Page 110 of Dance with Me
“You were there for me when all the shit went down at the end of the last season.”
Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, but you also tried to hide your relationship with Stone from me.”
“Well, I didn’t want to think it was a relationship. If it was just a hookup, why did I need to tell?” She sighed. “I get it, though. Sometimes things feel too raw to share. And if I’d known you were struggling when you first moved here, I would have come out sooner. I wouldn’t have left you alone for that. And I would have made you take rent money this summer.”
“I know you would have. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m not your responsibility, Gina. I’ve made mistakes, but . . . I’m learning.”
Gina was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if I’ve been pushy, or overbearing, in any way. It’s just—you’re my friend, you know? I don’t want to see you struggle if I can help. But I hear you. And you’re right, we have to make mistakes so we can learn from them.”
They lapsed into companionable silence. Natasha looked around her room, the bed and dresser the only items in it. The walls were bare. She’d put the curtains back up, only so she didn’t have to worry about the people in the neighboring building looking in on her. The closet was empty, aside from a few items that would wrinkle if folded into the drawers. Most of it had been sold, and the rest was already packed. Turned out, clothes didn’t make the woman, and she didn’t need that much after all. Living out of suitcases while at Dimitri’s had shown her that.
This wasn’t her home anymore. This apartment, this symbol of her independence, her success, no longer held any meaning to her. She had been so determined to come back here, to prove to herself to her mother, and hell, even to the producers, that she could make it as a dancer.
Who was she kidding? Paying rent on a basic-ass apartment in Hollywood wasn’t a measure of success. Lots of people managed to do it. Yeah, it was great to be able to pay your own bills, but now it seemed like such a silly thing to stake her identity on. The apartment didn’t define her. The stuff she’d filled it with didn’t say anything about her skill as a dancer or choreographer.
She glanced at her ankle. Being a dancer didn’t even define her anymore.Who are you if you’re not a dancer?
Who was she, if she wasn’t a dancer? Who was she, if she couldn’t pay her own bills, pay rent on her own apartment, and support herself from her craft?
She was Natasha. Still, now, and always.
Compulsive spending and the need for external markers of success had held her back and kept her locked into a lifestyle and a job that didn’t respect her. She didn’t owe Fucking Donna any loyalty. And Donna had said it herself, Natasha could use her ankle as an out.
“I think I’m going to quitThe Dance Off,” Natasha said out loud, mostly to hear how it sounded. It sounded good.
Gina raised an eyebrow. “You think?”
Natasha shrugged. “It’s just a job.”
And if she got a different one, a better one, she could explore more of who she was without it.
And maybe she and Dimitri could explore who they were together.
Gina patted her leg. “Glad you see the light.”
And for once, the future looked bright.
46
Since Natasha had an apartment full of dancers, she dragged Kevin and Lori away from the salads—everyone had chosen a different favorite—and hustled them all outside to the tiny courtyard the building boasted. It mostly held a few giant trashcans and some plants, but it caught the late afternoon light, and it had space.
Kevin stood at one end with Natasha’s camera on a tripod. The other women set their phones to video, to catch different angles.
“You’re sure you’re okay to do this?” Lori asked.
“The doctor cleared me to dance again.” Thanks to Dimitri. If left to her own devices, she would have pushed it too hard, too soon, and likely injured herself again. Now, she felt stronger than ever, thanks to physical therapy and a break from her soul-crushing work schedule. Sitting on a bench off to the side, Natasha powdered and tied on her oldest pair of pointe shoes, then popped in her wireless headphones.
Gina gaped in horror. “You’re wearingpointe shoesonconcrete? You’re going to ruin them!”
“For this? Worth it.”
Gina pursed her lips like she wasn’t convinced, then glanced at the sky. “I think we only have enough light for one take.”
“Aww shit, Gina, look at you,” Kevin teased. “Spend some time in Alaska and you can tell time by the clouds.”
Gina stuck her tongue out at him.
Natasha took her mark.
