I nudge her. “Are we missing someone in this line? Number three sixty-seven?”
“Yeah, cross them out,” she says, pointing out the discrepancy to David.
I mark them off, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. My eyes drift back to the dancers. No standouts in this line. I scratch through the rest of them.
My gaze slides to where three sixty-seven should be.
I grab the full packets and start thumbing through them.
Three sixty-seven should be a male dancer.
I turn to Ruiz, sitting behind me, and hold out the packet. “He isn’t here, and his photo is missing.”
He pulls up the tablet and scrolls through the camera feed. I can’t see what he sees, but his voice drops low.
“Stay here.”
He’s already striding toward the rear entrance.
Meg shoots me a questioning glance. I shrug and tilt the crossed-out sheet toward her. She nods. David must sense it too, because he calls for the next line.
I glance at my phone. Almost five.
A little over one hundred auditions left.
It’s moving fast, all things considered.
The next line steps forward.
I press my hand to my stomach as I watch them. I circle two names.
We reach the final grouping.
Ruiz hasn’t returned.
I shoot off a quick text and dig an antacid from my bag.
David has commandeered one of the rooms understage for an office, and we head there to compare sheets. I can still hear his assistant giving instructions to the hopefuls.
When we step inside, the sharp smell of olive tapenade and garlic hits.
My mouth waters.
Plates are laid out with muffaletta sandwiches, glasses of sweet tea, and Zapp’s Voodoo chips. My stomach growls. I drop my bag on the floor and barely avoid hip-checking Meg as I grab a bag and take a crunchy, satisfying bite.
I layer chips onto my sandwich and take a huge bite, groaning at the flavor. Just the right amount of crunch.
Meg makes an exasperated sound.
I tune back in. “Sorry,” I mumble, covering my mouth. “I just realized I haven’t eaten today.”
She repeats the process we’re using to narrow the dancers, and we settle in.
By the time I finish my second sandwich, we have our callbacks ready to post.
I check my phone again. No response from Ruiz.
The food I so gleefully ate rolls in my stomach.
