Page 23 of The Unraveling

A half hour later we walk up to a pale pink door in a building that must be hundreds of years old. She pulls it open and warm heat breathes out onto us.

“Follow me, new girl,” she says.

Chapter Seven

“So, there are two company classes here,” says Arabella as we walk toward a security desk. “They split us up into a men’s and women’s class sometimes like we’re horny teenagers or something. But we’re going to take the class with the men today. You will stand out more.”

She smiles and cocks her head at the man at the security desk.

“All set,” he says, smiling sheepishly back at her and looking back down at his book.

I follow her to an elevator and we go up to floor two.

“You’ll love Charlie,” she goes on. “Charlie is the director. Charles Haydn-Cole. He’s fabulous and has such a good sense of things. He discovered Victoria Haley, you know.”

“Ah,” I say, finally with some recognition.

Of course I know Charles Haydn-Cole, as he’s the director, but I actually know know Victoria. She is a stunning dancer who rose to principal here and then started acting, which led to movies, especially the dark adaptation of The Red Shoes she did, and now never dances with companies anymore unless it’s some sort of one night only deal. “I’ve met her.”

Arabella leads me out of the elevator and to the principal dressing rooms.

“You didn’t! Ugh, I’ve always wanted to. We’ve been like passing ships, I never get to meet her.”

“She was fine,” I say as we change, not even touching the truth, which is that she was a bitch with a drug problem.

We leave our normal-people things behind and I follow her back to the elevator as a ballerina.

“Yeah, I’ve heard she’s a bit of a diva, but I can’t help but admire her. I love a good bitch, you know?”

I laugh. “Then you’d love her.”

“The studios are on floors five and six, and we’ll be on floor six today.”

She gives a bit of a devilish grin.

“What?” I ask, feeling like I’m about to walk in on a surprise party.

“I think you’re going to like the studio, that’s all. It’s a bit of a flex.”

The elevator doors open up and I can see immediately that she’s right. It’s fucking gorgeous.

Outside and downstairs, the building was gorgeous in the old European way. Hallowed with age, a patina over all the glamorous silk wallpapers and intricate corners of the architecture. But up here, it’s completely different. It’s amazing that it’s even the same building.

The big studio has soft blond wood floors underneath the smooth gray vinyl marley flooring that keeps dancers from slipping. There are soaring mirrors that reach the high ceilings. And on two entire sides of the room, there are massive round windows braced by steel designs. Through the massive windows, golden sunlight spills across the floor, and outside there is what must be the best view in London.

“Wow,” I say.

“Told you so,” she says.

The clean, stark environment doesn’t take away from the cozy, lived-in feel of the floors below. Instead, somehow, it just feels even homier. I could honestly cry. I am so completely certain I am in the right place.

A pang of missing Jordan glints through me as I suppress my first instinct, which is to take a picture of the space and text it to him as an aspiration for our future home.

I still haven’t heard from him. I thought I would. Maybe I still will. I didn’t really want to break up. I was just being crazy. Being me right now, which is completely unhinged. But instead, he’s actually let me go. I must have really been too much.

Okay, okay, enough thinking about Jordan.

I clear my mind as meditatively as possible and follow Arabella across the studio. We come up to one of the girls who was there the night before.

---