Free The Thorndyke Trilogy 2: Dancing at Midnight by Lynne Connolly

smaller, more “intimate” work that needed fewer dancers.
    She had no idea what she’d do now. Fall back on her secondary career. Get a waitressing or bar job. Just until she worked something out. Because in many ways she was starting anew. Twenty-eight wasn’t too late to start a career in many fields. Maybe she could do theater admin, something like that. Watch others accomplish what she’d failed to do.
    A bitter taste filled her mouth.
    She stopped, looked around. Somehow, she’d found her way to the Bean. The big silver creation was supposed to be a cloud, but the Chicagoans had taken one look at it and rechristened it. It looked more like a bean than a cloud to her too.
    Reflected in the shiny surface of the sculpture, her figure, a small blue shape, blended with all the others. Tourists took photos of their friends and snapped innumerable selfies with the Bean. They’d have her on there too. A disappointed dancer in incongruous waterproof boots. She’d borrowed the boots from one of the students in the house that morning because hers were completely ruined after her trek through the snow to Nathan’s estate. The promised snowstorm hadn’t appeared, and already the snow was turning to slush under the hard work of the snowplows.
    She’d go see Stu. He was working today. Maybe she’d have a few drinks to drown her sorrows and take the bar job he said he could get for her.
    She caught a bus to take her up Michigan Avenue.
    The bus passed the stores, their windows filled with tempting items she couldn’t afford. Then they passed the Water Tower. Then farther until the vehicle reached the small clubs, the blues district where other people had come to Chicago with big ideas. For every Muddy Waters, there must have been someone like her, someone who had dreams and ideas, may have been as good as Muddy but didn’t get the breaks.
    No, she couldn’t think that way. If she did, she’d end up embittered and sour. Fame hadn’t happened for her, that was all. Nobody was to blame. But she could tell herself that until she was blue in the face. She still resented every ballerina who’d ever danced Princess Aurora, every Odette, because that ballerina wasn’t her.
    Time to disembark. A shame. She liked the bus, shiny and modern and full of chattering people.
    She pausing to check her phone and take stock of her surroundings. The afternoon was just beginning to lengthen, the shadows deepening. She had nothing else to do; she might as well go see her brother. Then get the L back to his place. No reason she shouldn’t pack up and go home, but if she did, her mother would know she’d given up. Besides, she had more chance of getting something going here than at home.
    River North had some interesting stores too. They might be looking for someone to help out. She lingered to peer into a few windows before she reached the street where Stu worked. It led off a main street, and she paused, gazing at a tray of jewelry in an exclusive store. Beautifully designed items winked back at her, taunting her.
    Sighing, she turned away and nearly collided with a man coming straight for her. He was as pale-faced as she’d ever seen in her life, his hair black, his clothes matte black and deliberately creased. He sported a few studs on his clothes and his face, and he stared at her in challenge.
    “Sorry,” she mumbled and moved on, but the distraction had put her off her stride, and she looked up to get her bearings.
    The MASKERADE sign told her where she was. That chain was making some impact these days. It was a group of strip-cum-dance clubs, the dance adding respectability so women could go there.
    While a strip club might only attract men, adding the dance, plus some hunky male dancers, made it a mixed-sex venue. Clever, but although she’d read about the place, she’d never considered them as potential employers. She was too concentrated on ballet and contemporary dance.
    She peered at the photographs outside. Just two, one