The Existence of Reconcilable Differences

Chapter Six

She woke up with a cocktail of anticipation, excitement, and fear in her mouth. The break was necessary for her and throughout the weekend, she busted her ass to get those moves down. Even at work, she found herself practicing in the back room. Each hour that passed was critical for her. By the time she was done at work, Dani had remembered every pause and move in her body.

She was ready.

Mary parked the car with finesse in front of the building which looked more like a corporate office. Dani counted five floors and above the first floor there was a salsa class in session. The gleaming sign stated, "Levesque & Societe" and was in generously proportioned letters.

Deep breaths, deep breaths, those words echoed in her head and it seemed to slowly calm her down.

"Don't be nervous, honey. I know this is a foreign atmosphere, but you can make good friends. You're attending the best dance company in the town." Mary assured Dani while kneading her arm.

"I'll manage. Thanks for driving me, Mom." They shared an affectionate hug before Dani hopped out of the car with her navy and beige embellished knapsack resting on her right shoulder and she fondled with her thumb before lifting her chin and taking confident steps into the building.

Ahead of her, a beautiful woman sat behind the reception desk typing her fingers away. She caught Dani in her sights and a glowing smile flourished on her acne-free face.

"Hello, how are you?" She leaned over and shook Dani's hand. On her name tag read Genevieve. The name fit her face.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm here for the dance audition. My appointment is at 5:30."

"Okay, let me check in with Mr. Levesque. You can have a seat." Her manicured finger pointed to the modern and sleekly decorated waiting area.

The chairs were wide and low enough not to feel as though you were sitting on the wooden floors. In the middle was a lustrous coffee table with glass that showed the finely designed art at the bottom level. On her far left was a 75-inch flat-screen plasma television displaying all of the dancers in action and short interviews with employees, as well as business partners speaking on the company's work ethic. In the video, many of the females were lanky and pale. Dani stood at five-foot-three and though she was petite, she usually picked burgers over salads.

For a moment, doubt knocked on her door but she didn't answer it. If she wasn't accepted, then it wasn't meant for her. Still, she was a nervous wreck even if her confidence spoke to her.

"Mr. Levesque will be with you soon. He just has to finish up with a dancer."

Dani nodded.

"Would you like something to drink?" Genevieve politely asked as she walked towards her.

"Um, yes, water. Thank you."

Genevieve disappeared into a room and a few other dancers exited the building, talking amongst each other. She watched with fascination at how tall they were; they looked like a stampede of giraffes, babbling and ignoring Dani's little existence.

Genevieve exited the room with a nicely shaped silver cup filled with water.

"Thank you," Dani said before sipping on the water that tasted as if it came from an uncharted part of the ocean

"This is really good water." She just had to comment on it.

"Yup. One of the many reasons why I love my job." Genevieve made her way back behind the desk and continued her fast-paced typing.

15 minutes went by and Dani began wondering if Mr. Levesque had a hidden camera in the television, saw that she was a dwarf, disapproved, and tossed away her application. But just as doubt began nagging her, down the corridor, walked a rangy man with an even taller woman beside him. She couldn't get a clear picture of his face, but the closer he got the more her throat dried.

The man was frighteningly bewitching.

Dani imagined him to be a short, pale, rude man. Polar opposite.

Instead, Mr. Levesque had this hair-raising, macabre, yet sensual aspect about him. Sandy blonde-brown lengthy curly locks fell wildly above his shoulders resembling waves of the Pacific Ocean. Messy yet content brows that sang the words he chose not to. Frosty cobalt eyes with the capability of either freezing you over or making bodily fluid run down your thigh.