Page 2 of Blossom in Shadows

I can almost feel the way she’s narrowing her eyes on the other side of the phone. “What’s wrong, Zinnia?”

I groan and put the call on speaker while I wrestle my pitiful body into my leggings so I can get moving. I don’t want to be late for the audition, especially since Briar is the one who helped me get it in the first place.

“Just the normal. I was trying to get changed after my last class and tweaked my knee,” I try and sound like it’s okay.

She knows it’s not. The last six months since my injury have been the worst of my life and she’s been at my side through it all. She helped me to doctor’s appointments and sat with me as my dreams were crumbling around me. She’s tried her best to make sure I don’t drift too far under the wave of depression over losing the life I was destined to live.

It made our already tight friendship into something more. She became my sister in the darkest of my days. I used to be the person who pulled her out of her shell by getting her to go out with me and have a life outside of her florist business. Now, she’s the one who needs to pull me out of my pain.

She’s pulled in so many different directions between her business and her man, Jericho, who is kind of scary but adores her. It was only about a month after they met when I got injured and I hated to pull her from her life too much. Still, I know she’ll be there when I really need her.

I don’t want to rely on her too much because I need to be able to stand on my own two feet, even if I can’t bear weight fully on one of them. I’m cracked, but not broken entirely. It’s hard to keep that in mind sometimes, but it’s true.

“Are you going to be able to do the audition?” There’s worry in her voice. “If you need to call and reschedule, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

“I’m going,” my voice is strong and filled with determination.

I’m not going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. It’s not stripping, which I did consider and thought would be too much on my knee, but dancing in a cage in a club is perfect.

My doctors tell me I might be able to get back to full strength with time, but I know my body, and this isn’t the first injury I’ve had to bounce back from. Maybe it’s not just my body that’s done, maybe it’s my spirit as well.

I can’t take any more pain. I don’t want to. I love dance, but I need to find a way to move forward with my life.

It’s easy to blame my knee giving out on me. The reality is that even before my injury, the way I felt about dancing was changing. It wasn’t something that gave me the same amount of joy. It was harder and harder to get out of bed in the morning and devote my life to something when it didn’t feel like it was giving anything back.

Now, I’m just lost and in pain.

“Okay, Zin,” there’s a thread of worry in her voice. “Break a leg?”

I laugh because she always sounds unsure when she says those words. It’s adorable and something I love about her. She’s admitted it feels wrong to her, and I can’t say I don’t understand. I do. It’s so counterintuitive, but there are just some traditions which are important when it comes to the stage.

“Thanks, Briar,” this time it’s not difficult to sound happy and more together. Talking to her always has that affect on me. “Not just for being my bestie, but for getting me the audition too.”

“No problem. I think it’ll be a great fit for you,” there’s a hesitation in her voice, as if she’s purposefully not telling me something.

It doesn’t really matter. I want this job. I need this job.

I’m tired of feeling stuck and something tells me this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. Maybe this will give me a chance to find my love for dance again in a way that doesn’t cause me pain.

I glance at the clock on the wall and mutter, “Shit. I need to get going or else I’m going to be late.”

We say a quick goodbye and I finish getting dressed, this time using the chair to help me instead of risking twisting my knee again. It makes me feel even more broken, but if it keeps the pain away then it’s worth it.

I grab a cab when one drives by and breathe a sigh of relief that I’m not stuck waiting. Maybe it’s a sign that the rest of my day will go well. I can only hope.

I’ve done countless auditions before, but when I climb out of the cab in front of Sala, I’m more nervous about this one than I’ve ever been before. They aren’t looking for technique that’s been drilled into me for years. They’re looking for something more and I’m not even sure what it is.

When I step into the club, there’s a few other girls there waiting and a huge fucking guy standing next to the door. He’s intimidating as hell, and I have to stop myself from taking a step back from him.

There’s a bored quality to his voice, even as his eyes assess the room and then snap back to mine, “Name?”

“Zinnia Newman.”

He gives me a nod and then looks down at the clipboard which looks like a damn miniature in his huge hands. He checks something off and then nods toward a few couches where the other women are waiting. It’s strange being in this club with all the lights on, especially since I’ve been here before for a night of fun.

That was before my injury though. I haven’t been able to bring myself to go out since then. What would be the point?

There’s a man on the other side of the room as he watches a woman audition. Her movements are fluid and sexy as hell. My heart sinks as I consider that my skills won’t be enough for this job.

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