Nate(51)

Nate. Nate had contacts, and he was right. I was hoping he was. I could put feelers out and see who got back to me.

“Let’s hope.”

“About that other girl? The dance therapy girl. Should I give her your information?”

I hesitated, but that right there was my answer. “I want to focus on this routine and the agent first.”

“Okay. She’ll be around, so there’s no hurry for that.”

I dipped my head in a small nod. My chest was heaving from the workout. “Thanks, Matt. I mean it.” Bending down, I grabbed my phone and headphones. I was walking to the door when he called after me.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it was nice to see you. I’ve missed dancing with you.”

My chest warmed.

With Matthew, and with certain dancers at the level he was at, you never knew if they were genuine or not. It was nice to feel that he meant what he said.

“Back at you.”





28





Quincey





I hadn’t shared with Nate about the casting or the show, but I talked to him about finding an agent. I reached out to a few I knew from before, and so did Nate. I considered asking other dancers, but Matt was right. If I was going to go in for that casting, I wanted it to be a surprise. There was a risk reaching out to the agents I did, but I knew most would keep it close to the chest. Or I was hoping. One agent from Nate’s contacts suggested meeting at the football game instead of a whole separate dinner.

I wasn’t a football fan, but I was game. It seemed more low-key than a dinner, and Nate would be there.

I didn’t know why that helped ease my nerves, but it did.

“So this friend who’s playing, how do you know him?”

We were driving there now, and the traffic was horrible.

And because I couldn’t help myself, I asked, “If we’re late, this agent won’t hold it against me, will they?”

I hated being late for anything.

He chuckled. “No. He’s probably going to be late as well, but you don’t have to worry about that. We won’t even talk until during halftime or after the game.”

“What? Why?”

“Because this guy is Mason’s agent, and I know how he works. The fact he’s coming is a good thing. It means he’s serious about trying to represent you, but he likes things to be casual. He likes to try to get a feel on the athlete.”

I pulled at my shirt, smoothing it out.

It was already smooth.

It’d been smoothed out for the entire drive and the whole thirty minutes before that, but I smoothed it out again.

“This is not how we do things in my world. We don’t use outside agents.”

“He’s not an outsider.” Nate glanced over, and I knew he was going to say all the same things he mentioned before. It sold me then, but now I couldn’t help but feel how preposterous this whole thing was. We used people inside our world. They knew the ins and outs, and they had the contacts. They understood the dance world and the culture.

This guy wouldn’t know any of that.

“He already represents a dancer, and trust me, he’s got the contacts. You said you wanted someone new, a new feel and a new vibe.”

I snorted. “I was an idiot.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand the nerves. Just see how it goes? You aren’t locked into anything just from meeting him. You don’t know if he’ll even want to represent you. He might meet you and hate you.”

I gasped. “Really?”

He shrugged, a little grin tugging at the side of his mouth. “Just saying. You’re fucking uptight as hell right now. I wouldn’t want to represent you.”

“Take that back.”

“No.”

“That’s not nice.”

“I’m being honest.”

“You’re being mean.”

“You’re acting stuck-up right now. Stop acting like a ballet snob.”

I glared at him. “We are snobby in that world.”

“You said you wanted new. He’s new, and before you start judging him, I’d hold off. He’s a shark when it comes to who he picks to represent. He only picks the big stars.”

Well. That was something, I guess. “Who’s the other dancer?”

“I’ve no clue. It’s not my job to sell you or him to either of you two. I’m brokering the meet.”

The meet. Right. At the football game. “Does he represent this friend of yours who’s playing today?”

“No.”

“Will he hate me if I don’t know anything about football?”

Nate snorted. “If you were a football player, yes. Since you’re not, I highly doubt it.”

“You don’t have to be an ass.”

“I’m just being your counterpart. You’re being stuck-up. I’ll be an ass.” He glanced over, his eyes sparkling. “I’m a lot nicer than I used to be. I can be an asshole, but I doubt you want to meet him.”

I stared at him, narrowing my eyes. “You were an asshole when I first met you.”

“That was different.”

“There are different types of asshole from you?”