I managed a tight smile. Okay, so that answered one question.
“Reed mentioned that you didn't have any formal training,” she said.
“That's true. A few classes at the local youth center when I was a kid, but that was it.”
“And you think you'll be able to keep up with our classes after a few classes as a kid?” She sounded doubtful but not cruel.
It wasn't until that moment that I realized what I should have known before. They didn't know what I'd been doing in Vegas. No one here did. This really was my chance for a fresh start.
“Let's see what you have prepared,” Madam Emilana said as she and Miss Janine moved to stand at the front of the studio.
With the weight that had been lifted at the idea of a clean slate, the routine went even better than I'd hoped. I added in each of the elements I'd selected from the three classes, nailing the first ones with ease, the second set without a problem and almost completing the last ones perfectly. A little bobble on one and another that looked a bit rough, but still recognizable. The other parts had been brought in from various forms of dancing I'd done over the years, though the ones from the last two years were much more sanitized versions. All in all, when I finished, I was beyond pleased with what I'd done. I just hoped the judges slash teachers felt the same way.
When I first looked at them, my heart sank because they were turned toward each other, having what appeared to be a low, heated discussion, though their faces were basically blank.
“Miss Black,” Miss Janine turned toward me first. “You stated that you hadn't had any formal training.”
“That's right.” I sounded more winded than I wanted to, but there wasn't anything I could do about that now.
“Then may I ask how you included elements specifically taught in dance classes, one of which is exclusively taught here?”
I wasn't sure if she was angry or not, but I figured honesty was the best way to go. “I watched the classes and chose elements that would fit into the spaces I'd left in my routine.”
Miss Janine's eyebrows shot up. “You're telling us that you came here with a half-completed piece, intending to fit in unknown elements that you'd never practiced before?”
I tried not to shift my weight from one foot to the other, but the questions were making me nervous. I wasn't sure if I'd done something wrong or what the correct answer was, so I stuck with the truth. “Yes.”
“How did you know you'd be able to do anything we were teaching?”
Madam Emilana still hadn't spoken. She was simply watching the conversation volley back and forth, her face an impassive mask.
I shrugged and immediately regretted it. A shrug was about as far from elegant as a person could get. I straightened my posture. “If I couldn't do at least what the remedial class was doing, I didn't belong here. If the other levels would've been too hard to even try, I would've only added ones from the first class.”
Now Madam Emilana spoke and she sounded almost smug. “I told you that was what she was doing.”
Now I was just confused and let it show. Neither of the women explained though.
“Excellent work,” Miss Janine said, and it didn't sound grudging at all. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.
“Yes,” Madam Emilana said. “You will begin in the advanced class starting tomorrow and should you prove to be as hard a worker as I believe you to be, your private lessons with me will start at the beginning of the upcoming year.”
I was still beaming when I walked outside fifteen minutes later. I was also pretty sure that, if I hadn't been a grown woman standing on a city sidewalk, I might have skipped a bit. I was still debating going for it when I heard a familiar voice call my name.
“Piper! I was hoping I hadn't missed you.”
I turned as Julien jogged across the street. He was grinning at me and, for a moment, I thought he would hug me, but he didn't. He stopped within arm's reach and stuck his hands into his pockets. It was a hot day and he was wearing shorts, showing off athletic legs that were a bit paler than the rest of his visible skin.
“I called the studio to ask what times they normally held their auditions so I could get here in time to see how you did.”
I was so touched at his thoughtfulness, of his remembering my big day. I was smiling so big I thought my face would crack. “Great!” I nearly yelled, “I'm in the advanced class with a chance to have private lessons.”
Moving back to Philadelphia now seemed worth it.
“That's wonderful!” He gave me a slightly awkward one-armed hug and then backed away. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” I hadn't been able to eat much today. Too many nerves.
“Then let's celebrate,” Julien said. “My treat.”
I smiled. “Where do you want to go?”
“Your choice. It's your celebration.”
“Trolley car?” I suggested.
“Breakfast for dinner.” He chuckled. “Bacon and eggs?”
I laughed too. The fact that he'd made me breakfast without expecting anything in return had made that one of my few positive memories of that week.
I was surprised at how smoothly the conversation flowed as we walked back to his car and then drove out to Germantown Avenue. He was still really easy to talk to. I suppose I'd thought our conversations before had been a fluke brought about by the need to be less awkward with Brock being a jerk, or by alcohol. That last conversation we'd had wasn't like this at all, so I didn't count it. Now, I could see it wasn't any of that. Julien was one of those rare people with whom it was comfortable to talk. One subject flowed into another and never ventured into anything uncomfortable or too personal. Over pancakes with maple syrup and cinnamon buns with creamy frosting, he told me what he'd been doing since we'd last seen each other, and then he asked how the job search was going.
I frowned at my pancakes. “I think I covered half the diners and restaurants in Fishtown, but none of them are actually looking for help. They were all really polite and let me fill out an application, but I doubt I'll hear anything from them.” I tried to lighten the mood by leaning across the table and taking some of Julien's frosting. “Too bad Brock never made good on his promise. That ten thousand dollars would come in handy right about now.” I flushed as I realized how that sounded.
Fortunately, Julien was polite enough to ignore it and kept going with the original conversation. “Are you definitely wanting a job around Fishtown then?” he asked as he stabbed a piece of my pancake, giving me a dazzling smile as he ate the food he'd stolen.
I nodded. “That would be my preference. I'm staying with Anastascia right now and I don't have a car. I could borrow hers, but she's already doing so much for me.” I stopped suddenly, pressing my lips together. We were venturing into overshare territory. “It'd just be nice to be able to walk from her place to work and then to the studio, and not have to worry about trying to get a ride.” I glanced up at the sun. It was already starting to get darker earlier. “At least until winter comes.”
“Yeah, I'll bet that'll be one thing you'll miss about Vegas,” Julien said. “No one wants to walk in Philly during January.”
I nodded even though I knew I'd be one of the ones doing just that. First priority was to find a place of my own. It may have seemed like I should've worried about a car first, but unless I was forced to get a job somewhere that having one was absolutely necessary, being in my own apartment came first. Walking would help keep me in shape. I'd dealt with walking in Philadelphia winters before. I could do it again.
“I know a few people in the area,” Julien said. “I could make some calls.” He held up a finger before I had the chance to say anything. “I won't do it if you don't want me to. I know some people don't like taking help.” The twitch at the corner of his mouth said he remembered our conversation a few weeks ago regarding that exact thing.
He was right. I didn't like asking for help, but I was getting better at it, especially since I knew once I got hired somewhere, they wouldn't regret it. I was a hard worker, and after two years of stripping, dealing with obnoxious restaurant customers was going to seem like a vacation. Besides, it was either this or borrow money from Anastascia in a week or so when what I had left from the club finally ran out. I'd refused to let her pay for my food and I'd had to get clothes for dance class. That had taken most of what I'd brought with me.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I'd appreciate that.”
He nodded. “All right then. I'll get back to you as soon as I hear anything.” He held my gaze for a moment, and then smoothly transitioned to another subject. “So, tell me what you're going to be looking to do with your dancing. Theater? I’m not even sure what all the options are.”
I liked this, I thought. Good food. Good conversation. And a nice guy who wasn't trying to get into my pants. It was refreshing.
Chapter 4
The first week at Madam Emilana's was amazing. Granted, by the end of the week, my muscles were protesting every little move, but it was hard to describe how wonderful that actually felt.
Other things were going well too. Wednesday, Julien had called and given me the name of a tiny little family-owned restaurant two blocks over from the dance studio. I'd gone in before school the next day and was warmly greeted by an elderly Italian man who'd instantly proclaimed me 'Bella' and hired me on the spot. I might've thought Julien paid him if the man hadn't been so honestly excited. We'd set up a schedule that included letting me work split shifts around school and then agreed that Saturday afternoon would be my first day.