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Yeah. That’s good. I let myself smile in a knowing, satisfied way while I dismount the hoop and become one with the shadows at the side of the stage.
And then I take a second to peek back out at the crowd.
I only want a peek at them. I’m definitelynotlooking for a specific man I ran into on the sidewalk last fall. Like,raninto him. The contact lasted all of a second, and I can still smell him. He smelled damn good. He looked even better.
Which I told him, in one of my few impulsive acts of the year.
I think you look hot. Bye.
It’s not like I’ll ever meet him again, but it’s sexy to imagine him sitting out there in the dark, watching me on the hoop.
I don’t see him.
I run as soon as I hit the wings, keeping my footsteps soft as I can. A stagehand named Rob steps out from the hall as I’m coming in.
“Collision warning!” I whisper-shout. Rob takes my hand at the last second, and spins me out of his way. I stifle a giggle-snort that’s exacerbated by nerves.
“Thanks for the dance. And for not letting me crash into concrete.”
He smiles, the pattern of his freckles curving, too, and holds up a hand for a high five. “Sixteen years of ballet wasn’t for nothing after all. Redheads unite.”
“Redheads unite.” I said that to Rob when I started working here, mostly because he’s an attractive guy and I was flustered in my leotard before my first performance with an audience. He has insisted on saying it every time he sees me since then. Who says chivalry is dead?
High five achieved, I rush down to the dressing room.
Five or six other women are here for the evening shift already. A few are in robes, a few still in street clothes. Three of them are laughing at a joke when I step into the room. God, I love that sound—people laughing together. I did some of that in college, but it was more of the panicked,have we done enough to prove we’re exceptional?variety. This is people hanging out.
I do a big, general wave. “Hi, everybody. Pretty good crowd right now. Small but enthusiastic.”
A tall, brunette dancer raises both hands in the air. “We are truly blessed.”
“You were amazing, Lily,” a fellow dancer named Grace says, meeting my eyes in one of the big mirrors. She runs her fingers through shiny, dark hair that’s basically a paid actor in her performances. “How do you act so calm up there? I’d be scared to death.”
“It’s closer to the floor than it looks. Plus, I’m extremely strong.” I flex my biceps mostly to make her laugh, which she does. Grace has been working at The Membership for about six months, and we chat whenever we cross paths in the dressing room. She’s studying fine arts at NYU. Painting by morning, dancing at the club by late afternoons and evenings.
“And you study for law school, too.” Grace laughs. “Could I borrow some of your drive? I could use it to get through my summer semester.”
I blow her a kiss. “It’s all yours.”
If only it were allmine, too.
I mean, yeah. I’m driven. I took college as seriously as I could, and I’ll take law school and my subsequent career seriously, too. I’m taking mylifeseriously. I don’t watch violent superhero movies. I don’t listen to trendy pop music. I dress like I’m already a junior associate at a law firm unless I’m out running or here, performing.
The Membership is my one rebellion.
That makes it sound like my grandfather is strict and controlling, but he’s not. I don’t want to be a burden. He’s done more for me than anyone else in my life. He raised me after my mother left. She was a free spirit, or so he says.
I’m not like her.
My phone is already buzzing in the fancy leather shoulder bag my grandfather got me last Christmas when I drop into a seat at my usual mirror. I unzip it with too much force and scramble for both my phone and my laptop, then get a grip and pick up the phonefirst.
“Hey, Millie.”
“Lilith, it’s go time. Tell me you have your laptop open and ready.”
Millicent Lawrence is the only person on earth who calls me by my full name. She is a very serious person, and has been since the day I met her in our required ethics seminar the first semester of undergrad. Her voice makes me sit up straighter.
“I’m getting it out now.”
