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Dorian
As I watched Tatiana sing her heart out, I wondered to myself: where the hell has this person been all this time?
But as shocked as I was by the lead actor’s previously underutilized singing voice, I couldn’t stop staring at Nadia in the back. Gorgeous in her tight black pants and the loose-fitting shirt she wore for rehearsal, her hair pulled back tight, which showed off the bones of her face. She was beautiful. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her for the past day.
I was starting to believe that I was over my ex once and for all. Nadia wasn’t going to be a rebound. If we had something, it would be special. Powerful.
I had come to this conclusion, and was about to say so to Braden next to me, when Tatiana disappeared.
Literally disappeared. Poof; gone from my periphery in an instant.
Everything happened very quickly.
Somewhere out of sight, Tatiana let out a scream of terror which cut off suddenly. Then it returned tenfold, but now it was a scream of pain.
The backup dancers started shouting and rushing toward the trapdoor. The Times writer leaped to his feet and tried to get a better view of what had happened.
Up in the catwalks, Ryan ran to the railing and peered over the edge.
“Tatiana?” one of the dancers called down into the trapdoor. “Don’t move. We’re coming.”
She wailed as if she couldn’t hear them.
Atkins rushed backstage, and Braden and I followed. He slammed through the door leading to the basement and took the steps two at a time, flying around the corner to the second flight and practically leaping to the bottom. The door there opened into the sub-stage, which was pitch black except for a cone of light descending from the trapdoor in the middle.
Braden reached for the light switch.
It was dusty and smelled like old clothes down here. Permanent electrical wiring and temporary lines run for this specific show snaked along the ceiling underneath the stage, which was 12 feet above our heads. Crates had been placed down here for temporary storage, but aside from them it was completely open space.
Except for the stage cushioning directly underneath the trapdoor.
Stage padding lay flat on the ground, the same dense stuff used to keep football players from hurting themselves when they ran into field goal poles. Tatiana lay on her back, moaning and clutching her knee while rolling her head back and forth in agony.
“My knee! I landed on it, my knee, I hurt my knee…”
A 12 foot drop onto padding wasn’t dangerous… when you were expecting it and could brace yourself. When it came unexpectedly, one could break their leg, or neck. I steeled myself for what I would see when I approached Tatiana, but fortunately all of her joints bent the correct way.
That was little consolation to the lead actress, though.
“How could this happen?” she wailed, eyes clenched shut. “I was in my song, my solo song!”
Atkins fell to her side and smoothed her hair. “Shh, it’s alright. We’re going to take care of you.” He looked over his shoulder at me. “Call an ambulance.”
“On it.”
Braden joined him at her side, and tenderly touched her leg. He’d taken a class in CPR and first aid. “Tell me where it hurts.”
“It’s my knee!” she shrieked. “I told you it’s me knee!”
“Could be her ACL,” Braden said quietly to Atkins. “She needs an MRI.”
Ryan and Andy arrived at that precise moment. After a quick glance at Tatiana, they craned their necks to look up at the trapdoor.
“There’s a solenoid,” Andy said, pointing.
Ryan cursed.
Atkins grabbed them by the arms and dragged them over to the wall. “Can you tell me how the hell this happened?”
