Page 20 of The Failed Audition

His face turns grave, and he stares at the concrete floor, processing what this means.

“You never asked,” I reiterate this.

“Because I thought you were no one!” he shouts at me, frustration lining his forehead. “I don’t askanyoneat The Red Deathanything, Thora. I don’t want to hear about their lives while they’re in Vegas for the weekend. There’s no point. It’s exhausting and I’d rather assume…” he trails off, realizing he assumed wrong this time.

“I should’ve said something then,” I tell him. “You’re right.” I can’t even recall why I stayed quiet. Maybe because I was ticked off by his lack of questions. Maybe because I was overwhelmed. Mentally, emotionally—last night is far off compared to today.

I find myself sitting on the wooden bench between the lockers. Silence stretches between us. I expect him to leave, but he stays in the same place.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say softly, my eyes threatening to well with defeated tears. “You won’t see me around anymore.”

He lets out an exasperated noise and walks deeper into the locker room, nearing me. He stops a few feet away. “Look at me, myshka,” he says lowly.

I lift my gaze to his.

“Don’t count your losses before you see the scoreboard.” While encouraging, he still looks agitated. “It’ll plague you with insecurities that aren’t worth your energy or emotions.”

He just passed me an ounce of hope. Maybe out of pity. I’ll take it though. “Thanks for helping me, before,” I suddenly tell him. “I didn’t realize what you were doing…”

“The choreographers usually judge easier on the first person who auditions. They know you’re blindfolded for it unlike the others.” He drops his gaze again, something he rarely does, I’ve noticed. “I’m not going to lie. I was angry when I first saw you, and I still am.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” I whisper.

He nods a couple times. “But I wanted to give you a better shot because I felt like I put you at a disadvantage, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

His eyes rise to mine again. “Our relationship,” he says, “is unprofessional.”

I sway back a little. “I wasn’t aware we had a relationship.”

He still towers above me. “Whatever you want to call it—it’s not right. I don’t shit where I eat. I pierce and tattoo people looking to have fun in Vegas. I give them an experience. You were here for a job.” He shakes his head. “Iregretwhat I did. More than you can possibly know.”

“Don’t,” I tell him. “It’s just a piercing. And I said it was okay.”

“We may work together,” he says. “It’s not just a piercing to me.” He gestures to my small frame. “And how old are you?” He grimaces some. “Please tell me that you’re not eighteen.” Maybe because he supplied me shots all night. Or because he fondled my boob, and that’d mean we’d have a significant age gap than the one that already exists. I’m going with the latter.

“Twenty-one.”

Relief floods his face, and he exhales deeply.

“What about you?” I ask.

“Twenty-six.” He scans my body for a second, as though he’s reading the language of my movements. “Despite the control I had at the auditions today, I have almost no weight in the final choice. They can pick any one of you, even if I say otherwise.”

The tiny hope he’d given me might have been false after all. “The choreographer dislikes me,” I recognize. He was introduced at the end of the auditions, so I’m certain he’s the man who’ll arrange the aerial silk routine.

Nikolai relaxes his shoulder on the locker again. “Ivan doesn’t dislike you.”

My chest inflates with more positivity.

“He actually hates you,” he says flatly.

It pops just like that.

“Amour won’t last the year if we don’t find a replacement,” he explains. “The Masquerade is threatening to shut down the show, and it needs the aerial silk act to complete the story. So Ivan is under a lot of pressure, as am I, and as will be my partner.”

I want to believe that I can handle the pressure. I can say it every day, all day, but actions speak louder. I haven’t ever been tested to this degree. Nothing this grand has weighed on my shoulders. I can barely even imagine what he’s going through.

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