She nodded slowly.
“Well, I can assure you, they take place inside the building, not out here.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.
She nodded and smiled back timidly. “Trying to find the courage to go in,” she answered in a raspy voice.
His mouth twitched as he walked to the door, opened it, and gestured for her to go inside. When she shook her head, he put his hand on his hip. “Well, I can’t go inside and leave you out here in the wind. It would be ungentlemanly of me.”
Sabrina bit her lip and walked inside quickly, clutching her bag to her chest and not looking at him. “Thank you,” she said to the floor.
“You’re quite welcome.”
Her stomach growled. Horrified, she wrapped her arms around it to muffle the sound as she blushed.
He didn’t give any indication that he had heard. “What’s your name?”
“S-Sabrina.”
He grinned again and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, S-Sabrina. I’m Jayson.”
She shook his hand quickly, avoiding meeting his eyes again, then clasped her bag to her chest again.
“Check-in’s over here.” He put his hand on her lower back to guide her across the room. After a few steps, she wiggled away from him. He motioned to a table where a woman with curly blonde hair sat, a pile of papers and numbers in front of her. “Chassidy, this is Sabrina. She’s here for the auditions. Will you make sure she gets everything she needs?”
She looked at Sabrina with raised eyebrows. “Sure, Jayson.”
“Thanks, sweets.” Chassidy looked at him as if ready to melt into a puddle of goo. “Break a leg,” Jayson said, grinning at Sabrina, then strode away.
“You know Jayson?” Chassidy asked, her voice much cooler than when she’d been talking to Jayson.
Sabrina shook her head quickly. “He just opened the door for me.”
Chassidy looked Sabrina up and down, unimpressed, then handed her a form and a paper number with a safety pin at the top. “Fill out the form and hang onto it until you go into the audition. You can warm up in Studio B on the third floor.” She waved her hand toward a staircase behind her.
“Thank you.”
Third floor. Where she’d been five years ago.
She took a deep breath as she turned toward the staircase, then slowly climbed the stairs and found the studio. Her hands felt clammy as she paused in the doorway. About forty dancers were spread around the large room, some stretching or warming up. A few sat on the floor, filling out the form. Sabrina decided it was best to get the form out of the way first, so she sat down and pulled a pen out of her bag.
At the top was a blank space for her name.
Which name should she use? If she used her real name, Martin would know her, and who knew who else. She wasn’t convinced that would be a good thing. How disappointed would they be to see what she’d become? If she used the name Ramon gave her, would she be safe? All the men she’d encountered while with Ramon knew her as Sabrina De Sousa. Which was more important? Shame or safety?
She sighed and wrote down Sabrina Mansfield.
Address . . . I don’t have one.
Phone number . . .
She didn’t have one of those, either. How would they get in touch with her? Sabrina blinked back tears as it dawned on her how unprepared she was.
Then she shook her head. One thing at a time. She’d worry about that later. Maybe they’d give her a time when she could stop by and check on the results.
She didn’t know where she’d go until then, though.
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and looked back down at the sheet. Other questions were easier to answer, such as how long she’d been dancing and what parts she’d danced previously.
The last question made her pause.
Why do you dance?
She chewed the end of the pen and thought for a few minutes, then wrote Because I have to. It was true. She didn’t feel totally sane unless she was dancing. Even Khyan and Ramon had made sure she went to classes on a regular basis.
She shuddered as images from her past started to seep into her mind, but she pushed them aside.
After filling out the form, Sabrina opened her bag, pulled out her pointe shoes, and began to work on them. Eloise had bought them for her back in Tucson, so they were brand new and too stiff to dance in. After several minutes of pounding and massaging, her shoes were soft. She put them on and began a gentle warm-up, trying to loosen up her stiff and sore muscles. Part of her wanted to dwell on what happened on the train, but she pushed the thought aside. She had more important things to worry about right now. The past was the past. Best to leave it there.
Her stomach growled again, a reminder of how long it’d been since she’d eaten. Maybe there was a vending machine somewhere in the studio so she could get something to eat to give her enough energy to get through the audition.
She blinked back tears again. She didn’t even have enough money for a decent meal, let alone a place to stay tonight.
If she did well today, callbacks would be tomorrow. Sabrina knew she could go long periods of time without eating, but she wouldn’t make it through another audition without something in her stomach.
She grasped the barre with stiff hands and stared at the wall behind it. Maybe she should just leave. This was a mistake.
“Hey, Sabrina.”
She jumped at the sound and spun around, backing against the wooden pole. Jayson stood there, a concerned look on his face.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded, forcing a fake smile onto her face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He frowned. “Have you eaten breakfast?”
Her stomach answered. She clasped her arms around her waist. “Who in their right mind would come to an audition without eating breakfast?” she asked in a squeaky voice.
His expression told her he wasn’t buying her attempt to laugh off his concern. “C’mon.” He grasped her hand and began to lead her away.
She leaned back, struggling to free her hand from his grip as icy fear streamed through her body. “I can’t. My bag—”
“Will be fine. No one will steal anything in here.”
She swallowed, afraid of what he really wanted, and stared at him.
He released her hand and backed away a step. “I have something for you to eat.” His voice was gentle.
“Why?”
“Because you look hungry. Please. You can’t audition on an empty stomach.” He smiled warmly.
Without knowing why, she found herself following him downstairs and into a small room with tables and vending machines.
She paused in the doorway when a guy looked at her coldly and frowned at Jayson. “This room isn’t for audies, Jayson.”
“Relax, Micah. I’m just getting her some breakfast. I don’t think she’s eaten in a while.”
Micah huffed and stormed out of the room.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble . . . ,” Sabrina protested, watching the guy disappear around a corner.
“Nah. Don’t worry about him. He’s just grumpy this morning. He normally likes pretty girls.” He winked and led her to a table with a bowl of cereal, a banana, a plastic cup of orange juice, and a small container of milk already sitting there. “Come and eat.”
Jayson pulled a chair out for her, then walked around the table and sat down across from it.
Still standing, Sabrina contemplated everything on the table and then glanced back at Jayson, swallowing hard. What would he want in exchange for all this? Men always wanted something from her. Though he didn’t look mean. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her.
He smiled and opened the milk container, then put it next to the cereal.
Sabrina slowly padded across the room and sat down, settling on the edge of the black plastic chai
r. She poured the milk onto the cereal and took a few bites. She started out slowly, then shoveled the rest into her mouth.
Jayson’s brows arched. “When’s the last time you ate?”
“I had an apple last night that I bought on the train.” She took a big bite of the banana.
“Train? Where’d you come from?”
“Arizona.” Why was she answering his questions?
His mouth dropped open. “Why didn’t you eat dinner? Or breakfast this morning?”
“I didn’t have any more money. It got stolen on the train.” She drank the orange juice, glancing at him over the edge of the cup. And five dollars wouldn’t have bought her much breakfast at the station.
His warm brown eyes were wide and his lips parted as he watched her eat. She blinked and put the cup down, realizing she wasn’t being very lady-like.
He cleared his throat when their eyes met. “Where’d you sleep last night?”
Sabrina felt her cheeks warm. “At the train station. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“So you’ve been on a train for days, haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, and slept in the train station last night?”
It sounded horrible. She put her spoon down and stared at the empty plastic bowl. When had she finished the cereal?
“You must be a very determined dancer,” he said gently.
“I-I’ve always wanted to audition here.” It wasn’t a complete lie. But “I didn’t have anywhere else to go” didn’t seem like a good thing to admit.
Jayson tilted his head. She didn’t think he believed her.
“Thank you for the food. It was very good.” She smiled gratefully, feeling much better as she stood. “I should get back to warming up.”
He nodded and walked with her back upstairs. He seemed safe, which made her think her instincts were off-kilter.
When he opened his mouth to say something, she cut him off. “Thank you again.” She hurried back to her bag and her tiny corner of the world.
Chapter Nine
Sabrina stretched and practiced a few steps from her previous dance company. She needed to keep moving so her muscles wouldn’t tighten up.
A female voice called from across the room. “Please line up in numerical order. Be sure you have your completed forms.”
Sabrina looked down at her stomach where she had pinned her number. 44. The room grew noisy as dancers started moving and talking, finding their place. She looked toward the back of the line. The last person wore number 50, so she worked forward from there.
Number 43 was a thin, dark-haired girl several inches taller than Sabrina. She looked down her nose at her, then whipped her head around when Sabrina gave her a timid smile.
Sabrina stared at the floor until the line started moving. A lady took their forms as they filed across the hallway and through a large doorway marked “Studio A.”
Sabrina sighed and smiled slightly as she walked into a room that seemed to be from her dreams. It was an enormous rectangle with worn, albeit polished, wooden floors. The long wall on one side was covered in mirrors. The rest of the room was lined with wooden barres attached to the wall. Huge windows allowed the morning sun to bathe the room in soft, golden light.
The dancers spaced themselves around the room along the barres. Sabrina was near the door, not far from where she’d sat watching the professional dancers years ago.
“Good morning, prospective company members.” A man with spiky, salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a black sweater and loose-fitting pants, spoke with a slight accent she couldn’t quite place. The blue eyes behind his glasses were kind, his smile warm. Martin. “My name is Martin Pierce. I am the Artistic Director of the Boston Ballet Company.” He turned to introduce the people sitting along the wall of mirrors, each with a clipboard in hand. “Ballet Mistresses Delia Simpson and Danielle Mayor. Ballet Masters Kevin Steepal and Joseph Amey.”
Martin told them a little about the audition procedures and what he was looking for in dancers. “More than anything, I look for heart. Technique can be taught . . . to an extent.” He made a face and laughter filled the room. “Heart is what makes a good dancer great and a great dancer amazing. It cannot be taught. I would rather see a good dancer with heart than a dancer with perfect technique and no spirit.” He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. “All right. Let us begin.”
He quickly rattled off the first set of steps, then motioned to the pianist to begin. It was a typical warm-up. Plié, plié, grande plié. Pordebra. Repeat. Second position. Plié, plié . . . Repeat.
Second set. Tendus. Third set. Tendu/degage.
The sets became more complicated as the warm-ups progressed, which was how every class had begun since Sabrina started dancing at the age of three.
Her eyes teared up at the sudden and painful memory of her mom sitting on a bench watching her. The ache in her heart took her breath away, but she pushed away the memory and concentrated on the steps.
Around the fifth set, she had to listen carefully. She closed her eyes, translating Martin’s words into movement, and waited for the music to begin. A minute into the set, she heard him clap his hands twice and the music stopped. Sabrina opened her eyes, disoriented for a moment. She had been lost in the dance. She was facing the opposite way that the rest of the room faced, meaning she was looking at number 43.
Sabrina let out a little gasp and spun around, staring at the floor, shoulders slumped.
Martin walked up to her. She didn’t look at him.
“You were not with the rest of the class, Number forty-four.”
Sabrina heard whispers around the room. She nodded, blinking back tears, still not looking up.
“You did double the number of rond de jambe the second time around than the first. Why?”
“I thought that’s what your instructions were,” she whispered.
“You didn’t notice the other dancers not doubling the amount?”
More laughter. Her face burned with shame. “No, sir,” she answered, still looking at the floor, tears escaping. “I had my eyes closed so I could concentrate.”
He put his index finger under Sabrina’s chin and lifted her wet face. His blue eyes studied hers. For a moment, she thought he might have recognized her, but he only smiled. “You are the first audie who has ever performed the steps as I instructed, instead of repeating the previous steps and following the rest of the room.”
Sabrina blinked, not quite understanding what he meant.
“You are an intelligent dancer.” He gave her a big smile. “And an excellent listener. Good job.” He turned and walked back to the front of the room, his steps echoing across the silence.
Sabrina stared at his back as he walked away, tears still wetting her cheeks, but her heart soared. I did something right?
He didn’t look at Sabrina again as he announced the next set of steps.
The class continued into center work, then they stood in a line at the back of the room for the cross-floor work. The dancers went in pairs, each combination increasing in difficulty.
Sabrina gave it her all. She could do a pretty impressive grande jeté when she wanted to. Martin’s praise had given her a boost of much-needed confidence and she began enjoying herself. They concluded the class with a révérence.
Martin explained that the judges would meet during lunch and post the numbers for callbacks in about an hour.
As she turned to follow the other dancers out of the studio, Sabrina’s stomach growled, reminding her of her lack of money. What would five dollars buy in Boston?
“Number forty-four,” Martin called.
Sabrina stopped mid-step and returned to stand in front of the judges, fingers twisting together and body tingling with nerves.
Nobody spoke. They just looked at her as Martin shuffled through a stack of papers. Sabrina bit her lip and s
tared into the mirror above their heads, concentrating on the reflection of the back wall.
After a moment, Martin finally spoke. “You didn’t complete your audition form.”
Sabrina chewed her lip, unsure of what to say. She thought she’d answered all the questions.
“You didn’t put a phone number or address.”
She swallowed. “I don’t have one here . . . yet,” she added quickly, hoping they didn’t notice the pause. “I just got here last night and hoped I could stop by later and check the results.”
“Where are you from?”
“Arizona.”
“Where in Arizona?”
She hesitated. “Near Tucson,” she finally said in a soft voice.
Silence.
Sabrina fought the urge to shift from foot to foot, wondering if Martin recognized her. She fought the tears that threatened to emerge.
“Sabrina.”
She blinked several times and looked at Martin. His eyes were full of sadness. She pressed her lips together and looked back at the floor.
“Are you staying with Grace?” he asked softly.
Her heart dropped. Grace couldn’t find out that she was here. She would tell Chase and Sabrina couldn’t deal with any more heartbreak. She shook her head violently. “No. Please! Don’t let her know I’m here.”
Martin tilted his head, his eyes still full of sorrow. “Why?”
Sabrina felt herself starting to lose it. “Please,” she squeaked. Her jaw trembled and she widened her eyes in the hopes that the hot tears would remain hidden.
Martin nodded slowly, brows furrowed and eyes full of obvious concern. “All right,” he finally conceded.
“Thank you.” She swallowed, biting her lip hard until she tasted blood.
“You may go.”
Sabrina turned and ran out of the studio, then desperately looked around for the bathroom. Finally spotting it across the hallway, she sprinted inside and into a stall, locking the door behind her. She fell to her knees and covered her face with her hands, trying to muffle her sobs.
And failing.
Master of My Heart Page 6