The Firefighter and the Virgin Princess by Jemma Harte Page A

got
goosed."
    He shrugged sheepishly and tucked his gloves
away out of sight. No point letting his imagination run away with
him. It was just gloves for Christ's sake.
    Play it cool, Joe. If she wants you, let her
call.
    Why didn't she just call?
    He had too much pride to stand outside the
theater waiting for her again.
    Later he read the note card.
     
    Thank you for everything.
     
    Best wishes,
    Lily
Keene .
     
    Best wishes? Trust the Princess to be so
fucking polite while breaking up with him, he mused.
    Still, how could she break up with him
since, in her mind, they hadn't even started a proper
relationship?
     
    * * * *
     
    She tried not to think about Joe, but he
kept creeping in at the oddest times— during the dull routine of
barre work in class, while taping her hurting toes, while standing
in the wings poised for her entrance. Whenever she heard a siren in
the street.
    One day in class the smoke detectors started
going off. Someone called the fire department, but she didn't see
Joe. Must not be his shift.
    She almost expected to see him outside the
theater again one night, but he didn't come. The weather was bad,
so she couldn't blame him. At least he had gloves now to keep his
hands warm. His lovely, strong, firm hands, that she could not
trust herself to feel again.
    The casting for Sleeping Beauty was posted
two days later. Lily was dancing the Lilac Fairy, and Stacey
Glasson was out. She took all the hollow congratulations fluttering
through the air around her and smiled a little. Yes, it felt good
to be appreciated at last, her hard work and skill recognized.
    But she was sorry that Stacey's troubles
could be so quickly swept aside. That was ballet, of course. If
someone slipped there was always another dancer standing ready to
take their place. That was the way roles were lost and snatched up.
Even the very talented, the exceptional ones, often got their first
big chance because someone else wasn't fit enough, someone else had
fallen. Like the ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall.
    "You've been dancing strong," one of the
dancers told her. "You deserve this, Lily."
    But like Peter had said recently, they were
all talented dancers to have got this far, they all worked hard.
Was any one of them more deserving than another? It was all about
luck. A moment of chance that got a dancer noticed. A higher leg, a
faster spin, a better turnout.
    For some reason, after all her struggles,
now that she had the role she'd wanted for two seasons the sense of
accomplishment was not as great as she'd imagined it would be. She
still wasn't safe from the heel snappers— those waiting for her to
fail. And she realized she never would be. There was no lasting
victory. Not anything that continued beyond the glory of a curtain
call.
    Then, once the applause had faded, she was
alone again and fair game.
    There wasn't much joy in success when she
had no one to share it with. No one who genuinely cared about
her.
     
    * * * *
     
    Riding the Staten Island ferry one day he
ran into Donna. He supposed it was inevitable that he'd see her
again, sooner or later.
    "How ya been, Joe?" she said, holding her
windblown hair back with one hand.
    "Doing good. How about you?"
    "Great. Busy, ya know. With Christmas coming
and everything."
    "Yeah." He looked out over the water toward
the Manhattan skyline. "Busy." Everyone was fucking busy doing
their own thing in that city. Some people couldn't even slow down
to hold a hand when it was offered.
    "I been thinking about you, Joe. About us."
Her voice pummeled his face like the chill wind. "Maybe we can go
out sometime. Get a bite to eat. Talk things over. Sherri said
you're not seeing anyone."
    He looked at her, puzzled. "Why would we do
that, Donna? We already talked."
    "For old time's sake. Maybe we can start
again. You've had time to think about stuff now, right?"
    "What stuff?" He knew damn well that she
hadn't changed. The same old Donna would be pushing for an
engagement ring the moment