He raises an eyebrow. “Very impressive, Miss Montrose.”
The sides go off well. I’m acting my face off without overdoing it. The fact that I’m not holding a bunch of papers in my hand frees me, and I hope it’ll set me apart from the other women in the lobby.
“Excellent work, Miss Montrose,” Mr. Shippe says. “And now for the dance audition.” He gestures to a screen in the corner of the studio. “Do you need to change into something that moves a bit more easily?”
“Not a problem.” I quickly take my top off and shimmy out of my black pants to reveal my leggings and sports bra.
Mr. Shippe gazes a little too long on my boobs, but he is a man. “Whenever you’re ready, Jake will play you in.”
The dance combo isn’t too complex in the beginning. A few jazz squares, a grape vine stage left and back, and lots of swaying my arms to the beat. That’s just a warm-up, though. The second half is where the acrobatics start. I’ve been taking ballet as long as I can remember, and those moves are easy for me. I get through the first half without a hitch, but right as I’m about to stick the landing of my second pas de bourrée, a sharp pain shoots through my ankle and I fall to the floor.
The audition panel groans as I take a tumble, and I quickly scramble back to my feet. “Sorry, may I try that one again?”
Mr. Shippe checks his watch. “I’m afraid we’re at time, Miss Montrose. We have to bring the next auditioner in.” He shuffles through a few more papers on the table in front of him. “Please wait out in the lobby. At the end of this group of auditioners, we’ll let you know if you can go home. Thank you.”
Fighting back tears, I gather my outer clothes from where I stripped and walk out of the room.
I did so well and then fucked it all up on the damned dance combo. The dance combo that I just performed a dozen times perfectly in the dance studio I rented.
This is it. I know they’re going to cut me. There’s no point in me even staying to hear my name read out loud by the director.
Another girl—thin and blonde, just like me, but with better tits and lips—walks in after me. Two more take their audition before Mr. Shippe comes out with a list of names.
“Thank you all for coming to today’s auditions. I realize how hard you’ve all worked on these callbacks, and I wish I could cast you all. The following are released.”
He rattles off a list of names, and one by one, women get to their feet, pack their things, and saunter out of the room.
I keep expecting to hear my name, but then the strangest thing happens.
I don’t.
“Thank you again for your time, ladies.” Mr. Shippe nods to the few girls who are still slowly making their way to the elevators. “Everyone else, hang tight. We’ll be bringing you back in.”
Oh, my God!
I made it to the next round!
This is the closest I’ve ever come to booking a Broadway show.
But…
I fucked up the dance.
I fell flat on my ass.
And from what I understand about Reflections, Lisa is a very dance-heavy role.
Why wasn’t I cut?
Something isn’t right about this.
15
HARRISON
Saturday.
Doctors don’t always get weekends. After all, people don’t just get sick during normal working hours. But this weekend I happen to be off the hook. I’m not even on call, so nothing can keep me away from my oyster date with Bianca this evening.
