Manon is standing by the wall where my bag is. As I approach, she turns around, her lip curling into a delicate sneer.
“There is no way that Kaia will be chosen by the NYB. They only recruit five graduates from every ballet academy in the world each year. You just…” Her eyes scan my body, a smirk appearing on her lips. “Don’t measure up. You should apply for Cincinnati or Birmingham or somewhere that they need second rate ballerinas, honestly.”
My heart drops toward my feet. I open my mouth to return her snarky comment, but Ella walks over, inserting herself in the situation. Ella refuses to let anybody talk to her or her friends with disrespect… and I’m lucky enough that she has adopted me as one of her besties.
Whatever that means for ballerinas, anyway.
“Shut the fuck up, Manon. Don’t you have a broomstick somewhere to polish up before the next full moon?” she says, making shooing motions with her hands. Her Southern accent is thick as molasses and twice as syrupy-sweet.
Manon’s lips twist. “Go back to whatever hillbilly town you’re from. Leave the rest of the world alone.”
“First of all, I’m from Marietta, which a suburb of Atlanta. And second, you’d better watch your mouth before I clean it out with a fucking bar of soap.” Ella says.
“Ugh, bitch.” Manon storms off, disappearing through the studio door. I look at Ella, beyond grateful.
“Thanks,” I say, shaking my head. “You always have the best retorts. I wish I was more like that.”
Ella squeezes my upper arm. “Everybody does, boo.”
She slides her gaze to Eric, her gaze tightening just a little. She doesn’t completely approve of Eric for some reason and makes that pretty clear.
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she asks.
Eric gives her an odd look. “It’s late Saturday afternoon. We’re done with practice for the day. Where is it exactly that you think I should go?”
Ella puts her hand on her hip and rolls her eyes. She turns her attention back to me. “I’m going to see a play tonight. Any interest in attending?”
I wrinkle my nose and pull off my point shoes. “I can’t. I have to work. Raincheck?”
“Sure,” she says with a shrug.
Ella pulls a pair of dark sweatpants out of her duffel bag, quickly swapping her white skirt for the pants. I unwrap my laces and pull off my shoes. Eric is pulling on a pair of pants and a tight ivory sweater.
For a minute, the studio is quiet, the sound of everyone changing and moving out of the room dominating the space.
Ella pulls her pink fleece jacket on over her white leotard and then pulls her duffel bag strap onto her shoulder. I zip my jeans, shove my feet into my pink Converse, and pull a dark oversized fleece jacket on my body.
As soon as I shoulder my bag, Ella starts gently ushering me towards the door. “Hey, speaking of the auditions for the New York Ballet. Did you guys get a casting call in the mail?”
Eric nods, following us. “Yeah. The audition dates for people from our academy are the first through the fourth of next month.”
My hands tighten on the strap of my duffel bag. I look down the long hallway lined with rehearsal rooms and instructor’s offices, toward the white metal door at the very end. “I can’t believe that we are less than a month away from auditions,” I confess.
Eric snorts. “I auditioned for San Francisco last week. We are firmly within audition season, I think.”
“I did Atlanta two weeks ago,” Ella adds. “It was nice to get to see my folks. I didn’t want them to realize that I will choose Atlanta as a last resort, though. I’ve got my eyes on someplace here in New York.”
“Yeah, I really want to stay here,” I say, nodding. “I’m actually only applying to a few places.”
Eric shakes his head and hikes his duffel bag up on his arm. “I applied to ten companies. I want options.”
I reach the doorway at the end of the hall first. Shouldering it open, I shiver against the cool New York City fall. As I hold the door for Ella and Eric, I glance at the soon to be setting sun where it peeks out from a gap between two towering skyscrapers.
The three of us walk toward the busy sidewalk. At this hour, the streets of Manhattan are packed with people of every description. Every color, every gender, every sexual orientation. It makes me breathe a little easier.
In New York City, I have a lot more anonymity and autonomy than I could ever have found if I’d just stayed in buttoned up, privileged Hartford. That’s where my family is from and probably one of my least favorite places on the planet.
I heave a sigh as we all begin to head our separate ways.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” I say, shooting Eric and Ella both a little smile.
“Have fun working at the laundromat,” Eric says, lifting a hand in a wave.
My cheeks stain red again. I definitely don’t work at a laundromat. That’s just the first thing that came to mind when Eric first asked me about my job. “Thanks,” I manage.
“Bye,” Ella says, already moving away.
I turn and start walking quickly toward the closest subway station. Pulling my cell phone out to check the time, I see that I’ve missed three calls from home. Sucking in a deep breath, I realize that I don’t have time to call my father back. That causes a ripple of unease to slide down my spine.
My father doesn’t have the best temperament when I am at his beck and call; when I miss his phone calls, he morphs into a sinister, dark character with a serious anger problem.
But I absolutely cannot be late for work. I need this job too much to screw around and get fired. Maybe if I am very lucky, I’ll be able to call my dad back while I make the quick trip from the station to the club…
Chewing on my lower lip, I shove my phone into my duffel bag and hurry down the steps to the subway.
2
Calum
I throw open the door to my penthouse loft, peering down at a young brunette. In her black pencil skirt, white button up blouse, and black peacoat, she’s dressed for the office. Her dark hair is pinned up in a messy bun and she clutches several binders and file folders to her chest.
“Hi,” she says, smiling a little breathlessly. “Mr. Fordham?”
I lean out of the doorway, glancing around at the neat white waiting room. If I was hoping for some sign of who this girl is, I’m disappointed. There is no one else with her except the closing doors of the elevator.
“How did you get up here?” I ask.
Her cheeks color. “I asked the man at the front desk to allow me to bring you some things from work.”
I stare at her, trying to puzzle out what exactly she means. I feel caught off guard and a little bit underdressed; I make it a rule to wear a full three piece suit everywhere but here at my home and at dance rehearsal.
When I don’t answer right away, she blushes and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Maybe you don’t recognize me. I’m Amy? I work as a personal assistant at Indica Tech corporate. I’m one of your PAs.”
I breathe out through my nose, my lips twisting. “Is there a reason you are bothering me at my home, Amy?”
She sucks in a breath. “I brought you the sales reports. They took longer than I thought, so you’d already left the office by the time they were done. And I know that they carry sensitive information, so…” She flashes a timid smile. “Here I am.”