Trouble in a Fur Coat (The Fur Coat Society Book 1) by Sloane Meyers
Authors: Sloane Meyers
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liquid, and the meds she had taken started to kick in, Silver started to feel a little bit better. She told herself to just remain calm, and take the day as it came. She’d danced while injured and sick before. She could power through this.
As Silver took another long drag from her juice, her phone screen suddenly lit up, and the intercom system in her condo started dinging before announcing, “Call from, Joe’s house. Call from, Joe’s house.”
Silver rolled her eyes and groaned. Seriously, hadn’t he given up by now? You’d think that after smearing her name in the local press, he’d at least have the decency to not call her anymore.
“Ignore call,” Silver said. The dinging and computer voice died down. A few moments later, another dinging announced that she had a voicemail. With a sigh, Silver commanded the computer to play the message.
“This oughta be good,” she muttered to herself. But as the message started playing, Silver was surprised to find that it wasn’t Joe’s voice on the line. Instead, it was his father. The sound of Mr. Astor’s voice, sneering and jubilant, made Silver’s blood run cold.
“Well, hello there, Silver. I bet you weren’t expecting it to be me, were you? I was just wondering how you were feeling. It would be a shame if you feel ill on the last night of the show now, wouldn’t it?”
The message ended with maniacal laughter, and Silver shivered. Her brain might have been moving a little sluggishly this morning, but it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Silver’s hand went up to her flaming hot forehead again. Mr. Astor knew she was sick. And she knew that, somehow, he’d had something to do with it. But how?
Silver racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d had anything usual happen to her in the last few days. But everything was a blur of rehearsals and performances, with a bit of avoiding the press mixed in. Nothing seemed sinister or too out of the ordinary.
Silver stumbled to the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Her head was spinning and she was exhausted. She picked up her phone, intending to text Storm or her brother. But she decided against it at the last minute. They would only freak out and worry about her. Instead, she decided to set an alarm to wake her up in an hour. She could sleep that long and still make it downtown in time for her warm-up. She needed all the rest she could get right now.
* * *
Several hours later, Silver stood backstage, breathing in and out slowly and trying to steady herself in a room that refused to stop spinning. She had already made it through the afternoon matinee performance. All that was left was the final evening performance. She hadn’t danced her best in the afternoon’s performance, but she had done a good enough job that no one except her dance coaches would truly see the difference. Now, though, she was feeling the effects of expending that much energy while sick. She was supposed to go on in fifteen minutes, and she was beginning to accept the fact that she might not make it through this last performance. Her understudy was greedily circling backstage, trying to act concerned but really just hoping that she would have the chance to dance the last performance. Silver hated to admit it, but today might be that girl’s lucky day.
Silver closed her eyes and tried to block out everything around her. She used to be strong, stubborn, and fearless. Some days, like today, she wondered what had happened to the spunky little girl she used to be. A little fever had never stopped her before. And yet, here she was, wondering whether she should just throw in the towel on the last night of the biggest show of her career thus far. Was she really that sick? Or was she just getting older and too complacent? If she powered through, she believed deep down she could do this. But did she really want to? What did it matter, anyway? No one she knew was here to watch her. At the end of the day,
As Silver took another long drag from her juice, her phone screen suddenly lit up, and the intercom system in her condo started dinging before announcing, “Call from, Joe’s house. Call from, Joe’s house.”
Silver rolled her eyes and groaned. Seriously, hadn’t he given up by now? You’d think that after smearing her name in the local press, he’d at least have the decency to not call her anymore.
“Ignore call,” Silver said. The dinging and computer voice died down. A few moments later, another dinging announced that she had a voicemail. With a sigh, Silver commanded the computer to play the message.
“This oughta be good,” she muttered to herself. But as the message started playing, Silver was surprised to find that it wasn’t Joe’s voice on the line. Instead, it was his father. The sound of Mr. Astor’s voice, sneering and jubilant, made Silver’s blood run cold.
“Well, hello there, Silver. I bet you weren’t expecting it to be me, were you? I was just wondering how you were feeling. It would be a shame if you feel ill on the last night of the show now, wouldn’t it?”
The message ended with maniacal laughter, and Silver shivered. Her brain might have been moving a little sluggishly this morning, but it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Silver’s hand went up to her flaming hot forehead again. Mr. Astor knew she was sick. And she knew that, somehow, he’d had something to do with it. But how?
Silver racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d had anything usual happen to her in the last few days. But everything was a blur of rehearsals and performances, with a bit of avoiding the press mixed in. Nothing seemed sinister or too out of the ordinary.
Silver stumbled to the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Her head was spinning and she was exhausted. She picked up her phone, intending to text Storm or her brother. But she decided against it at the last minute. They would only freak out and worry about her. Instead, she decided to set an alarm to wake her up in an hour. She could sleep that long and still make it downtown in time for her warm-up. She needed all the rest she could get right now.
* * *
Several hours later, Silver stood backstage, breathing in and out slowly and trying to steady herself in a room that refused to stop spinning. She had already made it through the afternoon matinee performance. All that was left was the final evening performance. She hadn’t danced her best in the afternoon’s performance, but she had done a good enough job that no one except her dance coaches would truly see the difference. Now, though, she was feeling the effects of expending that much energy while sick. She was supposed to go on in fifteen minutes, and she was beginning to accept the fact that she might not make it through this last performance. Her understudy was greedily circling backstage, trying to act concerned but really just hoping that she would have the chance to dance the last performance. Silver hated to admit it, but today might be that girl’s lucky day.
Silver closed her eyes and tried to block out everything around her. She used to be strong, stubborn, and fearless. Some days, like today, she wondered what had happened to the spunky little girl she used to be. A little fever had never stopped her before. And yet, here she was, wondering whether she should just throw in the towel on the last night of the biggest show of her career thus far. Was she really that sick? Or was she just getting older and too complacent? If she powered through, she believed deep down she could do this. But did she really want to? What did it matter, anyway? No one she knew was here to watch her. At the end of the day,
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