one of them looks like they get their exercise walking up and down runways.
Serena’s loving it. She’s leaning her elbows on the bar, grinning up at the bartender, asking him how many girls’ numbers he gets every night.
“Not enough,” he says, winking. “I’ve definitely got room for one more in my phone.”
I take a sip of my drink. It’s sickly sweet, but I can still taste the bite of alcohol underneath. It makes me gag a little. I don’t know how my brother drinks whiskey straight—it all kinda tastes like paint thinner to me.
I don’t want to get too tipsy, so I set my drink back down on the bar, looking around the club.
I love people watching.
If I could just sit in the corner, totally invisible, and watch people walk by all night long, I wouldn’t mind that at all. I like trying to guess who’s a couple and who’s not, who’s celebrating their last day of exams and who came here with workmates. I love seeing people’s gestures and expressions, the way they dance and talk and laugh.
I don’t like attention myself. So, when I see a man leaning up against a pillar next to the dance floor, staring right at me, his gaze hits me like a slap. I drop my eyes, pretending to be super interested in my own fingernails, until I think he’s probably moved on to something else.
When I glance up again, he’s still staring. He’s tall, slimly built, with hair so blond it’s almost white. He’s sharp-featured and pale. He looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in a long time, cheeks hollow and dark smudges under his eyes. He’s quite beautiful—like a starving angel. But there’s no kindness or friendliness in his face.
I turn all the way around back to the bar, grabbing my drink once more. I make conversation with Marnie, determined not to look over at the strange man anymore.
Once we’ve all finished our drinks, it’s time to dance. You’d think we’d get sick of it with all the practicing we do, but dancing at the club is completely different. There’s no technique to it. It’s the only time you can just flail around without having to think about it at all.
The more we dance, the sillier we get. We do the Humpty Dance and the Cabbage Patch, then the Renegade and the Triangle. Marnie tries to convince the DJ to play Lizzo, but he says he’s not allowed, he has to stick to the setlist.
In her bid to continue flirting with the hunky bartender, Serena goes back for several more drinks, until she’s too loopy to dance anymore. Marnie and I bring her water, and we all crowd into a booth to rest for a minute.
“So are you gonna tell me why you were so upset earlier?” Serena demands, lounging in the corner of the booth.
“Oh,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s stupid. I thought I’d be credited for the dances I choreographed for Bliss.”
“Why aren’t you credited?” Marnie asks. She’s tall, skinny, and black, with a cute little gap in her front teeth. She’s a great artist, and sometimes works on the sets as well as dancing in the corps.
“I don’t know. Probably Jackson changed most of what I did,” I say.
“No, he didn’t,” Marnie says, shaking her head. “I just watched the duet last night. It’s the same as how you made it.”
“Oh.”
Now I feel worse than ever. Is my work really that bad that Jackson thought I simply didn’t deserve credit? But if that’s the case, why did he even use it in the show?
“He’s stealing from you,” Serena says, shaking her head in disgust. “He’s such an asshole.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Marnie asks me.
“What can I do? He’s a god in the dance world,” I say, grimacing. “I’m nobody.”
Marnie makes a sympathetic face. She knows it’s true.
Serena is more fiery.
“That’s bullshit! You can’t let him get away with that.”
“What am I going to do?” I say. “Report him to the Supreme Court of Ballet? There’s not exactly a higher power here.”
“Well, you know those nasty green smoothies he keeps in the fridge?” Serena says. “You could drop a couple laxatives in there. At the very least.”
She breaks down in giggles, definitely more than a little drunk.
Her helpless laughter makes me laugh, and Marnie too. Soon we’re all snorting and giggling until tears run down our cheek.
“Knock it off!” Marnie says. “You’re gonna get us all kicked out.”
“No way,” Serena says. “That bartender