Eliza didn't beat around the bush. "Lydia, I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" Lydia gave Eliza a once-over, then stepped aside. "Come in, let's chat."

Eliza laid out her predicament.

It took Lydia a moment to absorb the news. Eliza had always been the top student and the pride of their town. She had even gotten into the most prestigious university with flying colors. "Are you... in trouble?"

Eliza nodded, her every move heavy with worry. "I owe someone money, so I came to... ask for a job."

"You don't have a job?" Lydia was taken aback.

"I do, but I was thinking of working evenings... like a part-time gig. Can you help me out?" Eliza bit her lip.

She'd heard Lydia was now the top manager and could probably find a spot for someone without much hassle. It just depended on whether Lydia was willing to help.

Lydia lit a cigarette, her piercing eyes never leaving Eliza. "You can't handle this job."

can dance." Eliza had been talented from a young age. In college, she even taught herself jazz and folk dance. "I

her cigarette, took a long drag, and blew out the smoke slowly, her brow furrowed. "...this place is full of all kinds of

such thing as someone who can't adapt. It's only environments that challenge us. I can do

never

that a woman wouldn't come to a place like this unless she was truly desperate. The

Eliza nodded. "I'm sure."

wwere classmates, I won't turn you away. But Eliza, you need to understand that this job may pay well but comes

to be upfront about

eyes of men, dancers were mere playthings devoid

them... that's my limit." That was

"Alright, then. I'll take you in. Come by this weekend, and I'll personally teach you some rules and techniques. You start work on

I'll

day, Eliza

of the Design

Welton International, a dedicated

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