Spring Fling

by Claudia Burgoa

  Panic quickly replaced the relief I had felt only seconds before. There was no way I could trust one of my parents’ staff to take me to LA without it starting up the dreaded conversation about my future.

  Ideas clicked through my mind until one fell from my mouth. “I could buy you dinner after.”

  The look Tobias gave me was tortured with disbelief. “What makes you think I’d want to go to dinner with you?”

  I swallowed my embarrassment then scrunched my face in frustration. He was right. There was no enticement in forcing him to eat dinner with me on top of it all. But I was getting desperate.

  “Then how about an I-O-U? If you ever need anything from me, just say the word.” He didn’t fight back immediately, so I widened my eyes, letting him know I was serious. “Anything .”

  He let out a frustrated growl, and that was when I knew I had him.

  I jumped in again. “Look, I know it’s an inconvenience, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I need to get to LA. Will you please help me get there?”

  He looked away then raised his hands over his head in surrender. “Fine. But you’re going to owe me. Big.” He enunciated the last word as he hovered over me, most likely trying to intimidate me. That wasn’t hard considering his body doubled mine in size. “And you can’t tell Trin about this. She’ll murder me if she finds out we went to LA without her.”

  I squealed and jumped in my spot. “Deal.”

  He was right about Trinity murdering someone, but I knew that someone wouldn’t be him.

  * * *

  Amelia

  * * *

  I’d never been so nervous in my life, not even the time I auditioned for a leading role in our community theater’s performance of Moving Out—which I nailed, by the way. But knowing I would be riding in Tobias’ truck, alone with him and his questionable temperament, I had no clue what I’d gotten myself into.

  Luckily, he turned up the volume on some Nirvana song as soon as I hopped in. I took it as a silent warning to not give him a reason to turn it down. And like a good girl, I sat there, buckled tight, eyes glued out my window, and sweaty palms pressed against my black leggings.

  His deep rasp broke the silence thirty minutes later. “You been thinking about college?”

  I swallowed back my shock at hearing his voice before repeating his question in my head.

  “No,” I said, turning toward him. “No college for me.” I timidly watched him, sure judgment would follow my answer as it always did with my parents. They believed in my dreams, but they wanted what most parents wanted for their children—for them to get a degree to fall back on when, not if, their dreams failed.

  I didn’t need a fallback plan. I had dance, and dance was it for me.

  But his expression didn’t fill with judgment. He exhibited a patience that was actually comforting.

  My pulse sped when I caught his eyes flick from my lips to my attire.

  “What kind of dance do you, uh, do again?”

  Of course he had to ask. I didn’t expect him to remember the talent show he’d attended with his sister last year. In it, I had dressed up like Britney—in the full “I’m A Slave 4 U” ensemble, complete with a yellow plastic snake wrapped around my neck—and lip-synced my way to my first-place trophy.

  “Everything,” I said. “But mostly contemporary jazz and hip-hop. I dance at this studio in LA…” I blushed, catching myself and cringing at my need to overshare. When it came to my passion, it was hard not to.

  Tobias’ nose flared. “Please don’t tell me I’m taking you to a dance class right now.”

  Everything inside me heated with embarrassment. I turned toward the passenger window, folding my arms across my chest. “It’s important. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  I shook my head while my jaw clenched so tightly, my cheeks burned. My thoughts were unkind. It wasn’t fair for me to compare his dreams to mine. I couldn’t begin to assume what would make him throw everything away like he had.

  “I bailed on my plans to take your ass to LA. You owe me an explanation. Why am I taking you to a dance class on a Saturday? Why now? Why today?”

  I suppressed the scream of frustration building in the back of my throat. “It’s not a dance class. It’s an audition for an NBA halftime performance. I can’t just go another time. The Lions Dance Squad only has one performance like this a year.”

  “The Lions?” He threw me an incredulous look. “You’re auditioning for the LA Lions Dance Team? The season’s almost over.” He stated it like he was informing me of something I didn’t already know. Then he laughed condescendingly. “Never mind that. Aren’t you a little young to be dancing for them anyway? News flash. You’re still in high school, kid.”

  My eyes blazed, and I could feel the blood boiling in my chest. “I’m old enough,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s just a halftime performance. If I can secure a spot for this, then I become an instant finalist in team auditions this summer. I need to make that team .”

  He had no idea how big this dream was or how easily I could visualize myself on that court with a squad full of talented dancers in front of a pumped-up crowd.

  Silence descended upon us for the next few minutes, and I didn’t dare glance his way again. He was either amused by my dreams or pissed off by them. I didn’t want to acknowledge either.

  “Why LA?” he finally spat out. “Why the Lions? There are teams all over the country.”

  My shoulders lifted with my breath, and I let it out in a sigh before turning back to him. “I don’t know. My dad loves the Lions. I love the Lions. And I’ve always pictured my dance career starting and ending in LA.” I shrugged. “It’s as simple as that.”

  “It’s as simple as that, huh?” He asked the question like it made him angry. “Dreams never come true that easily, Amelia. It takes time, effort.”

  I focused on him with stern eyes, enraged that he would dare test my passion or the reality of my dreams. “I know, Tobias,” I said, making sure to enunciate his name with as much flair as he’d spoken mine. “I’ve been training at Gravity since I was a kid. I know my odds in the world of professional dance, and they’re good.”

  “Gravity?”

  “Gravity Dance Complex. It’s a huge dance center, and I don’t just mean in size. Well, it’s that too. But Gravity is affiliated with the A-Listers of Hollywood. Producers, casting agents, singers, actors, stage directors, cruise ship entertainment—you name it.”

  “So you’re telling me with all that opportunity at your fingertips, your dream is to dance professionally for the NBA?”

  I nodded. “Yes. To start.” My eyes curiously flickered over his profile. I wanted to ask him what had happened to his dreams. We’d always had basketball in common. And while we’d never been close, just that simple dream had made me feel like we were connected in some strange way.

  “I just want to dance. And making a living is a necessity since I don’t plan to get help from my parents. I need to do this on my own so I don’t feel like I owe them anything.”

  “Let me guess—they want you to take over the family business.”

  My parents owned a production company in Malibu, which had grown to be pretty successful. They’d expanded since the beginning, investing in a plethora of sports and entertainment franchises. My father loved to have his hands in all the pies, and my mom supported that, but her focus was on their original investment at Quinten Clark Entertainment.

  My laughter came hard at Tobias’ comment. “Are you kidding? My dad would never loosen the reins on his baby.” I shook my head. “No. Quinten Clark will never give up control. But work for him?” I nodded. “Absolutely. He always thought I’d make a great face for his company.”

  “That sounds horrible.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not as awful as it sounds. His parents were in the business too. He’s always been a family company type of man. I promised him I’d still t
ry to make it to the big parties, but that was the best I could do.” I flashed him a smile to help relieve some of the tension that had grown between us.

  It seemed to work, though silence fell again and lasted until we were a mile away from the off-ramp.

  “The exit is up ahead,” I warned. After guiding him to the front curb of the tall brick building that had become my second home, I got out and held the door open to speak to him. “You don’t have to wait. I can find a ride home.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m taking you home, Amelia. When should I be back?”

  “Um…” My eyes floated to the dash, where I read the time. “It’s hard to say. If I make it all the way through, I could be here until ten tonight.”

  He nodded, signaling for me to shut the door. “I’ll be back at ten, then.”

  Is there any use arguing with him?

  With a subtle sigh, I gripped the door. “Ten o’clock it is. Thanks, Tobias.”

  He didn’t respond, so I shut the door. As he drove off, I couldn’t help but wonder where he would go… and if he really would come back.

  * * *

  Amelia

  * * *

  In my rush from the registration desk to the main dance studio, I felt my very first heartbreak.

  “Amie, wait up.”

  Janelle, one of the choreographers of Gravity was jogging toward me with my headshot in her hands. My heart sank instantly. I didn’t know why she was about to turn me away, but I knew by the apology written into her expression and her sorrowful eyes that I’d made Tobias drive me to LA for no reason.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, unable to shake the nerves from my voice.

  Her head tilt and sigh knotted my insides. “I’m so sorry, Amie. I know how badly you want this. And you’re more than talented enough to make it…”

  “But?”

  Janelle nodded. “But you’re only seventeen. I can’t even let you into that audition room.”

  My jaw fell. I knew there was a possibility I could get turned away, but I didn’t think my age would be the deciding factor. I can fix this.

  “No, it’s okay.” I scrambled to pull my ID from my phone case and handed it to her. “See?” My eyes lit, and relief started to spread through me. “I’ll be eighteen next week.”

  Janelle frowned and shook her head. “I’m just the messenger here, Amie. If it were up to me, you know I’d let you audition. But according to the NBA, you have to be eighteen by the time of this audition today. I am so sorry.”

  Her eyes lit up, and I knew she was going to try to cushion the blow. It was what she was good at in situations like these. Rejection was not an easy pill to swallow, and Janelle was often the bearer of bad news. Being a professional choreographer in the industry, she had to be.

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t still try out for the team this summer,” she said. “I’ll even write you a recommendation you can attach to your resumé. I’ve worked with the team before, and you’re good, Amie. You’ll stand out on your own.”

  Her encouragement should have lit up my insides like the Fourth of July, but I was too stuck in the moment of rejection. I’d had a plan. And that plan had an end result that was threatened because of bad timing.

  Long after Janelle left me standing in a puddle of my misery, I fled the audition space, found the first dance studio, and slipped inside. The class was in mid-choreography, but no one stopped me from taking a spot on the floor and joining in. I didn’t know what else to do for the next eight hours before Tobias got there. I couldn’t call him to pick me up. That would require calling Trinity to get his number and having to explain why he’d taken me to LA in the first place. I’d rather drown in a puddle of my disappointment.

  Besides, dance had always been my therapy. One shattered dream wouldn’t change that, and I needed dance now more than ever. Quite simply, I could get lost in dance. So I did.

  I hopped from one class to the next, learning choreography from all styles of dance. I threw every ounce of frustration and passion into each routine, splattering it all on the gloss-stained wood floors.

  “Damn, girl, you are on fire tonight,” said Arnie, another dancer who was entering class behind me. It would be ten o’clock by the time this one ended, but I was still riding on whatever adrenaline rush I’d caught earlier in the day.

  Before I could respond, my eyes caught on my friend Lance, who was nuzzling noses with Vivian Gray, the choreographer for Hot Heels, my last class of the night.

  When did that happen? I hated how much I missed not living in LA. It was like a completely different world, one in which I belonged more than I ever felt like I did in Malibu.

  The love birds were still crowding the door when I slipped past them and found a group of familiar faces. It looked like several regulars, or Lifers as we called each other, were taking this class. I pulled my bag from my shoulder and sat beside Arnie, who was focused on the way his shaved calves looked when they glowed under the studio light. I laughed, catching his attention.

  He shot me an amused glare. “Don’t stare too hard, girl, or those big eyes might just go falling out of that skinny head of yours.”

  “I wasn’t staring.” I pulled my shoes out of my bag with a grin. “Just admiring. You get a cleaner shave than I ever could.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Shave? Oh, hell no. I lasered that shit off last year. Best investment of my life.” He stood then popped his hip in my direction before strutting toward the front of the room.

  “Ohhh, let me see those.” Another dancer, Mandy, plopped down beside me. Her eyes were huge on my knee-length, heeled denim boots. “I need these.” She ran her hand up and down the material, inspecting every seam, every manufactured tear, and every angle. “Where did you get them?”

  “Some Etsy store. I’ll send you the link tonight. Hey”—I nodded to the door—“when did Lance and Viv start up?”

  Mandy flipped her braids over her shoulder as she sneaked a glance at them. She immediately turned back in my direction and made a gagging face. “It’s recent. We were at Carter’s a few nights ago, and it just happened. One second, they were laughing together like normal, and then the next second, they were dry humping on the couch for all to see.”

  “No way.” I laughed with disbelief. Surely, she was exaggerating.

  Mandy shrugged. “You should have been there to witness it yourself. It was soft-porn action, and we didn’t even have to subscribe.”

  I laughed. “Okay, okay. Enough about Lance and Viv. Why didn’t I get an invite to this red-room party?”

  “Like you would have come,” she replied with a scoff. “You say no whenever you’re not already in town.”

  “Do you blame me? The drive is painful as it is. I can’t do that twice in one day.”

  Mandy’s eyes twinkled. “Not long until you’ll be in LA. Then you won’t have to worry about that stupid commute.”

  Ugh. She was right. I couldn’t wait for the day I lived closer to Gravity. I’d been counting down since last summer.

  “Strap up, you sexy beasts,” Viv called as she leapt across the dance floor. “It’s time for a showdown if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows at us, but I didn’t know what she meant until the music started a few seconds later and Britney’s song, “Showdown” blasted through the loudspeakers.

  I could feel the energy of the class spike instantly. There was something about the pop diva’s tunes that hyped a dancer. I forgot everything except for the beat that pumped from deep inside me. I felt like I was in a dark room alone with the music.

  Viv started with a slow cat walk on the first eight-counts, followed by a few sexy counts to bring us to our knees for the start of floor work. Usually when I took a heels class, I assumed we would be on our knees a lot. At first, it was painful, but I learned quickly how to balance my weight in the right positions to avoid the strain that could mess my body up. It always blew my mind when anyone challenged the fact that dancers were athletes. I couldn’t
think of another profession that combined more muscles, more brain power, and more energy than dance.

  We’d completed the dance and had run it a few times from top to bottom when Viv stopped the music and shouted, “Performance time.”

  The room broke into a collective cheer. That was what we looked forward to in every class—a chance to take everything we’d learned and go all out, putting our own flare into someone else’s creation. It didn’t matter if someone was an introvert outside the studio, when he or she walked onto the dance floor, they were transformed. And Viv was an incredible creator.

  Viv searched the room, examining each of us. “Let me have…” She tapped her chin one more time. “Mandy…” Mandy shot forward with a squeal. “Dustin…” His buddy clapped him on the shoulder before he took off to join Mandy. “And…” Her eyes connected with my hopeful ones. “And Amie.”

  I kind of loved that they called me Amie at Gravity when no one did back home. It felt like I was a completely different person among my peers, with whom I shared a mutual passion.

  Viv clapped her hands. “Pick your groups, and then let’s do this, yeah?” She knew the three of us well enough to know we understood the drill. She’d just chosen us to lead each dance, which meant we were allowed to pick backup dancers to join us for our performances.

  Even though my focus in the mirror had been on myself, I’d caught sight of a few dancers that had impressed me. I went to them first and asked them to join me, and it was as simple as that. I had my team.

  But when I turned around to face the first group, led by Viv, I noticed the crowd beginning to gather outside the room. Lance was there too, staring in with a grin on his face as Viv began to move. He watched her like she was the only female on earth, like he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen her sooner. It created an ache in me I could only define as envy. I wanted that. I wanted someone who I made sense with, someone who shared my same dream, someone who understood me like no one else.