Bianca
Flashback
I ripped open the envelope that was on my dressing room table, as Eliza lounged on my couch, drinking bourbon.
"I can't look," I exclaimed.
"Oh come on, Bianca. You have to. I'm not leaving until you do."
"What if it's bad news?"
"What if it's good."
I turned to face her, "the envelope is big. They wouldn't put a rejection letter in a big envelope, would they?" I continued to ramble, "but maybe that's what-"
"Oh my GOD, Bianca," Eliza interrupted, snatching the envelope from my hand. "I can't take the anticipation."
"No, Eliza. Don't. Please, don't."
Eliza took the cover page out of the envelope, holding it up to the light to scan. Tears overflowed from her eyes, and dripped onto the paper. She cupped her hand to her mouth.
I turned away from Eliza, sitting down on the chair in front of my mirror. "I didn't get in," I choked.
"Bianca," she began, "Thank you for participating in auditions for the Juilliard School of Dance. It gives me tremendous pleasure to inform you that the Juilliard Dance Faculty and the Admissions Committee have granted you admission."
"Wait what," I exclaimed jumping up from my chair and ripping the letter out of Eliza's hand. "I-I"
"You got in," Eliza clarified.
"I got in. Holy shit. I got in."
Eliza pulled me into her embrace, as we sobbed into each other's shoulder. This was the best night of my life.
"We're going to New York," I shouted.
"You're going to New York, love."
"Come on, Eliza. Come with me," I pressed. "We can live in a shitty apartment with no heat."
"Alright alright I'll think about it. But, I think right now, we need to go out and celebrate."
"That we do," I agreed.
Eliza and I walked up to the bartender at 'Off the Record.' "Let's do some shots," she exclaimed.
"Eliza," I giggled. "What are we, 21?
Two men sat down next to us at the bar. "What are we celebrating?" They asked.
"Oh nothing," I answered.
Eliza took a shot. "It's not nothing. This queen right here got into the Dance Program at Juilliard."
"Wow that's impressive," the man next to me commented. "Dance, huh? I think I've seen you perform before. Do you dance locally?"
"The Sax," I clarified.
"That's right! I've seen you there. Juilliard will be lucky to have you."
"Thanks. I'm Bianca by the way."
"Bruce. And this is my friend Damian. Can I buy you a drink?"
"Sure," I responded.
"Shit," Eliza exclaimed, scrolling through her phone.
I turned to her. "What?"
"Rick, the maintenance guy, just texted me. The AC's busted at the club. I have to get back down there."
"Let me go with you," I stated standing up.
Eliza put her hand up to my face, "No you stay. This nice man wants to celebrate your news with you."
"Eliza, you've had some drinks. I want to make sure you get there alright."
"I'm taking an Uber, Bianca. I'll be fine. I'll let you know when I'm there. It will be fine." She sat me back down and kissed me on the cheek. "Congratulations again, Chica. I love you!"
After taking a shot with Bruce we ended up hooking up in the bathroom. "Alright, I should head out," I stated. I wanted to make sure Eliza was alright
"Let me buy you one more drink, Bianca. Please," he begged.
"Alright." I quickly took the shot. I could stay for a few more minutes. It was my night, after all.
I started to feel dizzy. "Wow that last one really hit me, Bruce," I exclaimed, stumbling off my chair. He grabbed me and started leading me out of the bar. "I don't feel good," I whispered trying to break free of his grasp. He dragged me outside. I tried screaming, but nothing would come out. Bruce hit me over the head, and I lost consciousness.
Present
I ran off the stage after my final number of the night. I felt like I was going to be sick. Eliza was calling my name after me, as we were running backstage together.
"Bianca, please tell me what's wrong."
"Get Spencer. Please, Eliza." I slid down to my floor, sobbing. I couldn't escape my abduction. I couldn't escape Bruce.
I froze in fear until I heard Spencer knocking.
"It's me."
I jumped up and let him in. I lost feeling in my legs, once he put his arms around me. We sat on the floor, as I panicked.
"I'm sorry, Spence. I can't-"
"It's okay. It's a panic attack. Just breathe."
"Why?"
"Why?"
"Why do I keep getting these? Will they stop?"
"You. You had a very traumatic event happen to you. The Post Traumatic Stress. It's normal."
"Why did it happen, tonight?"
"The cage. Feeling trapped?" He hypothesized.
"So I can't do my job, then."
"Bianca, you are handling this so well. You just need to take care of yourself. It's okay that this happened." He pulled my closer to him, rubbing my back.
We were silent for a few minutes. Then Spencer broke it, "For what it's worth, that wasn't my favorite choreography that you guys did."
I laughed in response. "Me neither. George wants everything to be more intense, I guess."
"Is that what you want?"
"No," I whispered.
Spencer nodded.
"Bianca, open the door," George shouted.
Spencer and I got up, and obeyed his orders.
"Yes George," I said.
"Are you okay? Why do you look upset?"
Spencer squeezed my hand, tensing up as he did so.
"I'm fine," I stated.
"You were off your game."
"I wasn't a fan of the choreography," I replied.
"Well you can't be off. You aren't always going to get choreography you approve of. We are in the business of making money."
"Yes sir."
George glanced at Spencer. "Why is this guy always here?"
"I could ask the same about you," Spencer responded.
I squeezed his hand, in attempt to get him to stop. "Spencer is my boyfriend."
George rolled his eyes. "Don't let him distract you," he warned before slamming the door in my face.