by HJ Welch
But Blake remained unmoved. He was fussy though, he knew that. It took a special kind of girl to hold his interest outside the dance studio. Even then he took forever to put the moves on and get any. Not everyone was cut out to be a Casanova like TJ, he supposed.
He and Nessa were compatible on the dance floor, and that was all he cared about.
Seth looked up at the big guy on the crew, Marcus. He operated the boom, but that wasn’t always needed. In the auditions he’d used it to get all the kids chattering. But here, they were all mic’d up, so Marcus was now first camera man while Seth was casting.
“I’d say another ten minutes on the applications, then we set up for talking heads?”
Marcus nodded silently.
“Oh,” said Blake’s mom, waving another candidate’s profile around. A guy called Tyler. “How about you argue over this guy next? Nessa, you could point out how hot he is and Blake you could get offended and insecure!”
They had auditioned a few older dancers for an elite team of just half a dozen. Blake would be the center point, naturally. Then they would be the close of the big show they were steering the season climax towards.
Blake tried not to scowl as he took the guy’s application off her. “I’m not insecure, Mom. He’s good, but so am I.”
“Yes.” She glanced at the camera and gave him a thumbs up. “That’s it, honey, good.”
Blake rubbed his eyes. “I only want seven for the elite squad. He’s talented, and, seeing as it seems to matter so much to you, he’s also black.”
“And smoking hot,” said Nessa, taking his picture and fanning herself.
Blake’s mom raised her eyebrows at him, but he refused to be goaded. “Tyler is in.”
Tyler went on the Definitely pile.
They needed up to a dozen featured characters apparently, of all ages and abilities to create a varied cast. They had an adorable four-year-old with blonde ringlets and big, doe eyes named Madison. Also a stocky, ginger boy with startling potential named Brady in his freshman year at Perryville High. Then of course there was Karyn. Thirteen and gangly with, as Nessa said, a potential attitude problem. But when she started to move there was no taking your eyes off of her.
They had their black and South-East-Asian quota for the main cast already, which Blake still wasn’t comfortable with. But he didn’t care so much who they wanted to put in the credits of the show. He only cared about the caliber of the dancers. All the dancers.
Unfortunately, Seth and his mom didn’t necessarily see it that way.
“But she doesn’t know the difference between third and fourth position,” Blake argued. He was talking about Taffy, a girl with model good looks. However, she was an atrocious, awkward dancer who had been very slow to pick up choreo. “She cannot be in the senior class. That’s advanced; she’ll hold the other kids back.”
“She’s a childhood cancer survivor and her mom was Miss Ohio,” said Seth. Blake waited for a follow up, but there wasn’t one.
“So?”
“So, she’s in,” said his mom. “Moving on. We need a fatty.”
Blake choked on his own saliva and glared at her. “What did you just say?”
She shrugged. “We need a fat kid. Question is; one that can dance? Or one that can’t?”
“Can’t,” said Seth, fishing out another headshot. “People like someone to pity, poke fun at. He’ll be a meme within a week.”
That was so awful, but Blake’s mom was already nodding. He glanced at Nessa, who gave him a pained look, but only shrugged.
Rather than come out and disagree, Blake came at it from a different angle. It was a technique that had sometimes worked with his mom in the past. “Mercy is a big girl,” he said. He showed them her photo. “She’s not the best, but she’s a trier, and a really sweet kid.”
“We have enough minorities,” said Seth. “You don’t want viewers to mistake this for an inner-city ghetto.”
“But-” spluttered Blake.
Seth carried on like he hadn’t heard him. “She’s not fantastic, but she’s not terrible and she has no sob story. If you even have her in the background, she’ll attract the eye in a negative way. Hard no.”
Blake could feel his anger rising. “You’re not going to let her in at all? Not even one of the beginner’s classes?”
“Sweetie,” his mom said, reaching out to take his hand. Her tone was firm though. “Seth knows best, he’s done these shows before.”
Blake pulled his hand out of reach. This was supposed to be his school. He wanted a safe space where kids could come and express themselves creatively. To flourish. I never asked you to turn it into a circus, he thought savagely.
But he could already hear his dad’s voice: ‘After everything your mother and I have done for you?’
“I want her in the class,” he tried one last time.
He didn’t even get an answer. Seth ignored him entirely as he typed on his laptop. His mom just shrugged again and began talking to Nessa about branded school training wear. Kala was the only one who met his eye, but that was only to shrug apologetically.
This was such bullshit. He couldn’t take any more.
Without bothering to ask permission, he rose from the table and stormed out the kitchen. His mom called out after him, but he tuned her out. No doubt he’d get his ear chewed off for that later, but right then he didn’t care.
He thundered through the foyer and out into the street, slamming the door behind him. Fury propelled him onwards, until he realized he’d made it a few blocks over and had no idea of where he was heading.
He stopped at the end of one of the identical roads. He’d made it into one of the regular neighborhoods, not the million-dollar estates of his street. All the houses were one story with slanted roofs and simple, square front yards of closely trimmed grass. With no one else around that he could see, he dropped his head back and let out a frustrated roar.
Two weeks ago, he and Joey had been playing video games, having ditched some Hollywood party in favor of pizza and zombies. Now he was here, in the dreary, lonely town where even the smallest decisions had been taken away from him.
The only spark of life he’d seen so far had been from his dog Watson. That, and the bizarre encounter with his old classmate, Elion.
Blake took a deep breath, and began walking again, vaguely aware of heading towards the small strip of stores that the Cool Beans coffee house sat in. It was stupid, but thinking of Elion made him smile.
He had only dim memories of him from school, but they were there nonetheless. Normally, being recognized put Blake on edge. It was unnerving when a stranger knew so much about you and you knew absolutely nothing about them. But the way Elion’s face had lit up spoke of camaraderie, not fan worship.
Blake hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from his class, other than the usual ‘friendship’ on Facebook. But he wasn’t actually close with anyone there. It might be nice to get to know Elion and swap some stories of the old days, good or not.
Plus, he was the only guy he’d seen in town with any kind of style. Blake felt the need to reach out to someone else creative, even if that artistic flare only stretched to colorful hair.
Jodi had said Elion had promised him a free coffee too, after the minor scene that had happened on his last visit. The gesture was unnecessary, but that made it nicer. So, it would be rude not to take him up on it, surely?
By the time the half a dozen establishments came into view, he had several good reasons to head into the coffee shop. The least of which was they actually did really great cappuccinos. He wasn’t sure if he was looking to make a friend. It had been so long since he’d tried to connect with anyone new. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to get away from the casting and this was the most convenient.
Whatever his true motivation was, as he pushed the door into the coffee house, he hoped that Elion was working.
5
Elion
If he moaned louder, Elion thought maybe Devon might t
ake pity on him. Instead, she threw a dishrag at his face.
“Dev-von,” he whimpered, slumping against the back wall. “Be nice.”
“It’s your own fault you’re hungover,” she said. She was making a caramel latte and the customer was regarding Elion’s display with somewhat wide eyes. He didn’t mind. It passed the time to put on a show every now and again.
However, there were other people waiting, and Lily was lurking around somewhere. As much as Elion enjoyed playing the brat, he didn’t want to lose his job.
In his defense, last night had been special. Worth drinking a bit too much even though he had to be at work today. A couple of his school buddies had come home for the weekend and they’d stayed up most of the night catching up.
Back in the day, they’d had a pretty sweet group from the LGBT alliance that hung out twenty-four-seven. But of course, everyone else had gone to college, all over the country, leaving Elion in little old Perryville. As fun as last night had been, it had also reminded him what he’d missed out on. He’d probably had a shot or three of tequila that he shouldn’t have to chase the bitterness away.
So he could suffer the pain today as penance. He would never want to feel jealous or resentful of his friends and a big fat headache would remind him of that.
He made sure to chug down glasses of water and bounced from customer to customer. There were more important things in life than frat parties, after all. Also, the upside of not going to college was he wasn’t saddled with student debt for the next two decades of his life. So, things could be worse.
The hot topic of conversation had of course been the re-emergence of Blake Jackson last week. Elion had tried to hold his tongue, but after a couple of beers the story had eventually slipped out. He’d done his best not to sound like some lust-struck fan.
At least he could say he’d never really listened to Below Zero’s music. There might have been a little drool when he’d recounted how hot Blake had gotten since school, and damn, he’d been seriously fine back then as well.
But the truth was Elion was more intrigued by what had obviously been causing Blake so much grief. It was probably the band splitting up. That had to be tough. Elion couldn’t really imagine what it was like to tour the world and make records and have screaming fans only to come back…here.
As he emptied the dishwasher Elion scowled and told himself, yet again, that there were a thousand worse places to be. He was only jaded because he’d never experienced anything else. Seeing his old buddies was just making him go all ‘grass-is-greener.’ Once he’d had a good night’s sleep he’d grow up and remember all the things he had to be grateful for.
“Elion, are you free?”
“In mind,” he sighed. He stood and placed his hand on his heart. “In body, I am shackled.”
Devon stared at him through her eyelashes. “You are such a catch,” she said, deadpan. “It’s time for your break.”
He blinked and frowned at her. Sometimes, when he was this hungover, he honest-to-God could forget what month they were in. So time-of-the-day was utterly hopeless. But he was still almost certain that he’d had both his breaks for the day. He was due to go home in an hour.
“No, I don’t think so. But if you wanted to nip out for a quickie, all you had to do is ask.”
Devon rolled her eyes. “Ew. Take your damn break.”
She spun on her heels and immediately began making a couple of drinks. Elion frowned and wondered what he’d done to piss her off so much that she’d banish him from the counter.
That was when he looked over at the guy hovering by the order pickup station.
“Blake?” he blurted.
It was a good job he’d not been holding anything, because he would have absolutely dropped it, and a lot of things around here were breakable. Blake looked at him with a sheepish grin.
“So, how about that free cappuccino?”
Elion would be lying if he said he hadn’t envisioned Blake Jackson sauntering back into the coffee house over the past few days. In his fantasies, Blake would be cool and commanding, and Elion would have been just telling his co-workers an absolutely hilarious story.
Instead, he was pretty sure he had cocoa powder smeared through his hair. And Blake had his hands shoved in his sweatshirt pockets and was looking at Elion with such trepidation he had to glance over his shoulder to double check there was nobody else he could possibly be talking to.
“Dude, hey!” he said. He rubbed his palms hastily on his apron and skipped over to the counter. “Of course, coming right up.”
He was mildly impressed he didn’t blurt out how awesome it was that Blake had come back at all. Not even a little. He just started frothing up milk with a silly grin on his face. No words seemed to be happening, but that was better than embarrassing words, so he’d go with it.
“Um,” Blake said. “Did…do you have a break?”
Damn Devon.
Except, hang on. Was this all-American-old-high-school-crush-legit-popstar asking if he wanted to hang out?
“Yes,” Elion blurted. “Yes, yep, literally just going on a break now, isn’t that weird? I mean-” he panicked. “Not that you were asking me to join you…were you?”
Blake cast his gaze downwards and bit his lip. “Only if you’re free. I thought it might be nice to, you know, catch up. Or something.”
Elion already had his apron untied. “That would be so nice, I mean great, I mean-”
He forced himself to breathe, then looked pointedly over at Devon.
She was already holding Blake’s finished cappuccino and Elion’s personal favorite, Jamaica iced tea.
“Have fun,” she said forcefully.
If he questioned it, he might talk himself out of it. So Elion took the drinks and used his hip to bash his way through the swinging door and out into the coffee house floor. He smiled at Blake, then looked away and blinked rapidly, his heart pounding.
“So, um, I think there’s a free table this way.”
Elion led Blake towards the back. It was likely that people turned their heads to watch them passing. Everybody and their dog seemed to have heard about the local heartthrob’s untimely return. But Elion didn’t care about that. He cared, deeply, that as he dropped into the squidgy armchair by the jukebox, he and Blake were the only ones at their little, round table.
“I didn’t think you’d come back.” Yeah. Because that didn’t sound needy at all.
Blake smiled though as he pulled his coffee cup towards him. “I’m not sure how being back in Perryville is crazier than L.A.,” he said with a laugh. “But it is.”
As he stirred sugar into his drink, Elion noticed a dimple in Blake’s left cheek. He liked it.
Clearing his throat, he dragged his pathetic thoughts away from an idea where he made that dimple pop out as often as he could. “Really?” he managed.
Blake nodded. “There’s…just all this shit flying around. Anyway.” He took a sip of his coffee and leaned back. “I felt rude running out the other day and this place is cool, so…here I am.”
Here you are. Elion gave himself a mental snap and grabbed his tea. It was sweetened just how he liked it, bless Devon. “It must be so surreal,” he said.
Blake nodded. “It’s been…fast,” he said.
Elion stirred the ice cubes in his glass. He tried to think about something they had in common, something they could reminisce over from school. But there was nothing. Elion had never traveled, he knew almost nothing about music, and they didn’t have any mutual friends. All he knew was how amazing it used to be to watch Blake dance.
“So, you’re teaching now,” he said, latching onto the thought. “Not singing.”
Blake chuckled. He glanced around, then when he seemed confident no one was eavesdropping, he leant over. “I never really could sing,” he said.
“You can’t have been terrible,” Elion said.
He licked a drop of dark pink tea that was running down the glass. When he looked back up, he real
ized Blake was staring. Shit, he should probably tone down the flirty stuff around the straight guy.
“I mean,” he said, clearing his throat. “You had to sing live and stuff?”
Blake’s shoulders looked like they relaxed, just a fraction. He smiled, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. That did all sorts of things to Elion’s body. He shifted, trying to ignore them.
“They’d turn my mic down,” Blake said in a conspiratorial tone. “Or auto-tune on the fly. I could carry the melody, yeah, and they’d let me sign a verse here and there. But mostly I was there for the dance breaks.”
Elion couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow. So, I get to call you Milli Vanilli from now on, yeah?”
“Shut up!” Blake laughed properly, and smacked Elion’s knee. Even through his jeans, the touch sent electricity across Elion’s skin. “I wasn’t lip syncing, I was actually singing. Just…a little flatly. The other guys really could sing!”
They were both grinning at each other. It felt good, natural. “You must miss them,” said Elion. “Unless there’s some juicy gossip about their hideous diva tantrums you’d like to share?” He leaned over and crossed his heart. “I promise me and my ninety-three Twitter followers won’t tell a soul.”
Blake smiled so much the dimple returned. Elion was definitely vulnerable to the giddy feelings that brought out in him.
If he wasn’t careful, this could get dangerous. Fast.
6
Elion
“I do really miss the other guys,” said Blake after a while.
He sighed and leant back in his chair. The coffee house was busy around them, however Elion was pleased that most people were keeping to themselves and not paying them much attention.
“Especially Joey,” Blake carried on. “He’s the youngest in the band, the one with the curly hair?”