Fitzgerald had seen how pathetic the chit was, she felt her anger dissolve, and decided to offer a little fake compassion. "You should consider yourself honored that he's taking the time out of his busy schedule to help you." Smiling sweetly, now that the woman was obviously not competition for her, she continued on. "Angela, being on this show at all gives you the opportunity for great exposure, you don't have to win to be successful."
Basically Trisha was saying she was off her radar now that she wasn't standing in her way, with all her street smarts she understood how the woman's mind worked. "Well I guess as long as I don't embarrass myself, I'll have to be thankful for this opportunity." There she thought, I've played my part perfectly, and Fitzgerald owes me big time for letting this bitch think she's more deserving.
"Now that's the attitude you need to have," Trisha smiled, for once it was actually genuine. They had to do group numbers, and the thought of any of the group screwing up her moment to shine would not be tolerated. Perhaps she'd been a little too hard on the loser, she thought and considered offering a truce.
Returning her smile with a plastered one of her own, she was glad the vocal coach had arrived and she didn't have to talk anymore. She wanted to slap the condescending bitch right off her self-imposed pedestal, but knew that it would just cause more problems. She had four weeks to work with the witch and then she would forget she even existed, she determined.
For the next six hours she focused completely on the classes and even during lunch she allowed her mind to go over how she could improve her performances. These people had years under their belt of doing this stuff, and she had to catch up quickly. The choreographing glass had been particularly brutal, since she'd never danced a day in her life. They'd had to repeat several of the dance moves because of her inability to remember the routine. Even Lizzy was frustrated with her when that class ended. By the time the car arrived to take her to Mr. Fitzgerald she was so depressed she wondered if any of this was worth her time.
She walked into his studio, almost on the verge of telling him she couldn't do this. What came so easily to those performers was like a living nightmare to her. "I just can't do this," she complained, pacing the room and throwing her hands up in frustration.
He knew all the routines the performers were doing for the opening show, and understood that for someone not accustomed to dancing how frustrating it was. "You can do it, you just have to wrap your mind around doing two things at once, and stop worrying so much." Confidence was her biggest barrier, he knew that until she gained that she was just floundering. "We're going to work on the first routine." Walking over to his sound system he placed the disc in for the backup music.
After an hour of practicing the same moves over and over, she wanted to scream in frustration. She'd finally gotten the basics down, and didn't flinch when his hands wrapped around her waist during the last try. One of the things she hated about these routines was the fact that she had to deal with people touching her. It was a sexy jazz number, and while the singing was easy, the thought of anyone touching her at all wasn't.
"Let's take a breather," he walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out two bottled waters, and threw one at her.
She caught it in midair and grinned at the gesture before unscrewing the top and taking a deep gulp. Working with him wasn't as bad as being in front of the rest of the group, she decided as she cooled down, plopping right on the floor to relax like she was at home.
His mother had forced him to take dance lessons from the age of three, so the moves were very basic to him. It was one of the few things he remembered about her since she had passed away when he still in elementary school. "You're doing great for
Basically Trisha was saying she was off her radar now that she wasn't standing in her way, with all her street smarts she understood how the woman's mind worked. "Well I guess as long as I don't embarrass myself, I'll have to be thankful for this opportunity." There she thought, I've played my part perfectly, and Fitzgerald owes me big time for letting this bitch think she's more deserving.
"Now that's the attitude you need to have," Trisha smiled, for once it was actually genuine. They had to do group numbers, and the thought of any of the group screwing up her moment to shine would not be tolerated. Perhaps she'd been a little too hard on the loser, she thought and considered offering a truce.
Returning her smile with a plastered one of her own, she was glad the vocal coach had arrived and she didn't have to talk anymore. She wanted to slap the condescending bitch right off her self-imposed pedestal, but knew that it would just cause more problems. She had four weeks to work with the witch and then she would forget she even existed, she determined.
For the next six hours she focused completely on the classes and even during lunch she allowed her mind to go over how she could improve her performances. These people had years under their belt of doing this stuff, and she had to catch up quickly. The choreographing glass had been particularly brutal, since she'd never danced a day in her life. They'd had to repeat several of the dance moves because of her inability to remember the routine. Even Lizzy was frustrated with her when that class ended. By the time the car arrived to take her to Mr. Fitzgerald she was so depressed she wondered if any of this was worth her time.
She walked into his studio, almost on the verge of telling him she couldn't do this. What came so easily to those performers was like a living nightmare to her. "I just can't do this," she complained, pacing the room and throwing her hands up in frustration.
He knew all the routines the performers were doing for the opening show, and understood that for someone not accustomed to dancing how frustrating it was. "You can do it, you just have to wrap your mind around doing two things at once, and stop worrying so much." Confidence was her biggest barrier, he knew that until she gained that she was just floundering. "We're going to work on the first routine." Walking over to his sound system he placed the disc in for the backup music.
After an hour of practicing the same moves over and over, she wanted to scream in frustration. She'd finally gotten the basics down, and didn't flinch when his hands wrapped around her waist during the last try. One of the things she hated about these routines was the fact that she had to deal with people touching her. It was a sexy jazz number, and while the singing was easy, the thought of anyone touching her at all wasn't.
"Let's take a breather," he walked over to the mini-fridge and pulled out two bottled waters, and threw one at her.
She caught it in midair and grinned at the gesture before unscrewing the top and taking a deep gulp. Working with him wasn't as bad as being in front of the rest of the group, she decided as she cooled down, plopping right on the floor to relax like she was at home.
His mother had forced him to take dance lessons from the age of three, so the moves were very basic to him. It was one of the few things he remembered about her since she had passed away when he still in elementary school. "You're doing great for
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