But still. Me, a dancer? Sure, I’d taken ballet and jazz in high school, but I doubt I’d be prancing around in a tutu. This was way out of my comfort zone.

There was really only one way to find out.

I was in desperate need of a job. My bank account was in the negative, and I had nowhere to live. Serena wouldn’t kick me out, but I knew she wanted her space. The other day, I’d overheard her and Noah talk about moving in together one day. I’d squatted in her tiny studio for three months. She’d saved my ass when I had nowhere else to go. It was time to repay the favor.

I snatched the flyer off the telephone poll and turned my feet toward the subway station.

* * *

It took me well over an hour to reach Hell’s Kitchen from Clinton Hill. The subway ride was long, stinky, and boring as hell, and it was enough time for me to rethink my hasty plan. I hadn’t really come dressed for a dance audition, and I had no routine prepared. My dark skinny jeans and black crop top would constrict my movements, and my boots were clunky and heavy.

Still, I found the club anyway and eyed the door from the opposite side of the street. Fitting for Hell’s Kitchen, the owners had dubbed it Infernal. The sign was dark, but it looked as though the words glowed with flames when the place was open. Set inside an old, industrial warehouse, it took up half the block. That same strange symbol had been painted onto the single door out front.

Other than that, it was impossible to tell anything about the place. I shifted on my feet and bit my lip. This was probably a terrible idea.

I glanced down the quiet street. Hell’s Kitchen had once been a grungy, crime-infested corner of the city, but the past few decades had transformed it into a bustling, lively, trendy place with popular bars and nightclubs. But this street was as dark and as silent as a tomb, and I swore I felt a pair of eyes on the back of my head. Fear skittered down my spine.

I rolled my eyes at myself. This was ridiculous. All I had to do was walk through that door, put on a good audition, and go back to Brooklyn. By that point, Noah and Serena would have spent several hours alone, and I could crawl onto the couch, cozy into a blanket, and watch Netflix until my eyelids fell shut. Maybe have another few mugs of that shitty wine. Just like I did every night.

Ugh. What a life.

Squaring my shoulders, I strode across the street. My boots clicked on the pavement, the only sound in the strange silence. When I reached the club’s entrance, I tried the handle. Locked. I took a deep breath and pushed the buzzer.