Chapter 4
Maren
“Mare!” Sadie yells as she comes barreling into my room and jumps on my bed.
“Ugh,” I groan and she waves her phone in my face.
“Moonshots are hiring a new choreographer. She got fired, and they need someone ASAP. Preferably a local who will be here all season.” Her voice is giddy and way too high pitched for this early in the morning.
I sit up quickly and take her phone, obviously interested.
There is a short graphic on the screen.
“They posted it on all their socials this morning.” She smiles.
“Choreographer needed.” The bright, mango orange words pull me in like a moth to a flame.
In smaller, less pronounced text it says,
Requirements:
At least five years dance experience
Fast paced turnaround of routines.
Creative and fun.
Ability to start immediately.
Local residency preferred.
“Come on Mare, you have to apply! This is a dream job.”
“It is,” I laugh, “but imagine how many people will be applying for this.” I shrug.
“Local residency preferred,” she says waving the screen in my face. “Mango Bay is small. Really small. How many people can you think of with the dance experience they are looking for?”
“None, really,” I confirm.
I sigh in frustration as I sit on the couch. I feel like I’ve been staring at this screen for days. “It says I need a video of me choreographing a 15 second dance on screen, with no obvious prior planning to the song attached, and upload it to the application.”
I look up at Sadie, and start pacing around the room. “This is stressful. I’ve been filling out this application for hours.”
“To be fair, you put it away several times.” She smiles. “Open the song, I’ll film you.”
“Ok, but you have to film me opening the file, and it only allows me to play it twice. Once to listen, and once to choreograph.”
I pick up my phone, and Sadie starts to record. “Wait,” she stops me. “Have you ever watched any of their videos? They aren’t actually real dancers. It’s strictly for entertainment purposes.”
I roll my eyes, “Sadie, I may not be obsessed with them like you are, but I do live in Mango Bay. Their videos are everywhere. Why do you think it’s taken me three hours to finish this application? I’ve done a deep dive into their content to make sure I can do it.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Ok, start recording.”
With my eyes still closed, I hit play on the phone. The words ‘hold up’ come out of the speakers followed by the familiar sound of “The Next Episode” by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg.
I open one eye, surprised by the choice.
I was expecting something more playful and trendy, but I guess this does grab your attention.
Plus, they were probably going for a surprise factor, and they definitely succeeded.
The beat is predictable and smooth carrying a cadence of three distinct beats repeated.
It’s only music, no lyrics, but I get caught up in the G-funk sound.
I love this song, because not only does it draw you in, it’s the unlikely sound of the clarinet that gets me every time I hear it.
The music pauses half way through and there is a count of 1-2-3 before the beat picks back up, only there is a little crash at the end.
“That was quick,” I whisper to myself. The 15 seconds goes by way faster than I thought it would. Obviously I know how long 15 seconds is, but given the stressful circumstances, it seems to fly by.
I set the phone down on the table next to me, and according to the directions, there will be a ten second timer for me to get situated before the music starts again.
I take a deep breath, clutching the baseball in my hand that I grabbed just in case. Most of their dances end in a pitch or throw.
I hit play and listen to the beeps before the music starts.
Right after the words I begin to move my left foot to the beat, tapping from toe to heel to the beat, and on the second beat I start to sway my hips back and forth, matching the pace of the music.
I move my bent arms, alternating one facing up and the other down.
On the next beat, I kick my left hand with my foot and spin landing in a squat with the ball clutched between both hands.
Then I open my hands pulling them apart with bent elbows and simultaneously pop my chest and ass.
When the count comes through the speaker I fist bump the air three times mimicking the count.
Then the beat picks up again, I repeat the entire thing faster ending in the pitcher’s stance.
Sadie smiles and stops recording.
“It didn’t feel flashy enough.” I sigh.
“I think that was the point. It was powerful and striking, yet simple. Hell, you could teach me to do it.” She laughs, “Remember, Mare, you will be teaching baseball players, not dancers. It was perfect. The fans could pick it up quickly and do it with them. Plus, you incorporated a pitch! Magic, babe.”
“We’ll see,” I say as I attach the video and submit my application. My voice is calm, but palms are sweaty and my stomach is turning in knots.
“What do you have to lose Mare? The worst thing that can happen to you is you get denied and your life stays the same. The stakes are low. That’s the best time to take a risk, and if anything, it’s a great experience to even just go through the process, and get your name out there.”
She’s right. She usually is.
“Here’s to hoping I get to be a Moonshot!” I raise my water in the air to cheers my current situation, trying to ignore the thoughts waging war inside my head.