“What’s up, guys?” A cheery redhead bobs into view and we all turn to look at her.
“Lauren! Morning darling, this is…Robyn, isn’t it?” Zane asks, and I nod, too numb from embarrassment to form actual words.
“Fresh meat! Yeah, I’m Lauren. I’ll be taking you through the audition routine as soon as everyone’s here,” she says looking around the empty room. “Excuse me while I go out back and get changed.”
She doesn’t wait for any kind of a reply before heading behind the curtains with Annie hot on her heels.
“I should maybe just go,” I mumble as I walk towards my bag.
“Whoa, hold on. Why?”
“I don’t know, Zane, maybe because I can’t take any more embarrassment today?”
“Look, Robyn, I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable, laughing. That was wrong and not very professional. I was just a little—shocked. If you’re worried about the other night, then don’t be. It’s forgotten. Cross my heart. Just go stretch, and when the audition starts I promise it’s me seeing you for the first time.”
I blow out a long breath and thank him. His eyes are sincere and he’s giving me a break. I appreciate it more than he’ll ever know. I need this gig desperately.
My life is kind of depending on it.
“I’m sorry, I’m just not getting it. What count do we come in with the kick ball change?” Katie, another of the auditionees, asks as we’re getting into position ready to start. Lauren, Annie, and Zane are all seated front and center as Rae cues us in with the music. She’s the dancer we’re all hoping for a shot at replacing. The girl is like a mini Hitler. Her attitude is completely no-nonsense. If you missed something, well then tough shit.
“It’s on the four,” I tell her as we begin. We’re arranged in a chorus line, each wearing the Basque and French knickers they provided. The piece we’ve rehearsed is a typical Vaudeville-style performance. The dancing itself is relatively basic, and I’m not worried. It’s the acting and exaggeration that has my pulse racing. Thirty seconds in and I’m feeling good. I know the steps, my movements are sharp, and I manage to pull my gloves off without slapping anyone in the eye. I can do this.
Zane calls four girls’ names once we’ve finished our routine, each standing in our underwear and nipple pasties. I’m not one of the girls called, and immediately I feel exposed and nervous waiting for him to tell me my fate.
“If I’ve called your name, thank you very much for coming but I’m afraid we won’t be hiring you. You’re all free to go.” I quickly look around to see that Katie and two others are still standing here with me. Katie catches my eye as she shoots me a wink; I’m relieved to have made the first cut, but still too tense to return her a smile.
“Okay ladies, let’s take five, gather your costumes and then I’d like to see you perform the piece again.”
Annie, Lauren, and Rae are talking in hushed tones as they dissect our performance and carefully scrutinize each of us. I watch as their conversation comes to an abrupt halt. Annie’s face is full of concern as Lauren and Rae look me over, quickly dismissing whatever it was they were looking for with a side glance and head shake to each other. They turn back to Annie and pick up the discussion. There’s nothing like a group of beautiful women obviously talking about you to knock your confidence, even when you have a pretty strong sense of self-worth. I’ve always been confident when it comes to dance, and to date no one’s ever been able to shake it. I know I’m good. But I have a strange feeling that they’re not assessing my dancing abilities at the moment.
The other three girls on stage begin picking up the discarded gloves and Basques, sorting through to find which ones are theirs, and I’m hit in the chest with my clothes.
“Here you go, daydreamer,” Katie says as she starts dressing.
“Thanks,” I mumble and follow suit.
“Robyn, can I talk to you for a second?” Annie asks as she grabs my arm and leads me off the stage to a quiet corner, not giving me a chance to answer.
“Look, I’m going to ask this once and I’d appreciate an honest answer. Are you hooking up with Zane?”
“What!” I laugh, and then realize she’s serious. If the murderous look on her tiny little pixie face is anything to go by, she’s pissed that I found the question funny.
“Annie, no. Why would you even think that?”
“Well, he seems to know you, and Zane doesn’t have platonic female friends.”
“Wow, well you can relax because we’re not friends. I met him outside a bar two nights ago when I knocked him over and vomited in front of him. He helped my friend get me home. There’s absolutely nothing going on and there never will be. Trust me, my ex has sworn me off relationships for life.”
“Oh…”
The scowl’s been replaced with a small smile. “Well, that’s good to know. I’m sorry, I just…I don’t know. Zane and I are…” She’s struggling for a description of their relationship and honestly, I couldn’t care less.
“Look, no worries,” I reassure her and she looks relieved.
“Okay, ladies, back into positions! Rae, cue the music, let’s get this done,” Zane shouts, not lifting his eyes from his phone.
“That’s me,” I say to Annie as I climb onto the stage and she returns to her seat.
We go through the routine again and the other two girls are dismissed, leaving just Katie and me. We’re told we have three minutes each to perform to a piece of music of our choice. It doesn’t have to be polished as long as it gives a glimpse of how well we move and our abilities. Katie’s up first, and I’m a little shocked when Tweet’s Oops, Oh My begins to play. She doesn’t miss a beat as she begins a hip-hop routine that incorporates street and burlesque. It’s pretty uptempo, and she’s killing it. The whole three minutes is crammed full of shimmies, bump and grinds, and teases. There’s no denying that she’s a good dancer, and I watch enraptured as she turns, pulls an accidental exposé, then winks and takes a bow.
I’m impressed.
I’m also second guessing my music as she climbs down from the stage with a knowing grin on her face. She’s happy with her performance and she should be, it was great. Unfortunately for me.
“You’re up, Robyn!” Zane shouts, and I take a deep breath and walk to center stage.
I figure I need to stand out, so I choose Indiana’s Solo Dancing, deciding to go with contemporary. I was sure Katie would pull an old school big band number. I was wrong. Now it’s really all down to the dancing since I’ve lost the edge on my music choice. I get into first position. The music starts and washes over me and my body moves instinctively, there’re no conscious prompts. I’m in the zone from the first beat and everything else fades to black. I move in time, exaggerating each extension, gliding across the space and filling it with movement. I set my stance for a pirouette, turning once, twice in a classical turnout and then transitioning into a Fouettés. I’m spinning as fast as I can while making short work of unhooking the Basque and letting it drop to the floor. The whole intention of this routine is to discard my clothes as craftily as possible; I want the audience to appreciate the dance before they notice the flesh. Burlesque differs from stripping in that the sensuality comes from the sense of mystery and subdued sexuality as opposed to overt sexuality. The emphasis is on the tease, not the strip. At least that’s my rationale. I finish the piece with a grand jeté, landing into the splits and I mirror Katie’s earlier expression and wink. I’m out of breath and still myself, letting my body calm as I wait for some sort of response. I’m met with only silence as the music fades, and still nobody speaks.