HOOKED #4
Book 4
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams
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CHAPTER ONE
During the next few days, I received several different phone calls from past dance students. They were ready to get back to work again, and they’d heard that I’d already purchased a new studio—above the Goat Pub. How did they figure it out? I knew Wicker Park could be small, but not that small.
Anyway, I was shocked to hear these words from my past students. Did they really miss me so much, the way I missed them? Molly Says Dance had been my entire world; it had been my reason to live. But I hadn’t realized that my love of dance had flowed into the other women in my classes. I’d assumed their mothers, their husbands, their sisters, their whomevers were forcing them into classes, and mine was the cheapest on the block. I assumed that was the end-all, be-all of their devotion to me.
Most notably, the over-fifty women were pleading to get back. They were anxious about gaining weight, they said. They were feeling the aching pain they’d had in the years before they’d begun dance classes. “Just one day a week, for us?” one of the older women, Rhetta, pleaded. I stood in my kitchen in my pajamas, pouring a bowl of cereal on the table. My cat was rubbing against my leg.
“How does Tuesday afternoon sound?” I finally answered, my head spinning. I needed to get the place up and running; I needed to go right away! But above all, I needed to make money. I could lead a few classes a week, I thought, and make enough for rent next month. As long as I didn’t have to call my mother and ask for help, I’d be fine.
“Tuesday’s perfect!” Rhetta replied, excited.
My heart quickened in my chest. I dialed the phone once more, dropping a few small cereal niblets to the ground as I worked quickly. Boomer leaped from the couch and sniffed them with a delicate nose.
“Hey, Mol. What’s going on?” This was Mel on the other line. She was holding her baby, Jackson, and Jackson was making small, cooing noises into the phone. My heart lifted.
“Mel. Are you available at all this week?”
“For what?” she asked.
“Well. I’ve gone ahead with the dance studio—“ I began.
“Oh, yes. Wonderful! So you got the loan? Oh, so this week we’ll be reorganizing, decorating. All that?”
I thought for a moment, biting my lip. How could I tell her about the loan? It was like an angel had come out of nowhere and ripped the pain from my back. It was like I could finally live like a human again. “Actually. I’m going to teach a few classes a week, just to save money for all that we want to change in the studio. We can make it just as good as the last one, I think. We just have some effort to put forth. You know.”
“A class! Already!” Mel spoke. I could hear her adjusting the baby on her hip. “When do you want me?”
“Tuesday evening, if possible. The over-fifties.”
“Ah, yes. The over-fifties.” Mel paused for a moment. I blinked several times, worried she was going to bail on me, going to leave. “You know. None of this would have been possible if it weren’t for your hard work.”
I blushed for a moment. It was quite rare that Mel and I took a step back from goofing off or talking about boys to really appreciate each other. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I murmured.
We hung up the phone. I busied myself with cleaning my house. I didn’t notice that I whistled while I worked, humming along with the music that bumped from the small speaker on my counter. The air outside brought strong winds through the window, and I had to close the glass quickly. It was nearing Halloween, I realized. It was going to be winter soon. And I was going to make it through another.
I had been thinking about Drew all during that week, of course. He was constantly on my mind. Most notably, I was insane with passion for the night we’d had together in the Jacuzzi. I could almost feel his lips on my nipples, his mouth moving lower and lower on my stomach. I had to shake my head over and over to remove the thoughts from my mind. I knew I needed to get over it, to get over him. It was likely that he’d already found another woman in the city to take out to Iowa, to make love to as the stars glittered above.
I didn’t want to think about it.
CHAPTER TWO
On Tuesday afternoon, I nearly skipped toward the new dance studio, preparing for my over-fifties class. I brought the old stereo equipment; I brought several mats for before and after stretching (which was so important for the older women’s muscles).
The door jangled to the pub as I entered. A few of the regulars were sitting at the bar. I recognized all of them and nodded toward them, smiling with such vivaciousness. Carol, the owner of the Goat Pub, was behind the bar—not her usual place.
“Well, well. If it isn’t our lovely Miss Molly. Molly Says Dance, everyone,” Carol announced, bringing her hand forward to introduce me to everyone else.
They all lifted their great pints toward me and nodded.
“What’s up?” Carol asked me as I sat at the bar, grinning.
“You know? I think I’ll have a vodka tonic, just for the afternoon. I have some jitters. I’m having my first class upstairs today.”
Carol’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “Ah. I see. I didn’t realize you were already starting.”
“Me neither. But I’ve had so many offers, it doesn’t make sense not to try.” I grasped the drink in my hands, clanking the ice cubes from side to side. “Tonight’s the over-fifty women.”
Carol laughed, rolling her eyes back in her head. “I’m over fifty,” was all she said.
I hadn’t meant to offend her at all. I placed my hands on the table and shook my head vehemently. “They’re all wonderful dancers. Truly. I just have to group them like that because—because the older women wouldn’t want to be with the younger teenagers.”
But Carol just laughed again. “I might have to take a peek tonight, if that’s okay? Maybe I could try my hand at the dancing. I would even decrease your rent, if you gave the lessons to me for free.” She winked at me, and I understood she knew I meant no harm.
I cleared my throat, my heartbeat slowing in my chest. “Of course! Of course you can have lessons. Anytime you please.”
Carol placed her hand on her hip. “Well. That’s a relief. Say, you’ve drunk your vodka tonic quite quickly.”
I looked down at my nearly empty glass, my face reddening. “I get nervous when new things begin.”
“We all do.” Carol gestured upstairs. “I think you better start preparing for your new class, no?”
I nodded, pushing the bills toward her for the drink. I felt embarrassed, but I didn’t know why. In some ways, this Carol woman felt like my mother: like a lurking shadow, trying to protect me. In other ways, though, she was far less scary. I felt comfortable talking to her; like I could
say anything. I thought for a moment.
“Carol? Do you know of—have you ever heard of anyone paying for somebody else’s loan?’
Carol eyed me, her beady eyes shining. “You had to take out a big loan for that place upstairs, didn’t you?”
My face grew red. “I mean—I just. Just for up-front payments…”
“Right. Well. I’ve never heard of it, no.” She leaned down toward me, looking at me fondly. “Looks like you have an angel watching over you, doesn’t it?”
I smiled, unsure of what to say. I nodded. “I guess so.” And then I spun around, already feeling the alcohol revving in my head. I rushed up the steps, toward the dance studio, hearing the constant conversations of the men behind me, ever in the pub, a pint in their hands.
Finally, I reached the top of the steps to the new dance studio. I’d forwarded the address to all of my over-fifty dancers, and hoped they’d be able to find the place all right. I brought my legs forward, trying to spin in a tight ballet circle. I found myself faltering, a bit. It’d been a few weeks since I’d practiced, and I was already losing my muscle. I closed my eyes, trying to focus. I walked toward the window, anxious to feel the sun on my face. But the sun had dipped beneath a cloud, suddenly, leaving all of Wicker Park in the somber fall shade.
I leaned down to touch my toes, feeling the stretch in my shoulders and my back. I cracked my neck for a moment, feeling the satisfying sound ricochet through my bones, and set up the music. We would need something to stretch to, something to do the preliminary exercises to. I knew the women would be out of shape, as well. We could all learn to come back to dance together.
The footsteps began up the steps. I heard someone—an older woman—calling out to Carol, saying she was going to dance class. My stomach did a small flip. I could hear her jolting, one step at a time. I wished that Mel was there already. Mel wasn’t usually the late one; she was much better at speaking to the older women. I was good at teaching them, at working them through the mechanisms. But I couldn’t ask them how their weeks were going without feeling awkward. I felt far too young, compared to them. It felt strange that they paid to be in my presence.
A shadow appeared at the door. I spun around, placing a smile on my face. Rhetta, the woman who’d called to set up an additional class, stood there. Her wild red hair spun in all directions. I’d never asked her anything about herself, but there was such a fire that glimmered behind her eyes that made me believe, beyond anything else, that she was someone important. That she had people in her life who looked up to her. That she held an inner core of strength.
“Hello, Miss Molly,” she grinned. Her teeth were aged, stale. She walked forward and held her hands out, bringing me into a hug. I felt such comfort in that embrace. I nearly felt like crying. “We were worried about you. We haven’t seen you since before you announced you were closing—“
“I know. I know. It all happened so quickly. My landlord sold my last place without telling me.” I swallowed, trying to think of something good to say. “But then I found this place. Do you think it will do?”
Rhetta glanced around her. The sun glinted on her face, showing small crags. “It’s beautiful, Molly. Of course, it needs a little work. But I’m glad you decided to fit us in today.”
Other women had started to filter in. Through their bags and conversations, through their smiles and greetings, I finally saw her: Mel. My assistant. I rushed toward her and flung my arms around her. I’d missed her, my only friend.
“Oh, gosh. Mol. This is beautiful,” Mel spewed, glancing around her. “Not as beautiful as the last place, certainly. But we can build it up!”
I thought for a moment, my heart sinking. Where would I get the money to fix the place up? The possibilities laid around me; it was like I could see the way I wanted the dance studio to look afterwards. But I didn’t know how to proceed.
Suddenly, all the women had arrived. I clapped my hands and greeted them all, my arms in the air. It felt so wonderful to have them before me, blinking at me with such earnest happiness. Mel started the music behind me, and the soothing classical music took us away. We churned our bodies into stretching positions. We awakened our muscles. The women smiled as the endorphins took hold of them. The sun skirted out from beneath a cloud and enveloped us in bright sunlight, making us all grin with sincere happiness.
The class went so well. It was like I hadn’t lost a single step since I’d taught a dance class. The women asked all the right questions and allowed me to help them, to position their legs the right way. They cracked small jokes and seemed to want to include me, which was rare. I think Rhetta had told them that I had fallen on hard financial problems. For a fleeting moment, I thought surely the girls had wanted to get back together just to try to support me. But it was more than that, of course. They wanted to feel the glorious joy of dancing next to their friends, to beautiful music. They wanted to feel like they were a part of something. And they were, there in my studio.
After the hour passed I allowed them to go. The sweat poured down their faces, and they smiled at me with such happiness. They shook my hand; some of them pinched my cheek until it grew pink. “We’re so glad our Molly’s back,” they all said. “You’re so beautiful, Molly. You make our lives better, Molly.” They said these things over and over, making my heart grow so full.
I padded over to the window after they all left and began removing my ballet shoes. Mel, on the other side of the room, crossed her arms and shook her head.
“What is it?” I asked her, smiling.
“It’s you. You seem so happy. I can’t put my finger on it.”
I shrugged. “Of course I’m happy. I have a dance studio again.” I shook my head, feeling the waves and waves of comfort from the previous hour wash over me.
Mel laughed. “You’re over the moon.”
“What an old-lady expression. Don’t you go hanging out with them outside of class,” I teased her. I placed my shoes in the bag and tidied up a few of the things in the studio. Nothing was in its forever place yet, of course. Nothing was perfect. But it would be, soon. When I built up enough money. I didn’t have to reserve so much to pay back the loan, now. So I could focus on other, more beautiful things.
“Hey. Mel. Do you want to run to the coffee bar? I’m in the mood to celebrate,” I said to her, flipping my blonde hair left to right.
She mimicked me slightly, making me smile. “I’d love to.”
She followed me down the steps. I waved to Carol, saying good-bye. “Why didn’t you join us?” I asked her.
“One too many pints, my darling,” Carol called back, smacking her hand on the bar. “Maybe next time.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said, winking at her.
Mel and I swept into the street. I wrapped my scarf tight around my neck. “I can’t believe it’s nearly winter.”
Mel was tucked so deep in her own coat that I couldn’t understand her response. We walked toward the end of the road, and spun into the very coffee shop in which I’d met Drew for the first time. I realized I hadn’t thought about him in the last three hours, which made me feel strange, bizarre. I’d been caught up in a different world for a moment. And now, the feel of his touch came rushing back. My face grew hot.
We ordered coffees and sat by the window, gazing out at the huddled people in their broad, Alaskan coats. Mel started telling me about Jackson, and about how he was trying to say words—that the words always came up in spit-up and bubbles. “It’s disgusting, but I think it’s his version of ‘I love you,’” she explained, sipping at her coffee.
I laughed. Her life was so different than mine. “Listen. I have something to tell you,” I said quietly, finally feeling like I needed to tell someone about all that had happened the past few weeks. I swallowed.
“Well. It’s about time,” she said, shaking her head. “Come on, now. Don’t leave me in the dark like that anymore.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I giggled. “Okay. So. Firs
t of all, my loan is paid for.”
Mel raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean, paid for? By whom?”
“I have no idea,” I stated, shaking my head back and forth. “I’ve never told anyone about it. I had this whole plan, you know. I was going to set aside money every month for the bills. But now it’s just abruptly disappeared.”
Mel nodded, a glint of knowledge in her eyes.
“You don’t think—“ I began, understanding what her expression meant. Mel thought that Drew had paid for the loan. But that couldn’t be. Why would he care about me, even for an instant? Sure: we’d shared each other; we’d shared our bodies. But he didn’t give a shit about my business, about Molly Says Dance.
“I don’t know. It is mighty suspicious, though. You start dating a millionaire, and then all of a sudden—WHAM. Your loan is paid for. You haven’t talked to him recently, have you?”
I looked down at my hands as they wrapped around the coffee mug before me. I bit my lip. I remembered that I’d ranted to Mel, over and over, about Drew buying the dance studio. And then: I had agreed to leave town with him, to go with him to a millionaire’s retreat and fuck him in a Jacuzzi. I longed to tell her; but would she hate me for it? Sure, Drew was her cousin. But she had morals.
“Um. Something—something happened—“ I murmured.
Mel smacked her hand lightly on the table, coaxing me to tell her. “What’s up?”
“Well. He um. He invited me to go to Iowa with him. And I did. I went with him to a casino—“
Mel’s eyes widened. She knew all about my inability to go to casinos without thinking of my father. “Was it—did you tell him?”
“I did, actually. He said his dad died a long time ago, as well.”
Mel nodded, knowingly. “It was terrible.”
I brought my lips together, considering what to say next. My heart was beating fast. I almost felt like he was watching me. I knew that his new bookstore—Femme Fatale—was probably being built just at that moment, at my old dance studio. I wondered what everything had looked like, poised in rubble on the ground. “Well. He understood completely. And at first, he told me I didn’t have to play. But then I wanted to, you know. Maybe I have a bit of the blood in me, I don’t know. But I won all this money.”
Hooked #4 (The Hooked Romance Series - Book 4) Page 1