The Last Dance by J. Mackenzie EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: J. Mackenzie
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.6 MB
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It had been a long time since Achilles had been in New York, almost long
enough to forget how Midtown smelled. He’d been dancing in L.A. and
dancing in London and, yes, sometimes dancing in New York, but in the
sort of way where he took a car from the airport to the theater and back.
Now he was walking through Hell’s Kitchen, his black dance bag slung
over his shoulder, heading to the theater he’d be working at for the next
month. It was the kind of spring day New Yorkers played hooky for. In
another life that had been him, twenty and slightly sunburned on a blanket
in Central Park, passing around a bottle of rosé with his friends. He shook
his head, amazed he had ever been so young.
The stage door was in the West Forties next to the employee entrance of a
tourist trap Irish bar. The building was older but had been fully renovated in
the mid-2000s to accommodate one of the city’s premier ballet companies.
He knocked briskly and fought the urge to pull his phone out of the pocket
of his sweatpants while he waited—standing on the street alone in the
middle of the day being the single oddest sensation in human experience.
“Oh, good, you found it okay.” The manager of production almost hit him
with the steel door. “Follow me.”
Achilles wedged himself awkwardly around the manager’s body as they
held the door open for him.
“I’m Sam, they/them.” Sam wore more color than Achilles had ever seen
on a member of any stage crew—a brightly patterned short-sleeve button-up
and pleated yellow pants, eccentric in the way usually only directors
seemed to be able to get away with. They had short, curly blond hair and a
barbell piercing through their left eyebrow, which rose as the silence
stretched.
“Achilles, he/him.” He jumped to fill it, extending his hand.
Sam shook it quickly and turned to walk farther backstage, not looking
back to see if Achilles followed. But they kept talking, which Achilles
assumed was for his benefit. “Everyone is in practice room A today, but you
and Marcela will mostly be rehearsing in practice room B. Classes are every
morning in room C. Travis will be up there. Dressing rooms are down that
hall”—they gestured but barely slowed—“assuming you need to change.
Then just head down there”—another hand motion in the opposite direction
—“and hang a left to find the stairs.” They stopped abruptly, which caused
Achilles to almost slam into their back. “I’ll be onstage dealing with load
in, but if you need anything, just come find me.”
“Thanks.” He smiled as sincerely as he could given the amount of jet lag
he was experiencing and waited for Sam to walk back toward the stage
before he headed in the direction of the dressing rooms.
One of the doors already had his name on it. At this point in his career, he
knew that this was one of the nicer rooms the theater had to offer—second
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