Page 5 of Falling for the Bosshole

What was he saying? Ana understood but didn’t quite make the connection. Confused, she stared back at him, unable to speak. The foyer was now buzzing with activity. The door leading to the studio inside was wide open as young girls poured in.

“I’m going to lose my spot at the front of the line,” Ana thought in panic.

She made a step towards the door but was restrained by the man.

“Who the fuck is he? I flew halfway across the world and ran the streets of New York to get here on time. I am about to lose my spot because this asshole won’t step out of my way,” Irritation was building inside her.

She tried once again to step inside. The man gripped her elbow and forced her to the door.

“There’s a homeless shelter just up the road. If you go now, you may still find a bed to sleep in,” the man said.

“I know you’re probably drunk or high, but if you don’t leave this instant, I will have to call the police,” he enunciated every word like she was an idiot.

The fog in Ana’s brain cleared. The man mistook her for a homeless person. She glanced at the glass window and gasped at her reflection. No wonder he did. Her hair was a messy tangle, and her clothes wrinkled from sleeping. She looked like one of those waifs with begging cups on the streets of Barcelona.

She ran her fingers through her hair, hoping that was enough to make him see she wasn’t some hobo who just accidentally walked in and fell asleep on the couch. Then she tried to walk past him again. He blocked her passage with his body.

“Miss, this is your final warning. Leave now, or I will call the cops,” he threatened.

It was more than Ana could take. Irritation turned to rage. She raised all of her 5’6’’ frame and screamed into his face.

“I am not some homeless person, you asshole. You are a douche bag security officer, and I will make sure your boss hears about this. I traveled from Barcelona just to be here for the audition, you bastard. You better get the fuck out of my way before I kick your teeth in, you useless piece of man shit.”

Ana was furious. It felt very satisfying … except she said it all in Spanish.

Suddenly a tall, balding man in turtleneck spandex and jazz pants came rushing. He held a sheaf of papers in his hand.

“Lash,” Ana heard him say, “we’re about to begin the audition…Oh!”

Ana saw the recognition in the newcomer’s eyes

“Ana? Ana Garcia?” The balding man said.

“I’m so glad you came. Your audition tapes were wonderful. I meant to email you but got so caught up with pre-production. My name is Jonathan Engels.”

Relief surged through Ana’s body. She was welcome here, after all. Jonathan Engels turned to the man who was blocking her. Ana hoped Jonathan would castigate him for keeping her away from the audition.

“Lash, this is Ana Garcia. The girl from Spain I was telling you about?” Then he turned to her and said, “Ana, I’d like you to meet Lash Mancini, Creative Director and owner of the dance company.”

Ana wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

“Mr. Mancini… I’-I’m honored to meet you,” Ana said weakly. She hoped to god he didn’t understand Spanish.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. Had I known, I would have asked the security officer to escort you inside,” Lash replied sardonically.

Ana was horrified. He understood. Heat suffused her whole body. Of all the shitty luck. It had to be the owner of the dance company to find her asleep inside his studio, and worse, verbally attack him like she was some shrew.

“Miss Garcia was explaining to me some words in Spanish. I always thought I was an expert. But I realized I hardly knew the language.” Lash added blandly.

“Well, let’s all proceed inside so we can begin,” Jonathan cut in.

Ana was only too glad to get away from Lash Mancini, but she had a sinking feeling that she just blew her chances.