The Princess & Her Alphaholes by Renee O’Roark
Chapter Two
Down Spiral
Joely
I wake up when the apartment door slams shut. “It must be Donovan leaving for class.” I think, tossing around on the bed and kicking the sheets that are tangled around my legs.
“Fuck!” I’m startled awake by the realization that I have to be in class and then rehearsal.
I don’t know how Donovan can party well into the wee hours of the morning and then look sharp and focused all day during classes, rehearsals and performances.
At thirty he’s a mature principal at our ballet company and one of the most celebrated ballet dancers in the world.
He’s been compared to Baryshnikov and called one of the prodigies of ballet since he became one of the youngest principals in the National Ballet Company in London.
Artists like Donovan are born once in a generation, maybe not even that.
So I know how lucky I was to catch his eye two years ago when I auditioned for a spot at So-Cal Ballet and won a scholarship to attend their full dance program.
Since then he took me under his wing and after only six months attending the So-Cal Ballet Academy, I was given a spot in the company’s corps.
Last year, I got a demi-soloist contract and I’m on track for a soloist contract this year.
While he’s an amazing teacher, Donovan became a lot more than that to me about a year ago.
I check my phone for messages as I brush my teeth in Don’s tiny bathroom but there’s nothing.
Weird.
Normally if he leaves without me, he always leaves a good morning text.
I slip into my white leotard, nude leggings and my pale pink soft skirt and wince at the soreness between my legs.
Last night we went out with the rest of the company after a soirée with So-Cal’s biggest donors to celebrate the beginning of the new season.
We partied hard and when we got home, Don was so drunk on adoration and gin that he fucked me against his apartment’s front door.
He was rougher than normal and I can’t say that I minded, I love feeling wanted, regardless of the fact that Don loves with his own pleasure in mind.
He loves the same way he dances. Powerful, commanding and a little selfish.
He knows he’s hot, he knows that not only every dancer in the company, but every woman he crosses paths with, would do anything to share his bed. So he takes what he wants without worrying about his partner. Sex with him is all about him.
But I don’t care, I bask in his attention and our relationship is exciting and a little dangerous since he’s also the artistic director of the company and one of the teachers at So-Cal Ballet school.
Our relationship isn’t exactly beyond reproach and I know that my rapid ascension through the company’s ranks has attracted more than one jealous gaze among my peers.
Every dancer in the company and in the school would give their left arm to be in my shoes; women and men alike.
So we’ve been keeping our relationship a secret, to avoid any scrutiny, at least until I graduate from dance school.
I grab my duffel bag, put on one of Don’s hoodies and rush down the stairs. If I run, my muscles will be warm when I get to class and I should make it just on time if I skip breakfast.
My stomach growls loudly but I ignore it, I haven’t had anything to eat since the couple of canapés I ate last night and after the many glasses of champagne I drank, I know that I should eat.
But like every dancer, I have a complicated relationship with food and with my body in general.
I know I’m a good dancer but I’m not naturally thin and I stay in shape by working hard and counting every calorie I ingest despite the hours of vigorous training I go through every day.
Nature didn’t bless me with an androgynous body and my mom, a retired ballet dancer now turned teacher, has always criticized my softer body type.
Especially my big chest and to avoid her disappointed looks, I bandage my tits tight to get them out of the way and to get closer to the look the world expects in an aspiring prima ballerina.
I rush through the Hollywood traffic and almost get run over twice as I zig zag through several cars at the busy crossroad right in front of the school building.
Another good thing about Don’s apartment is that it’s less than two blocks away from the school.
I burst through the sliding glass doors that give access to the school building and run past reception shouting a hurried “morning” and then make a beeline for the stairs, avoiding the slow and crowded elevator.
Our building hosts the school, our theater, a recording label and studio, a talent agency, and a cafe.
The elevator is always full and this morning I have no time to spare to awkwardly stand among strangers and struggle my way out of the crowded space, apologizing on my way out.
It’s only five floors anyway, so it’s quicker if I run.
I look through the glass walls that divide the classrooms of our dance school between basic and advanced.
So-Cal teaches from small children all the way up to the dance company.
A ballet dancer never stops learning or teaching classes and this is my last year before I officially graduate.
There’s also a few modern dance classes and I’m attending those too, despite my mother’s snobby disapproval.
Don’t get me wrong, I love ballet and I’m pretty damn good at it but I wish this world was more open to new trends and not so staunch and anchored to traditional values and stereotypes.
Donovan isn’t in class yet, so I slide into the classroom thanking my lucky star that I’m not late.
A couple of girls turn to look at me and whisper into each other’s ears. They’re in the corps and I know they envy my demi-soloist position.
“Oh look, someone decided to grace us with her precious presence today.”
I don’t even look at Kelsey. She’s Madame Galina’s favorite and she hates me for ascending the company ranks faster than her.
However, I noticed that ignoring her pisses her off more than stepping down to her level, so I just go to the opposite side of the room, put on my pointe shoes and find an empty spot at the barre.
I wonder what’s the hold up today, I know I was definitely late to class and I’m surprised that there’s no sign of Don.
The door opens and Madame Galina enters the classroom, scanning the room with her severe blue gaze.
She’s our other main teacher, a Russian ex prima ballerina who’s as talented as she is strict.
If Galina hadn’t found her calling in dancing first and teaching dance when she retired, prison warden would’ve definitely been a job I could see her in.
Or dominatrix, like Don always says after a few drinks. He and Galina often clash and I’m well aware that I’ve been a main cause of disagreement between them more often than not.
I actually found out that I got the scholarship here at So-Cal thanks to Don’s and Mr. Grabowski’s votes.
Galina was against even letting me set foot in the school for a second round of auditions because I didn’t have the right body type.
And she doesn’t miss a chance to chastise every real or perceived mistake, often coming to stand behind me and correcting my position.
She loves all the stick thin girls and seems to think that my less than satisfactory form is due in equal parts to being naturally curvy and lacking discipline.
In her eyes, my size four is huge.
So when her eyes settle on me, my skin prickles with anxiety, knowing that this can’t be good.
“Miss Marchant, you’re required in a meeting. Take your duffel bag, please. Ladies, class is delayed by one hour. Use this time to work on your end of year choreography.”
She leaves the classroom without even checking that I’m following her and I feel worse with every step I take.
She opens the door to the boardroom-like space adjacent to Mr. Grabowski’s office and goes to take a seat at the mahogany table on one side of our company director and dance school owner.
Today is the day that the company dance contracts for next season will be announced and for a second, I think that I’ve been summoned here to be officially offered the soloist contract.
But my hopes start to fade when I spot Don sitting on the other side of the table and I know this can’t be good when he doesn’t lift his head to look at me.
“Joely, do you know why we called you in here this morning?”
I shake my head, with my eyes still fixed on Don but trying my best to avert my gaze, because while at school and on stage we aren’t boyfriend and girlfriend but only student and teacher. Dance partners at best.
Mr. Grabowski runs one of his hands through his gray hair that still has a few streaks of blond and sighs, closing his eyes as if his next words were too painful to utter.
“Are you aware one of the conditions of your scholarship here at So-Cal is to always conduct yourself in a professional and appropriate manner?”
I nod and when I catch Galina’s triumphant smile, I’m certain that this is as bad as it could possibly be.
“Joely, what’s the nature of your relationship with Mr. Williams?”
My irises dilate in terror and obviously Don doesn’t even look my way.
Maybe there’s a way to get out of this situation unscathed?
“Sir, if some of my course mates have been spreading rumors—”
Galina intervenes. “No, Joely. Your course mates have been talking about the nature of your relationship with Don for months now. But we’ve been reassured that the relationship was entirely appropriate, and that he was just your Pygmalion. I’ve always thought that this mentorship was odd, since there are definitely more talented artists in the school and in the company’s corps but I didn’t want to doubt my esteemed colleague’s word.”
“I—”
My dance teacher interrupts me with a sharp edge to her normally commanding tone. “I’d be very careful with your next statement, Miss Marchant. This time the allegations come from a very reputable source and we’ve been provided proof that something inappropriate has been going on between you and Don.”
The whole story comes out and it’s so much worse than I could ever have feared.
We were spotted kissing backstage a couple of days ago, after the company’s final performance of last season.
And then again last night, after the party while we got into a cab back to Don’s place.
Last night we were photographed holding hands before boarding the taxi together.
The worst part is that the person who spotted us and called Mr. Grabowski first thing this morning, was Daniela Fuller Stevenson, one of the company’s main benefactors and Don’s ex-girlfriend.
Or should I say his ex-lover, since she’s married to a Hollywood director more than twenty years her senior.
Don broke off their relationship last year, when we got together and I think that Daniela never forgave him and this is her revenge.
“I—Our personal relationship has nothing to do with our professional one! I earned my spot in the company’s ranks fair and square—”
Galina’s gaze is full of angry cruelty when she spits, “I doubt it, Miss Marchant. May I remind you that I’ve been teaching you since you started here? Both positions you’ve held in the company have been offered to you without a unanimous decision by our board of directors. You know very well that I consider you an adequate but not exceptional dancer. You have certain physical limitations that prevent you from reaching the highest levels. This is why I was against admitting you at So-Cal from the very beginning and definitely against awarding you a full scholarship.”
She sounds exactly like my mother, who’s always told me that I should quit dancing or at the very least quit ballet because I’ll never be a prima ballerina.
Galina is like a shark, she waits for the smallest moment of weakness to launch her lethal attack. “I’ve been outvoted every time when it came to you, Miss Marchant. I’ve always wondered what my fellow directors saw in you and now, at least when it comes to one of them, I know. But I’m afraid that you’ve miscalculated your move this time. Sleeping with Mr. Williams could’ve been a winning move, if he weren’t dating our biggest benefactor.”
Her bright red lips twist with disgust but I’m no longer looking at Galina, my eyes are fixed on Don.
“What does she mean that you’re dating Daniela? I thought it was over between you. She’s married—”
This time it’s Mr. Grabowski who explains what’s really going on.
“Ms. Fuller Stevenson divorced her husband about six months ago. She’s been officially dating Don for the last five months. I don’t presume to know what is going on here, Miss Marchant—”
I don’t miss the fact that everyone has gone from Joely to Miss Marchant now and that certainly doesn’t bode well for me.
I’m already trying to avoid shedding the tears that I feel burning at the corners of my eyes, because I know exactly what’s going on.
How could Don be such a cheating jerk? He swore to me that his affair with Daniela was over months before I agreed to go out with him for the first time. Every time I called him out on how his rich “ex-lover” was always dangling from his arm during every soirée and after every performance, he swore that Daniela just liked the attention. And that he gave her that attention because the other directors expected for everyone to pull their weight when it came to promoting our company and securing donations.
I believed him because everyone in every rank within the company was always encouraged to engage with our potential benefactors, by talking to them, even dancing with them at the various parties and sponsored social events.
Mr. Grabowski continues and his words hurt, but at this point they don’t surprise me. “I don’t presume to know what’s going on here, Miss Marchant, but Ms. Fuller Stevenson was furious and demanded that you be expelled from the dance school and from the company’s ranks.”
“That’s not fair. I had no idea that you were still seeing her, Don. You swore that it was over, way before we even went out for the first time.”
He’s still refusing to look at me, his eyes are fixed on his lap. My final plea sounds hopeless even to my own ears, he’s obviously chosen to save his own ass.
“I haven’t done anything wrong, you have to believe me. I thought that Don was in love with me, like I’m in love with him. He has been telling me that my position in the company was just based on merit, not on our relationship. And I don’t see why it’s a problem, many dancers date within the company.”
Our managing director sighs and fixes on me a gaze that isn’t devoid of compassion. “What you’re saying would be true if you were just a dancer and not still a student at the academy. Don is one of your teachers and that makes a romantic relationship completely inappropriate.”
I can’t hold back my tears any longer and I feel the first few starting to burn their way down my face. “I swear I didn’t ask for any special treatment. I’m in love with Don, and—”
Galina intervenes again. “Stop. Please stop. Why are we even giving this unremarkable and unprofessional young lady the chance to explain herself when the decision has already been made? I hope this’ll teach you to keep your extracurricular activities more discreet, Don. Especially when you’re dating our biggest benefactor and your indiscretions could cost us our whole company and the academy.”
Don still refuses to meet anyone’s eyes and a little bit of me falls out of love with him because of that; he’s a grown man, he’s thirty for fuck’s sake.
He should take responsibility for his own actions and his own feelings.
But the heartbreak of being just an affair for him and of having fallen for him and believed every single false promise that he made, has to be put aside for now.
I have more pressing and scary matters to take care of as I address the company’s owner.
“Madame Galina said ‘a decision has been made.’ If I’m gonna lose my spot in the company—”
Mr. Grabowski looks genuinely sorry when he explains that my fate is much worse than what I thought.
“Unfortunately it’s not just your spot in the company, Miss Marchant. Your demi-soloist contract expired with the end of the season anyway and under the current circumstances, at this time So-Cal won’t renew your working relationship with us for another season. The biggest problem is concerning your attendance at the academy. I’m afraid you’re expelled, effective immediately.”
I stand there in front of the company’s owner, and my two teachers.
I look at Don again and I can’t stop the pain spreading everywhere in my body as he still isn’t lifting his gaze from his lap.
Not only did he betray me by making me think that what we had was serious, he cheated on me.
No, scratch that, he cheated on his real girlfriend with me and it doesn’t matter that he started a relationship with Daniela when she was still married, it doesn’t matter that he cheated on us both.
In this shit storm of a situation, he lied to the both of us and he’s getting out of it completely unscathed because I’m paying the price for all of it.
I’m losing everything. My relationship, my place in the company and at the academy.
I have literally nowhere to go. I can’t go back home to South Dakota as my mother feels the same way Galina feels about me. That no matter how hard I work, I simply will never be a prima ballerina. My whole life I’ve worked hard to please her, getting into ballet because it was the only way for her to even look at me, to give me a shred of her attention. But my body betrayed me by “developing in a way that isn’t suitable for ballet,” to quote Mom.
When I got accepted into So-Cal and won a full scholarship, she wasn’t proud of me, she told me that I was wasting my time and that this wouldn’t end well.
So I can’t go back and withstand her judgment, that disappointment she’s always had in her eyes every time she looks at me.
My eyes are still trained on Don. He betrayed me but right now, he’s still my only hope to change Mr. Graboswski’s mind.
If he explained that I had no idea that he was involved with someone else, if he told them that I worked hard and never asked him for any preferential treatment ...
I know that Galina won’t change her mind but maybe, just maybe, I can get the decision overturned.
So I passionately plead my case, one final time, aware that time is running out.
I explain how I’ll do anything to be allowed to at least attend my final year at the academy and graduate.
I apologize for everything, even though all I did was to fall in love and believe Don’s promises.
My ex-boyfriend still won’t look at me but it’s Mr. Grabowski who’s the one who shatters every last shred of hope I was unrealistically clinging to.
“We appreciate your heartfelt apology, Miss Marchant. However, I’m afraid that the matter is out of my own hands. Even though I believe that you didn’t receive any special treatment from Mr. Williams and I personally believe you’re a terrific dancer. Your scholarship was funded by one of Ms. Fuller Stevenson’s many donations to So-Cal and those funds have been suspended indefinitely after she became aware of your ... liaison with Mr. Williams. I’m sorry it has come to this and I’ll write you a reference letter if you want to enroll elsewhere but that is the most I can do. It was made clear to me that your career at So-Cal is permanently over or we’ll lose Ms. Fuller Stevenson’s support entirely.”
Not a word from Don. Not even a fucking look, nothing.
“So, am I allowed to go back to my dorm and pack my bags?”
Not that I have anywhere to go anyway, but the answer I receive makes cold terror seep into my bones.
“Your personal effects have already been removed from your dorm and shipped back to the address recorded in your file.”
Galina says it with another triumphant smile and I guess there’s nothing left to say.
So I walk out of the room with one last look at Don and the realization that all I have to my name is a duffel bag full of dance clothes and a few pairs of pointe shoes and two grand in my bank account.