but she’d be willing to do it without anaesthetic.
His laconic, trite ‘we’ll be in touch’ mocked her, echoing through her head until she’d thumped the steering wheel of her car several times. It hadn’t helped. Hopefully, venting to Abby would.
Because if Makayla knew one thing, Hudson wouldn’t call her. After the way they’d parted five years earlier, he had no freaking intention of calling her. Ever.
Even if he did, would she accept the job? Could she work with the guy who’d judged her and found her lacking, effectively ending their friendship?
She’d heard the rumours on the entertainment grapevine. That landing the lead gig at Embue could be a good segue into the latest dance extravaganza staging at the Opera House in a few months. And from there...well, dancing at the Sydney icon would look mighty fine on her CV if she ever made it to Broadway.
Broadway...her dream since she’d donned her first tutu and slipped on her first tap shoes.
Growing up, she’d spent countless hours poring over the Internet, watching video clips of shows at the many theatres in midtown Manhattan, wishing she could be a part of it.
Her mum had never scoffed at her dreams. Instead, Julia Tarrant had fostered her love of all things dance, spending every cent she earned on Makayla’s dance lessons. It wasn’t until her mum had died that Makayla realised the extent of her mum’s sacrifice: Julia had no savings, but a detailed record of where her money had gone over the years. A budget that indicated Julia’s love for her daughter.
Makayla had adored her mum and discovering she couldn’t afford a decent send-off...it had driven her to take drastic action and accept that stripping job for one evening only.
The night Hudson had lost the plot and their friendship had imploded.
‘Ugh,’ she muttered, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stomach her usual beignet and cappuccino before she started her shift.
Of all people to audition for, it had to be Hudson.
What the hell was he doing anyway, producing a dance show at Embue? Back then he’d been a gofer for the clubs at the Cross. Doing whatever jobs that came his way. He’d always talked about getting out when he was older, doing something in the club scene, so how did that equate to producing a stage show?
Entering the kitchen, she slammed the back door harder than intended, causing Abby to jump, the pastry brush in her hand clattering to the work bench.
‘Sheesh, what’s got your knickers in a knot?’ Abby waggled a finger. ‘Don’t you know it takes precision and genius to create the perfect lemon tartlet?’
Makayla rolled her eyes. ‘You could make pastries in your sleep and they’d still turn out delish, so quit your moaning.’
‘Ouch. Someone’s in a mood.’ Abby frowned as Makayla slumped onto the nearest stool and scowled. ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’
‘I had an audition this morning. It didn’t go well.’ Makayla folded her arms, belatedly realising that not even the delicious aromas of cinnamon and sugar wafting from the ovens could lighten her mood today. ‘It was a biggie. And I danced my ass off.’
Concern creased Abby’s brow. ‘And they said no on the spot?’
‘Hudson said “we’ll be in touch”.’ She made inverted comma signs with her fingers. ‘But I know that’s BS.’
‘Hudson? I know a guy called—’
‘Yeah, he’s Tanner’s bestie. I didn’t know he worked at Embue when I signed up otherwise I wouldn’t have auditioned.’
Abby had just answered Makayla’s unasked question but she had to be sure. ‘You and Tanner didn’t have anything to do with me scoring a chance at auditioning for the lead, did you?’
Confused, Abby shook her head. ‘I had no idea and I doubt Tanner would, either. He gives his staff free rein while he manages the financial side of things.’
‘Thought so.’ Makayla slumped further on the stool. She should be happy she’d scored an audition of that calibre on her own. Instead, all she could think about was how she would’ve landed the role if anyone else had been casting.
‘I don’t know Hudson well but he seems like a nice guy.’
‘He’s a prick.’
Not entirely true, and she felt guilty immediately for saying it. Hudson was one of the good guys. At least, he had been until he’d gone berserk, lecturing her and admonishing her when he hadn’t had a clue about her motivation for taking off her clothes.
She’d been stunned by the ferocity of his anger. He hadn’t given her a chance to explain. He hadn’t done much of anything that night he’d watched her strip but lose it backstage, ranting like a madman. She’d been mortified enough at taking off her clothes in front of a roomful of slobbering idiots, but she’d got through it by blocking out the club and everyone in it, and focussing on her mum.
Then Hudson had to dump another shit storm over her at a time she needed his support the most. She’d never forgiven him and had told him so.
Abby wiped her hands and came to sit beside Makayla. ‘What happened?’
‘Nothing.’ She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and opened them. ‘Okay, that’s not entirely true. Hudson and I were good friends once. Then we weren’t any more. And I rocked up today, he was the guy I auditioned for, so it makes sense that’s the end of that.’
Abby raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t know what happened between you but do you think he’s that petty?’
‘Who knows?’ She snagged her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail. It did little to cool her down. She’d been hot and bothered since she’d strutted out onto that stage at Embue and locked eyes with the devil. ‘We didn’t exactly part on amicable terms.’ She held up her hand. ‘And before you ask, shit happens. That’s all I’m going to say.’
‘Okay.’ Abby shot her a sideways glance. ‘So what you’re saying is you think Hudson won’t judge you on your dance ability? That he’ll let what happened in your past affect his judgement?’ Abby shook her head. ‘Doesn’t strike me as professional.’
Before Makayla could respond, her cell rang. When she slipped it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen, she didn’t know the number.
‘I’m waiting on another audition so I need to get this,’ she said as Abby nodded, and she hit the answer button. ‘Makayla Tarrant speaking.’
‘Hey, Mak, it’s me.’
Crap. She knew that ‘me’.
And he was the last person she’d expected to hear from.
She managed a curt ‘hi’ before he continued.
‘I wanted to let you know that your audition impressed and I’d like you to come in so we can talk.’
She should thank him. Sound enthusiastic. But in that moment, with shock making her gape, all she could
