The Whipping Turn

Paris - Downhill

Jenna didn't see Oliver and Jean before Giselle rehearsals kicked up a gear and her life was consumed between dancing, work and sleeping. Her left foot and ankle was completely shot but so far she'd been (barely) surviving on voltaren, codiene and regular steroid shots from the doctor had given her. It would appear irresponsible to anyone on the outside but it was the way of life within the dance company. Jenna kept it from the Oliver and Jean and definitely didn't mention it to Edward.

It was another reason why she didn't the see the men either. They had texted back and forth several times, with Jenna reluctantly turning down another play date. They knew she was busy so she knew she wasn't burning bridges but it wasn't completely the busyness that had her declining their texts. By the end of the day, Jenna nearly couldn't walk. Shawna helped her every night to the shower and, shaking her head, brushed away Jenna's tears of pain. Henri cooked dinners, showing up every night with containers of protein-filled food alongside the pain meds he'd taken from his mother's house. Jenna's chosen family knew they couldn't talk her out of this and so just did what they could to support her through it.

Two days out from premiere the pain became almost unbearable and while she continued to push her body past all its limits, Jenna knew she needed a helping hand.

She forced a normal gait and gritted her teeth, exiting from rehearsal for the day. She knew she'd done well in practice. When she danced, her body sang through the pain. There was always a degree of it with every dance and this her body and mind understood. It was in the other moments of the day that she paid for it.

"Oscar. Got a moment?" Jenna touched his shoulder gently as he packed away his drink bottle in his backpack.

"Always for you, ma Cherie." And he swung the backpack up over his shoulder as they walked down the wide hallway.

It was busy, tutus and tights shuffling everywhere.

"Oscar, I need something else."

"Oh Cherie, is it that bad? I thought doc gave you the good stuff?"

"She did. I'll get shots through the performance weeks. But it's getting worse and I'm struggling to get through practice. And like...life."

"You're a good actress, honey."

"Story of my life, Oscar." Jenna smiled at the lithe and stringy man next to her.

Oscar bent down closer to Jenna's ear. It was bustling but it didn't pay to be stupid in these situations. "I can get you coke. And some sort of downer, maybe sleeping pills?"

"Yes please. When? How much?"

Oscar relayed the details and they arranged to meet at his place later the evening.

-----------------

Jenna patted her cross-body handbag and pulled close the cab door. A bag of pills, a bag of white powder and instructions enough that it almost seemed legit. Oscar's lounge had been like some bizarre pharmacy and Jenna realised that this dark side of ballet was sometimes a normal one behind the scenes. Oscar lived, partied and loved with other dancers and Jenna was grateful for Shawna and Henri and their outsider-ness that had helped Jenna stay in the light until now.

Her phone buzzed. Pulling it out, careful not to disturb or flash her packages, she peered at the screen. A text from Jean. She'd been so fixated on ballet that she hadn't thought of the boys.

Well, as much.

Jean: Hey, beautiful. Know you're busy. Got time to let off some steam with 2 old (BUT SEXY) men?

She smiled in spite of herself.
And she was very tempted. But showing up either with a pile of coke or coked up to a policeman's house didn't seem so wise.