Page 4 of Falling for the Bosshole

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For someonewho never traveled 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 which kept the flame burning inside her soul. She remembered what Diane said. “Dreams are nourishment that feeds 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 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 2 PM 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 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 backward 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 also. 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 gesturing 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?”