Page 2 of Dance for Me
This process isn’t meant to make you swoon. She spoke to this man for five minutes before bringing him in here, and I canpractically hear her reciting their wedding vows through the door.
Extending his hand, he attempts to reintroduce himself, “Hello, Ms. Mathers, thank you so much for considering me for the position. It’s a great opportunity. I know the only thing harder to get than a membership here is a position on staff.” He chuckles at his own comment.
How quaint.
I take a moment to stare at him. His outstretched hand. So kind, cute even, that he thinks this is a job where pleasantries and flattery will get him anywhere. Gentlemanly behavior isn’t something I particularly look for in my dancers. I need them to command a scene, pull the onlooker away from the day-to-day drivel and business dealings left behind in an office. To put their patron into a trance. Show me the magic you bring to the experience ofCirque. Show me how you can make me forget where I am for a night and who I’m expected to be. People don’t come here to be entertained; they come to get lost.
“You can begin,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
His hand is still thrust in front of him, eager and empty as his eyes dart from one side of the room to the other, searching for something and coming up empty as they repeat the motion. What is he looking for?
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand…” he trails off, his wide smile starting to wilt in the corners. This isn’t the first time a dancer has come in and been a little thrown off at the boss conducting their interview, usually expecting to chat with me for a few minutes and then move on to whoever they are here toreallyaudition with.
“Dance for me.” It’s a simple direction, yet his eyes widen, and his hand finally snaps back to his side, as if he suddenly realized he tried to shake hands with the devil.
“I…uh…what?” Colton stammers, the tips of his ears turning a beautiful shade of pink. Everything about him is beautiful; that’s not really in question. My eyes travel down from his pink-tipped ears to take in the rest of his features. The heart eyes Tessa was sporting are making more and more sense. His mouth opening and closing in shock reveals his full upper lip as he struggles to find words. A perfect Cupid’s bow that doesn’t look like it’s ever lost itself between a woman’s legs. Everything about this man is angelic. Sandy-blond hair that’s full and a little longer on the top than on the sides, with a ruffled, effortless style that probably took a solid forty-five minutes to getjustright.
His blond hair and eager energy are a vibrant clash with the dark ambience of my office. Bright green eyes are currently staring into my soul, begging to give him some other form of direction.
“What was confusing about that,Colt? If you can’t strip for me, you certainly aren’t going to be trusted to do it in front of patrons,” I shoot at him, wondering if he’s going to prove me wrong, or scurry away, back to Sunday school.
“My apologies,Harp. Just not what I expected today.” A slight tilt to his lips reveals what I suspect is pride blooming in his chest for not backing down.
He isn’t exactly smiling, but the puppy-dog look has vanished, replaced by one that looks like it’s ready to meet me blow for blow.
“I can’t exactly approve you to be one ofCirque’sdancers if I can’t promise you’ll be up to the challenge. Wouldn’t be good business to hire you and then find youwanting.”
He bobs his head in understanding, seeming to weigh my words against what? His skill? His confidence?
He starts to turn around, and my shoulders sag slightly with the realization that this sparring match is meeting a swift end. Yes, he looks like a cartoon prince, but for one brief moment, I thought he was going to play with me.
It’s been alongtime since I had a worthy opponent.
As he crosses the room back toward the door in two strides, I’m painfully aware of his long legs and tall stature for the first time since he stepped into my office.
Easily over six feet tall, with a broad back and a tapered waist. He’s lean, but not gangly, and I’d bet good money that he swam in school. It’s like watching a Ken doll come to life and stride across my office.
Headed right for the door.
When he reaches the handle, he seems to pause, battling out his fight-or-flight reaction. After one beat too long, he closes the door, encasing himself within. Turning back to me, one hand gravitates to the first button at his collar, his perfect mouth morphing into a seductive smirk as his eyes connect with mine.
It’s the first time in a long time I think I might have made a mistake.
Lucifer was once an angel too.
2
COLTON
Well, this is not what I expected. To be fair, none of this was my idea, nor was it something I was particularly excited about starting, but bartending had always been an easy job for me. Drinks weren’t hard to make, and if you flirted well enough, people didn’t particularly care if you weren’t a professional mixologist. A job is a job, and I can’t afford to be too picky right now.
Though making drinks atCirquefeels like an easy job to fuck up. The basic mixes are easy—a splash of cranberry here, a wedge of lime there—but the clientele here come for the experience and thrill ineverythingthe club offers. None of which includes the typical vodka tonic that I have perfected over the years.
Once I realized that backing out of the interview was not on the table, I did my best to brush up on creating high-end, fancy as shit cocktails. James, ever the devoted best friend, was happy to be my taste tester for the weekend.
“How bad can it be? It’s temporary, and it’s what you need to do right now. Think of the long game here,” he had lectured, reminding me of the trouble he went through to set up theinterview to begin with. He called in what seemed like a hundred favors and pulled every connection at his disposal, which seemed to add a layer of eccentricity every time I asked. A sister’s friend who was married to the dog groomer's cousin is a friend of the owner’s old assistant.
It was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have just assumed James knew what he was doing when he set this interview up. I have known the overgrown toddler for over a decade, and there is always a small hiccup when he makes the plans.
