Page 20 of Master of My Heart

Chassidy looked Sabrina up and down, unimpressed, then handed her a form and a paper number with a safety pin at the top. “Fill out the form and hang onto it until you go into the audition. You can warm up in Studio B on the third floor.” She waved her hand toward a staircase behind her.

“Thank you.”

Third floor. Where she’d been five years ago.

She took a deep breath as she turned toward the staircase, then slowly climbed the stairs and found the studio. Her hands felt clammy as she paused in the doorway. About forty dancers were spread around the large room, some stretching or warming up. A few sat on the floor, filling out the form. Sabrina decided it was best to get the form out of the way first, so she sat down and pulled a pen out of her bag.

At the top was a blank space for her name.

Which name should she use? If she used her real name, Martin would know her, and who knew who else. She wasn’t convinced that would be a good thing. How disappointed would they be to see what she’d become? If she used the name Ramon gave her, would she be safe? All the men she’d encountered while with Ramon knew her as Sabrina De Sousa. Which was more important? Shame or safety?

She sighed and wrote down Sabrina Mansfield.

Address... I don’t have one.

Phone number...

She didn’t have one of those, either. How would they get in touch with her? Sabrina blinked back tears as it dawned on her how unprepared she was.

Then she shook her head. One thing at a time. She’d worry about that later. Maybe they’d give her a time when she could stop by and check on the results.

She didn’t know where she’d go until then, though.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and looked back down at the sheet. Other questions were easier to answer, such as how long she’d been dancing and what parts she’d danced previously.

The last question made her pause.

Why do you dance?

She chewed the end of the pen and thought for a few minutes, then wrote Because I have to. It was true. She didn’t feel totally sane unless she was dancing. Even Khyan and Ramon had made sure she went to classes on a regular basis.

She shuddered as images from her past started to seep into her mind, but she pushed them aside.

After filling out the form, Sabrina opened her bag, pulled out her pointe shoes, and began to work on them. Eloise had bought them for her back in Tucson, so they were brand new and too stiff to dance in. After several minutes of pounding and massaging, her shoes were soft. She put them on and began a gentle warm-up, trying to loosen up her stiff and sore muscles. Part of her wanted to dwell on what happened on the train, but she pushed the thought aside. She had more important things to worry about right now. The past was the past. Best to leave it there.

Her stomach growled again, a reminder of how long it’d been since she’d eaten. Maybe there was a vending machine somewhere in the studio so she could get something to eat to give her enough energy to get through the audition.

She blinked back tears again. She didn’t even have enough money for a decent meal, let alone a place to stay tonight.

If she did well today, callbacks would be tomorrow. Sabrina knew she could go long periods of time without eating, but she wouldn’t make it through another audition without something in her stomach.

She grasped the barre with stiff hands and stared at the wall behind it. Maybe she should just leave. This was a mistake.

“Hey, Sabrina.”

She jumped at the sound and spun around, backing against the wooden pole. Jayson stood there, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, forcing a fake smile onto her face. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He frowned. “Have you eaten breakfast?”

Her stomach answered. She clasped her arms around her waist. “Who in their right mind would come to an audition without eating breakfast?” she asked in a squeaky voice.

His expression told her he wasn’t buying her attempt to laugh off his concern. “C’mon.” He grasped her hand and began to lead her away.

She leaned back, struggling to free her hand from his grip as icy fear streamed through her body. “I can’t. My bag—”

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