Page 137 of Meet Me at the Metro

“I listen!”

I don’t have the chance to defend myself further as the satisfying clack of heels reverberates around the large, open room. My palms immediately grow tacky as the ensemble of women in front of us disperses to the quiet corners of the dance studio, leaving the creaky hardwood floors barren for the next set of auditioners.

The lead casting director rises from his chair. “If those auditioning for Roxie Hart would please find and occupy a marker on the floor.”

As the two dozen of us claim one of the unoccupied yellow duct tapeXs along the scratch-ridden wooden panels, he explains, “So same as the last group, Amanda, our show’s dance director, is going to run you guys through the routine a few times. You will have the opportunity to practice as a group, and then you will each perform individually. Got it?”

We’re gravely silent, but we all nod in agreement. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors ahead of us reflect the nervousness and excitement buzzing around the room as nearly everyone shifts restlessly on their feet.

Our fidgety limbs come to a frigid halt as Amanda steps forward in front of the group. “Okay, ladies, we’ll start the routine with a simple Charleston.”

We intently watch as she leads us through the moves once, ghosting each of her body’s fluid movements until she counts us off to practice them on our own.

“Forward and back and forward and back, and slap.Now, we’re going to turn to our side and step.”

She approvingly nods as she watches us follow her instructions, the heels of our black-clad shoes stomping along the floor as she counts us through the new sequence. “Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.Then, we shimmy back to the front—three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

By the time Amanda finished walking us through the challenging routine, my chest was heaving for air. One by one, they single us out and watch us perform the routine independently. I use every girl performingsolo before me as an opportunity to study the steps further and decide how to add my unique flair and style to the routine.

“Ellie Mattice.”

Every muscle in my body tenses as they call my name from the director’s table.

The echo of my footsteps haunts me as I move toward the middle of the floor, where I know every set of eyes in the room will be watching me. No matter how many auditions I’d been through in the past, this process never became any less nerve-wracking. It always gave me the sensation of facing an undiscovered fear for the first time again.

Auditioning was exhilarating as much as it was frightening.

“Whenever you’re ready,” they tell me.

I breathe, filling my lungs with a relieving rush of air, and contort my lips into a smile to mask my lingering anxiety. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The second I utter the words, I glance into the mirror before me and discover the set of dark, brown eyes watching me. They stand out among the crowd of bodies lined against the back studio walls and send a chill that’s only accompanied by nightmares up my spine.

Every cell in my body stills with terror as a sickening smirk pulls at the corners of John’s lips.

I shudder as his obsessive gaze travels down the length of my legs. I used to find his attraction toward me welcoming, but right now I feel repulsed by it, hating the invitation it insinuates entirely.

“Miss Mattice?”

I tear my eyes away from the mirror and fight to focus on the table of directors in front of me.

I want nothing more than to shove John and the knowledge of his presence into the unreachable parts of my mind, but my rapid pulse is a steady, constant reminder that he’s not going anywhere.

He’shere,watchingme.

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach.

“Are you ready?”

“I-I’m ready,” I lie.

The jazzy musical track begins to play before I can rally in my panicky thoughts, and I completely miss my first step. I’ve thrown myself offbeatbefore we’re even eight seconds into the lively melody, and the music stops before I can embarrass myself further.

“I’m so sorry.”

“That’s alright. From the top again.”

I nod and begin the routine from the beginning, focusing on the technicality of the moves and the steady cadence of the music. As I dance, I try imagining the warmth of the stage lights on my skin. I lose myself in the adrenaline rush that accompanies me in every performance or audition and allow it to pilot my body’s movements.

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