The Kisser

by Liv Kingstown

  Hastily making my way out of the building and to the curb, I see a black car approaching. The glimmering pristine black vehicle gives me the heebie-jeebies and a nasty feeling takes hold.

  The car creeps along the asphalt before it stops to pull up in front of me. The back door opens and a rickety voice rattles from within.

  “Hello dear,” says Taylor’s grandmother. “Please, you look like you’re headed somewhere. Let me give me you a ride.”

  “Uh...” I shuffle with my cane. “That’s okay,” I decline politely. “I already called for an Uber.”

  The woman folds her tongue over her bottom lip before she slides further over the slick black leather backseat, creating space. “Child, let me clarify.” She shows me her porcelain teeth. “Get in.”

  Hesitant, I move my cane forward, take a step, and fumble to get into the vehicle. I manage to shut the door as we roll forward. Inside, the air is stiff and a bit warm, intensifying the smell of her perfume of aged spiced plum traced with hard liquor.

  “So, you’ve been sleeping with my grandson.”

  This conversation has certainly started off on the wrong foot.

  “Ma’am, I think that’s something you should discuss with Taylor.”

  “Do you know why he calls me Penny instead of Grandma?”

  My lips go flat and I shake my head, observing her twiddling with one of her rings, which hosts an array of multi-colored gemstones encased in thick yellow gold.

  “I’m not a Rose,” she answers. “I’m not truly Taylor’s grandmother. We’re not related.” Penny tilts her head to look at my foot before she looks me over. “But I did raise that boy and for that he takes care of me.”

  I clutch my cane in my lap and peep out the window when I realize I have no idea where we’re going.

  “Do you know what’s it’s like to live at the mercy of your enemy’s offspring? It’s sad to be so dependent on such a spoiled young man.”

  My head snaps in Penny’s direction. Taylor’s not spoiled. He’s worked hard and I’m confident he dances to make her proud.

  Penny chuckles to herself, seeing the ire in my eyes. “I heard you’re one of Taylor’s biggest fans. You purportedly know everything about him. You don’t know squat, though, do you girl?”

  My eyes gravitate back towards my lap. Whatever Penny’s hiding about Taylor’s family history, it’s possible Taylor doesn’t even know.

  “Would you like to know who Taylor’s father really is? I bet you do. I really shouldn’t tell you because then you’d tell Taylor and it would likely break his heart if he should ever find out that Vander Rose, himself, was Taylor’s father.” She smiles to herself. “Yes, Vander truly loved his primas.”

  “I was one of them,” she continues, “I’m sure you know. I ran away from home at thirteen—abusive mother—and I was living on the street until Vander Rose plucked me from the gutters and turned me into a dancer. I worked night and day to become a prima. I was seventeen when I had my first solo. That was also the age at which I became one of Vander’s mistresses.”

  I clamp my hand over my eyes. Of course, there were rumors about the school’s dark history in the newspapers from decades ago, but Taylor’s rise to fame seems to have skewed the public’s opinion away from all that.

  Penny leans in, speaking lowly. “I know what you’re thinking, dear, but don’t feel sorry for me. I loved Vander Rose with every beat of my heart and every step of my toe. I can certainly understand how easy it is for you to love Taylor. He is as magnificent, if not more than his father was.”

  She flicks her nose. “The problem with the Rose family history, however, you must understand, is the babies. Vander fathered many children but none except for one had seen the light of day. I had my first abortion a week before my eighteenth birthday. But it wasn’t just to avoid the tabloids of the time, abortions were necessary if a prima wanted to remain center stage.”

  I wipe my eye, trying not to seem so obvious in crying.

  “Oh, come now, dear. I admit there was only one thing I ever loved more than Vander Rose and that was dancing. I was, without question, a beautiful dancer, and Vander was a wonderful choreographer and teacher. What I gave up I gave willingly because I loved him, which brings me to...” Penny tips her head to make eye contact with me. “You,” she says, her brows raised.

  The hollowness I’d felt when Taylor left is back, except this time, I feel like I’m going to crumble and cave in on myself to become dust.

  “You see,” she sighs. “After everything I’ve been through with that boy, I still believe I deserve what’s coming to me. For nearly two decades before Taylor came along, I waited in the wings, waiting for Vander’s wife, suffering of a long-term crippling disease, to die. I did everything I had to do to stay in the spotlight. I even took care of the bitch near her final days and indeed, on her death bed, I thought I’d finally get my man.”

  “But Vander Rose chose not to marry and instead took on another young mistress. Within weeks, his new prima was with child. Because she was only seventeen, the father’s identity became a lie and the world was made to believe the girl was Vander’s long-lost daughter from a previous affair. By chance, Taylor’s mother was so naturally gifted, the lie was easy to sell. How else could a young woman be so talented unless she was extracted from Vander’s loins?”

  “I could’ve killed them both, the father and the son,” she continues. “But to my dismay, Vander fell ill and within weeks of learning of the pregnancy, he died. Thankfully, Vander had left all of his assets to his unborn child and made me his trustee. I guess it was some consolation that Vander trusted me that much. Taylor’s mother was weak, just another lost girl off the streets but with tremendous talent and unequivocal dedication—truthfully, I think she was just hungry for food. She could never seem to keep her mouth full. It was easy to influence her. She could hardly take care of herself, much less her boy when he was born. I hated taking care of Taylor as well, but it was required since Taylor’s mother was the only reason people paid to see the shows and she needed to rehearse. There were so many days I wanted to shove that boy in a garbage can.”

  My eyes narrow and I feel my brows pinch.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she says. “I had a business to run. And besides, like his father, Taylor couldn’t keep himself from doing the one thing that runs in his blood. Even as a baby, Taylor had a way of seducing people’s hearts.”

  Penny reaches over, planting her hand atop mine and rubs. I fear she could easily break my bones to pieces.

  “You don’t belong with him, dear,” she says. “I know you love Taylor and so, like me, you’re going to do what’s best for him. Taylor will marry Diamond and the couple and their children will be my gift to Vander Rose. You see, I’m still in love with him. Vander is long dead but I see him every day in Taylor. That boy has more heart than he knows what to do with. It’s the reason he’s so talented. Now, I don’t know what’s happened to you...” Penny clears her throat, hacking. “And I don’t really care to know what’s wrong with your foot, but I can only guess there’s a possibility that it’s hereditary. Do you really think I’m going to let you continue to sleep with Taylor so you can give him a child with feet not fit for dancing?”

  Sourness bubbles up in my belly and I swallow, trying to keep the bile down.

  “I still remember,” Penny nods her head, “when I was taken to the physician to end my pregnancy. It was quite uncomfortable. It had to be done in secret. And for that I don’t like secrets, but I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect my family—Vander’s son—and our legacy.

  “You can let me out here,” I say having no clue as to where I am.

  Penny leans forward. “Edward, pull over,” she instructs the driver and then leans back. “I do want to say you’ve done a wonderful job for the school. I’ve reported wonderful things to your boss about you and he says he’s giving you a promotion, considering the level of commitment and satisfaction you’ve given yo
ur client. Of course, I left out the part where you sleep with your clients, but tattle-tailing won’t be necessary since it’s likely we’ll be given a new marketing manager once you’re promoted.”

  The car comes to a halt and I open the door, readying to step out when I’m grabbed by the forearm.

  “Oh, and darling,” she says, with glimmering white teeth. “Will you tell Taylor farewell for me. I’m leaving for a cruise for a week but let him know I’ll meet up with him in Europe. Tell Taylor farewell from us both, won’t you?”

  Planting my cane down hard on the sidewalk, I hear Penny’s car roll away behind me and look up to see a sign:

  Vander Rose Conservatory of Dance

  17

  Rerun

  Making my way up the stone steps, I squeeze through folks dressed in ritzy attire accompanied by their little dancers wearing new pink slippers and their best tutus. This exhibition was made open to the public and every dancer living within a fifty-mile radius with wealthy parents has begged her adult sponsors to pay the fifty dollars to not only see Taylor dance but to also get a chance to win personal training with him for an hour post exhibition.

  That last part was my idea. The purpose, of course, was to raise awareness for the tour and, thus, the school. Once the contest went live on social media, the exhibition sold out in less than one hour.

  It’s wonderful to see how excited everyone is. Little girls are bouncing as they squeal Taylor’s name, hoping to be the one to win a dance with the “World’s Greatest Dancer,” who I suspect will also make Elle Magazine’s “Most Eligible Bachelors” because of the modeling campaigns I procured for him over the last year.

  I was coming to squeal, too, giddy with the thought that maybe Taylor really might like me—or love me—as he’s mentioned a few times. I couldn’t take him seriously previously. I figured he was just a bad boy gifted with not just a beautiful body but sweet talk, which he uses to get whatever he wants.

  Pausing, I cling onto my cane and the wall. I was so wrong. Taylor has no reason to speak sweetly except when he means it.

  A little girl runs past me. She strikes my cane with her toe on accident and I realize Penny is right. I love Taylor, but I must let him go. The reason Taylor hired me was not to make him famous or turn him into a celebrity—it was to save his school.

  For weeks, I’ve suspected Taylor might not love dancing as much as people perceive. But it’s clear he loves the Conservatory, his company. He wants to save it. He wants it to thrive and, considering the ideas he’s mentioned when we were in bed, he wants it to grow through diversification. The Rose family name, I know is the one thing that can help him do that. Vander Rose may have left a sludge of dark affairs in his wake, but he did leave Taylor his name, one the world associates with nothing less than perfection.

  He deserves a perfect life.

  A perfect wife.

  Perfection in everything.

  I catch sight of Taylor down the hall and my heart flutters, but I calm myself. It’s very awkward the way he’s standing—legs apart, wearing nothing but extremely small, tight-fitting black briefs. The crown of his head is pressed into the wall to help him keep his balance as he types incessantly with his thumbs. He looks up to the ceiling and mumbles to himself as if he’s speaking or perhaps praying to the Almighty God above.

  “Buddy, come on,” says Dirkland, who smacks Taylor on the ass, making Taylor flinch.

  “Fuck, cut that out!” Taylor snaps.

  “Sheesh, I’m sorry,” apologizes Dirkland, who then speaks softly. “We need to go. The exhibition is about to start.”

  “Just give me a minute,” Taylor replies, returning his focus to his phone to type again.

  My phone buzzes and I reach in my pocket to see a message on the screen.

  Taylor: Hi

  Looking up, I see Taylor put his knuckle in his mouth, biting.

  “Come on,” he groans to himself as he taps his bare toes repeatedly against the hard floor. He starts typing again and my phone buzzes repeatedly.

  Taylor: Rerun, I want to talk about this morning. Can you call me?

  Taylor: Right now

  Taylor: I’m waiting for your call

  Taylor: However long it takes. I’m waiting

  Taylor: Ree, I know you’re reading this. I can see it on my screen. Text me back

  I’m not sure what to do. My head and heart are in a duel to the death.

  Taylor: Baby, please

  A raspy voice cuts through the emptying halls as bodies hustle to collect in the ballroom. “Taylor, what are you doing? The exhibition is about to begin. They’re all waiting for you,” says Delores, whom I met on the first day I met Taylor.

  He scowls at her and snaps! “You know what? For once, they can wait!”

  Delores’s eyes fill with contempt. “What in the world has gotten into you today? Are you ill or have you lost your mind? How dare you raise your voice to me?”

  Taylor drops his head back, inhaling, bringing his phone planted in his palms in prayer to his face before he turns his head to her. “I’m sorry, Delores, I don’t mean to—”

  Taylor sees me. His eyes squint before his face relaxes allowing his lashes to flutter.

  “Ree!” He calls smiling widely, skipping towards me. “You came,” he exasperates, halting with a rub of his hands over my shoulder and squeezing.

  “Taylor,” Delores cuts in with a shout, “I’m just going to let everybody know you’re going to be a few minutes,” she says, entering the ballroom and shutting the doors behind her.

  “Ree, listen. About this morning,” he seems to choke, pinching his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. I see the roots of his lashes getting dewy before he opens his eyes.

  I bow my head, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

  “Before you say anything,” he grabs both my shoulders again. “I understand why you don’t want to travel. I was selfish to think you should just drop everything for someone you’d really just met two months ago, even though I’ve been living at your place for six weeks.”

  “Taylor, I—”

  “No, shh,” he presses his finger to my lips before he cradles my head in his palms. “Let’s just talk while I’m gone. We can really get to know each other. We can send pictures back and forth. Truthfully, I hate having my picture taken but...” He makes eye contact with me although his irises wander from side to side searching my eyes for an answer to a question I anticipate he’s about to ask. “I’ll send you pictures if you send me some and we can agree that the arrangement will be exclusive?”

  What is he asking exactly? “I don’t understand.”

  “I won’t see or talk to anyone else while I’m gone if you promise not to see or talk to anyone else either.”

  Words I hate to spill but I know must flow slip from my mouth. “That’s not possible, Taylor.”

  His grip loosens from my face. “Wah-why not?” His voice cracks.

  “You’ll be too busy and we will be on opposite sides of the planet. Not to mention, you will be surrounded by lots of admirers—your fans.”

  “You think I’d cheat on you? I swear I’d never—”

  “No, I know you’d never cheat on me, which is exactly my point.”

  He flails his arm, raising his voice. “What point? You’re not making any sense, Rerun.”

  I close my eyes to contain the heat rising.

  He wraps both palms around the back of my head to pull our faces close enough to nearly touch. “What’s going on?” he asks. “There’s something else going on here, isn’t there?”

  I shake my head but quickly stop as a tear leaks. My head has to fight to swivel against the resistance of his hands trapping my head.

  “Rerun, you tell me what the fuck is going on.” Taylor’s voice sounds scratchy. I think he’s going to get upset and dear Lord, I cannot let that happen. I can’t deal with the devastation that comes when Taylor Rose is angry. “Baby, I need to know right now,” he groans.<
br />
  I suddenly feel nauseous. I can’t tell him—not about his father, not about the dark history of this place, and certainly not about the one woman he considers his family, Penny. He either wouldn’t believe the threat or blame himself in the same way when he erroneously takes blame for his mother’s death. I have to find another way to set this beautiful man free so he can live without all that pain.

  As Penny says, I have to end this.

  Since using me seemed to help Ben get rid of Jasmaine, I figure I can use the same method to split from Taylor.

  Pain grips me from within, tightening its grasp inside my chest, but I manage to let go. “I’m sorry, Taylor.” My lip quivers. “I’m in love with someone else.”

  His hands tighten at the back of my neck. “You’re lying. After what you and I just did in your apartment this morning? After the last few weeks? That’s bullshit and I know it.”

  “It’s no bull. I’m not sure how else to tell you I’m—”

  “Who is it?” A vein swells in his forehead.

  I shake my head. “I’m not saying who it is. And that’s not the point. I came here to tell you goodb—”

  “You fuck this guy?”

  “What? No!”

  “You fuck him recently? While you were fucking me? Was I not good enough for you?”

  “Of course, not.” Shit, he’s going to blame himself.

  “Is it the guy you were hanging with outside the club a few weeks back? Why are you trying to protect who it is?”

  “I’m not. Taylor, you’re not listening. I need you to listen to me. Who it is is not important.”