You see, I was offered this place in the San Francisco Ballet. I haven't told anyone yet, but I'm gonna take it. I don't care what they think. I'm a good dancer. Better than good. Maybe even the best in the school. And that's not conceit, it's just simple honesty. If I stay in New York, everyone will think I bought my way into ABT. And I'm not starving myself for Balanchine's City Ballet. Not that I mind doing the corps de ballet bullshit. I'd sooner do it out of town. I'll pay my dues on the west coast, come back to New York a star. You see, I've always had this crazy dream of dancing all the classical roles before I'm twenty-one. I want Giselles and CoppÈlias coming out of my feet. And Sleeping Beauties, and the Swan. I want bravos in Stuttgart and Leningrad and Paris. Maybe even a ballet created especially for me. You see? There's no room for a baby.
Will this be Master Charge or American Express, honey?
