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“I do, but for me it’s all about finding the right person. I’ve only been inviting those I think are a good fit for the place. That’s whether to buy the space outright or rent it. After meeting with you today, you’re definitely at the top of my list.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you so much.”
“No worries. Enjoy the rest of the evening and give me a call when you’re ready.”
“I will.” It’s such a shame that I don’t know when that will be.
With a kind smile, Mr. Corbin leaves me. I watch him go through the large oak doors and my shoulders slump.
It was unfair of me to come here today knowing I haven’t even got two beans to rub together.
I got my last paycheck from the restaurant in L.A., which was five hundred dollars and I have that fifteen thousand Cillian didn’t cash. But I have to put that money aside.
There are several just-in-case things I need to be mindful of, and other things I need. Like a car. I can’t keep relying on Roxanne and Adrian to shuttle me around. It’s also getting expensive to get around by taxi.
I have no more incoming earnings. Although I’m working at Ricci’s, I won’t be taking a wage.
When everything settles I’ll figure out my working situation.
I set my bag down and walk around the room I’d use for the main studio. It’s the largest. There are three additional smaller spaces with the same sort of setup and arched windows, but this one is where I see myself teaching the most.
I want to be able to hire a couple of other teachers who will either work for me or run their own private classes and hire the space from me at an hourly rate. Either way would be profitable.
For a moment I allow myself a break. A chance to cast my mind back to who I used to be before my wings were clipped.
I can almost hear the music playing for me. My favorite was anything composed by Bach, Vivaldi, Wagner or Debussy. They awakened my heart in a way that brought out my talents.
In my mind I hear the spring composition from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons collection and I find myself moving. Dancing.
I haven’t done anything much since my legs were broken for fear of disappointment. What the doctors told me was enough, and I didn’t need to test it to see the damage and break my heart. Anything more than a few steps here and there made my legs hurt.
That by itself broke me because I used to dance for hours on end. Sometimes I’d arrive at school hours early so I could practice.
To my surprise I’m still moving, and the pain hasn’t come for me yet.
I slide into a glissade then a pirouette and another and another, and I snap my foot up into an arabesque. I manage to stay there with my leg held high in one perfect line for two minutes before my legs shake, and a bolt of searing pain almost makes me fall.
I stumble and try to catch my footing but I’m still smiling because, damn, that felt so good.
I straighten and take some deep breaths until the pain leaves me and that’s when I feel eyes on me.
The feeling is so strong that I look behind me, but all I can see is the empty building opposite. I’m about to walk up to the window when my phone starts ringing in my bag.
All thoughts that someone was watching me leave my mind and I rush over to my bag to get my phone.
When I take it out I see it’s Mrs. Grimfrost, the bank manager. I saved her number so I’d know who was calling.
I answer the phone and try to keep my rapid breathing under control. “Hello, Chloe Ricci speaking.”
“Hi, Chloe, it’s Mrs. Grimfrost from the bank.”
“Thank you so much for calling me.” I act surprised, like I didn’t know it was her and I haven’t been counting down the seconds to receive this call.
“That’s not a problem at all. Of course, I’m calling with the final decision on your loan.” She pauses for a beat but it feels like years pass in those few seconds. “I want to thank you for your application. I passed your pitch because I felt you gave a convincing argument butunfortunately the analysts declined the application on the basis of the amount of debt the business currently has.”
The heaviness of disappointment pushes on my soul and I stop breathing. I want to believe this is a bad dream, or a bad thought, but I know being delusional won’t help me.
“Declined?” I can barely get the word out.
