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That brought me a modicum of peace. I let my mind wander as several more hours passed.
“Isaac Monroy?” the stern-looking woman called, drawing me from my limbo. There were only a handful of people left.
The one person who had deigned to talk to me stood up. He glanced down at me. “Wish me luck?” Dimples appeared on his cheeks when he smiled with his mouth closed. It was a strange look, as if he were challenging me. There was a flicker of fear in his eyes, which softened my heart.
I would likely go back to my life after today. He would be stuck in this world forever.
I straightened my back. I was tired, and a little irritated. “Good luck. You probably won’t die in there.” I flashed him a genuine smile, and hoped my sarcasm was comforting. Of course, I had no idea what would happen in there.
He didn’t look back at me, but I heard him snort as he walked down the hallway.
Lights clicked on all over the hotel, signifying the setting sun and I looked up at the ceiling while my stomach roiled. I had wasted an entire day on this.
The door snicked shut, and it was just me and one other girl. Her eyes were closed, but she didn’t look like she was sleeping. I shut my eyes, too.
With any luck, I would go last so no one could comment on how quickly I came and went from the room. I could hear guests walking across the floor above us, and a trio of musicians started up. They played a common song, “La Inquieta.” Though I was used to singing it after a few glasses of wine in a restaurant, this group made it sound heartbreakingly beautiful.
I tapped the rhythm on my legs. There was a call that music had to my bones—it made me want to move. To lift off the ground and make sound into a visual art.
Another song started, and I sank deeper into the notes.
The melody lightened my burden. I felt like I was flying through the air, rising up and shooting through the tallest level in the Grand Hotel until I was soaring through the skies.
It wasn’t until the woman said, “Renata Valarde Bordón” that my eyes snapped open.
I saw Isaac walk past me, and smirk once again. He didn’t appear even a little tired, and he had been in there for a while.
My muscles and joints tightened up again as I stood.
“Good luck, Renata,” Isaac said loudly before climbing the steps.
My heart skipped a beat as I walked toward the door.
I smiled at the woman, and the corners of her lips twitched up. It felt like a gesture of solidarity.
Good. I was going to need all the help I could get.
Chapter10
The Audition
Expectations were dangerous things. They were liars—viperous thoughts slithering through your mind and embedding themselves in your skull. They had the power to lure you into a false sense of security, raising your hopes higher than the ceiling only to dash them on the ground in a million pieces.
When I walked into the dark room, I had every intention of leaving shortly after. The space was bare, not even a chair in sight. Glancing around quickly, I took in the deep burgundy walls which were almost of the color of drying blood in the faint illumination. I couldn’t discern the direction from which the light came, but it highlighted the walls enough to make out grooves and ridges. I walked forward into the middle of the room and heard the click of a shutting door. I turned around. I was alone. The woman had disappeared.
My heart pounded in my chest. There was a faint stink in here that caught in my throat. It was bitter, and slightly spicy, like smoke.
Even though I couldn’t see anyone, I was sure someone was watching me. The woman? Señor Castillas? I couldn’t tell, but their gazes brushed against my skin, and the self-consciousness that I had been experiencing all afternoon intensified.
I wasn’t supposed to be here.
I turned in a circle and searched the wainscoting on the walls. Movement startled me, and I snapped my head up only to find myself staring back at me. A rectangular mirror covered a substantial space along the darkest wall.
Time as an Artista had taught me all kinds of tricks that people used to conceal themselves. I took a hesitant step toward that large mirror so I could touch the surface. The pad of my index finger pressed against the surface of the glass, and I immediately touched my reflection. Since there was no slight separation between the back of the glass and my finger, I knew this was a two-way mirror.
I cleared my throat. “Disculpe, Señor Castillas?” I asked. Perhaps if I was polite, it would make him more inclined to come out of hiding. I didn’t like how the room swallowed the sound, making my voice even smaller than usual.
No response.
