hand, turns to the company and says with outstretched arms, “I wish I had time now to meet each and every one of you and explain your part in the piece but I have an appointment. We’ll start first thing in the morning – good evening all!”
Derek is left scowling and looking slightly bewildered. The company claps as Stilinski walks off arm in arm with the Director. Over his shoulder, the Director says, “Company dismissed. See you at 8 o’clock tomorrow morning to start.” As an aside to Stilinski, the Director says, “That was a bit thick perhaps.”
“Good”, Stilinski replies. “That’s what I intended.”
The next morning, Stilinski begins rehearsals with the corps. Squeals of delight are constantly heard from the rehearsal hall. The level of excitement and enthusiasm continues building throughout the first few days as the corps, then the soloists are taught their parts. Allison reports to Lydia and their other friends, “He’s a genius. Brilliant. It is so difficult, but beautiful. This work is unparalleled to anything we’ve ever done before. And so provocative.” Scott, sitting on the ground looking up adoringly at Allison, nods heartily in agreement.
A week in, he finally gets to the principals to teach them their part. He takes Lydia into a private studio to teach her her role. For the next two days when she takes her breaks, her cheeks are flushed, her hair is uncharacteristically mussed, and a level of enthusiasm and excitement never before seen in her usually staid, aloof countenance is noted by all who see her. After working with her most of the second day, Stilinski returns to the main rehearsal hall and announces to the assembled company, “I’ve just had a call with an emergency back in Chicago that I must attend to for the next three weeks and so I’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. Derek, that means you’re mine for the night, I’m afraid. My assistants will remain here working with you all until I get back the week before the performance to fine tune. Thank you everyone, you’re dismissed. You’ve all been amazing!” he whoops, throwing his arms around. “Derek, in the rehearsal room in thirty minutes, please.” He ducks into the Director’s office as everyone leaves.
The company, obviously dismayed and confused, noisily picks up their belongings and leaves. The clamor subsides and eventually the studio is completely quiet.
When Stilinski returns to the rehearsal room, Derek is sitting against the wall, legs outstretched, bending at the waist stretching. He looks up as Stilinski enters and says with obvious disdain, “Well, Stiles, let’s see what all the talk is about.”
“It’s Stilinski. I’m sure you can get it right with some practice. It’s not really that difficult.”
Derek rolls his eyes, then his neck and shoulders. “Let’s see it.”
Stilinski ignores the impertinence, puts on the music and starts to mark through the routine. “We’ll start with your first solo.” After the first five steps, Derek stops him and says, “Wouldn’t it be better if I started here?”
“No.”
He continues right from where he left off. After another five steps, Derek again interrupts, “That arm placement look awkward, I think this would look better,” he says as he places his arm in a slightly different position than Stilinski had indicated.
“No. May I at least show you one entire phrase so you can have some context to make informed criticism instead of being a dickhead?”
Derek somehow scowls further and makes a dismissive go-ahead hand gesture.
Stilinski gets through the first phrase of the music and asks Derek to repeat it for him. Derek is unable to recall the sequence of the steps, starts where he indicated he thought it would be better to start and uses his own arm movements and placement. Stilinski stops him abruptly. “You’ll please refrain from altering the steps and lines. They are intricate and all fit together with the rest of the company. You’ll look out of place. And wrong. Now, again.”
Derek takes a deep breath, starts to say something, then turns and goes back to the beginning mark. Stilinski starts the music and Derek gets through half the phrase before forgetting his steps.
“For such a purported brilliant dancer, you’re sure a slow learner.”
Derek storms up face to face with him. “I’m not stupid or slow. The steps are stupid and don’t make sense, Stiles. You’re such a hack. Why they hired you I have no idea.”
“It’s Stilinski. What you know or think is completely irrelevant. My job is to create a dance. Your job is to perform it. Not that hard. Pay attention. We have a lot to get through and if you can’t learn it any more quickly than you have shown so far, we’re in big trouble.”
He walks to the CD player and restarts the music; he starts from the beginning and Derek watches him perform and explain the entire first section of the piece. When he’s finished, Stilinski turns to look at Derek. “Now, that was a lot more than the first phrase I realize, do you think you got any of it or are we going to have to go through it bit by bit, step by step so you can slowly learn it?”
“Yes, Stiles, I believe I got it”, he says acidly.
Calmly, without backing down from Derek’s aggression, he replies, “It’s still Stilinski. I think you are probably slow, despite your protestation to the contrary. Or a dick. Which is it?”
Derek pushes Stilinski backward. He falls back and hits his head hard against the wall, then slowly slumps to the ground. Derek rushes up to him, looking panicked. He takes his hand and tries to help him sit up. “Stiles, I’m sorry. Say something. Are you ok?”
Stilinski is unable to speak at first and feels as though all the air has left the room. His head spins. He finally focuses and says, “I think it’s both – you’re a dick and you’re slow.”
Derek flings Stilinski’s hand down and backs away. He paces the room muttering to himself. After gathering his composure a bit, Stilinski sits up and calls Derek’s name. “We have a lot to do tonight. Start at the top. Please try to do it the way I’ve shown you.”
Derek stops pacing, takes a deep breath, takes his mark and performs every step exactly as he was shown. Stilinski remains sitting on the floor throughout. “I’m not slow,” Derek says when he’s finished.
“Agreed, just a dick then.”
Derek closes his eyes and looks as though he’s mentally counting to ten.
“Definitely not slow. That was a difficult passage and you picked it up almost perfectly. You did just as I asked and performed the steps exactly as I did. Obviously, I’m not a great dancer and a bit of a klutz and some of these steps are meant to be done in a much bigger fashion, the jumps should be huge and aggressive. The arm movements sharp. The head turned all the way to the side – in profile to the audience whenever the head is turned. I have a bad neck and so can’t quite do that. I want you to soar with the jumps. I’m sure you know what I’m saying. Do the steps as I’ve taught you, but then add your brilliant flair when they fit in. I’ll let you know if something isn’t right. Now that we’ve gotten started, let’s finish it.”
They continue in this manner, Stilinski showing the steps section by section and Derek performing them all after one viewing. Well after midnight, Derek has the basics of his solos down.
“Derek, come and sit with me for a bit of a rest. I’ll show you the parts you do with Lydia after a break and then we’ll be done. Ordinarily I’d show you two together but I didn’t think we’d get this far tonight. You’re quite amazing. My assistant knows the duet as well as I do and will be able to put it together with the two of you. I’ve already taught Lydia her part.” As he sits down on the floor and drinks some water, he rubs the back of his head and says, “God, I have a headache.”
Derek sits down beside him, back against the wall. “I’m really sorry about that. I have a hard time with control sometimes.”
“Ironic. You’re the embodiment of physical control as evidenced by your dancing, but it doesn’t translate into emotional control.”
“Yeah, fucking hilariously ironic.”
“I don’t mean it funny. I think it’s an interesting dichotomy. “ Stilinski looks directly at him. “Why are you so mad that I am here?”
Derek remains quiet and looks away from Stilinski. Just when Stiles has given up on receiving an answer, Derek sighs. “I don’t think much of you as an artist. All that popular stuff you do. Music videos for God’s sake. Trash. The way you promote yourself. You’re a well-known choreographer because you pay people to keep your name out there. It really has nothing to do with your talent.”
“Ah. I see now. You think an artist can’t be popular. If the public likes it, it must not be any good. Surprisingly elitist of you. What exactly have you seen of mine?”
Derek remains silent.
“What have you seen of mine? Any ballet? Contemporary piece? Concert?”
Derek shrugs and looks away.
“OK. What trash videos of mine have you seen? Nothing? Really? You’re basing your entire opinion of my work on the fact that it is well known? That my name is well known? You think it’s bad because so many people like it? That’s hilarious. I’m again beginning to think that you might be stupid after all.”
“You say that again and I’ll punch you across the room,” Derek growls.
Stilinski rolls his eyes. “Oh, I’m scared now. A troglodyte threat. You can’t even come up with an informed opinion. Just a baseless one. So let’s discuss something you do know of mine – tonight’s piece we’ve been working on. What do you think of it?”
“I haven’t seen it all or seen it with the other parts so how can I judge it?”
“You didn’t seem to have any problem judging everything else I’ve ever done when you hadn’t seen any of it.”
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “Let’s just finish this so I can get away.”
“No. We can’t work together anymore until I understand more about you.”
“Well, there isn’t anything else. I’m stupid, remember?”
Stilinski pushes his palms into his eyes. “I haven’t had someone push my buttons like this in years. I don’t know what to do with you.”
“You don’t have to do anything with me. Just show me the rest of my part. You do have it complete in your head I hope.”
“Yes, I do. We’re not doing another thing, though, until you tell me what you think of what we’ve worked on so far. Am I really the hack that you’ve proclaimed in your ignorance? The truth. I can handle it. Your opinion really doesn’t matter to me anyway.”
Derek is quiet again, staring out into space. “No,” he mumbles.
“Beg your pardon.”
“No,” he spits. “You’re not the hack I assumed you’d be. The stuff I’ve seen so far is quite innovative. I think I have ideas of what you’re doing and can see it all flowing together. I’ve seen bits and pieces as people have worked on it. There! Are you happy now?”
“Happy. Surprised. Grateful. Maybe your opinion means more to me than I’d thought.”
Derek scowls and looks away. “I’m amazed how you keep it all in your head. Do you see it all laid out before you? Did you write it down as you were thinking it up?”
“You’ve heard of photographic memory? I’ve got a photographic imagination. Once I imagine and see it in my mind, I can remember it exactly forever. That’s how I’ve been able to choreograph so many pieces. It’s a really useful gift. Your questions make me think you’ve tried your hand at choreographing before?”
“No. Well, not really. I’ve tried a little on my own. No one’s ever seen it. It’s harder than I’d thought.”
“So you want to choreograph. Finally, we’re getting somewhere. What are you currently working on?” Stiles pulls himself up and sits cross-legged facing Derek.
“I have a few ideas I’m kicking around in my head.”
“A choreographer creates dances for people to do; they don’t ‘kick ideas around in their head.’”
Derek glares at him.
“So let’s start this over. I’m actually quite excited to hear that you want to choreograph. It’s very rewarding. Difficult sometimes,” he looks pointedly at Derek, “but rewarding. What music are you working with?”
After a slight hesitation, he answers, “Clair de Lune”.
“Ah. Beautiful piece. Which version?”
“Huh?”
“There’s the original piano solo version, and an orchestral arrangement. I’ve also heard harp arrangements, violin arrangements, arrangements for trios, etc. Which is the one that you’re using?”
“Umm. I don’t know. They’re all the same aren’t they?”
Stilinski rubs his temples, sputters trying to start a sentence, then finally says, “They are not the same. The music is what your entire choreography is based upon. You’re interpreting the music. You must know it intimately – music dictates the movement. Every movement has a purpose telling the story within the music. The colors are different between the versions. The feelings are different. For me, the piano version is more introverted and personal; the orchestral version seems more inclusive and expansive. Each instrument’s arrangement brings it’s own color to the piece. That’s the way I see the differences – you may see them completely different. That’s fine. It’s then your job to show me what you see or feel when you hear the music. Make me experience the music in a new way. That’s what art is, I believe. Even with two different piano performances, the feelings will be different, accents will be different. Tempos will vary. Some things are stressed by one person and ignored by another. Phrasing can be different. So no, the piano and orchestral versions are not the same.”
Derek, fuming, says, “Never mind. Are we done?”
“No, we’re definitely not done. Piano or orchestral?”
Derek grabs his bag, rummages through it and pulls out his iPod and adaptor. He flings his bag down and plugs the iPod into the receiver of the rehearsal hall stereo. He presses a button and Clair de Lune starts playing on the speakers. “There, that’s the one – piano.”
Stiles smiles and listens a moment. “Beautiful. What is the theme of your piece?”
“Huh?”
“What are you trying to say with it? Are you telling a story? Expressing an emotion? Both? Just moving to the music for movement’s sake? All of these are fine. Why are you doing this and why should anyone watch it?”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. The music plays and I dance to it.”
“Finally, a hint. A solo. That at least tells me something. Perhaps another dancer will join you at some point in it?”
“No, I’m just planning on me for now,” Derek answers uncertainly.
Stilinski leans forward excitedly. “I like that answer. You may have a solo in mind when you start and a definite idea of where it will go, but so long as you listen to the music and let it inform your decisions and work, it will take you where you’re supposed to go. Excellent!”
Derek looks uncertain, slightly raising an eyebrow.
“So again, what is it about? Wait, let me rephrase. What has inspired you about this music so much, that you have to work your soul into a frenzy to make an artistic statement with it? That’s the question I ask myself with every new piece I start. It sounds silly I know, but anything less is an insult to the music, your time, your audience, and yourself. The creative process demands nothing less.”
Derek reluctantly looks to the door, then up to the skylight considering. He spies the full moon in the night sky. “Clair de Lune means moonlight in French. I haven’t thought about what I’m trying to say or mean with it. I think though, that I’m trying to show how the moon’s light affects me.”
Stilinski leans forward, nodding vigorously while looking up at Derek.
Derek continues, “For me, looking at the moon makes me feel nostalgic, sentimental, sensual… but lonely – the music does the same. I get a shiver inside when the moon is full and I’m standing outside looking up at it. I think it’s so beautiful and it transforms how I see the world, how I feel about the world, how I feel about my place in the world. It makes me feel small and alone and wanting to reach out and connect.” After a pause, he continues. “Wow. I haven’t ever put that into words. Not sure it’s quite right, but …” He trails off and shrugs self-consciously.
Stilinski suddenly jumps up and grabs Derek into a bear hug. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It was beautiful and I feel I know exactly what you mean. Now show me how you convey all of that through the dance you’re creating.” Derek uncertainly raises his hand and pats him on the back. He looks warily at Stilinski, but moves toward the stereo after gently extricating himself from the embrace.
Stilinski kneels on the floor. Derek restarts his music and dances the parts he’s worked through. Stilinski watches enraptured. “Yes!” he occasionally hollers. “No, not quite right – keep going! We’ll fix that. Brilliant move!” He kneels on the ground, rocking back and forth, clasping his hands, then throwing them out and above his head.
Derek finishes and Stilinski jumps up and sweeps Derek into his arms and hugs him again and jumps up and down against Derek’s unmoving body. Derek looks bewildered, though pleased.
Stilinski enthuses, “This is so exciting. You must complete it and perform it in the Showcase.”
“No way.”
“You must. I’ll help you finish it. What you’ve got already is amazing.” He shivers with excitement as he extricates himself from Derek. “You’ve got a solid start. I’ve seen many performances of this piece but never one like this. It’s unique and you’ve created it. You’ve had the privilege of creating it, now share that gift with the rest of the world.”
“How would you help me? You’re leaving in the morning. You won’t even be around to help the company put your piece together,” Derek snarls. “The company pays you all this money and hires you to come and do this and then you leave before the job’s even complete. Typical.”
“Typical of what, I’m not sure what you mean since we have no history together. I have always put everything I have into a piece when I’m working on it,” he yells. Quieter, he says, “Yes, it is unfortunate that I have to leave in the morning, however it’s been planned since the very beginning.”
“The company would never hire you to half-ass put a piece together.”
“I believe you’re right. No one’s supposed to know this, but I’ll let you in on it because you’re going to help fix the company’s situation.” He pauses and takes a drink from his water bottle. Derek glares at him expectantly. “Your company is broke. They have no money. No. Money. Nada. Kaput. Because I love this company and think it is an important institution to continue, I volunteered to do this piece for them and help get it started. I agreed to have my assistants stay and help with it after I left. At my expense, by the way. I have to go and make money so that I can afford to help your company stay afloat. That’s what the ‘emergency’ is.”
“There is no way the company is broke. We always sell out our performances. We have donors, fund raisers. We’re the most well-known dance company in the country.”
“Yes, you’re right. However, you do only four performances of each show with an average of five different shows a year and performances historically lose money. Your donations are down. The tours you have done have routinely lost money. Not a lot, but they’d hoped that even though they’d lose money with the tours, new donor revenue would open up, which did not happen. Your endowment lost over half its value in the recession and hasn’t recovered. The endowment interest is where your daily operating expenses come from and without the interest that you used to have from it, well, let’s say the situation is dire. The Director is an old friend of mine and when he called me crying for help, I couldn’t turn him down. Plus what I said the first day was true. I have been working on this piece, specifically for this company, for years now in the hopes that I would one day get to work with Atelier. I am happy to do it for free. The thinking was that with my name recognition, you would sell more tickets and be able to double the number of performances to eight. The performance hall has agreed to donate the space this one time. It has been a group effort to keep you afloat.”
Derek remains silent for several moments considering what he’s just been told. Finally he asks, “You said I have a part in saving the company – what is it?”
“Originally, I meant that you would be dancing, as you always do. Now, however, though it’s not in the plan yet, it will be if you agree to do it. I want you to finish your piece and perform it in the show.”
Derek starts to interrupt, vigorously shaking his head.
Stilinski grabs Derek’s forearm and continues, “No, listen. You’re the most well-known name associated with the company. You choreographing and performing a piece of your own will electrify the audiences. It will guarantee filling all the seats.” Stilinski’s excitement is visibly building as he starts pacing. “I can see the flyers now: Two premieres in one performance – a major new piece by me and the first choreographic effort by the great Derek Hale, danced by the incomprable Derek Hale. Added to all the company’s most popular pieces from throughout the years. The show would be a success without your piece, but with you, it will be huge. International! You have no idea!” Stilinski gazes towards the ceiling and flairs his hands apart from in front of his face as he speaks. “On the posters, there will be a huge color picture of you in nothing but shorts – your costume for your solo. It will bring all the girls and gay boys running to the theatre. The poster itself will become a collector’s item. They can sell them in the lobby during intermission. You in a pas de poisson like you do in your piece, your arms high over your head, your chest thrust out, your body in that beautiful crescent floating in mid-air. It will be electrifying. Every gay boy’s wetdream. Hell, I’ll even buy a couple of them.”
“Prancing around in little shorts, photographing me in that. Selling posters. See, that’s exactly the kind of thing I hate about you.”
“Derek, Derek.” He places his arm around Derek’s shoulder. “You’re a brilliant dancer but frankly you know shit about marketing and business.”
“Perhaps, but I do know something about integrity and artistry.”
Stilinski blows a raspberry. “If there is no advertising, promotion, marketing, business planning, all the artistry and integrity in the world won’t keep the company from going belly up. That’s where you are now. Sex sells, and like it or not Derek, you’re it. With my piece and your piece, it’s a slam dunk - guaranteed.”
Derek still looks doubtful. “I can’t possibly finish it. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know to choreograph an entire piece.”
“I told you I could help you.”
“You’ll be gone. You have all those commitments in Chicago. How could you possibly be of any help to me?”
“Ever heard of Skype?”
Derek shakes his head no.
Stilinski shakes his head. “It can be done, trust me. I’ll bet we can complete the blueprint of it tonight. You’ll then have a heavy amount of work to do on it still. You’ll really have to get into what you’re trying to say, really grind down into it. It will be painful and difficult but rewarding in the end. You’ll have to distill the loneliness, pain, nostalgia, whatever you decide it is down to its very essence and figure out how to convey it to the audience through your movement.”
Derek looks baffled and grits his teeth. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Derek, there is all kinds of dance, as you know. I think of a dance like it’s a painting. You can paint a picture of a beautiful flower and then that’s what you have – a pretty painting of a flower - decoration. Or you can study the flower, encounter with it, be with it, realize it’s very essence and if you then have the talent, you can translate that essence that’s ‘flower’ to the canvas and make it capital-F Flower – a painting that transcends what it looks like and makes it represent all Flowers. The first kind of painting I described is artifice – a pretty picture without any real meaning to it. The second type of painting is art. It now allows everyone who sees it to see the object in a new and different way. This is what artists do.”
Derek looks dubious. He starts to say something then stops himself.
Stilinski continues, pacing the floor, “Dance is like creating a painting except your canvas is your choreography. You, the dancer are the paint upon it. You must bear down and figure out what you want to say. Seek it, find it, break it, wrestle it till you understand its very meaning and then you will be able to find ways to convey it through dance to the audience so that they too will know and understand this thing like you do.”
Derek remains silent, lost in thought staring at the ground. Finally, he responds, “You make it sound scary.”
“You’re right, I’m glad you got that. It is scary. Every time I have an idea for a piece and then start working on it, it scares me. It terrifies me. Can I do it? Will it be right? What will I find? What if I don’t have it in me to do it? Creating is a lonely and scary process. You have to work so hard to find what you are looking for, for that epiphany, that truth, that true moment. And once you have found it, it shakes you up, you feel a bit groundless for a bit as the way that you knew the world before, changes, reorients itself to you. It’s scary until you know it will not eat you up, this new world. Ugghh. It’s so frustrating trying to explain it. You’ll get to experience it for yourself if you keep working on this with full intentionality.”
Derek still looks uncertain. “I don’t think I have it in me to do what you’re saying. I thought it was just putting together some steps that go with the music.”
“It can be that. Very pretty. Uncomplicated. Nice. I think you’d expect more from yourself, though. I certainly have a higher expectation of you. I know your dancing. When you dance, you’re not just doing the steps that you’ve been taught. I’ve seen you. You put your whole mind and soul into your dancing. You’re communicating with your body to the audience, whether you realize you’re doing it or not. You’re that freaking talented. Please consider trying to do the same with your choreography. I have so much faith in you and I think you have real talent to do this. The parts you’ve already got are so solid. You can bring this out of yourself.” He pauses briefly and holds his palms out towards Derek. “Too much, I’m overwhelming you. Sorry. I tend to get fairly passionate about art.”
“No, I appreciate it. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Plus you’ve already taught me a great deal tonight. When we finish it, I’ll have to rely on you to tell me the truth if it’s good enough to be performed. If it transcends into art.”
“’We’, I heard you imply ‘we’. I’m hearing that you actually want my help? Does that mean you’re changing your opinion about me?” He tries to tickle Derek under the chin. Derek swats his hand away, but smiles slightly in spite of himself.
Derek huffs, “Alright Stilinski. Enough of that. Let’s finish up your piece.”
“Call me Stiles, all my friends do,” he says airily as he walks toward the center of the room.
Derek grits his teeth and scowls, then slowly starts to smile.
They finish the remainder of Stilinski’s piece – the duet that Lydia will be dancing with Derek. Stiles shows Derek his part, then dances Lydia’s part with him, showing how the two parts fit together. They practice the lifts several times each of which ends with Derek holding Stiles aloft, then cradling him in his arms, sometimes only inches from the floor. They dance parts of it side by side holding hands and using each other for ballast and balance during some of the more acrobatic parts.
After completing the duet and running through the entire piece again, they begin working through Derek’s choreography as well. They fix parts that weren’t quite right. Add to others. Change the lines of some of the positions. They discuss the meaning he wants to convey and decide on the overall tone of the piece. The lighting and costume are debated as well.
They hear garbage trucks clanging trash bins down in the street below. They rest on the floor leaning against the wall with Derek’s playlist quietly playing on the stereo. Derek looks at the clock. “Six AM.”
“Wow. Haven’t pulled an all-nighter since college. It has been one of the artistic highlights of my life though, Derek.” He shoulder butts Derek gently. “Seriously. Working with you has been a dream come true for me. I saved you for last so that I could savor the anticipation of it. It has been well worth it. Thank you for working with me and trusting me.”
Derek smiles slightly, looks embarrassed, and glances at Stiles. “Yeah, me too,” he mumbles. After a couple of minutes of quiet, Derek asks, “You are so young and so famous. How did you get that way so young? You’ve had the career someone in his eighties would envy. “
“Well, it all started with a boy. Doesn’t it always? A friend of mine that I had the hots for in high school. He was a dancer with the local city ballet company. My mom had put me into dance classes as a kid, hoping it would help my general klutziness and attention difficulties. I danced for several years but never took it seriously. Anyway, I thought as a way of getting closer to him, I’d start dancing again. Surprisingly enough, I was ok. My klutziness had cleared up some. I wasn’t great, but good enough. I was especially good at character work though, which didn’t require all that much dancing, but was more mugging and acting combined with some dance. Anyway, my friend was entering a national competition and was trying to choreograph his own number. It was awful. Stinko. He was a superb dancer and he was good at showing off his strengths but he was terrible at creating a whole piece. It had no point beyond showing off. So I talked him into letting me choreograph it for him and I was able to come up with a piece for him that showed all of his strengths, but was also a dance with some meaning and structure. He won the competition that year with it. It was a thing of beauty, if I do say so myself. Dragon Fire.”
Derek suddenly sits forward and looks directly at Stiles. “Dragon Fire? You choreographed that? Your friend is Ken Tan? I was at that competition – he and the dance were amazing! I didn’t know you did that.”
“Yes, Ken. And yes, that was my piece. So you have seen my work before.”
“He beat me that year in the competition – the only year I didn’t win when I was competing. That was amazing! I can’t believe that was you!”
“Aww, shucks.”
“And Ken was your, um, boyfriend?”
“For awhile. We went in different directions soon enough, though. He moved to Chicago to dance with their company. I stayed in San Francisco and started choreographing full time. My old company was using me to do most of their choreography and all the dancers wanted me to choreograph their solos after Ken’s big win. Then they all started winning and my name became known. I found a great publicist to work for me, who I paid very well, by the way, who got my name out there even more. You hardly ever know the choreographer of a piece and to be a known choreographer is rare. Pop singers started wanting me to do their videos. Then some hip-hop artists. Then the various ballet and modern dance companies started calling. It was really great luck having an unusual name I could use. It’s something that people remember. Usually.” He gives Derek a snarky side-glance. They sit quietly. “So, I lost the boy, but gained the world. But hey, no regrets,” he adds wistfully.
“You don’t like what you’re doing?”
“Oh my God, I love it! I’m the luckiest person in the world. Getting paid tons of money to do what I love to do the most. It’s just that it gets lonely. Constantly on the road, working with new people all the time. All the glad-handing, making nice, being perky, keeping up my bubbly public persona. It’s exhausting. And to go back to an empty hotel room every night gets very depressing. I miss getting to really connect with people. I’m always on the move. Without someone there for me, I start forgetting who I am sometimes.” His voice trails off.
Stiles sets his water bottle down between them, but continues holding on to it. Derek shifts slightly and lets his hand slide to the floor where it rests against Stiles’s hand. Neither moves their hand away. Derek glances over at Stiles then looks straight ahead. In one impetuous move, Stiles throws his leg over Derek’s outstretched legs and straddles his thighs, takes his face in his hands and looks directly into his eyes. He runs his hand against Derek’s scruffy cheek. “I’ve been wondering how that felt. I like.” Derek reaches up and slowly pulls Stiles toward him into an open-mouth kiss.
+++++++++
At rehearsal the next evening, Derek arrives and walks by Allison and Lydia sitting on the floor talking. He sits down near them and starts his stretching routine. As usual, he pays no attention to them, but inadvertently catches snippets of their conversation. His attention zeroes in on them, however, when he hears them discussing Stilinski.
“I wonder if the old “love’em and leave’em Stilinski” kept up his record?” Allison wonders aloud.
“I’m sure he did. I’ve heard he’s never worked anywhere yet that he didn’t,” answers Lydia. “I do wonder who, though.” She and Allison casually look around the room sizing up their fellow dancers.
At this, Derek finally can’t resist. “What are you gossiping about now?”
“Why are you suddenly interested in what we’re talking about?”
Derek frowns at them.
Allison quickly answers, “Stilinski. He is known for having an affair with a dancer in every company he’s ever worked with.”
“Usually it’s a soloist or principal, but occasionally he’ll do a corps member. Anything to keep that streak alive, I guess.” Lydia says haughtily. “You’ve not heard that about him?”
“No. I don’t keep up with such things.”
“I know. Why are you so interested now?”
“I’m not. I thought I heard you talking about something else. Didn’t realize you were talking about such banal things. Please do carry on.”
Lydia continues, “We’re just trying to figure out who he did in our company. No one’s admitted to it yet. I’m the only one he was ever alone with here and it definitely wasn’t me. Well, I guess you were alone with him as well, Derek, but obviously that didn’t go anywhere.” Allison and Lydia laugh uproariously. Scott, joining them, starts to laugh as well.
Derek scowls at them, rises, and walks away.
“Wait Derek. Did he say anything to you about sleeping with anyone from here?” Lydia calls after him.
Derek slams into an empty rehearsal room and drops into a chair, covering his burning eyes with his hands.
++++++++++++
As promised, Stilinski reappears the week before the premiere. All eight performances sold out in the first day and five more performances were immediately added which also sold out. People were flying in from all over the country to see. The excitement within the company is palpable.
Stilinski, though pleased with the work that had been done in his absence, works the troupe members over and over, demanding perfection in every arm movement, head position, breath, and even eye movement. The company, already known for its unity, comes together as a cohesive whole like never before. The singleness of purpose and spirit is a professional highlight for members.
Stilinski sees and works with Derek during rehearsals but never has a moment alone with him. He tries to catch him after rehearsals, but Derek always disappears as soon as rehearsals are over. Usual behavior for him so no one pays it any mind. Stilinski keeps catching sight of his retreating form after each rehearsal. Though he tries to go after him, Stilinski is always in a crush with everyone wanting to talk to him and by the time he gets to the dressing rooms, Derek’s gone. Like the entire time they’ve been apart, Derek never answers his calls or texts.
Two days before opening night, he goes to Derek’s apartment unannounced. He knocks, hears movement within, and hears footsteps approach then retreat from the door. He knocks again and hears a distant door from within the apartment slam shut.
He leans back against the wall deep in thought. A woman coming out of a neighboring apartment notes his furrowed brow and deep concentration and starts to ask if he needs help, but then realizes whose door he’s standing at and continues on her way.
Stiles pulls out his phone and calls Derek’s number. He hears the phone ring from within then abruptly stop. He tries again and hears nothing from within the apartment. The phone goes immediately to voice mail.
“Derek, I don’t know what’s wrong,” he says very quietly. “Come out and talk to me. I’ve been so excited to see you and don’t know what’s happened. What have I done? I’m sitting out here for fifteen minutes. Please at least give me the courtesy of an explanation.” After hanging up, he sits down in the hallway to wait.
After thirty minutes and never hearing any sounds from within the apartment, he dejectedly returns to his hotel room.
At dress rehearsal the next day, Derek arrives right at the appointed time and sneaks in before Stiles can get to him. The dressing rooms are packed and the energy of the room is electric.
On stage, Stilinski is constantly bombarded with questions and is a whirlwind of instructions and pointing.
Finally at curtain time, he goes to the middle of the orchestra section in the mostly empty theatre and takes a seat. He nods to the director and several of the other production people as they take seats closer to the stage. Stilinski’s piece is the second act so he settles in quietly to watch. Some of the best-known works in the world are performed right in front of him for his own benefit he feels.
Derek’s premiere is the first piece for the show – the two premieres bookending the Showcase. The music starts and Stiles watches the piece they worked on together come to life. Derek’s face is softly spotlighted and the light slowly expands to illuminate the entire stage once the music begins. He’s wearing only brown shorts, his hair perfectly arranged, his signature dark scruff accenting his strong jawline. He perfectly performs the first couple of minutes as they had worked on. Halfway through the piece, where the music’s tempo picks up slightly, Derek performs an unexpected sharp arm movement coupled with an angry facial expression which surprisingly, somehow fits the piece. The angry look immediately transforms into a melancholic expression. The unexpected movement and expression repeats again morphing into despondency. At this unexpected turn, Stiles sits up in his chair and rests his chin on his folded arms resting on the seat back in front of him.
There are whole phrases throughout the middle portion of his piece that Stiles has not seen. He’s awed by the incredible power and grace of Derek’s performance, the ideas expressed and total vulnerability he’s brought to the stage. Tears flow freely while watching Derek perform. Everything Derek said he felt with the moon and more is demonstrated on the stage. It’s a showpiece like none he’s ever seen before. Derek met the gods with this one, he thinks to himself.
Once finished, Derek quickly takes his bow and leaves the stage.
The performances continue. Next, the corps, all dancing in unison the entire piece, performs a very modern allegro. Quick staccato movements at a rapid pace in a unique style. It has been called the most difficult corps piece ever created due to the necessity for and difficulty of achieving complete unison.
The following piece includes only the six soloists dancing an adagio. It’s one movement from a larger piece choreographed by the company’s Director. Flowing and waterlike. The dancers move in waves simulating the ocean along the shore.
Two other pieces are performed, though Stiles is lost in thought during them and realizes afterward that he didn’t even notice what they were.
Finally, a famous seductive, dreamy duet by Scott and Allison brings down the Act One curtain.
During the intermission, Stilinski is again so busy giving last minute notes he can’t go find Derek to try to talk to him. When the lights dim, he again takes his seat in the audience. His piece has come together just the way he envisioned. He barely can pay attention though for his thoughts heading back to Derek constantly. When Derek hits the stage for his duet with Lydia, Stiles is mesmerized. They perform it so much more than he ever imagined. Derek’s solo is explosive and performed to perfection. Stiles gasps at the depth of intention that Derek injects into his work. He brings Stiles’s piece to life.
Once the curtain comes down and the curtain calls practiced, everyone is clapping and exclaiming excitedly. Stiles looks for Derek and sees just the back of his head leaving the stage. He makes a move to go after him, but the Director calls his name and the company is all looking at him and applauding him. He smiles and applauds them right back. He makes a couple of quick notes to the assembled company, says a few encouraging words, and leaves to find Derek. Derek’s dressing room is empty.
“Who are you looking for?” Lydia asks as she comes up behind him. Behind her, Scott and Allison look at him questioningly.
“Uh, no one. Uh, I just wanted to congratulate Derek on his solo. It was really something, huh?”
“Yes. Who knew he had all that in him? He’s usually such a sourpuss. Says hardly two words to anybody. Such a prima donna. All angsty artist. Talented as hell though. Definitely showed a different side of himself tonight. I wonder what got into him?” She tilts her head slightly waiting for him to respond but he just continues to stare at her. “I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
“Uh, yeah. Please do,” he says distractedly.
“Anything else?” Lydia asks, pursing her lips together and somehow smiling at the same time.
“Oh, no. Great job all of you. Uh, I guess I better go.”
“Your piece is really extraordinary. Congratulations on it.”
“Thanks. Very much.” He turns to go then stops. “You know, on second thought, perhaps it’d be better if you don’t say anything to Derek about my stopping by. I’ll tell him myself. Good night.”
“Good night!” After he’s gone, Lydia and Allison look at each other and grab each other’s hands in excitement. “Do you think it was Derek after all?” Lydia asks.
“No way,” Allison replied. “Could it?” They gasp and exchange looks.
“What are you talking about?” Scott asks, his brow rumpled, head cocked to the side, his mouth slightly ajar.
“Nothing, sweetie,” Allison says and takes him by the hand and kisses him on the cheek. “Let’s go get changed.”
“Well, I’m asking Derek about it tomorrow,” Lydia says.
“Lydia, give them a break. Obviously something’s not right. Stilinski looked sad. Derek’s been even more uptight lately. Let’s just give them a little space, ok?”
Lydia rolls her eyes, but then considers a moment. “OK. We’ll see.”
After the excitement of the dress rehearsal and the exhaustion of working fourteen-hour days for a week, Stiles slowly makes his way to his hotel. He shuffles slowly along, looking down at the ground, feeling too tired to even cry. He passes listlessly through the hotel lobby, up the elevator, and exits on his floor. When he turns the corner to go to his room, he sees a movement in the corridor and immediately recognizes Derek standing there. He stops and looks at him. He smiles sadly at him and starts to tear as he looks down to the ground.
Derek remains standing, looking uncertain. Finally, he asks, “May I come in?”
Stiles shuffles forward slowly, unlocks the door, and nods Derek into the room. He drops his backpack and jacket on the floor and plops down in one of the two chairs in the room. He motions Derek into the other one.
Derek lays his dance bag on the table and sits down. He rests his elbows on his splayed knees and hangs his head.
Stiles slumps in his chair, looking at Derek. “So…what?”
Derek doesn’t move or say anything, just keeps looking down at the floor.
“What? Why are you here? You’ve made it clear enough you didn’t want to talk to me. Why now?”
Derek finally looks up at him. He tries forming words, but nothing comes out.
Stiles just silently watches him.
Derek looks down, shifts in his chair, then looks directly at Stiles, ” I really liked you. I trusted you. I…” And he again is silent.
“And you decided to show me this by ignoring me, completely cutting me out when we have the chance to be together again? After the incredible work we’ve done together?”
“No. No, I was mad at you. I hated you. I found out your game of screwing a dancer from every company you work with then leaving them high and dry.”
“What?” he asks incredulously. “Where did you hear that?”
“Around. Apparently you have quite the reputation. When I heard about it, I realized it was all a game to you. Getting me to trust you. Helping me out. All so we’d have sex and then your sick, stupid game… It pissed me off. You used me.” He stands as he speaks, his voice rising and quickening.
Stiles jumps to his feet as well. “I know all about that stupid ‘game’ rumor. It was started by this spurned little diva three years ago who went around telling everyone she was the chosen one from her company. I’ve never quashed it because, well, you know how I feel about publicity. If people are talking about me, then that’s a good thing. Plus, I guess I thought it was kind of a cool thing for people to think about me – I was always the gangly, cute-but-safe sidekick growing up. Now they believe I’m this big Lothario, Don Juan, Romeo. I try to come across bigger than life in my professional life – all bravura and attitude, but in my personal life, I’m still that lonely little sidekick. I can’t believe you thought that was true. I thought you understood me. That we got each other.” He places his palm on Derek’s chest. “I felt a connection with you I haven’t felt with anybody in a long, long time!” He pushes Derek away with the hand on his chest. “I do get a fair number of come-ons now, but they’re not wanting me. They’re just fame-fuckers. Not what I want at all. I’ve been with fewer than five people in my life, for God’s sake! When I choose to be with someone, it has to be someone I’ve made some kind of connection with, someone who I think actually likes me – not the hotshot, showboating choreographer star persona I put on.” He grabs Derek’s arm. “I can’t believe you don’t understand this. Certainly, you’ve had some of the same experiences.” He stares at Derek, looking for a response.
Derek’s brow furrows. He opens his mouth but says nothing.
Stiles releases Derek’s arm and turns around, wiping the tears from his face. “I truly thought I’d found someone to connect with, that we had connected that night. It meant so much to me and I rushed back here all excited to get to know you better and you couldn’t have treated me any worse. I guess I should have figured it out when you never answered my emails or calls.” He looks over his shoulder at Derek. “Every day here has been a knife in my heart. I wish we’d never met,” he spits. He stumbles forward and braces himself against the table.
Derek remains silent. He turns toward the window and looks outside. Suddenly, he picks up his stuff and heads for the door. Stiles sees the wetness on Derek’s face when he slows to rub his hand on Stiles’s arm. “I’m…I’m…”
“Go. Just go,” Stiles says with great resignation.
Derek drops his hand from Stiles’s arm, yanks open the door and leaves. The door slowly closes behind him, but at the last instant before the door clicks shut, Derek pushes it open again. He stalks in, throws his bag on the floor, and embraces Stiles. Stiles struggles to break free from his grasp, but is unable to. Derek huffs, “No. No. Listen to me. It’s my time now. I’m not good with words like you are so give me a second.” Stiles continues to struggle. “Stop it. You’re going to listen to me now.” Stiles finally complies and Derek wraps both arms around him tighter. After a moment, Stiles wraps his arms around Derek as well.
“What is it you want to say then?”
“Stiles, you’re right. I felt in my heart you hadn’t screwed me over, but those awful words just kept banging around in my head. Mocking me. Telling me I was a fool again. My first girlfriend really fucked me up and made me not trust people. I wanted to trust you and really felt like I did, but it didn’t take much for my paranoia to get the better of me. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He clings to Stiles and presses his face hard against Stiles’s head. “I did feel an incredible connection with you too. Your friendship and support pushed me beyond where I ever thought I could go. That night working with you was amazing. And afterwards… Please,” he quietly pleads as he hugs him tighter still.
Stiles remains silent, unmoving, continuing to hold onto Derek as tightly as Derek holds onto him.
“Stiles, please say something. I’ve got nothing else to give but my apology.”
Stiles sniffles. He pulls away from Derek and stands at arms length with his hands on Derek’s shoulders. “I’d heard about your family and your ex-girlfriend. I also knew your reputation for being difficult and how untrusting you were. That’s why I worked so hard to develop trust between us – not to sleep with you, but to be able to work with you. The sleeping together was an unplanned bonus.” He smiles weakly. “I was about to give up on you but I knew there had to be more to you. Then finally we broke through all your bullshit and hardness, and what I found inside of you – the real you – was so tender and so fragile and so vulnerable. So real. I fell for you so hard. I’m so afraid of you now and how deeply you’re able to hurt me after only knowing you such a short time.” He turns away and walks to the window and looks down at the passing cars on the street far below. “If you can’t trust me, then I don’t think we can have any future together. I know trust must be earned over time, but I’m just not sure it will ever happen with you because of your past. I see that now. If you don’t think you can learn to trust me, then please go now. I can’t take this pain again.” He leans his forehead against the glass to cool himself off.
After a moment of silence, he hears the quietest whisper of a rustle and jumps when he feels Derek’s hands on his waist, slowly snaking around his middle. Derek’s body presses gently against his back. his lips graze softly at his temple. Derek whispers in his ear, “I’m not going anywhere.” Stiles whips around and throws his arms around Derek’s neck and kisses him hard on the mouth.
After finally breaking from the kiss, Stiles asks, “Are you sure?”
Derek looks at him intently. “God, yes.”
“Thank you for staying.” He kisses Derek again.
“So what are we going to do now?” Derek asks.
“Well, I’ve been thinking we could collaborate on Ligeti’s Devil’s Staircase. It’s this very complicated, intense, ultra-modern music. I think we should create it and dance it together.”
Derek smiles. “Agreed.” He pauses briefly and smiles shyly. “I was asking more about what are we going to do right now, though. “ He bends to kiss Stiles but suddenly leans back. “I know that piece. It would fit us perfectly. The piano or orchestral version?”
Stiles laughs as he deep kisses Derek again.