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A Night at the Ballet

by Christina Wilson

Standard Disclaimers. I'm just having fun.

Set late season 2.

Scott Sherwood, con man extra-ordinare, and presently the manager of Pittsburgh radio station WENN, looked around cautiously. He pulled his jacket tight, then buttoned the very top button to protect him from the pouring rain.

He shivered slightly in the cool night air, before glancing around again.

He hadn't been to the ballet in seventeen years. He still remembered that night. It would have been a pleasant memory, except Josiah Hopkins, Lola's boyfriend, had been driving the taxi.

By the next morning, everyone at the Loco Follies knew. He'd created a story about sucking up to some rich dame. It hadn't worked. He'd left three days later and sworn he'd never be seen at such an event ever again.

He smiled slightly. He'd seen better performances, of course. In London, Florence...Anna Pavlova as the Dying Swan...

He'd spent years in Europe doing odd jobs between his various 'promotions'. The ones he'd enjoyed most had involved the theater. The two years in London in particular. He'd learned to appreciate classical music, opera, and ballet. Something that was so outside the image he'd created of himself, that no one knew. Hilary boasted of knowing John Barrymore...

Scott had met Olivier, Gielguld, and even Vivian Leigh once. Charming woman. To name drop would mean giving explanations or creating stories. The memories meant too much.

Then came a sound he'd been dreading all evening as he'd sat in the balcony.

"Hey, Jeff. Look, Scott's here too." He turned to greet the couple he saw during the intermission.

"Jeff, Hildy." He shook Jeff's hand. "Some big event happen there?"

Jeff smiled at Hilary, who inched closer to Jeff. She looked elegant and dry standing under their large umbrella. Scott realized they were not going to buy his tale of just walking by.

"A production of the Sleeping Beauty. It's not real acting, but it is beautiful." Hilary's smile was too knowing for Scott's sake. "You really should see it some time."

"Not me, Hildy. I'll see you in the morning." He started to walk off. He'd only gotten maybe twenty feet, when he heard Hilary speak to Jeff.

"Who'd have figured? I wonder where he learned to like ballet?"


The next morning, when he calmly guided Mr. Ingram into the control room, Hilary and Jeff were already bantering.

She looked up from her script, glared at him, then turned to Mackie. "And how are the roses this morning?"

Mackie winced slightly. "Dormant, Miss Booth. But this spring the show should be quite spectacular."

"Ahh, the show," Jeff said. "We actors do like shows. My wife and I went to the ballet last night. She dragged, I followed..." He oomphed when Hilary elbowed him. "We saw the famous and not so famous..."

"Infamous," Hilary muttered. Scott stood behind Mr. Ingram and pointed.

Mackie quickly thumbed through his script. "Will Madame like a cup of Ingram's Coffee?"

"I had a late night, so I could really use a cup, brimming with..."

It would be a long day.

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