Leaps & Lies

Chapter Five

V ivian meets with Maureen before rehearsal, one week after her initial audition. Despite the early hour, the sun is already out in full force. Vivian’s homemade iced coffee is already sweating in the reusable cup she poured it into before rushing out of her studio. The condensation leaves a wet ring on the floor next to the chair she’s taken in the conference room. When Maureen met her in the lobby, she’d mentioned something about renovations upstairs in the offices, and Vivian didn’t bother to question her further.

“Sign here, initial here. I’ll need your bank information for direct deposit as well as a photo ID. Did Ms. Renee discuss your salary and equipment stipend?”

Vivian’s stomach drops, ice rushing through her veins in contrast with the August heat. Play it cool.

“Yes. We discussed it last week,” she answers, carefully printing her bank account number on the designated line.

“Lovely,” Maureen tuts, watching over Vivian as she writes.

“I’m afraid there’s a small issue though.”

Maureen flips through the paperwork, humming absentmindedly in response.

“I forgot my wallet at home this morning. I was nervous about my first day and . . .” Vivian trails off, trying to look as innocent and honest as possible. She’s praying her appearance is as young and helpless as the nineteen-year-old she’s pretending to be.

“Oh, I know what that’s like. We try to be supportive, but this is a rigorous and demanding environment. I think a little intimidation might be healthy.”

Well, that’s a new take.

“Thank you for the advice,” Vivian says demurely. “I appreciate it.” She doesn’t offer up another time to bring in her ID.

“Hmm. I’m not sure when I’m going to be back in the office,” Maureen says, shuffling the paperwork around before guiding Vivian out of the conference room.

“I saw a flier with your office hours?” Vivian asks before she can think better of it. If Maureen doesn’t care, she shouldn’t be volunteering herself for trouble.

“Yes, well.” Maureen clears her throat, and her gold necklaces swing when she gestures Vivian down the hall without making eye contact. “Since we’re redoing the offices, I’ve been working from home lately. Remember to carry your wallet and I’ll get a copy of your ID the next time I see you.”

And then the older woman breezes down the hall without a backward glance. Vivian’s stomach dips and swirls, recoiling with an innate sense of wrongness.

That was far too easy.