45. Act Forty-Five
ACT FORTY-FIVE
“ T hank you all for being here,” Helen says, a clipboard perched beneath her arm. Her phone buzzes and she takes a moment to read a message.
There are about a hundred wannabe artists, sitting along the blue mats as we wait for instruction. First cuts were last week, and we’re all that’s left.
Shay leans into my arm and whispers, “We have to be working on the apparatuses today.”
I nod. “You’re probably right.” We already danced—did improv acting—kind of like my first auditions for Amour. I’m happy to have at least passed that part again. I keep cracking my knuckles, a nervous habit.
I look up, half-hoping to see Nikolai sitting with the row of directors and choreographers. To give me that single nod like you’re doing well, myshka.
He’s not here. I see wrinkled foreheads as men and women try to pick the best cast for each show. So that it’ll make the most money. I can’t tell whether they look at me and see dollar signs.
I can only hope that I’m more than just background. After months of training, I know there’s nothing more I can do.
Helen pockets her cell. “We have fourteen spots to fill for Somnio, two for Infini and one for Viva.”
Infini and Viva mean that I stay in Vegas.
Somnio means I travel far, far away from Nikolai.
I inhale strongly, trying to push these thoughts out.
“We’re going to test you on multiple disciplines. We’re looking for stand-out performers,” Helen explains. “Those who catch our eye will be awarded a one-year contract. At the end of the year, we’ll either ask you to renew or to leave us.” There’s not much time to digest the rest of the facts. She adds, “We’re splitting everyone up in groups of five. When I call your number, please come forward.”
I press my hand to the number 29, stuck to my black leotard, just to ensure it’s still there. That I’m still in the running.
Before Helen speaks again, I remember what Nikolai told me this morning. I was pulling my dirty-blonde hair into a tight pony while he sat on the edge of the bed.
He said, “All you need is luck. The rest, you’ll do great at.”
I smiled. “Is that my trainer speaking?”
“Yes,” he said, “but you’d probably think it’s a problem.”
I hesitated, “Why’s that?”
He stood up, towering above me with those intense grays. “Your trainer is in love with you.”
I don’t have a problem with it, not even a little bit. Nikolai is brutally honest, and he’d tell me if I sucked. He wouldn’t watch me fall flat on my face and fail. I trust his words.
I just need some luck today.
“Twenty-nine,” Helen calls.
With one last motivational breath, I rise to my feet.