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“Hey Joanie,” Mieka said after the fourth ring. “How are you?”

“I just got sacked,” Joanie said through muffled sobs.

“What?”

“Same thing that happened to you. My contract was up and they opted not to renew. Said I was too bloody old.”

“You’re thirty-two!” Mieka exclaimed, startling Bruno enough that he rose up onto his back paws and put his front ones on her thighs in concern. She petted his head and told him it was okay after he whimpered a few times.

“I know!” Joanie replied. “But that’s ancient in the cruise ship dancing world, apparently. Fucking wankers.”

“Fuck,” Mieka shoved her fingers into her caramel-colored locks and shook her head. “I’m really sorry, Joan. What are you going to do?”

“Well, luckily, my brother is a real estate broker in Toronto and business is booming. He’s going to help me study for my exam and get my real estate agent license then I’m going to start working with him. I’ve already applied for a work visa, but it shouldn’t be too hard since I have family there. I told him you got sacked, too, and he said you could come on, as well, if you wanted to. Isn’t your sister Oona still in Montreal?”

“She is, yeah.”

“So it shouldn’t be too tough for you to get approved to immigrate to Canada if she sponsored you or whatever.” Joanie sniffled and the sound of a car horn honking filtered through the phone. “Sorry, I’m just heading to the tube.”

“Where are you right now?”

“London. I went home as soon as they sacked me. Just to figure shit out, you know? Cry on my mum’s shoulder and fill my face with Cornish pasties.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I’m at my sister Triss’s ranch in Colorado doing the same thing. You should have seen the burger I ate today, it was insane. When did you get let go?” Not that they were really “let go.” Their job was contract-based so it made it easier for the cruise line dance companies to filter in new blood and younger dancers. Mieka had just always assumed that she’d be the one to not renew her contract when she was ready to settle down and start a family, not the other way around. Joanie had thought the same thing, apparently.

“Last week,” Joanie said. “But then I had three more days left on the ship, which was absolute gobshite. How awkward. Dancing with all the girls whose contracts were renewed while they all knew that mine wasn’t. Talk about humiliating.”

Mieka cupped her forehead. “No kidding.”

“You’d think all the tears would be done by now, but one of Genevieve’s Instagram posts just came up on my phone and they’re in Malta and it all just came flooding back which was why I called you. Because I knew you’d understand.”

“Of course, I understand, Joanie, I’m glad you called and I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” Joanie choked. “Anyway, I’m flying to Toronto in a couple of days, so think about it. I think you’d be great selling real estate. We could become the dream team. Dance our way into million-dollar listings, you know? Become the next Netflix luxury real estate phenomenon. Selling the Greater Toronto Area or the GTA as my brother calls it. Selling the GTA. And done! I’ll call Netflix and set it all up, you find us some stylists, because you know we need posh clothes and killer hair. I don’t think I can do Botox or lip fillers, though. You know how I turn into an complete ninny when it comes to needles of any kind.”

Mieka laughed. “Yes, I know. Two hours and half a bottle of tequila before you agreed to take that tetanus shot. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“Lock jaw honestly didn’t sound that bad, you know?”

Mieka was still chuckling. Joanie could always make her laugh. “I’ll think about it. Thank your brother for the generous offer. I’ve been a little lost since they didn’t renew my contract, so it’s nice to know someone wants me.”

“I miss you girl. We need to reunite.”

“I agree. You take care, babe and we’ll talk again soon. Love you.”

“Bye, Love.”

Mieka disconnected the call and stuffed her phone back into her pocket, her heart heavy for her friend, and for herself.

Another one bites the dust!

Who would be the next “geriatric” dancer to have the rug pulled out from under her? Who would Mieka be getting a phone call from next? It was only a matter of time, really. She’d been the oldest of their crew, but there were a few older-ish ones like Joanie. Jillian and Melissa were both over thirty, so they’d probably be next on the chopping block, feeling the cold steel of the axe on the backs of their necks before the end of the year.

Climbing the stairs into the house, Mieka opened the door, ditched her shoes and she and Bruno made their way into the kitchen where Triss was standing at the counter chopping vegetables.

“Can I help?” Mieka asked, needing to put the phone call with Joanie and the depression it threatened to envelop her into, out of her head.

“Nope,” Triss said, smiling at Mieka over her shoulder. “You’re not here for dinner. Go get prettied up for your date. Then come back here so we can have the safe-sex talk.”