I sat next to Irina,
watching the auditions. They truly were bad. There was one guy, who had to be
at least forty, with long hair stuffed into his turtleneck, glasses and his
shorts pulled up to his armpits that went by the name ‘Sex.’ He believed he was
God’s gift to the dancing community, when in reality, he was uncoordinated,
awkward and just plain bad. When Alistair said that it was a no for both
choreography and Los Angeles, Sex had a temper tantrum, calling Alistair a
British blowhard. The cuss words that spilled out of the man’s mouth were
obscene and he was pulled from the stage.
Following that
debacle, a tall, muscular dancing walked up on stage. He had long hair, pulled
back into a low ponytail. His skin was a deep russet and his smile was bright
and wide.
“Good afternoon,”
Alistair said, his voice weary.
“I’m sorry about
that,” the man said.
“It’s not your fault.
What’s your name?” Alistair replied, giving him a smile.
“My name is Jacob.
Jacob Black,” he nodded.
“How long have you
been dancing, Jacob?” Carmen asked.
“Not very long. I
started when I was in high school. I was on the football team and I stumbled
over my feet more times than not. My coach suggested I take dancing lessons to
work on my coordination. I did and I was hooked. I quit the team, focusing on
becoming a better dancer,” Jacob snickered. “I’ll admit that I’m still
learning, but I’m willing to try anything you give me.”
“Well, let’s see what
you got, Jacob,” Alistair nodded. Jacob grinned, stepping back and stopping
stage right. He got into his opening pose. “And cue music.”
Sex
Jacob Black
Jacob's Audition Music
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