Backstage at the Grand Theatre, dancers stretched on rosin-dusted floors while stagehands called cues into their headsets. The air smelled of hairspray, sweat and powder.
In the star’s dressing room, Chloe sat before the mirror in white feathers and crystals. She was dressed for the dying swan.
The dressing-room door struck the wall. Everyone inside stopped talking.
My parents stood in the doorway wearing the expensive clothes they had chosen for the premiere. They had attended every one of Chloe’s opening nights.
This time, my father kept one hand on his service weapon. My mother’s makeup had streaked down her face. Beneath her evening jacket, dried blood marked one cuff of her white coat.
Chloe’s smile slipped and came back. “Mommy? Daddy? You’re here. What happened? Is it Harper? D
