The Boss's Fiance Box Set

by Amanda Horton

  “But I can do it sooner,” Romina contradicted, “I’ve memorized all my dances.”

  “I know you have. But I want Dance Magazine to see how good you are. They just might give you a full ten pages instead of just a couple,” Lash replied.

  Lash headed for his car leaving Romina with waitresses hovering around her. He heaved a sigh of relief. Dangling the magazine cover bait was a light bulb moment. He just needed to know how to get it done.

  “Only one way to find out,” he muttered as he headed back to his apartment. He prayed that the Chinese model knew how. But he needed to know her name first.

  Chapter THREE

  For someone who never travelled outside her country, JFK International Airport was as daunting as it was huge. Stepping into its sleek, tiled terminal with its soaring metallic frames was like stepping into a futuristic beehive. A sea of faces moving in an invisible current over long stretches of carousels. Passengers would grab at their belongings and cause a pile up before continuing on their way. Ana was thankful for the backpack that held her possessions. She didn’t need to join the fray of travelers jostling for their bags.

  The arrivals lounge was a curious assortment of bored and excited people. Some strode confidently to chauffeured cars, while others searched for signboards that would point them to the nearest bus stop.

  Ana found what she was looking for. A bus headed for Queens was leaving in a few minutes. However, she didn’t expect the bus to be parked a quarter mile from the terminal. She ran the length of the sidewalk, barely avoiding pedestrians and getting the finger from those she had to push aside to catch her ride.

  She barely made it to the stop before the bus started moving. Panting and disheveled from all the exertion, she made her way to an empty seat in the middle of the bus. She dropped her backpack to the floor. Ana winced. Her shoulder felt sore. She lost a hair tie in the sprint and now her hair fell in untidy waves down her shoulder.

  “I’m here, I made it.” She refused to be daunted.

  A tiny voice in her ear told her she knew absolutely nothing about the place she was headed to. All she knew was the address where the auditions would take place. She glanced at her watch and saw she barely had half an hour to make it on time. She crossed her fingers. She had no clue how interviews were held in New York. She only knew the name of the person who called for the auditions – Jonathan Engels – the same person to whom she sent numerous audition tapes, none of which had elicited any response.

  Truthfully, she was never more unprepared to be in another city. If the airport terminal was an indication of what New York was like, then she was the small-town mouse who dared to wander onto the big city streets.

  Half of Ana was terrified. It was the half that said she made a mistake coming all the way here to pursue a dream. She should have been content with her job at the Cancer Institute in Torrevieja. Spain was home. And home was a place where everything was familiar and comforting. New York felt strange and impersonal.

  But there was that other half who kept the flame burning inside her soul. She remembered what Diane said. “Dreams are nourishment that feed the soul.” All these years she knew she yearned for something. Dancing was one of the means she often used to satisfy that hunger. Even as a child, when things became unbearable between her and her mother, she would hide in her bedroom, turn on the battered phonograph that once belonged to her dad, and dance. It never failed her. She hoped it wouldn’t today.

  Her musing was interrupted by static. “Queens!” The driver announced over the intercom.

  Ana grimaced as she slung her backpack onto her shoulder. Just before she exited, she asked the driver for directions. The driver said the studio was three blocks down. . Ana thanked him and headed in the direction he had pointed.

  Ana would learn soon enough that sprinting was a New York lifestyle. If you didn’t want to be late, run. In less than five minutes the audition would start. Clutching the strap of the backpack, Ana barreled down the three blocks leading to the dance studio.

  The studio resembled a huge warehouse from the outside. It sat in the corner between two streets where foot traffic was heavy. The wide glass windows allowed for maximum lighting. A brass sign held the letters MDS -Mancini Dance Studio. Something about the gleaming chrome and wood cladding made Ana’s heart leap. This was the dance studio in her dreams. She pushed the heavy door and found herself in a foyer. An empty room with a receptionist’s table greeted her.

  Ana wondered why there was no one manning the reception area. She headed towards a set of double doors and entered the studio. A huge stage dominated the space while tiered seats in red velvet ran all the way to the back. The whole place was silent and empty. Horror struck her. She missed the auditions. Everyone had gone home.

  “No! No! No!” Ana cried.

  She whirled back to the foyer in panic. Maybe someone was still outside in the street. She headed towards the door when she noticed the piece of paper on the floor. It must have been taped on the inside of the glass and had somehow fallen. She picked it up and read the note. Ana sagged with sudden relief. The note said rehearsals were moved to 2PM that day.

  “Oh, thank God,” Ana whispered glancing at her watch. It was only 12:30. She had an hour and a half till call time. She sat down on a couch against a wall and considered what to do next. She hoisted up her backpack and placed it beside her on the cushion. She rummaged through one of the pockets for a protein bar and water bottle. Munching on the protein bar, Ana came to a decision.

  “I’ll stay and wait here so I can be first in line.”

  Ana convinced herself that it was a good call. She didn’t know how many would show up. Better to be first in line than to miss out and be told they had reached their quota for the day.

  Ana used the backpack to cushion her head as she stretched out on the couch. She didn’t think anyone would mind since the studio was still empty. Her muscles felt sore after the 7-hour flight from Barcelona and from all the running she did just to get there. If she could just rest for a few minutes, she knew she would be all right. She could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. Its hypnotic sound made her lethargic. Her eyelids felt heavy and then began to droop.

  “Only for a few minutes,” she mumbled, wiggling to get more comfortable. She took one deep satisfying breath and was soon fast asleep.

  ***

  Ana shrieked in delight. The sand never felt warmer between her little toes and the turquoise waters of the beach looked so inviting. Her dad was chasing her laughing at her attempt to get away from him. Ana raced into the water feeling the soft sand underneath sink beneath her feet. Her dad was getting closer and closer. Ana tried even harder to get away laughing as she did. Suddenly the sand beneath her disappeared. One minute her head was bobbing above the water and the next she was drowning. She felt a hand encircle her wrist and pull her above. The sudden gush of air into her lungs was exhilarating….

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here,” an angry voice asked.

  Ana’s head jerked backwards as someone raised her up. She wanted to tell her dad she was all right, but she was still half-asleep.

  “It’s alright papa. I’m alright,” she mumbled in Spanish.

  “Are you drunk?” An annoyed voice asked.

  Ana blinked. She remembered the dream but couldn’t quite remember where she was. The man who loomed menacingly over her looked like a movie star – tall, broad-shouldered, and too good looking to be real. He smelled nice too. Ana closed her eyes desperately trying to gather her wits. Reality filtered in slowly. She was in New York waiting for the audition to start.

  But the man was gesticulating and showing her the door. “Was he the building security,” she wondered. She smiled stupidly hoping she could get to know him later.

  “Please leave. You’re not only drunk. You look high too. Are you a meth addict?”

  What was he saying? Ana understood but didn’t quite make the connection. Confused, she stared back at him unab
le to speak. The foyer was now a buzzing with activity. The door leading to the studio inside was wide open as young girls poured in.

  “I’m going to lose my spot at the front of the line,” Ana thought in panic.

  She made a step towards the door but was restrained by the man.

  “Who the fuck is he? I flew halfway across the world and ran the streets of New York to get here on time. I am about to lose my spot because this asshole won’t step out of my way,” Irritation was building inside her.

  She tried once again to step inside. The man gripped her elbow and forced her to the door.

  “There’s a homeless shelter just up the road. If you go now you may still find a bed to sleep in,” the man said.

  “I know you’re probably drunk or high, but if you don’t leave this instant, I will have to call the police,” he enunciated every word like she was an idiot.

  The fog in Ana’s brain cleared. The man mistook her for a homeless person. She glanced at the glass window and gasped at her reflection. No wonder he did. Her hair was a messy tangle and her clothes wrinkled from sleeping. She looked like one of those waifs with begging cups on the streets of Barcelona.

  She ran her fingers through her hair hoping that was enough to make him see she wasn’t some hobo who just accidently walked in and fell asleep on the couch. Then she tried to walk past him again. He blocked her passage with his body.

  “Miss, this is your final warning. Leave now or I will call the cops,” he threatened.

  It was more than Ana could take. Irritation turned to rage. She raised all of her 5’6’’ frame and screamed into his face.

  “I am not some homeless person, you asshole. You are a douche bag security officer, and I will make sure your boss hears about this. I travelled all the way from Barcelona just to be here for the audition, you bastard. You better get the fuck out of my way before I kick your teeth in, you useless piece of man shit.”

  Ana was furious. It felt very satisfying…except she said it all in Spanish.

  Suddenly a tall balding man in turtleneck spandex and jazz pants came rushing. He held a sheaf of papers in his hand.

  “Lash,” Ana heard him say, “we’re about to begin the audition…Oh!”

  Ana saw the recognition in the newcomer’s eyes

  “Ana? Ana Garcia?” The balding man said.

  “I’m so glad you came. Your audition tapes were wonderful. I meant to email you but got so caught up with pre-production. My name is Jonathan Engels.”

  Relief surged through Ana’s body. She was welcome here after all. Jonathan Engels turned to the man who was blocking her. Ana hoped Jonathan would castigate him for keeping her away from the audition.

  “Lash, this is Ana Garcia. The girl from Spain I was telling you about?” Then he turned to her and said, “Ana I’d like you to meet Lash Mancini, Creative Director and owner of the dance company.”

  Ana wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

  “Mr. Mancini… I’-I’m honored to meet you,” Ana said weakly. She hoped to god he didn’t understand Spanish.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Had I known, I would have asked the security officer to escort you inside,” Lash replied sardonically.

  Ana was horrified. He understood. Heat suffused her whole body. Of all the shitty luck. It had to be the owner of the dance company to find her asleep inside his studio, and worse, verbally attack him like she was some kind of shrew.

  “Miss Garcia was explaining to me some words in Spanish. I always thought I was an expert. But I realized I hardly knew the language.” Lash added blandly.

  “Well, let’s all proceed inside so we can begin,” Jonathan cut in.

  Ana was only too glad to get away from Lash Mancini, but she had a sinking feeling that she just blew her chances.

  Chapter FOUR

  Ana felt butterflies in her stomach as she waited by the stage wing. She was number 12 on the list. One more girl and it was her turn to give it a go. She had wanted this for so long but now that she was actually about to show them her skills, she was suddenly afraid. What if they didn’t think she was good enough?

  “Nerves,” she muttered, shaking her fingers and flexing her toes. She was a ball of energy waiting to explode.

  “Excuse Me,” The girl going next remarked.

  “Nothing,” I’m just nervous,” she admitted.

  “Yeah, me too. Who wouldn’t be? Dancing for Lash Mancini. I mean, just look at him,” she gestured to where Lash sat, together with Jonathan Engels, and a couple of other choreographers. “I would give up an arm just to be here with him every day. How can an owner of a dance company be so dreamy and not gay? “The girl added.

  “Maybe he is,” Ana bantered.

  “Have you been living under a rock? He is currently dating Lili Chong. Her face is everywhere – in billboards, magazines, fashion runways…”

  Ana wished the girl would stop talking. She wanted to forget all about Lash Mancini being there. Humiliation was the last thing she wanted to bring with her on stage. Now that she was actually in her black jazz pants, a form fitting top, and soft leather shoes, she was starting to feel like a dancer once again. With her hair pinned up and away from her face, she no longer looked like a waif. She was even grateful not being first in line. Every girl who went ahead was asked to choose from an audition tape they sent earlier. She knew exactly which piece she wanted to perform.

  Back in the dressing rooms, which smelled of dancer’s perfume, hairspray, and stage make-up, there was nervous chatter as they waited for audition to begin. Ana mostly heard Lash Mancini’s name mentioned and how each girl wanted to impress him. She wanted that too but not in the way these girls meant to impress him. Maybe he had forgotten the incident earlier between them? Ana crossed her fingers and hoped so.

  “Ana Garcia, please come on stage,” she heard Jonathan call her name.

  Ana took a deep breath and walked slowly towards the front of the stage. She had chosen an audition tape, which she called “The Fish Market.” It was the very first dance tape that she choreographed. Through the years as she gathered more confidence in her dancing style, the steps evolved making it one of the most poignant pieces she had ever done. It was her interpretation of a fish market back in Torrevieja where her mom brought her as a child. It held many memories for her- happy and sad - and had the greatest number of views on her YouTube channel.

  Ana stood at center stage, eyes closed, with her back straight and arms stretched to the sky waiting for the music to cue. Her mind was ready to soar when she heard the microphone come alive.

  “Uh, Miss Garcia…”

  Ana’s eyes flew open. It wasn’t Jonathan voice she heard. It was Lash Mancini speaking.

  “Yes,” Ana squeaked as her arms flopped to her side.

  “We’ve seen audition after audition based on tapes that were sent earlier. Do you intend to do the same,” He asked?

  “Yes,” Ana replied. She wondered where this was going.

  “If you want to be considered for the part, I suggest you don’t.”

  “W-what do you want me to do?” Ana was confused.

  She came here to audition and now he was telling her – telling everyone – he didn’t want to see another audition tape? What did the man want? “He wants to get back at you for calling him all those names,” the thought flashed through her mind.

  “Jonathan here tells me you’re good with improv,” Lash said. “I want you to show us something that is totally unrehearsed, something that you can create on the spot.”

  That didn’t sound like a difficult request.

  “What is it exactly you want me to show you,” Ana asked. Maybe the guy was on her side after all.

  A few seconds elapsed before Lash spoke again. “Dance and sex have always been intertwined. If you have studied the history of dance, you should know that dance has always been used to convey sexual passion in its many facets. Illicit and sacred love, sublimation, sex roles between
man and woman, erotic fantasies, even orgasm…this has all been translated in dance form. Show us something similar. How would you interpret in dance form your sexual feelings for another man?”

  Ana was stunned. This wasn’t what she anticipated. The words “sex,” “erotic fantasies,” “orgasm,” and “sexual feelings for another man,” rang in her ear. Was he some kind of pervert who delighted in getting his revenge? Ana was sure he wanted to humiliate her in front of everyone. And he was doing it in a way that felt so familiar. It was Lucio, her ex-boyfriend, all over again. And why should she be surprised. All men wanted the same thing from her. Lash Mancini was like everyone else. Except that he was the most hateful in the bunch because he was using dance as a means to hide his intentions.