“So you’ll stop all of this ridiculousness?” Dean asked.
Andrew couldn’t sit through this. He opened his mouth, but Susan squeezed his knee. She met his gaze, and he bit back his scathing words.
She turned back to her father. “I will.” The quaver was gone from her voice. The timidness that moved in the moment they walked into the restaurant was replaced with a thread of strength. “As of right now, I’m done pretending that I’m willing to rearrange my life for your approval. That you expect me to? That’s some serious bullshit right there.”
“Susan—”
“I don’t want to sever ties.” She cut Dean off. “You’re welcome to be a part of my life, but only under my terms. Accepting—not tolerating, not making snide, back-handed comments—my career path and the man I love. That’s all part of the me package.”
Andrew couldn’t hide his smug smile.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Dean said.
“Do you think so?” There was no hesitation in Susan’s words.
“I do.”
Susan stood, and Andrew was happy to join her. “Goodbye, Daddy. You know to find me if you grow up.”
“Susan”—Dean’s voice held a sharp edge—“if you walk out that door, you’ll never touch my family again. Not my money and not my name. How long will the novelty of a rich, sleazy boyfriend make up for that?”
Andrew intertwined his fingers with hers and looked at Dean. “For as long as she’ll have me.” He hoped that was forever. Each time he looked at Susan, his love, admiration, and respect for her grew more.
He felt the tremor running through her as they walked away. He couldn’t imagine how hard this was for her, but he was grateful she took this stand, rather than surrender herself to someone else’s will.
* * * *
One Month Later
Susan cycled through her stretches, to keep her muscles warm and limber. Around her, nearly two hundred other dancers did the same. The scents of makeup, sweat, and canvas felt natural, combined with the bright lights and polished floor.
It felt odd, filling out the application using the last name she’d had all her life. Rice didn’t belong to her anymore, but she needed a replacement before she could ask people to call her anything else. She tried out Rowe, on Mercy’s suggestion, but it didn’t feel like it belonged to Susan.
She smiled and chatted with the people she recognized. Introduced herself to those who were new. Did everything she could, to distract herself from the nervousness churning inside.
The stress never left, regardless of the number of auditions she attended. It felt different this time, though. The gazes on her weren’t as unnerving. Her biggest fear was how good the women around her were, and that was some hard-core competition.
Three dancers stepped to the front of the room, and a hush descended. It was an eerie kind of reverence. Susan paid attention to their every word. It didn’t matter how many times she’d heard the this is how it works speech; she didn’t want to miss anything.
The basics were simple. Each of the women up front would explain the dance she was looking to fill. The auditioning dancers would pick the one they were interested in, and the room would split into three groups. Once Susan made her choice, she and seventy-five or so others would learn the basics of their performance, and then show the evaluator, as a group.
Susan chose, and for the first time since she started attending try-outs, she ensured she was in the front row. The next few hours were a test of endurance and skill. She memorized the moves, let the music bleed into her until she knew the beat without hearing it, and flowed through the choreography.
She narrowed her focus, until the only things in her world were the vast parquet floor and the steps she needed to execute. She forced herself not to care who was watching.
Then, like that, it was over.
“Thank you, everyone, for attending. We’ll be in touch with each of you within the next few days.”
Like a switch had been flipped, the chatter burst back full-volume—girls talking about how they did, which moves were hardest, and Oh my God, I hope I get this.
She joined in, unable to wipe the smile from her face. This was normal too. After freezing the expression on during the audition, it would take time for her cheeks to relax. However, today it would stick around longer. She did well. There was no doubt. It might not be enough, but she’d never given a better performance.
She grabbed her bag, plucked her cell phone from it, and sent Andrew a text. I’m done. Lunch? Not that she’d be able to eat right away. The nerves clenching her stomach would calm as the day wore on.
His response didn’t take long. Duh? How’d it go?
Hurry and get here, and I’ll tell you.