Page 74 of Dancing on Air

Once the stage was cleared, he rushed back to his office and stumbled upon his mother and father once again fighting in the small space.

“I can’t do this now,” he said, shaking his head.

“She’s finally divorcing me,” his father spat out. “I always threatened, but never expected…” He dropped off.

“Good,” he countered. “Later.” He pointed to the door.

His father marched out the open door. Before his mother could leave, he took her arm.

“Thank you for the flowers you sent to Cora. Whatever you said, she cried happy tears.” He smiled at her.

His mother softened. “After tonight, maybe we can sit down and you can properly introduce me to her. I’m trying to cut out the bad in my life.” She glanced towards the door. “I have to make changes.”

He nodded. “I’m proud of you,” he told her. Then he had to answer a phone call and she walked out.

“Max, this is Riley, Cora’s makeup artist. She was supposed to meet me in her dressing room for makeup after rehearsal.”

“Right.” Max glanced at his watch. Less than half an hour before the curtains would rise.

“She’s not here. I’ve asked around and no one has seen her,” Riley continued.

Max frowned and turned back towards the office door. “I’m heading your way. I’ll find her and get her to you in time.” He hung up.

He asked every single person he passed in the hallway if they’d seen Cora.

No one had.

When he stepped into her dressing room, he frowned at Riley. “She’s not here?”

The woman shook her head. “No, I’m getting worried. I need—” she started but Max turned and rushed out of the room, pulling out his phone.

When he heard the phone ring behind him, he glanced back in Cora’s dressing room.

“Her phone is here,” Riley said, shaking it.

He hung up and turned back around, scanning the dozens and dozens of dancers all warming up or getting ready.

“Has anyone seen Cora?” he called out over their heads.

Everyone shook their heads.

Then Cora Jenkins raised her hand. “I think I saw her heading down to the locker rooms.”

Max sprinted down the hallway, down a set of stairs, and knocked on the woman’s locker-room door.

When no one answered, he opened the door just a crack.

“Cora?” he called out. He was just about to turn and leave when he heard a grunt.

Rushing inside, he was shocked by the sight of Cora being held on the ground by a rather large dark-haired woman. The woman’s forearm was directly over Cora’s windpipe, cutting off her air. To his horror, Cora’s face was turning blue.

It took him a second to get across the room and shove the woman off Cora. The woman fought back, swinging out at him. A split second of sharp pain exploded in his chest as the woman struck out again. This time, he easily blocked her blow.

Hearing something hit the ground, he yanked the woman’s arms up and behind her as he shoved her face-first into the row of lockers.

“Max,” Cora croaked. “Don’t hurt her.”

Just then the locker-room door burst open. His mother rushed into the room.