During a break,the ladies swarm Rust with questions about his family, mainly if he per chance has a single, wealthy granddaddy.
Erin approaches me with a bottle of water in her hand. “I’m sorry they’re so rowdy. And so…inappropriate. They’re seriously worse than the group of toddlers I teach on Sunday mornings.”
“I ain’t bothered by their questions. It’s good to see them having fun. Old folks get lonely so easily. It’s sweet of you to give them a place to gather and be social.”
She sips on her water. “They all lost their husbands in the past years and their kids are grown up. Most moved away, only coming ‘round for holidays and such. I’m happy to keep them active.”
“You’re a good person.”
“Thanks, but I don’t know about that. If I’m being honest, I feel guilty, too.”
“Because there ain’t enough hours in the day to help everybody?” I tease.
She shrinks visibly. “Because I’d be lyin’ if I said thatrunning a dance studio in my hometown was all I wanted from life.”
My brows rise. “The nice lady at the restaurant told us you lived in the city for a while?”
“Jeez, Anna really is the biggest gossip in town.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. And she only said great things about you, I promise.”
Erin sighs. “I reckon it’s not a secret. Everybody witnessed my return from New York, tail tucked between my legs.”
“Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”
“I don’t usually like to talk about this stuff but with you it feels surprisingly… easy.”
A glow radiates through me. “Glad to hear that.”
“Guess it’s cause I think you can relate. You being who you are, you know what show business is like…” She slaps a hand over her mouth. “I mean cause you’re a singer! Like, a travelin’ singer! Like all singers know how hard it can be to find work in the creative industries!”
I smile. “Yeah, I knew what you meant the first time.”
Erin peels the corner of the label from the bottle. “Well, my story started when I was a kid and my parents signed me up for ballet classes. I was pretty good. It became my whole life. As a teen, I discovered my love for line dancing.”
“Finding your passion as a little girl is special. Happened to me the same way.”
“And it’s a lot of pressure, too. You get a whole childhood to dream what you’re going to achieve when you’re grown up. Then reality might not measure up.”
I laugh dryly. “Spot on.”
“I worked my butt off to get a partial scholarship and went to New York to get a BA in dance. When I wasn’t studyin’, I waitressed and gave line dance lessons to pay myremaining tuition. I realized I love to dance, but I love to teach and come up with my own choreographies even more.”
“So, you want to be a choreographer?” I ask.
Her eyes drop to the floor, her lip trembling. “After I graduated, I chased every gig in town, but I collected rejections and ended up waitressing more than anything else. Eventually, I told myself I’d return home to regroup. Then I sort of got stuck here. It’s a mental thing, I think.”
She looks back at me and I see an ocean of pain in her blue gaze.
“What if I’m not good enough?” she chokes out.
Tears burn the back of my nose. I know how she feels. I’ve been there, too, and I’m right there again now, wondering if I’m good enough to be on stage as I am. Just Tally.
I brush over her back, rubbing soothing circles. “The creative industry is tough as nails, Erin. Mostly, who makes it ain’t got a thing to do with talent alone. It takes a perfect storm. Often it’s the right contacts and the who-knows-who. Sometimes it’s plain luck. Other times, it’s persistence. Maybe it wasn’tyourtimeyet.”
Her shoulders shake. “But why bother tryin’ again? Why would it work out now if it didn’t happen the first time?”
“Well, why shouldn’t it?” I counter softly.
