Match Pointe. Indigo Bloome
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It was almost ten years to the day since Eloise had packed up her life as a child in Australia and moved to London. She’d been both nervous and excited back then, and now she was doing the same thing, but on Caesar’s terms. Other than becoming a ballerina, nothing much had changed; she still felt alone, and detached from the world.
As she had many times during her young life, she desperately wished she had someone close to confide in, to share the decision she was making, which would no doubt have a momentous impact on the course of her life. For a brief moment, she allowed her heart to yearn for the mother and father she never had, for the sense of belonging they might have provided, and which she’d never experienced. She opened the lid of her music box, and listened to the familiar melody as the memories of her past played in her mind …
There had barely been a night when the box hadn’t been by her bedside, inspiring her to continued greatness as a dancer, and reminding her of the only times when she felt free from the heaviness of her narrow life. Her music box was the only possession that had been with her since she was a baby, and it anchored her to the world. She had treasured it as she went from one foster home to another – until the day she discovered ballet.
From that point on, Eloise had focused on dancing above all else in her life; it was the only love she knew. Her dedication had finally been repaid when she was offered a place at the prestigious White Lodge, on the outskirts of London. The scholarship she was awarded gave her a real chance to pursue her dream of becoming a principal ballerina. She remembered walking up the grandiose stairs of the beautiful Georgian house in Richmond Park, at the tender age of twelve, and determinedly heading through the large glass doors, leaving her loveless childhood behind her and throwing herself into dance and academic training as a full-time boarder.
Since then, up until a few weeks ago, her life as a ballerina had followed a perfect trajectory. But now everything had changed. She knew she had to be strong; it was time to grow up and face the real world. It was the only way, for there was no one else to cushion her fall.
She remembered all the times she had gone to sleep listening to her music box as she watched the tiny, spinning ballerina with tears in her eyes. Reluctantly, she closed the lid, trapping the tiny dancer in darkness for the foreseeable future. For the first time ever, she was leaving the box behind, breaking the bonds of her past and starting life anew. As she packaged it up carefully, she couldn’t bring herself to place it in storage, so she decided to send it to Caesar with a brief note asking him to look after her most precious possession, hoping it might help make their connection to each other a little more personal than a business deal.
She reflected that she herself was just like the tiny ballerina, giving Caesar custody of her life for the next two years. She would reopen the box at the end of those two years, as her life began a new chapter – whatever that might be. The symbol of her past would be the bridge to her future.
Discipline had ensured that she overcame the feelings of grief that had threatened her over the years, and it would do the same today. She took three deep breaths, and forced herself to control her emotions. Finally she was brave enough to close the book on her childhood and embark on her journey into adulthood – or at least, the journey she had allowed Caesar to map out for her.
The black Mercedes was waiting for her on the kerb as she left her apartment for the last time. Without looking back, she politely acknowledged the chauffeur and stepped into the car that would transport her to Heathrow and thrust her into her new world. The practice run in her contract became effective from the moment the car door slammed shut.
Cognac
The past few months had provided Caesar with the perfect opportunity to implement his Number One Strategy. Sir Lloyd’s idea of appointing Xavier Gemmel, the exciting new choreographer, and allowing him to bring three ballet dancers with him – one of them being the widely acclaimed Russian Natalia Karsavina – was a random stroke of luck that played right into Caesar’s hands. Caesar had used his considerable powers to persuade the other Board members to endorse the proposal, then it had only taken a few phone calls to indirectly threaten the withdrawal of funding should Natalia not be offered the role of Principal in Manon. After all, it made sound artistic sense, given that Xavier and Natalia had worked together many times before. It would be far less risky for the Royal Ballet and provide for a smoother transition into the new season. Of course, Sir Lloyd and the Board concurred. The entire operation had been seamless and had taken very little effort to coordinate. Time well spent, from Caesar’s point of view.
The fact that Eloise had stormed out of the ballet, emotionally distraught after not having been given the role of Manon, had been no surprise to him whatsoever. After all, he had done his research on her life – or at least his people had – and it had become abundantly clear that she was an anchorless ship, cast into the vastness of the ocean with no land in sight. Presenting his offer had been like fishing with a scoop in a goldfish bowl. Some might have thought such a plan heartless and cruel, and perhaps it was, but after all, you don’t become rich in this world by caring about other people’s feelings.
As Caesar gazed at the music box that had just been delivered to his office, he wondered what the future might hold for Eloise – a young lady with such focus, yet so dependent on the approval of others. He did honestly hope she managed to find more meaning in her life over two years of being thrown into the volatile, competitive world of men’s tennis, where there was much to gain and everything to lose. But then again, he could almost say the same of himself, which was why he had the tiniest soft spot for the loneliness that pervaded her life. If he hadn’t had his father as such a strong presence, he could see his life might have turned out exactly like that of Eloise Lawrance.
Suddenly he hoped that she might find an anchor, a partner to love – something that he had never managed to secure. He had tried once, failed and been left heartbroken, and he never wanted to experience such pain again.
But if her affections didn’t align with his overall strategy, well, naturally there would be consequences. Her life was now in his hands, and as long as she played by his rules all would be well. He hadn’t achieved such success by being weaker than his opponents, and anyone who was contracted to him was on a tight leash until they proved they were worthy of his trust, particularly when the stakes were so high. The amount of money he had riding on this strategy was obscene, but it needed to be to make him feel personally vested and inherently alive. For other than the thrill of winning, not too much did these days!
Power and information were the only vices he allowed himself. He’d seen too many men destroy their lives and their fortunes because of their lack of control over their weaknesses – sex, booze, gambling or drugs. He enjoyed all of these, but only on his terms and only ever in moderation.
Reflecting on this, Caesar poured a modest portion of cognac into a crystal balloon and took a rare quiet moment to reflect on how the seeds of an idea had blossomed into this reality. He had shuffled all the cards, dealt his best hand and would now wait patiently to reap the rewards.
A Peak Performance Creed