Stole My Heart

one

“Anissa Montgomery.” The nerves that I had been trying to shake off immediately came back when a lady, most likely an assistant, from the other side of the room called my name. I knew why they called me but it was still hard to believe. I had traveled from California to London to audition for a talent agency and hopefully become a professional backup dancer. It was all I’ve ever wanted to be. Dance was my passion and my dream and to be here in general was just an honor in itself. I quickly stood up from my chair, observing the crowd. There were quite a few people lounging around, waiting for their turn. That only made my nerves skyrocket. Though I’ve been dancing since I was a toddler, I was still unsure if my dancing was phenomenal. I could hear my heartbeat faster and faster with every step I took towards the assistant.

“I’m Anissa,” I hesitantly said, giving the woman a slight a wave and a small smile. She nodded, her lips fixed in a grim line, and walked away from me. I stood, not moving a muscle.

“Well, follow me!” The sound of the woman’s voice snapped me out of it and I rushed to keep up. Her strides were long and defiant, making me feel meek and self-conscious. We walked down a long, white corridor that seemed to go on for miles. Finally, she stopped at a door and walked in. Following her in, I noticed the room was a dance studio. Immediately, I felt at ease. There was nothing like a dance studio to calm my nerves. Looking around, I noticed that the room was spotless. From the hard wood floors, to the mirrors to the windows that overlooked the city of London, I was standing there in awe.

“Hem, hem.” I turned to face the front of the room and noticed that there was a long table set up with four, occupied, chairs. The talent scouts. “Anissa Montgomery,” said the person farthest left. He had on an expensive looking suit and his hair was slicked back. “How old are you, love?” His English accent as thick and it almost made it impossible for me to understand.

“I-erm-I just turned 17 last week,” I stuttered, putting my hands behind my back.

“So young,” the woman next to the man gasp. Her fiery, red hair was up in a ponytail and her hands were neatly folded on top of a clipboard. “And you’re from America? Shouldn’t you still be in school?” She questioned.

“No, ma’am. I graduated early,” I said, with a hint of fulfillment. She nodded her head and looked to the others at the table.

“Show us what you got, love.” I nodded and took a deep breath, walking towards the middle of the room. I let my light brown hair escape from the confines of its pony tail and shook it out. I crouched on the floor, waiting for my music to start.

Instantly, I was swept away with the slow, melodic symphony blasting from the speakers. I let everything go and danced my little heart out. One thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t have to worry about anything when I danced. It comforted me to know that I could escape reality with dance.
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A week later and I still haven’t received a call back from the agency. I was getting disheartened as each day passed. My phone was with me twenty-four/seven, hoping that the people I so desperately wished to speak to, would call.

It was on the seventh day, when I started to lose hope, my phone rang. I was busy cleaning the kitchen of my flat when I heard it in the living room. My heart quickened as I dropped everything I was doing and ran towards the couch.

“Hello,” I said into the receiver, breathlessly and clutching the phone for dear life.

“Darling!” my mother’s voice rang out with enthusiasm.
“How are you? I’m sorry I haven’t called in a long while. Work has been keeping me busy.” I could hear her shuffling stacks of papers on the other line. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, hi mom,” I said with a hint of despair. I honestly was hoping it was the agency and not my mother. “I’m perfectly fine. Everything is great.” My voice was dripping with false happiness.

“How’s the apartment? How’s Cambridge?” My mother asked me a ton of questions and I mentally flinched.

“Uhm, everything is great. Cambridge is absolutely wonderful.” I lied. It hurt me to lie but I didn’t have a choice. “I’m actually just about to go into my business class. I’ll call you later.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” my mom gushed. “I love you sweetie, bye.” There was a click and the line went dead. I sighed in relief and threw my phone on the couch while I slowly fell to the floor.

I didn’t want to lie to my parents and tell them I was attending Cambridge University. But that was the only way I could come to England. With the money my parents gave me to buy an apartment in Cambridge, I bought one in London. I ended up not going the university and instead went on to dance. Some might have said that I was making the biggest mistake of my life, skipping out on Cambridge University, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t for me and I knew I wasn’t going to be happy.

I covered my face with my hands and groaned; now fully lying on the floor. The shag carpeting tickled my bare back and feet. This was officially the end of me and my career. A few tears escaped my eyes but I quickly wiped them away. I wouldn’t let this bring me down. It was only one agency. The biggest agency in London…

A loud blasting noise brought me back to earth as I jumped in fear. I slowly inched my head closer to the couch and stared at my phone. Could this be the call I was waiting for?

‘What in the world am I doing?’ I thought as I immediately went for my phone. “Hello?” I ask for the second time that day.

“Is this Anissa Montgomery?” the familiar English voice asked on the other end.

I nod but remembered we were on the phone. “Yes,” I practically whisper, scared for my life to what’s about to come.

“My name is Brian Smith and I was one of the judges at
your audition,” he said. My heart quickened, skipping a beat every second or so. “I’m honored to inform you that I would like be your dance agent.”

I stopped breathing. Every single bone in my body screamed out of pure happiness and excitement. “I cannot thank you enough, Mr. Smith, for this amazing opportunity,” I said in one breath.

Mr. Smith chuckled. “It’s my pleasure, love. Now that you have an agent, it’s time to start booking jobs. And I have the perfect one for you, dear.” His voice sounded amused but I didn’t care. I was going to start dancing on a stage, professionally. “Come by my office on Wednesday at 09:00. I’ll email you the address.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Smith,” I said, “Wednesday.

“Goodbye Anissa.” And with that, he hung up. It took me a couple of minutes to register what had just happened. And when I realized it, I couldn’t stop jumping and smiling. I’m about to become a professional dancer, I told myself with a large smile plastered on my face.
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