So I looked Miss Lane in the eye again.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, voice even. “But if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll change and everything will be fine.”
Smiling confidently, I bent to pick up my bag, swinging it over my shoulder. Thank god I had an extra practice outfit stashed. But then Miss Lane’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Don’t think you’re the first,” she said, voice like nails on chalkboard. “You’re not anything special or unique.”
I stopped, turning slowly to face her.
“I’m sorry?” I said, meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me,” she hissed, coming up close, expression like a nasty viper. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear.”
I shook my head, silent for a moment.
“No, I don’t think I did,” I said firmly. But inside, my belly was churning, liquid splashing about. “What did you say?”
She leaned in close, the garbage smell of her breath hot on my cheek. And smiling evilly again, the words came like bullets.
“You’re not the first ballerina Thorn Channing has fucked. You think you’re special? Guess again.”
I couldn’t breathe for a moment, the air evaporated from my lungs. But then I forced myself to inhale. Of course I’m not the first woman Thorn’s ever slept with. The man’s forty-five for crying out loud, and handsome as sin, with a body to die for. I never expected him to live like a monk.
I shot her a frigid look.
“I didn’t think Mr. Channing was a virgin,” came my voice tightly. “I never thought that.”
But the woman hissed like a cobra tracking its prey, invading my personal space.
“Of course, the girls never think he’s a virgin,” she cackled. “It’s just they don’t realize this is his schtick, either.”
I frowned. Shtick?
“I’m sorry, I don’t get what you mean,” came my voice, trembling and low. “What are you talking about?”
Miss Lane skinny nose wrinkled again.
“Oh please,” she spat. “Don’t make like you’re so fucking naïve. I hate these girls from the Midwest, they’re full of “family values” and “godly behavior,” but it’s all bullshit,” she snarled. “You’re a bunch of hos, fucking whores.”
My blood ran cold in my veins. What in the world? I was frozen in place, unable to believe my ears.
“I’m sorry?” I whispered again, mouth dry. “Wh- what?”
“Please, stop!” Miss Lane hissed, eyes like daggers. “Stop with the innocent act. You’ve been fucking Thorn Channing, everyone knows.”
I nodded stiffly, frozen with shock. But even if everyone knew, where was this evil coming from? Why now, of all times?
Miss Lane was only too happy to clarify.
“Don’t you get it?” she rasped nastily. “You’re just the latest in the long line. He fucks a new girl every year, plucks one out from the recent class and has her “dance” for him in that secret studio. Let me guess, that was your first time together right? It was so special that somehow your clothes came off and you danced just for him?”
All the blood drained from my body. Because yes, that had happened. I’d been called to Mr. Channing’s office unexpectedly, he’d revealed the special sliding door, and then yes, we’d made love for the first time. It’d been crazy and unexpected, passionate and hot, but somehow, hearing Miss Lane tell it, it just sounded dirty. It sounded like I was pawn in a chess game, sent out for sacrifice with no idea what the bigger picture was.
And the ballet instructor cackled again, sharp chin jutting, narrow shoulders painfully rigid under a practice leotard.
“That’s right,” she snapped. “Last year it was Natalie, and then the year before that, Lucy Jane. And then before that, who was it?” she tapped her head, pretending to think. “Oh right, there were two that year, there was Mary first, and then Marie. It was hard to keep the names straight,” she whispered harshly, garbage breath blowing on my face again. “I heard he kept mixing them up.”
And at that point, I couldn’t take it anymore. Because I thought Thorn and I had something special, but evidently, this was just business for him. This was his way of life, what he did every year, seducing the newest, ripest ballerina, making her love him, making her worship at his feet.
And the worst part was that I’d fallen for it. I was a dumb, naïve chick from Kansas, without any idea how the big world really worked, and I’d tumbled down the well. Hell, more than that. I’d swum out deep into the ocean, and now water filled my lungs, drowning me, with no hope of being saved.
Miss Lane’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Got it?” cracked that whip-like voice. “It’s always hard for the new girls, they think he’s such a hero,” she added with a mean smile. “But you’ll get over it, they always do.”
My lip trembled, feet still rooted in place.
“Bu- but what happened to Natalie?” I stammered, sweating heavily now. Oh god, oh god, I had to get out of here, but I had to know as well. “What happened to Lucy Jane?”