The quiet begins to bother me, and I struggle not to squirm—or yell at him to speak. “Harmony.” He tilts his head to the side. As if he’s waiting for a reaction. “Is it Harmony?”
“Yep. Harmony. Just like on the paper,” I squeak.
“Okay. Why do you want to work here?”
“I figured that would be obvious. I need a job.” I press my lips together, instant regret over the smart comment.
“And the New York Ballet isn’t paying enough?” My eyes double. Shit. He recognizes me.
“What? Someone in my line of work can’t appreciate the ballet?” I wince, awkward and busted.
He laughs as he waves a hand in the air and shakes his head. “Want to tell me why you lied?”
“I really need the work because, no, the ballet doesn’t pay that much. Twenty grand a year isn’t very sustainable in New York,” I tell him honestly. The only reason I’ve survived as long as I have is because I lived with my Nana and worked at the restaurant as much as I could. But so much has happened in a short period, and when I say I’m desperate for money, it’s not an exaggeration.
He shakes his head, a disgusted sound rumbling from him. “Not enough anywhere. Why did you pretend to be Harmony?” He raises a brow. “That was ballsy for you to assume I didn’t know what she looked like.”
I cringe hard. “Not ballsy. The thought never occurred to me. I…The truth is a co-worker slipped your business card in my pocket last night, and I…I need the money. A lot more than I make working at a restaurant part-time and dancing in the ballet.”
“Can you even dance the way we need you to? There aren’t many here that care if you can pirouette, you know?”
I’ve spent twenty years dancing, and I’m only twenty-two. I spend hours every day honing my skills in ballet because it was my mother’s dream. From the time I could walk, she had me in every class she could get me into. When she died, I doubled down on that, but somewhere along the way, as I worked to fulfill her dream for me, I discovered other styles I loved. Modern contemporary was one of my favorites, along with hip-hop. I developed a passion for competitive dancing, both solo and teams.
But I stay with ballet—pursue it for her. For my grandmother, too.
“Do you assume because I’m a ballerina, I can’t be sexual? Ballet taught me discipline. Control. Sexy just has a different rhythm,” I argue without allowing him to respond as I stand from the seat and start for the stage again. “Do you have any music in this place?”
“That’s not necessary. I don’t need you to dance.”
Guess I’ll have to do it myself. I grab my phone and scroll through my music until I find something I like. Before I can hit play, he grabs the phone from me. “You’re not going to dance.”
My cheeks flame, and my eyes sting. I fight back the frustration and desperation threatening to spill down my face. “Please let me show you what I can do.”
He shakes his head, a deep chuckle vibrating through him. “You’re a relentless little thing, aren’t you?”
“I have to be. So am I hired?”
“No.” My shoulders drop. I open my mouth to continue pitching myself to him, but he holds up a hand, halting me. He studies me for a beat too long. Something unreadable glimmers in his eyes. “But you do get to come back tonight. Nine o’clock, and don’t be late.”
I barely refrain from throwing myself around him.
Eager to be a stripper. Who woulda thunk it?
But pride is a luxury I can’t afford when survival is on the menu.
Jagger
Ilove my job. Finding raw talent and shaping them into industry powerhouses is its own kind of addiction. But being trapped inside four walls, chained to a desk, surrounded by resentment and reminders that I’ll never be the one on the stage? That’s the part I loathe.
I grew up lurking these halls, tiptoeing past interns and engineers, sneaking into the studios where legends carved their dreams from blood, sweat, and guitar strings. It’s where my love for music evolved.
And where my bitterness grew.
It’s what kept my father away when I needed him most. Because he was too busy creating stars from dust and vinyl to notice his son was unraveling.
And this place didn’t just steal my dad. It stole my brother too, piece by piece, until I thought all that was left was ambition in a suit.
Graham was obsessed with this business even before he was old enough to obsess about anything. He became controlled by the need to prove he could run the family legacy and not assume the head role because of his name.
