Wrestling the Kraken

Bridgett

Bridgett

Bridgett had just enough time for the first show, before going to meet Lanz for dinner. She wanted to see the act they had chosen from the auditions. They didn't waste any time at all. The new act was promoted everywhere as the new must see hit. Everyone around was chiming in on that buzz, wondering what it would be.

Thinking back to the auditions, she couldn't remember anyone who came after her. It was all fogged out of her memory. There was still a pang in her gut at being passed up, at not being enough, though she worked so hard and waited so long. Rejected. He just sat there.

"You never had a chance." A voice sprung up inside her thoughts. She stopped, arms wrapped across her chest and took a deep breath. It took significant effort to quell the voice and enjoy the moment.

She focused on the sights around her. The glittering chandelier in the lobby. The ice sculptures along the wall. One was a tiger, another was a lotus flower, and beside it was a flock of birds taking flight. They fit right in with the theme of the night. The two avenues that grow and blossom from the mud--strength and freedom. Fragile and easily destroyed as with ice. Whether that was the intended theme or not, that was her interpretation of it in any case.

Focused on the feeling it brought her, It was an escape to a private realm of blissful paradise. Inner worlds and their meanings seemed to make more sense than reality ever had in her experience. Soon all her muscles began to relax.

She caught sight of the girl they had pulled aside as they left on their exile march. Everyone assumed she was the act chosen, but Bridgett saw the truth. The girl was dressed in a skimpy outfit selling candy in the lobby. They made brief eye contact, then a customer approached her.

Making her way to the grand room where the show was about to take place, Bridgett handed her ticket to the usher. She was waved in and walked through the double doors. The grandness of the room immediately filled her and took her breath away just as it did the last time she was here.

The stage upfront, the stage where she had stood not all that long ago. She could still sense the rush it gave her, performing her routine, knowing who was sitting there in the front row.

The crowd began to hush as the light grew dim and Bridgett quickly made her way to her seat. She wanted a good view, so she sat right in the center. There was silence, darkness and... stillness. No one had shown up on stage yet. A cough was heard in the back. A slow murmur began to rise. Then a figure emerged from the side of the stage. The audience hushed once again. Another cough. A spotlight focused on the figure, illuminating Dante Rossini. He stood with an even face.

"Without further ado, Ms. Vivianne Cordova." He projected, bowed, then exited the stage.

Short and to the point. He seemed a bit... off. Shouldn't the Master of Ceremonies be up there? Then again with a new act being presented, Dante may have wanted to introduce it himself. Seems likely, but why did he look that way?

Red velvet curtains parted. Vivianne stood on stage with a feathered costume- gold embroidered bodysuit and nude stockings. Was she the intro act? It wasn't surprising and she supposed someone as star-studded as she was would dip her toe into whatever act she wanted. The poor soul that everyone came to see would have to go on after her. She could just imagine the pressure and nerves going through them now, watching Vivianne from backstage.

Then Bridgett froze... but not her heart. Her heart pounded in her chest. The spotlight settled on Vivianne, expanding bigger as she began her routine.

She posed while she waited for the music to start up. Then the intro came on. A slow build up, First with the trombone in the low bum. Bum bum bum bum. Bum bum bum bum. Then the concert bass drum joined in. Bum. Drum. Bum bum bum bum. Drum. Bum bum bum bum. Drum.

It was her music! She continued watching... It was her routine! An applause roared from the crowd as Vivianne hung upside, her legs above her head, held in a pose. The audience gasped and delighted as the show went on. Bridgett looked around at them, stunned. An icy chill grabbed her at the throat. Vivianne bent her back inside the hoop and twirled in the air.

She had seen enough. Wanting out of there quick, she now regretted sitting in the center. Now, she was blocked in on either side. The hell with it. She needed out, now.

Bridgett stood up and made her way down the row, not stopping to apologize for toes being stepped on. Remarks were made- but they didn't register- and popcorn landed in her face. At last, she reached the end of the row.

♦

Dante looked out into the audience at a commotion happening in the center row. A blonde female was hastily trying to make her way out. He watched as she rushed through the doors. Poor soul, he thought.

♦

It came as a gutting blow. Walking down the street away from the theater, the winds had picked up. The sky still held a touch of grey.

Bridgett could hear the echo of the voice, hollowing out a space down into the pits of her stomach. Each word, each glare from this imagined ghost went falling into the pit, landing corrosively like acid. Her stomach ached and fluttered at the pseudo presence. Tears welled up, unable to fall. Her vision blurred. She had to stop. Wiping at her eyes, her mascara smearing down to her cheeks, she took a heavy sigh. Looking behind her at the theater now in the distance, she thought, now what? Vivianne was already next on her list. Tonight just solidified it. Dante allowed this to happen? He did tell her the circus was cutthroat.

Her head was filling up with too many thoughts. There was still the matter of the copycat. I may not be able to deal with Vivianne just yet, but I can find Claire Bernett.