Center of Gravity

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Center of Gravity Page 4

by K. K. Allen


  A moment later, his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the girl from yesterday. From the registration line.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks again for, you know, catching me.” My cheeks burned. How much worse can this conversation possibly get?

  “Wasn’t that audition today?”

  I nodded.

  “Janelle’s choreo?”

  I couldn’t decide if I was being interrogated or if Theo was genuinely curious. My eyes flicked between his, and I nodded again.

  “Well,” he prodded. “Did you get it?” He spoke almost as intensely as he danced. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “No. I didn’t.” Mortification snaked through me. It was bad enough to fail my audition, but to have to discuss that failure with the one person I’d always dreamed of working with was the absolute bottom of the barrel.

  “What happened?” His voice wasn’t one of a concerned mentor. He was definitely interrogating me—feeling me out—and I was afraid of what he was fishing to find.

  “It was my first audition … so…” My voice trailed off as I caught the way his brows turned down, clearly displeased.

  “You’re making excuses.”

  Shit. I shook my head. “I’m just—”

  “Making excuses. You shouldn’t do that. Justifying all the reasons you fucked up your audition won’t help you improve. Own your mistakes and work to never make them again.”

  Wait a second. My head felt as if it was spinning on its axis. Mistakes? “But I didn’t—”

  He barked out a laugh, cutting me off again then pinning me with his eyes. “You did. That’s why you tucked your tail between your legs and snuck in here. Am I right? Couldn’t handle the rejection?”

  “No,” I shot back. “I handled it just fine, thank you very much.”

  He chuckled. “Good. Because it won’t be the last time.”

  Jesus. Who knew a fantasy could be destroyed with a few angry words? Theodore Noska was an asshole. I couldn’t find the words to respond. If I opened my mouth, I would be a sputtering idiot, giving him more to dig into me about.

  He sighed then shook his head. “Look. I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve seen this industry swallow up girls like you.”

  I crossed my arms. “Girls like me?”

  “The newbies. The dreamers. The naïve souls without a clue what it takes to step into the professional world. Chances are, the reality will crush you, Alexandra.”

  “It’s Lex.” I didn’t care that I’d turned into a snapping turtle in reaction to Theo’s harsh words.

  His lip curled. “Whatever. Some people are better off keeping dance as a hobby.”

  In that moment, I hated him more than I’d ever lusted over him. Which was probably why my next words flew from my mouth like word vomit. “You’re a jerk.” I gasped, my lids stretched wide, and clapped a hand over my mouth.

  His eyes flashed with amusement, then his head fell back as he laughed. “Did you just call me a jerk?”

  My entire body shook as I narrowed my eyes at him and released a heavy breath from my nose. “Yes,” I hissed.

  He shrugged and narrowed his gaze. “I’ve been called worse.” With a lift of his chin, he gestured toward the door. “Get the hell out.”

  So cold. So cutthroat. It was my first run-in with Theo Noska, and I hoped it would be my last.

  CHAPTER 6

  Theo

  The leather seat felt stiff beneath my legs as I settled into my chair at Wicked Saints Records. Forty-five minutes. That was how long I’d been waiting for Winter to walk through the conference room doors of the downtown LA skyscraper. I sat in a boardroom full of investors, leading sponsors, venue managers, set designers, wardrobe specialists, and all the assistants and assistants’ assistants imaginable. In-fucking-sane.

  Since returning to LA three weeks ago, I’d been feeling … off. I’d have probably walked if this gig didn’t mean something to me. And not just because Winter and I went way back—back to the first time she stepped foot into Gravity ten years ago and handpicked dancers for her very first music video.

  I hadn’t been hired only to choreograph Winter’s Vegas show. I’d been hired to help produce it too, an opportunity I’d been striving for my entire career without even realizing it. Now that we were less than two months from showtime, I couldn’t afford to fuck up more than I already had.

  The door to the room swung open, pausing the happy chatter among my peers. In walked an entire entourage of familiar faces—Winter’s label rep, her manager, her stylist, her hair and makeup artist, her assistant, her two bodyguards, and finally, Winter herself.

  Her smile bloomed when she looked around the room and saw us all waiting for her. “I think this just may be my favorite sight since landing in LA.” She turned to her assistant, Alison, and squeezed her arm. “Can you believe it?” She looked around the table and threw her hands up. “Vegas, baby.”

  Cheers broke out around the table, and I watched the group in fascination. Winter hadn’t always been the puppet master of a room of this caliber. She was once the desperate sixteen-year-old who’d gotten her lucky break through family connections and “the look” the label was searching for at just the right time. It helped that she could carry a tune, but that wasn’t why the label loved her. She was young, fresh, and moldable, and her innocence was extremely marketable.

  She lifted her hand halfway and waved at me, her dimply smile as sexy as I remembered. I waved back, sans dimples, knowing it was best not to egg her on. There was a comfortableness between Winter and me that went beyond friendship, beyond business. With all the gigs she’d hired me for over the years, it was only natural for us to flirt from time to time. But that couldn’t be an expectation. Not now. Not when I was months behind on my work. Not after Mallory.

  When Winter pouted at my lack of affection, I shifted my gaze and my focus to the front of the room. Denise McDaniel, entertainment manager for the Zappos Theater at Planet Hollywood, was speaking, delivering the news we’d all been waiting to hear.

  “First of all, as of this morning at eight a.m., the ‘Love in the Dark’ concert series is officially sold out. Congratulations.”

  The entire room burst into applause and mutterings of “Congratulations,” all while Winter looked stunned in her chair. The tickets had been on sale for four months, but for a six-month series, that was pretty damn good.

  “More great news.” Denise spoke up as the cheering faded. “The permits came through on the set design, and you’re fully approved to move into the venue to begin setting up next month. The space is yours for whatever you need. I’ll just need you to send back the liability waivers for your staff. Also, I’m working on securing your residences in the hotel, but I’ll need first and last names, phone, email, and a prepayment, at the very least, to get started. Are you fully staffed at this point?”

  Winter shot me a curious glance. She was the only one in the room alert to my three-month absence, and I’d promised her that I’d make up the time. Unfortunately, even after being back in town for three weeks, I was still way behind on choreography and choosing dancers.

  I cleared my voice and raised my hand to let Denise know I could respond to her question. “We’ll be hiring twelve additional crew members. Dancers. But I won’t have their information for you for another week.” I scrunched my face and flipped my palms out, elbows still bent. “Maybe?”

  “Another week?” Winter asked with forced politeness as she shifted in her seat. She let out an awkward laugh, her eyes darting around the room before returning to me. She leaned forward. “When’s the audition?” Her head turned to Alison. “Is it on my calendar?” I heard her whisper.

  Alison almost immediately shook her head, offering me an apologetic look. Winter’s eyes turned cold and snapped back to me.

  I sighed. The last thing I needed was a micromanager breathing down my back when I already felt the pressure. “It is what it is, Winter.”

  Shock registered on
her face, as if she’d been slapped. Her spine straightened as she pushed her shoulders back and flipped a section of hair over her shoulder. “Let’s discuss this after this meeting.”

  “It is what it is? What the hell is wrong with you, Theo? I’m trusting you with the biggest show of my life.”

  Winter was always so melodramatic. I shut my eyes while she continued to spew her disappointment. She’d been able to contain her rage throughout our four-hour meeting, but as soon as it was over she dragged me into a private room on the other side of the building.

  “I’ve got this,” I said calmly, hoping my nonchalance would rub off on her, but my comment only seemed to wind her up. Her chest popped out as her eyes flashed red.

  “We’re two months from showtime, and I have no dancers, no choreography.” She pressed her palms to her face and threw them back down. “I gave you time to deal with … everything you’ve been going through.”

  Her eyes softened some but only for a second. “But Theo. You promised.”

  “And I’ve come through on everything so far.” I placed my hands on her shoulders, desperately needing her to chill the fuck out. “The stage design, the music mixes, the backdrop, and costumes. I’ve overseen all of that.”

  She nodded, letting out a breath through her nose. “You’re responsible for a lot, I know. But I need your choreography more than anything else. Please tell me you have a plan.”

  “I have a plan.”

  Her nostrils flared again. “Mind sharing it with me? There’s no show without my dancers. You realize this, right? You realize I came back to LA to start choreography. Which means the dancers should have been trained by now. Hell, half of the dance crew is already a shoo-in. You just need to pick six. Six dancers. Why is that hard?”

  “It’s not. I’ll schedule the audition for this week, and we’ll start rehearsals the next day.”

  Winter’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned in closer. “No. You will set the audition up for Tuesday. You have three days. Make it happen.”

  “There’s no way.” Now I’m the one on fire. “I won’t find audition space by then.”

  “Gravity owes you. They’ll do anything you say.”

  She didn’t get it. I didn’t throw my weight around like that. I wasn’t her. “Even if I do find the space, there’s no time to send out invites. You don’t expect me to hold an open audition, do you? And have all the wannabe dancers waltz in thinking they have a shot? You want the best of the best, and you’re not going to get that by throwing some crapshoot of an audition.”

  “Listen to me.” Winter seethed, and I could practically see venom rising from her skin. “I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. There better be an audition on Tuesday. Invite only. I’ll be there. Figure it out.” She slammed her fists on the table and stood. “Got it?”

  I raised my brows but knew there was no arguing my way out of this one. I’d made my own bed. “Got it.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Lex

  Something happened to me in that theater with Theo. I couldn’t even explain it to Shane after I’d confessed what had happened, but for some reason, Theo’s cruel dismissal lit a fire within me. For the next three weeks, I signed up for every audition and supplemented every other hour in the studio with advanced lessons, workshops, and master classes—all to push my limits.

  I was slipping my dance shoes off on Monday night after one of Janelle’s contemporary classes when she crossed the room and plopped down in front of me. My eyes shot up in surprise, then I laughed at the smirk plastered on her face. “What is that for? You’re scaring me.”

  She scooted closer and pulled something out of her jacket pocket. The yellow paper had black words printed on it, words that I couldn’t yet read. She held it to her chest when I tried to sneak a peek. “There’s this audition tomorrow, and I would like to invite you to attend.”

  My mouth went dry when her words sank in. “What? Really?”

  She nodded then bit her lip before leaning in. “I can’t say who this is for, Lex, but it’s a big deal. It’s also kind of last-minute, hence my approaching you tonight and not weeks ago.”

  I drew my brows together, curious. “Okay, well, when is it?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  My heart leapt then slapped back on the floor. “Janelle, that’s—”

  “Don’t turn this one down. It’s perfect for you. I’m not making any promises or anything, I’m just saying, I’ve seen your work. I’ve seen how much you’ve grown in the past few months. I’ve seen how you shine when you take my fusion classes. You need to trust me on this one.”

  She was still holding the yellow slip of paper when I yanked it from her hands. She smiled, then I stared at the words written on it.

  GRAVITY DANCE COMPLEX AUDITION

  INVITE ONLY

  CLIENT: Undisclosed

  CONTRACT: 8 Months

  TICKET: #24

  ARRIVAL: 9AM

  *Bring your own lunch

  I looked up at her again, my chest a mess of flutters. Eight months?

  Janelle was staring at me, clearly waiting for me to say something.

  “When will they tell us who this is for?”

  “The artist will come in once we’ve narrowed it down, just like Dominic’s audition. That’s typically the way it works since an artist’s time is so limited.”

  I eyed her, hearing something I thought I didn’t catch before. “Did you say once we’ve narrowed it down?”

  She shifted a little, as if she didn’t want to divulge more than she already had. “I’ve been asked to help judge.” She held up her hands. “But that doesn’t mean anyone is getting special treatment. You have to bust your ass, Lex. It’s the artist who will have the final say. She’s who you need to impress.”

  “She?” I grinned, and Janelle’s eyes shone with amusement. “How many dancers were invited?”

  “We’re capping it at seventy-five. Twelve will be chosen, and out of those twelve, six are already guaranteed spots. I still think you have a shot.” She watched my face as I thought over everything she was telling me. “Look, the choreographers here were asked to choose five to ten students they thought could handle this gig. You were the first dancer who popped into mind. That should mean something to you.” She tapped the ticket in my hand and stood. “I’ll just leave this here. Whether you decide to use it or not, it’s yours.”

  She drifted out of the room, leaving me shocked and alone. I immediately reached for my phone to call Shane, but as soon as I glanced at the time, I knew he wouldn’t be available.

  Dominic’s video shoot was only one week away, so Shane had left the apartment early in the morning for a costume fitting that was supposed to last all day. I only knew that because he’d left me a cute note in the fridge. It was taped to the carton of milk he knew I’d guzzle the second I woke up. The sentiment made me smile, but my heart was heavy knowing that the closeness, that familiarity we shared, would soon fade.

  Ever since he’d gotten the music video job, I’d barely seen him. Rehearsals were all day, every day for the past three weeks, and his lunchtimes rarely fit my schedule. He was exhausted when he came home, and he frequently passed out during conversations. But he was happy. And as cliché as it was, his happiness made me happy.

  I shot him a quick message, anyway. “I got an INVITE. Janelle wouldn’t say who the artist was. Eight-month gig. I’m freaking out. Hold me.”

  He shot a text right back, making me smile.

  “HELL YEAH, GIRL. Tell me more tonight. My arms are ready.”

  I fell asleep alone that night.

  The scent of bacon grilling on the stove woke me before Rihanna’s “Umbrella” could sound from my alarm. My eyes flew open to find Shane dancing in the kitchen. Over his black briefs, he wore a ridiculous yellow apron with lace-edged frills. I laughed, drawing his attention. He grinned and proceeded to turn the music up as he danced even harder to one of my favorite songs by Winter, “Bring Me Flowers.”


  “That better be an apology breakfast,” I warned as I lifted myself from bed and tossed on the closest shirt.

  Shane gave me a pout before turning down the music and shuffling over. He wrapped me in his arms and buried his face in my neck. “It is. I’m sorry I wasn’t here last night.”

  He’d already sent an apology text to tell me he got roped into a club event with Dominic and some of the dancers. Shane was at a point in his career when he needed to be immersed in the scene. I understood he needed that time to bond with his crew and Dominic. He’d even asked me to come, but with the audition in the morning, I hadn’t wanted to risk the lack of sleep.

  I smacked his ass and pushed him toward the kitchen. “Apology accepted. But burn my bacon and I take it all back.”

  He chuckled and turned to the stove. “You have time to hop in the shower. I’ll get you fed and walk you to the studio. I have a meeting at Gravity this morning with Dominic and a few of the dancers.” His head snapped to me. “Guess what?”

  His eyes were so large, I knew it was going to be another opportunity. My heart couldn’t help sinking for a split second before I realized how selfish I was being.

  “Tell me all the things. After my shower.”

  My wake-up alarm was ringing when I stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing after me. I pulled the towel snug around my naked body and walked straight to the closet Shane and I shared.

  “Sexy boots, black leggings, black midriff, and wrap your plaid around your waist.”

  I looked over at Shane, who’d just shouted out what I should wear for the day. “Really?” I hadn’t planned on wearing heels. “Janelle said this audition is perfect for me, which means sneakers might be better.”

  He seemed to ponder my words then nodded. “On second thought, black sneaks with red trim. Definitely the plaid.” He cut me a look. “Hurry up. Breakfast’s ready.”

  I shrugged and slid on my black leggings first, holding off on the shoes until I was ready to walk out the door. Out of my four black midriffs, I picked the one a little lower in the chest to show off my red sports bra. After brushing my hair and dabbing on a bit of makeup, I joined Shane for his apology breakfast.

 

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