I couldn’t seem to start breathing again. To the left of me, set in the corner of the ballroom, was a closed door. I started to walk toward it, feeling the dancers notice me with just a tiny angling of their heads, a swivel of their hips to position their bodies so they could keep me in sight. I clenched my jaw and knocked on the door.

It cracked open and a tall African-American woman with pronounced cheekbones peered out. “And you are . . . ?”

“Charlie Wong.”

She pulled the door the rest of the way open. She had short tight curls that accentuated her oval face and a body rounded with pregnancy. As she stepped aside to let me pass, I saw her eyes flicker to the cloth wrapped around my head.

The office was small but luxurious. Framed photographs and posters of dance couples in different poses covered the walls. I stood in front of the massive desk until the woman seated herself behind it.

“I’m Adrienne,” she said. “Sit down.”

I took a seat, then we studied each other for a moment. In her tight sleeveless white top, her stomach bulged but her arms and shoulders were muscled and sinewy. She didn’t blink as she gazed at me. Her eyes were tilted, a light hazel, striking against the dark creaminess of her skin. She was clearly someone who did not suffer fools gladly. I fumbled in my bag for my résumé. It was a bit crinkled when I pulled it out and I braced myself for what she would say when she read about my old jobs that had ended too quickly. To my relief, she hardly glanced at it before tossing it onto the pile on her desk.

She steepled her fingers together. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

Images of Lisa, Pa, the noodle restaurant, my high school, rushed into my head and strangled my voice. What could I say that would be relevant to this beautiful place, these gorgeous people? “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Why don’t you start by telling me why we should hire you?” The door behind me opened and a man stepped in. “Ah, there’s Dominic.”

Dominic had pale skin in contrast to his dark hair and eyes. He was wearing a light suit that appeared simple but must have been expensive from the way it fit him, as if it’d been poured over his body. He arched one spidery eyebrow at me in what seemed to be both a question and a challenge. He then leaned silently on the wall behind Adrienne next to an enormous poster: a stunning dark dancer poised in the arms of her partner as if she were about to take flight. I realized the poster was of the two of them.

She saw the understanding in my eyes. For the first time she smiled. “I haven’t always been five months pregnant, you know. That was taken after the first time we won the American Ten Dance title.”

Although I had no idea what that was, I nodded. I hadn’t even known there were ten dances. I swallowed, then tried to answer her question. “I don’t really know why you should hire me over all of the other people who are probably dying to work here.”

Adrienne gave a snort caught between surprise and laughter. “Well, you’re honest, I’ll give you that.” She leaned back in her chair and stared at me, then said, “So what’s Charlie short for? Charlotte? Charmaine?”

I cleared my throat. “Umm, nothing. It’s just Charlie.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, then Adrienne continued, “What’s your deal, Charlie-short-for-nothing?”

When I gazed at her blankly, she linked her fingers across the top of her belly and said, “What do you really do? Tap dancer, writer, musician, fire-eater?”

“Dishwasher.”

Her full lips quirked. There was a pause, then from behind Adrienne, Dominic said, “Interesting.” He had a slight foreign accent. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Adrienne asked, “And after your day job?”

“It’s actually a day and night job,” I said.

Now they both choked back a laugh.

While I was trying to figure out if I should say something else or not, Dominic asked, “Do you have any administrative experience?”

“I’ve worked in three different offices as a receptionist,” I said with perfect honesty. I hoped they wouldn’t check my résumé, which would reveal I’d only lasted a few weeks at each job before being fired.

“Have you ever had any dance training?” Adrienne asked.

I wished I could claim something that would impress her, anything, but I had to be truthful. “No.”

“Really? No ballet lessons as a child, no secret dreams to become a dancer?”

Surprised and appalled, I said, “I’m the clumsiest person you ever saw. I could never dance.”

“Everyone can dance,” she said automatically, as if she were quoting something she’d learned by heart. “That’s the Avery Studios principle. But we are indeed not hiring any dancers. Is that clear?”

“My mother was a dancer,” I said. “But I didn’t inherit any of her talent. I’m more like my father.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a noodle-maker in Chinatown.”

Now Adrienne smiled. “Charlie, why in the world do you want this job?”

I didn’t allow myself to think. I didn’t know how to get this job, which I didn’t deserve in any way, so I told them the truth. “Because this place is so beautiful. If I worked here, I’d be able to be around the dancers. Because it reminds me of my mother, who died when I was fourteen.”

Adrienne’s face had grown serious. When she finally spoke, she addressed Dominic instead of me, and her voice was almost a whisper. “What innocence. Were we ever this young?”

I forced myself to continue. “I’m already twenty-two. But I promise that if you give me a chance, I’ll do everything I can to deserve to stay here. I’m probably not the best receptionist you’ve interviewed. But I think I want this job more than anyone else.”

They were silent, then she said, “Could you step outside for a moment?”

Since they hadn’t told me where to go, I went out into the ballroom and stood beside the door of the office. Keith and a tall blond woman were pivoting around the room in perfect little circles together, as if they’d stepped out of a black-and-white movie. In my haste to leave the office, I hadn’t closed the door properly and it swung open an inch. I leaned against the wall, realizing I could hear Dominic’s voice.

“I like the last one better,” he said.

“The brunette? She’s too dramatic. Trust me, she’s an actress or something in her spare time. I’m tired of hiring a new receptionist every six months. Everyone only wants to work here because it’s a dance studio. We attract every wannabe in New York City, and goodness knows there are enough of them. We’re like a rest stop.”

“Fine, but does it have to be her? I mean, look at her.”

I froze. I was sure they were both gazing through the window in the door, where they’d be able to see my reflection on the mirrors of the opposing ballroom wall. I pretended to be fascinated by the dancers passing by.

There was a pause, then Adrienne said, “She’s okay.” Another long silence. She continued, “She has no dreams of being discovered. And she’s got experience.”

Dominic finally spoke. “Is that a towel on her head? Come on, the receptionist is the gateway to our studio. She’s got to look representative.”

“Dominic, we’ve already got enough sex appeal here to sink the freaking Titanic. She just needs to look decent, and she needs to not leave to go join the circus after two weeks, like everyone else.”

“I think you’re going too far.”

“I like her,” Adrienne said. I couldn’t help my sudden smile. “The dancers are constantly grumbling about needing to man the front desk. Clients are becoming unhappy and we’re losing money. We get that cloth off her head and if she doesn’t look insane, we hire her, okay?”

There was another silence, which I assumed was Dominic’s surrender, and then Adrienne pulled the door open and said, “Can you come back in here, Charlie?”

I felt my pulse pounding in my throat as I stepped back in.