1
Today could go straight to hell.
I leaned against the rusted fire escape railing, staring out at the city. As the night deepened, the lights in a thousand windows flared in the darkness like a blanket of stars. The buzz of taxi horns, murmured conversation, and clinking glass swirled around me. A pigeon kept me company, nibbling on the chunks of bread I tossed into the air. I’d named him Hendrix. He visited more days than not, always recognizable by the single black spot above his eye. This place had begun to feel a little like home, even though I’d only moved to New York a few months ago.
Moved.Ha! I’d been living out of my car before this.
My best friend, Serena, joined me on the fire escape and handed me a coffee mug full of white wine—the cheap kind that came in a box. Her midnight hair cascaded around her slim, dark shoulders in perfect waves as she tipped back her head to stare up at the sky. A crescent moon glowed over the buildings. She caught the look on my face and frowned.
“Bad news again?” Serena asked.
I sighed and took a sip. The wine tasted like boiled socks, but it was better than nothing, especially on a night like this. “Rejection. Again. They went with someone else. Surprise, surprise. No one is ever going to give a job to someone who was charged with involuntary manslaughter. The HR guy said I was more than qualified, but they had ‘concerns’ about me. What a dick.”
It was at least the fiftieth job I’d applied to since moving to the city. I’d managed to make it to the interview stage a few times, but it always ended the same. As soon as they Googled my name, it was all over.
“You were acquitted.”
“Only because they couldn’t prove it. Everyone thinks I’m guilty.” I glanced at Serena, who swirled the wine in her mug. “Except for you.”
She slung her arm around my shoulder and sighed. “This sucks. I’m so sorry. You know I love the hell out of you, Mia.”
“But you still want me out of your very voluptuous hair.” I gave her a knowing smile. “Is Noah coming over tonight?”
Serena flushed and downed her drink in one gulp. “I’m supposed to hang out with him tonight, but I’m not going to kick you out of your own apartment just to see a guy.”
“Yourapartment,” I corrected. “And this studio is not big enough for the three of us, especially when there’s a date involved.”
I glanced at the open window that led back into the Brooklyn apartment. It was in the shape of an L. Along with a minuscule kitchen, the longer section was just big enough for a two-seater couch, a small TV, and a few cluttered shelves. The smaller corner fit nothing but a bed. Serena had hung up a beaded curtain between the two spaces, so we could have the illusion of privacy, but we could still hear each other breathe at night. The place was barely big enough for Serena, let alone the two of us, but she’d insisted I crash on her couch until I found a job and a place for myself.
Unfortunately, my past refused to let me move on.
“Doesn’t matter,” Serena insisted with a fierce smile. “This is your place for as long as you need it to be. Noah and I will go somewhere else. There’s a new bar in Bushwick I’ve been meaning to check out.”
“You’ve been dying for some alone time with him.” I ducked through the window and jumped down onto the warped hardwood floor. “I’ll make myself scarce for a few hours. No big deal.”
Serena followed me inside, frowning. “Mia, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. Where will you even go?”
I shrugged and grabbed my knee-high boots from the rack beside the door. “Exploring. It’s New York City. It’s not like I’ll be bored.”
Before she could object, I tossed her a smile, grabbed the handle, and tugged open the door. I jogged down the three flights of stairs and pushed out into the night. Hordes of people bustled past. The commuters with their backpacks and scuffed sneakers they changed into after a day spent in office shoes. Then, there were the ‘artistes’ with their hipster beards and artisan coffee cups. The harried mothers and the children, the grocery store workers, and the locals who had lived in the neighborhood for decades.
I joined the fray, wandering aimlessly through the streets, until a flyer nailed to a telephone pole caught my eye. The big bold letters announced a job opening for a club in Hell’s Kitchen, of all places. They needed a dancer, someone to wriggle around in one of the elevated cages while the drunken partiers watched. Auditions were open only on Monday nights when the club was shut to patrons.
There was a strange symbol drawn at the bottom of the flyer. Squiggly lines wrapped around each other, ending in what looked like a devil tail.
Tonight was Monday. I shook my head and stepped back. It was a crazy idea. A dancer at a club? My parents would hate that, not that they would ever hear about it. They hadn’t spoken to me in months. Unlike Serena, they believed the lies about me.
But still. Me, a dancer? Sure, I’d taken ballet and jazz in high school, but I doubt I’d be prancing around in a tutu. This was way out of my comfort zone.
There was really only one way to find out.
I was in desperate need of a job. My bank account was in the negative, and I had nowhere to live. Serena wouldn’t kick me out, but I knew she wanted her space. The other day, I’d overheard her and Noah talk about moving in together one day. I’d squatted in her tiny studio for three months. She’d saved my ass when I had nowhere else to go. It was time to repay the favor.
I snatched the flyer off the telephone poll and turned my feet toward the subway station.
* * *
It took me well over an hour to reach Hell’s Kitchen from Clinton Hill. The subway ride was long, stinky, and boring as hell, and it was enough time for me to rethink my hasty plan. I hadn’t really come dressed for a dance audition, and I had no routine prepared. My dark skinny jeans and black crop top would constrict my movements, and my boots were clunky and heavy.
