Slave to the Rhythm by Jane Harvey-Berrick

Author:Jane Harvey-Berrick [Harvey-Berrick, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Women's Fiction, Contemporary Women, Romance, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction, Slave to the Rhythm
ISBN: 0992924677
Amazon: B01ADL94B6
Publisher: Harvey Berrick Publishing
Published: 2016-03-08T05:00:00+00:00

Laney

I waited anxiously. I really hoped this audition was everything he’d hoped for. He was late, and I didn’t know if that was good or bad. I didn’t know the first thing about his world, except that when he’d left home this morning, he was happier than I’d ever seen him.

At six o’clock, hours later than I’d expected him, Ash walked through the door wearily.

“Well?” I asked anxiously.

His face broke into a huge smile. “I got it!” he yelled

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

And he picked me up, hugging me tightly as I was spun around like a doll.

“It was brilliant!” he said, into my hair. “I mean, it was awesome.”

He carried me over to the couch and we slumped down together, his arm automatically going around my shoulder as his head lolled back.

He told me about Rosa, the choreographer; Mark, the director; Dalano, the producer; and various members of the troupe and tech crew.

He was still talking happily when he leaned forward and unzipped the cheap gym bag that I’d loaned him, pulling out his dance shoes and sweaty rehearsal clothes.

“I’m going to put some laundry on,” he said. “Do you have anything that needs washing?”

A large envelope fell to the floor, thickly stuffed with papers.

“What’s that?”

Ash shrugged.

“Contract. I’m supposed to fill it in and take it back on Monday. Will you look through it for me? I hate reading that stuff, especially in English.” Then he smiled. “But I got myself a new cell—you can message me now.”

Then he disappeared toward the basement with his dance clothes and my weeks’ worth of laundry.

I smiled to myself as I picked up the packet of papers and started reading his contract, impressed with the $850 per week wage. But I’d only got a few lines in before I realized that Ash had a serious problem. I’d gotten so carried away, little details like work visa and social security number had completely slipped my mind.

It was over before it had started: they would never allow Ash to dance. The foreman on a construction site might risk a day laborer, even in Chicago where the unions had things tied up tight, but the Steps Theater Group wouldn’t.

Since he came home yesterday, Ash had been a different man: happy, confident, so much fun to be around.

But Ash had gotten a temporary work visa before—why couldn’t he get another? This wasn’t mission impossible.

I flipped open my laptop and started frantically typing questions into search engines. What sort of visa did he need? How could he get one? How quickly? But the answers were unambiguous.

Ash was a visa-overstayer, and therefore an illegal immigrant. But because someone had traveled out of the US on his passport, he was technically not in the U.S. either.

My mind whirred. There must be a way to help him, some sort of special dispensation. Did the Pope intervene on work visas? Probably not.

But God forgive me—that was what gave me the idea.

Because then I saw the words that stopped me in my tracks:

It is possible to obtain a green card based on marriage to a U.

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