2. Chloe
CHLOE
I give my lips one final swipe of my favorite lip gloss and when they look exactly how I want them to, I give my reflection a smile.
Damn, do I always look this good after a performance? Because right now, my reflection is smoking hot and I’m loving it.
Performance should feel like this more often.
Moving past the mirror, I go to the small clothing rack in the corner of the room with my name on it and grab the garment bag that I brought with me tonight.
Usually after a performance of any magnitude, I’m all for taking off every ounce of makeup that is on my face and slapping on some sweats and a sweatshirt that covers the majority of my body. Then I spend the rest of the night eating Chinese food and watching crappy rom coms.
I’m not one to join the after parties very often.
Tonight, though, our director is having all us dancers stay and mingle a little bit with the guests that were invited here by a suit company.
Who this suit company is, I have no idea. All I know is that they are becoming one of the dance company’s sponsors, so that means we have to stay and show our appreciation.
I would much rather head out and grab a slice of a deep-dish pizza but I’m getting paid to talk to a few people, so I won’t complain all that much.
Pulling down the zipper of the garment bag, I look at the dress that I bought a few days ago specifically for this.
Usually, our busiest time of year is around the holidays, so if I ever attend an event like this, I always tend to be in the holiday spirit or wear something black.
For some reason though, I wanted to wear something different tonight, something more Chloe the person than Chloe the ballerina.
The blue satin material looks absolutely amazing on the hanger, and I have no doubt it will look the same on my body.
With a smile, I take the dress off the hanger and slide it on.
The fabric feels like absolute butter against my skin.
I turn to look at myself in the mirror and I absolutely love the reflection staring back at me.
This dress is from a small boutique in Austin.
I had been home visiting my parents for a few days and went to go look for a dress for tonight.
The baby blue color caught my attention from outside the shop.
I hadn’t even stepped foot in the boutique, and I already knew that I wanted whatever piece of clothing that color was in.
Walking into the boutique, I went straight to the color and silently hoped that it was at least a decent design.
When I pulled it from the racks, I smiled instantly. Not only was the color gorgeous from outside, but the dress also the fabric was made into was equally as beautiful.
It was the only piece in that color, and it was in my size so I saw it as fate and had to get it. Even if I was going to be eating spam and eggs for the next two weeks given the price.
As I was paying, the woman behind the counter smiled at me when she saw the dress that I was buying. I guess the dress was designed by someone that used to work there before she branched out the year before to design on her own. They carry all her new designs, she told me.
I told her that the dress was absolutely gorgeous, and she agreed.
Leaving that boutique, I was happy and now as I look at my reflection, the happiness returns.
The dress might have cost me a pretty penny, but damn it was worth it.
Once the dress is sitting perfectly against my body, I slide into my strappy heels that I bought to go with the dress and give myself one last look.
Everything is sitting exactly how I want it and adding how I performed tonight; I feel and look like a million bucks.
Satisfied with everything, I start making my way to the front of the theater where the cocktail hour is being held.
Along the way, I pass a few of my fellow dancers, who throw compliments my way. But it’s one dancer that has my smile of the night growing even more.
“Damn, Chlo. You look hot! I would definitely leave my husband for you.” Betty, a fellow dancer, and my best friend, says as I walk towards her in the hallway.
I give her a twirl, that way she can get the whole effect. “Isn’t the dress gorgeous?”
“The dress? Girl, I wasn’t talking about the dress, I was talking about you! You’re looking smoking hot right now,” she tells me, and I can’t help but to beam.
Betty always tells me that I look good. I can be wearing my most raggedy sweats and she will tell me I look gorgeous. For some reason hearing those words tonight, though, enhances this high I’m in.
I had an amazing night on stage, I feel absolutely gorgeous and my best friend telling me such makes me feel like I’m on the moon or something.
“Thanks.” I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Aren’t you heading to the party?” I ask, taking notice that she’s in sweats and still has stage makeup on.
Betty lets out a sigh. “I got a call from Cole. One of the kids is throwing up and he’s freaking out. I have to go and rescue him.”
My best friend is about three years older than me and has been by my side ever since I signed on to be a company dancer.
That was almost eight years ago, and we have been at each other’s hips ever since.
We’re very much alike, but while we are both professional dancers for the Chicago Dance Company, we’re in different stages in our lives.
Betty is married and a mom to two adorable kids and while she loves dancing just as much as I do, she has decided that this will be her last year. She is retiring as a dancer and putting up her pointe shoes.
All the while, I’m here at the peak of my career, nowhere near calling it quits or even close to thinking about having kids or getting married.
“That sucks. Who’s supposed to rescue me when I get approached by creepy old men?” I tease, knowing that her kids are more important than some silly party.
“Oh, please. You can handle them on your own.” She rolls her eyes all the while a smile plays on her lips.
I can’t help but laugh. She’s right, I can handle any creep that comes my way.
“I guess. Go take care of your babies.” I wave her off.
Betty closes the distance between us and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
“Call me tomorrow with all the gossip,” she says when she pulls away.
“What gossip? I doubt anything is going to happen at a function put on by a suit company.” I say, laughing a little
Betty lets out a gasp like she can’t believe what I just said.
“Hello. Half of Chicago’s elite is in that room.
Anything could happen. Especially when everyone sees you walk in with that dress on.
Not only will you be the talk of the town, you’ll probably have more than a handful of offers from old men begging to be your sugar daddy. ”
I roll my eyes at her dancing eyebrows and at the smirk that is currently forming on her face.
“Don’t you have a husband to go rescue or something?” I ask, give her a shove.
She laughs before leaning in again and giving me another kiss. “I’m not kidding, text me all the details. I bet a coffee tomorrow that you go home with a hottie tonight. You look worthy of some toe sucking.”
“So gross. Go.” I say through a laugh, shaking my head at my best friend.
Betty lets out a laugh to match mine before giving me a wave and walking away.
Toe sucking worthy.
I knew I was looking hot tonight but damn that is another level. One that I really don’t want to reach.
Nobody and I mean nobody is putting their mouth on my toes. I have ballerina feet and half the time I don’t even want to touch them.
Just thinking about it makes me cringe.
So gross.
Getting the image of toe sucking out of my mind, I continue to make my way down the hall towards the front of the theater.
The music that’s playing gets louder and as soon as I open the door and cross the threshold, I’m enthralled by the magnitude of this event.
I knew it was a packed house the second that I stepped foot onto the stage earlier, but I didn’t expect this.
The room, it’s more like a ball room really, is jammed packed with people and photographers.
Betty was right when she said that this event was filled with Chicago’s elite. The place is filled with some of the richest people the city has to offer. If I had to guess, the majority of the city’s one percenters were here enjoying their night.
The more I look around, though, I also notice that the place is filled with older people.
For some reason I thought an event like this would be filled with social media stars and young celebrities. Given what our dance director told us about the brand, I would have thought that would have been their marketing demographic.
Guess not.
As I take in all the aspects of the room, I see a few of my fellow dancers having conversations with the attendees.
We were told to interact with guests and get them interested in coming to another one of our performances in the next few months.
As much as I don’t want to network, I abandon my place by the back door and make my way through the sea of people.
I throw smiles in the direction of men that look at me as if I am food and nods toward the women that look me up and down as if I were their competition. I’m not, but that doesn’t stop them from giving me a look of judgment.
If I have to deal with getting looked at like prey and judgmental looks all night, I’m going to need a drink to get me through it.
It doesn’t take long for me to get a glass of wine from the bartender, an expensive one at that, and start making my way around the room again.
This event is definitely catered to the older crowd, me and my fellow dancers are most likely some of the youngest here.
I throw out a few more smiles and nods as I make my way around. I’m about to head over to where some of my dance mates are when I catch a glimpse of something.
Not something, but someone.
A big someone. Someone whose face I’ve definitely seen around the city.
Liam Crawford.
Liam Crawford who is one of the few professional hockey players whose name I actually know.