Yellow Roses // Thomas Shelby

Chapter Seven

"Go, go, go, spin spin, spin, spin, dip then- excellent!" Ivanov exclaimed, clutching his fists in happiness. Never perfect.

Adam and I broke away from each other, sweat glistening off his face and sweat was pouring down my body. I wasn't out of shape. My body just wasn't used to this kind of dance just yet.

"Now, I want to try something different. We have two week before performance in December. Then six week for January." He looked at the pair of us. "Natalia, go get your coat."

I went to the back of the room, grabbing my coat and taking it with me. No way would I ruin the cheap jacket because of my sweat. I assumed we were not done for the day, considering I had only been here for five hours. These were usually 12 hour days.

Ivanov drove us to a different building about twenty minutes away. It was isolated from the other buildings of the strip, it stood alone. One other car was parked there, I'm guessing the owner or something.

The three of us walked into the building, seeing an ice floor. It was cold to the touch, with railings all around the rink.

Then it hit me.

I was supposed to dance on ice.

"No." I laughed. "No,no,no,no,no. I am not relearning how to dance on ice. Not fucking happening, Ivanov." I pointed a finger at him. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"You will still dance on floor, this is January." He explained, motioning to the ice rink. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of skates that looked like they were for women. "Just try."

I relevantly ripped the skates from his grip and laced them up. I'm assuming Adam already knew how to do this shit, considering he was already moving around on the ice. I on the other hand didn't know shit.

My ankles wobbled as I put the blade into the ice, not knowing how to balance on them. Ivanov clapped, seeing that I hadn't fallen down yet. I glared at him, trying to move on the ice. It felt like it wasn't really any different than ballet.

"So we have six weeks to get the whole routine done? You're out of your mind." I glided over to Ivanov after about ten minutes of going forwards, backwards and trying to figure out how these goddamn shoes work.

"We work 14 hour days, six days a week. You come in at 5 morning, you leave at 7:30 night." Ivanov explained. "Jackson help you." That was the worst thing I ever heard.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" I asked my instructor. He shook his head no. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to exert my body more than I do now. This is hell on earth.

"Look, we already have everything written down, you just need to learn how to move." Adam glided over to me, getting in my personal space. "Think of the money, Nat. It's triple of what you make now."

My eyes lit up, suddenly willing to cooperate. If I got triple of what I got now, I could have a place of my own. Away from my brother and away from my father.

"Fine." I skated towards the middle of the rink. My ankles were still wobbly from absolutely zero experience. Adam got in front of me, placing his hand in mine and looking into my eyes.

"You jump on the spins, and you go one leg on the dips." He said. I nodded. I hate this.

-

I packed ice into two bags and tied them around my waist and let them sit on the now forming bruises. I also had a bag of ice laying over my ankles because of the swelling. Why did I ever fucking agree to this?

I found myself with free time. Yes, it was about 10:30 at night, but I still had time to myself. I sat down on the chair, closing my eyes and waiting for the ice to melt. I felt like my lungs were about to collapse.