Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(133)

I’m drawn in for a full minute, and I’ve seen their act before.

The only reason it may be axed: Corporate thinks there are too many “aerial” acts in Infini, and aerial straps could be replaced by Cyr wheels. (Which is ridiculous—it’s called Aerial Ethereal.)

Bay is worried, but I don’t think it’ll happen. We’re in October, and contract renewals are coming in January. If anything, Infini has a greater chance of being cancelled. Sales are only up 4% from last year, and I think the Masquerade and AE were expecting a 20% increase.

(That’s the monthly gossip, provided by Luka Kotova.)

Quietly, I shake Junior Mints into my mouth, my left arm around Bay’s chair. She conked out about an hour ago, and I’m not waking her since she’s done with rehearsal. We’ve all just been ordered to stay put until everyone finishes.

Brenden stretches in a split midair, and Zhen balances on his head with one hand, their limbs extended in clean angles. Even without costume and makeup, they’ve hooked in the attention of the cast.

My cousin Abram draws forward, his eyes lit up, and his chest lifts as trumpets infiltrate the score. Zhen and Brenden increase their momentum, soaring.

This is why I love art. The circus moves people.

Art moves people.

To me, there’s very few other things more amazing than that. After their act ends, Geoffrey nears the stage to speak to them.

He’s been testy since trampoline performed. The four oldest guys—Sergei, Dimitri, Erik, and Matvei—have been purposefully fucking up their routines at rehearsals only. Just to distract Geoffrey.

It works sometimes. His attention veers on them more than us, but I really didn’t want my cousins and brother to risk their reputations. Professionalism matters to them.

I’m the one who doesn’t give a shit.

But once Dimitri gets an idea in his head, there’s no stopping him.

“Take a seat on stage,” Geoffrey tells Brenden and Zhen, and then our choreographer slips into the row in front of mine.

He struts forward, and I dump the rest of the candy in my mouth. For some reason, this attracts him to me. I’m not even loud.

I’m quiet.

No one else was looking at me, but his gaze daggers my face. I chew casually, and I crane my neck over my shoulder.

All of my older cousins and Sergei are rigid one row behind me, their grays and Dimitri’s ocean-blues pinpointed on Geoffrey.

The choreographer saunters closer, and his overbearing presence wakes Bay. She tensely lifts her body up and rubs her eyes. Watching as he halts directly across from me, but I prefer his focus to fix on me, never her.

Geoffrey rests his ass on the back of a chair. He has a great view of my Adidas soles.

I spin my baseball hat backwards, nonchalant. Waiting. (Come on, Geoffrey, what do you have for me?)

Like he’s mentioning the weather, he says, “Tell me an excruciating moment that involves your sister.”

This again. “No,” I say simply like I’ve done before.

Sergei interjects, “We’re not doing acting exercises, Geoffrey.”

His gaze is still latched on me. “Luka has room to be more emotive. I’m helping him.” (Yeah, he’s not.) To me, he says, “Tell me an excruciating moment that involves your brother.”

I shake my empty Junior Mint box. “Which one?”

“Timofei.”

I almost laugh, finding this whole thing ridiculous. “With Timofei, there are none.”

“You’re lying,” Geoffrey shoots back like he had the gun cocked and loaded, ready for my response.

My muscles constrict, but my facial features don’t change shape.

Geoffrey stands straighter, nearing my row, his waist an inch from my soles. I bet he wants me to drop my feet to the floor. (I’m not going to.)

“Nothing excruciating has ever happened to you?” Geoffrey asks like he already knows the answer. I blink a few times, processing. He doesn’t know.

He can’t know.

Artists are aware that I have an impulse to steal worthless shit. Some think it’s funny. (It’s not to me.) There are rumors that I purge after I eat; some people know it’s fact. And Geoffrey has this information from medical—what he can’t have, what he doesn’t have, is how it all started.

Only my extended and immediate family know, plus Baylee, Thora, and John. That’s it.

“Your sister…” he trails off, a smile appearing. “You’re glaring.”

Baylee’s hand slips into mine.

“We’re getting warmer,” Geoffrey says. “Let’s try this again. Tell me an excruciating story involving your sister and little brother or I’ll describe a scenario that will bring something out of you.”

My chest elevates in a breath like I’m running in place. Not sitting. I drop my feet and let go of Baylee’s hand.

She glares at Geoffrey. “You can’t do this to him.”

Before he hones in on Bay like he’s tried before, I immediately stand up and sidestep, blocking her completely. I feel all of my cousins and my brother rise with me

“Luka,” Baylee protests, springing to her feet. I’m taller, so she’s hidden from Geoffrey.

Now I stand face-to-face with the motherfucker I loathe, a row of chairs separating us. Our eyes latched again, I cup my hands in front of me.