Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44617 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 223(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Tears pooled in my eyes again.
“Every ballet troupe has a CEO,” I began slowly. “We didn’t realize it out here in Kansas because we never saw that side of the business. But every dance troupe has a guy at the top who runs things, and in this case, the NYC Academy CEO is a very important guy.”
Mary nodded slowly.
“Okay honey, I get that. Did he force you out? Oh wait, you said you quit right? Honey, what’s going on? I’m just so lost,” she said, blue eyes bleary, unsure what to say next.
And slowly the story came out. How I’d met Thorn. How I’d danced for him in his private studio, leading to our first steamy session. And how we’d begun what I thought was a relationship of sorts, except that it wasn’t, not for him.
Kudos to Mary because she listened quietly the entire time. As I relayed all the gory details, my mom didn’t say anything, just letting me talk uninterrupted. And by the end, I was completely in tears again.
“He was seeing someone else the entire time,” I concluded, sobbing sorrowfully now, hanging my head. “I heard them, I heard all the banging and it was clear what was going on.”
My mom extended one gnarled hand. Being a seamstress is difficult work, and her joints were swollen and thick with arthritis. But her touch was gentle as she stroked my curls, like I was a little girl again.
“Don’t worry, baby,” she murmured. “Don’t worry.”
That just set me off even more.
“It was so horrible,” I choked. “The cries, the screams, the gasping and moaning. All the evidence was there,” I choked, a spasm of pain ripping through my chest so hard that I doubled over, caught in the agony. “It was true, I heard them myself.”
My mom leaned back in her chair then, sighing, wiping a hand over her eyes.
“Baby, men aren’t what they seem,” she said in a soft voice. “They’re never what they seen.”
“I know that now,” I wailed, lifting my head momentarily, face crumpled and bright pink. “But I didn’t know then, and now I’ve lost everything,” I said brokenly. “My life in New York, my scholarship, my dance, and my … my … my love,” I finished.
Mary’s hand caressed my head again.
“It’s not so bad,” she said. “You’re young. You can still have a career here in Kansas. There are lots of little girls who want to learn ballet, you could open up a studio here,” she said reasonably.
I lifted my head, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Ma, we live in a beaten-down part of town,” I said woodenly. “No one here can afford ballet lessons, and even if they could, why would they want me?” I asked bitterly. “I’m just a washed-out nothing who didn’t make it in the big city.”
But Mary was realistic.
“So you didn’t make it in New York, is that so bad? Honey, there are lots of people who don’t make it in the Big Apple, and they go on to have productive lives. They go on to have wonderful lives with lots of friends, family, and a fulfilling career too. You could have that, I know you could,” she said, her voice encouraging and warm. “I know you could, you’re my best girl.”
But the words just sent me over the edge again. Because sometimes Thorn had called me his “best girl,” and the memory made the pit in my stomach grow even deeper and darker. How could he? How could he, on our one night apart, bring another girl to the apartment? How could he be so faithless, so dismissive, treating me like a nobody?
But that’s the thing. Thorn had never promised anything. He was a powerful CEO having a physical fling with a young ballerina, one who’d willingly offered her body and soul. The alpha had never promised more, he’d never said that I was his “girlfriend,” his “lady friend,” or even that we were just plain “friends.” I was his employee, a junior member of the corps whose body he happened to enjoy. It was me who’d been dumb.
And the realization made me sob all over again. I was lost without Mr. Channing, completely devastated, like a piece of driftwood bobbing aimlessly on the ocean. What would I do without Thorn? How would I piece together my life after it’d been blasted into smithereens?
My mind spun crazily. There was Mom’s idea about the ballet school out here in rural Kansas, but I couldn’t possibly. I couldn’t possibly dance again without my heart breaking, Thorn had taken that from me. And my soul collapsed again so that I keeled over completely, face buried in my knees, wracked with sobs.
“Shhh,” consoled my mom, her wizened hand stroking my curls again. “Shh, baby it’s not so bad.”
Not so bad? It was fucking terrible, my life was a complete disaster. I had no money, I had no prospects, and the man I loved had treated me like shit, disrespecting what we had together. How could things be worse? The howls burst from my throat in ragged yelps, my pain and sorrow ripping out our eardrums.