Page 6 of Off Balance

I'm pretty sure I can see brain matter from the position of my eyeballs in the back of my head right now.

"So, what are you really doing today?" My mother asks again. "I have to go in to work for a while, but I'll be off early. Do you think you'll be around for dinner?"

How can I say no to the hopeful look in her eyes? A couple hours of playing happy family won't hurt me.

"Dinner sounds great. I'll probably go to the studio for a short workout, and then stop by the center to give them my schedule."

I've been teaching classes at our local community arts center for almost five years. It doesn't pay much, but they're flexible and work around my performance schedule. I love teaching, especially young kids, and I've desperately held onto it even with my grueling schedule. It’s something I'm not sure I'll be able to hold on to for much longer now that I've been promoted to principal dancer inDe Pointe Elite.

If I've learned anything from this most recent tour, it's that being at the top comes with a lot more responsibilities than just putting on a good show on stage. I also have to put on a good show at the afterparties and events, and in some ways, that performance is even more important.

On Emile Alistar’s arm, I have to make both him and the company look good. I have to be the perfect trophy. A pretty thing that smiles and accepts compliments graciously but doesn't have an opinion or thoughts of my own.

"Why don't we break out the grill tonight?” Dwayne suggests. “Maybe do s'mores over the fire pit when it gets chilly?"

The indulgent look on my mother's face would make me gag if she wasn't so genuinely happy. "That sounds perfect. Cami, what do you think?"

"Sounds great," I agree, both looking forward to it and not.

"You should invite your guy to join us," Dwayne says jovially as he zips the lunch box he's been packing. "We've barely had a chance to get to know the man that's been keeping you so busy."

"Yes! Cameron, invite him, please. He seems so nice. And so handsome," she coos.

"Mom,stoooop," I whine like a moody teenager. "I promise I'll invite him if you promise not to embarrass me in front ofmy boss."

"Scandalous," she says under her breath, waggling her eyebrows at Dwayne.

Yeah. I'm not letting Emile anywhere near these people.

Emile isn't in the studio when I get there and doesn't make an appearance by the time I've finished my workout nearly three hours later. I send him a text, deciding to invite him after all. I have a hard time imaginingtheEmile Alistar at a backyard barbecue, but I would like my family to meet him. He's important to me. Since the day I auditioned for him, he's changed my life in so many ways, all for the better.

I spent all my days bettering my craft by working out, practicing, and teaching—eating, breathing and living ballet, but I wasn't doing much to better myself as a person. I'd been a working as a go-go dancer in a club most nights. It was decent money, and the job was fun. So was all the attention I got from hot guys. Crisp bills tucked into my G-string were usually accompanied by a lingering touch. It sometimes led to a hand job in a dark corner of the club, or to getting on my knees in an open bathroom stall. Several nights a week I woke up in a stranger's bed, only to rush out before dawn to start my day. I didn't think anything of it.

Did I aspire for a better life, where my mother and I weren't struggling to pay the utilities because our asshole of a landlord wouldn't get the pipes fixed and our water bill was sky high? Of course. But there were two things that were guaranteed to get me out of my head: dance and sex.

I lived a double life. And I didn't hate it.

Not until I met Emile.

The night we met, I spotted him leaning against the bar, watching me with rapt attention. He wanted me, and I like being wanted.

On weeknights, when the club wasn’t super busy, the various dancers would sometimes take over the music and perform on the small stage that extended into the middle of the club floor. We could pick a song and perform a dance for the crowd and our fellow performers. Most of the guys turned it into a striptease, which was always fun. Of course, I had to be extra. With the lights dimmed and a spotlight trained on me, I'd strike a pose in the middle of the stage and do what I do best. Dance.

I never planned out the choreography, I'd just pick a song and let the music move me. It'd often be a blend of my formal ballet training and more contemporary dance moves, set to a slow, sexy, popular song. I would usually wear a pair of dance leggings and a crop top, the same clothes I typically worked out and rehearsed in. But that night, I took one look at the way the handsome man with slicked back white-blond hair and a three-piece suit was watching me, and I stripped down to my nude dance belt.

I had no idea who he was. Of course, I'd heard about the unique contemporary dance company that had been making wavesacross the Atlanta theater scene. I'd been with my much smaller dance company for several years, and I dreamed of branching outside of the status quo of yearly Nutcracker and Romeo and Juliet performances. I wanted my life's passion with a touch of thrill. I worked harder, trained more, and strived to be good enough to audition, because I knew it would be a onetime opportunity.

If I'd known the owner of the very company I'd been dreaming of working for was the man watching me with hooded eyes and rapt attention, would I have been as brazen? Would I have stripped down, greased myself up with baby oil, and danced to a suggestive song by The Weeknd?

Maybe.

It’s possible I never thought I was good enough to truly make it. And my general response to inadequacy was to overcompensate by making myself desirable to whatever man I set my sights on.It was sheer luck that Emile caught my eye on that particular night.

When Emile found me in the staff changing room backstage, I pretended not to be surprised to see him. Instead, I kept my back to him, bending over a sink to wet a towel to clean myself up with. In the mirror, I could see his eyes on my ass. And that familiar thrill of being desired made my heart beat faster.

"Did you want to buy me a drink before or after?" I asked bluntly.

Emile cocked his head and brought his eyes up to meet mine. The steely blue pierced me, and I felt my typically iron-clad confidence plummet. I could tell by his disappointed expression that he was judging me and found me wanting.

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