CHAPTER 3
Danica
I was nervous while I waited for the manager to arrive, there was no denying that. I didn't have any qualifications to speak of – unless street smarts counted, and I doubted they did. There was nothing “street” about this place. I had already realized that I was probably going to have to bend the truth a little to get a foot in the door. And if that’s what it was going to take, then that’s what it was going to take. I was prepared to do whatever was necessary to get my foot in this door. Dancing was the only thing that meant anything to me anymore. It was the only hope I had left in this harsh, cruel reality. If I let it go, that would be the end.
With these thoughts stewing in my head, I needed some sort of distraction to get my mind off being so nervous – and that distraction happened to walk through the door. He immediately caught my eye with his beautifully-cut dark gray business suit. I didn’t know much about suits, but it seemed this one was tailored perfectly to his athletic build. His dark hair, cropped short on the sides and slicked back on top in a trendy style, was thick and framed his square-jawed face. A pair of deep-set brown eyes immediately brought to mind images of male models in fashion magazines. He looked to be in his early thirties, and as he smiled, I had to catch my breath. He was dashingly handsome, with an air of confidence and power. I couldn't keep my eyes off him.
And while I didn't notice a wedding band on any of his fingers, he had his daughter with him and there was no doubt the man was taken. Still, it didn't hurt anyone just to look, did it?
Suddenly, he turned around and stared right at me. He was checking me out! I darted my gaze down to avoid contact. Still, I could tell his eyes were roving over me. I looked back up, and our eyes met. It was an intense moment. I was sure he could sense the attraction I felt toward him glowing in my own eyes.
He looked like he was about to say something, but before anything could happen, a middle-aged woman walked past him and came straight over to me. She extended a hand, which I shook politely as I stood up.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “I'm the manager of the studio. You're here to apply for the opening?”
“Hi, yes, that's right.”
“Come with me to my office, and we'll talk about that job.”
I followed her, smiling at him as I passed. When we arrived in her office, she motioned to the chair in front of her desk.
“I’m Gwen, please have a seat.”
“I’m Danica Klein.”
I had a severe case of butterflies in my stomach, but I was doing my best to remain calm and come across as confident.
“So, Danica,” she said, “what made you want to apply for this job?”
“I love dance,” I said. “It's my passion. It has been since I was a little girl, and I've always dreamed of working in a prestigious dance studio like this one.”
“I see. And you are a professional dancer now, I presume?”
Now came the truth bending part.
“Well, I was. Back home before moving here. I had to stop when I broke my ankle, and I haven't danced for months because of the injury. I moved to New York because of family issues, and now I'm trying to find a job here.”
She nodded. “Interesting. Your resume says you were in Virginia. You don't sound like a Virginian to me. You sound like you've been in Manhattan far longer than a few weeks, actually.”
“My parents were originally from Manhattan, so I grew up speaking like them.”
“I see. Well, welcome home then,” she said with a smile. “So, what genre of dance would you say is your specialty? Ballet? Street or urban? Latin?”
“I've umm… I've dabbled in different styles. I'd have to say that Ballet and Latin are my favorites.”
“Those are very passionate forms of dance, yes. Well, on to the more boring questions. What hours are you available to work?”
“Any times I'm required to be here. Weekdays, weekends, day shift, night shift, whatever. I can be here.”
“Noted. Do you have experience with computers, spreadsheets, bookkeeping?”
“I worked in an office before,” I didn’t exactly lie on that one. I’d helped the nuns at the church office on occasion. “I can do all of that.”
“Well, then, I suppose I can give you the job. There have been several applications, but you're the first person I've interviewed – lucky timing on your part, I'd say. I really hate doing interviews, and it seems like you're qualified. So, when can you start?”
Pure joy exploded through my system. I wanted to jump up and do a little happy dance, but I managed to keep my cool and pretend I was only mildly happy. I smiled politely at her.
“Well, tomorrow would be perfect.”
“Tomorrow it is then. Be here at eight o' clock in the morning. We open at nine, but I'll need to show you the ropes before we open.”
“I will be here. Thank you, Gwen, I really appreciate the opportunity,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I'm taking a chance on you, Danica – so don't disappoint me.”
* * * * *
I went to the restaurant bathroom and locked myself in a stall as I often did at the end of every waitressing shift. Once safely inside with some privacy, I opened my backpack and took out a brown paper bag. Once new and crispy but now weathered and falling apart, it was the same bag that had contained the marijuana and money I had taken from my father on that fateful day he had sent me out with them—the day I had decided to run away and vowed never to return home.
The marijuana I had tossed in a dumpster, but the money I had kept. There had been ten thousand dollars in the bag that day. Now, the total was about half of that. I was about to add the $112.35 I had made on this shift to the bag. It was really quite amazing that any of the $10,000 total was still left, considering it had been eight years. But through hard work and careful budgeting, I had managed to not blow everything. Of course, not having to pay rent made it possible. But even with work and budgeting, my savings kept shrinking.
“I'm sorry for doing this to you, Dad,” I whispered to myself as I always did. “But you didn't leave me much choice. One day I'll pay you back. One day...”
I stuffed the money back into my bag and left the restaurant. I headed back to the church, to the section of the homeless shelter where I still slept. I put the money under my pillow, as I always did, and quickly fell asleep.
* * * * *
Gwen had explained pretty much everything to me about what I needed to do, and it seemed like I would be able to handle everything. There was still one more thing that I wanted to ask her about though.
“Gwen, there is one more thing...”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if we get employee discounts for classes here.”
“Yes. You get twenty percent off.”
“Okay, so how much would the classes be for me with that discount?”
“Hmm, well, they'd be around 7500 dollars for full access,” she replied.
The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut. I would never be able to afford classes here, never.
“You know, Danica, there is another way to get tuition here, and it's free.”
I perked up. “How?”
“We have a yearly fundraising auction, and it's coming up soon. You put together an item to auction – a basket of luxury toiletries or maybe have a company donate something, for example – and the person who raises the most funds gets a year of free tuition here.”
“Really? And I can do that?”
“Of course.”
Finally – a light at the end of the tunnel. Hope... hope.