I sit stick straight in the chair next to the window. Rye cleared out the entire living room so I could have space to move.
“So, I’m in?” I ask.
Sophia nods. “You have passed this part of the test. I like that your father is clearly so committed to your career. He barely takes his eyes off you.”
She nods at Rye who is standing next to me, arms crossed trying to play the part of supportive father instead of jealous and over protective daddy.
“Daddy is my greatest champion,” I say, glancing up at Rye then, I raise a brow and ask, “What do you mean, this part of the test?”
“I have introduced a new supplementary element,” Alexander says, chiming in with his first words since introductions at the door. “I need to know how committed new dancers are before we take them on, and that’s something we simply can’t judge from an interview like this, even with a dancing demonstration. Your form is excellent, your technique is refined, but we need certainty. It’s very common in successful companies to have a residential period of intense scrutiny.”
Sophia frowns. I’ve not heard of this being part of the process before. But Alexander is the new director, and I guess what he says goes.
“So… you want me to… what?” I prompt them. It’s Sophia who answers.
“Mr. Patrykov feels that the only way to truly assess a new dancer’s commitment is through an extended residential stay.”
“No.” Uncle Rye says the word flatly as all eyes shift to him. He shakes his head. “This wasn’t a part of the deal.”
Alexander lets out a breath through his nose. “Mr. McAllister, it’s admirable that you are so committed to your daughter’s development. But I’m sure, as a father, you’re aware that all things in life require commitment. One hundred and ten percent. You can’t expect us to take Elodie on without—”
“Not happening,” he cuts him off. “She’s my daughter, I don’t fucking give her to anyone.”
“Mr. McAllister, that kind of language—”
“This your idea or his?” Rye says, turning his attention on Sophia. “Well?”
She doesn’t answer at first. Not until Alexander also turns her way. Then her reply is equivocating.
“Mr. McAllister, my personal feelings have nothing to do with this. It is the director’s prerogative to run the company, and if Elodie wishes to be considered for the final cut, she must apply herself. It is true that some dancers in the past have done well in the interview process and then problems have shown up later. A short, residential stay exposes weaknesses and problems that go undetected through the normal practice and try out periods.”
“Precisely,” Alexander says, lifting his chin. “I do not like problems. I do not like drama. A family’s stability is as important as technique and training sometimes. Elodie, what do you say? How important is your dancing career to you?”
I glance from him to Uncle Rye, then back again.
I think about Mom and Dad in San Diego, no doubt waiting for the call to discover if I made it through this test or not. No way I will tell Uncle Rye that Alexander makes me feel weird when he’s too close.
This is everything. It’s everything I’ve worked for and it’s everything they’ve always wanted for me. I can’t let them down.
“Where would I need to go and for how long?” I ask.
Alexander’s eyes narrow at Rye. “You’ll be staying at my home. There will be a vigorous practice schedule and trials, and I will push you. But if you impress me, you will be able to consider yourself accepted and will be well on your way to a track that will take you to the pinnacle of Primary Dancer for the company. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Elodie?”
“Very much,” I say, risking a glance at Rye. His expression is dark, but I plead with my eyes. “This is what I’ve always wanted.”
“I can tell,” Sophia says. “Well then, it’s settled. I will send you the address and we shall expect you to arrive tomorrow. I know you’ll need to make arrangements, so don’t worry about—”
“Dinner is served at 6pm sharp,” Alexander interrupts. “If you aren’t there by then, I will assume you have chosen to withdraw your application. And your current position in the company.”
CHAPTER 7
Rye
“You’re not going,” Rye says as I finish my Facetime with Mom and Dad.
Dad beamed at me. Said how happy he was when I told them I’d moved on to the next stage. I think I caught dad even wiping away a tear.
I roll my eyes. “Daddy, you saw how pleased they were for me. Can’t you be happy, too?Pleeeease?”
