“You miss her, don’t you?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” My head shot up.
“Aubrey,” she said, smiling. “You miss her, don’t you?”
I said nothing. I just watched as she sauntered over to me, slowly raising the sides of her skirt to show that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
Smiling, she picked up my coffee cup and took a long, dramatic sip.
“Jessica…” I groaned.
“You don’t have to admit to it.” She plopped her bare ass atop my desk. “But it’s clear that you haven’t been yourself for quite a while...”
“Are your ass cheeks touching my desk right now?”
“You don’t even insult me the normal way that you used to,” she said. “I actually miss that.”
I pulled out a box of Clorox wipes.
“She doesn’t stay in her old apartment anymore, you know. I think she moved.”
“What makes you think I care about where an ex-employee lives?”
“Because the address you gave me for that envelope and red box delivery belonged to her.”
“That was for an old friend.”
“Yeah, well…” She slid off my desk. “Your old friend must share an address with Aubrey Everhart because I pulled up her records from HR and she definitely stayed there.”
Silence.
“I thought so.” She smirked. “So, since you and I are so close—”
“We are not close.”
“It’s my duty as a friend to let you know that you’re really letting yourself go...” She actually looked saddened. “You’re not shaving, you’re coming to work every morning reeking of alcohol, and you’re barely yelling at the interns…I haven’t had a wet dream about you in a very long time.”
>“Miss Everhart, you’re wasting everyone’s time…” Mr. Ashcroft’s face turned red as I slipped into fifth position.
I could hear him sighing and tsk-ing, could hear the other hopefuls murmuring, but as I twirled around the stage and transitioned from an arabesque to a grand jete, their talking stopped.
The notes lingered longer—darker, as the song progressed and I made sure each motion of my hands was smooth and graceful. As I leapt across the stage and completed a series of perfect pirouettes, I could see Mr. Ashcroft rubbing his chin.
Before I knew it, I was in a trance and I was dancing in the middle of Times Square, underneath flashing lights and a star-filled sky.
I continued dancing long after the last note, humming the additional refrain that most pianists ignored, and I ended by leaning forward on my left leg—holding my right one in the air behind me.
The panelists stared back at me. Their faces expressionless.
“Are you done, Miss Everhart?” Mr. Ashcroft asked.
“Yes…”
“Good. Now, get the hell off my stage.”
I stood upright and bit my lip to prevent myself from breaking down in front of them.
“Thank you very much for the opportunity…” I grabbed my bag and rushed off stage—running down the hallway and outside the building.