“What now?” Gavin asks angrily.
“I just need my laptop and phone, then I’ll be out of here,” I answer, taking both of them from the table.
“Good. You know where the door is, Madeleine.”
I stick the laptop in my duffle bag, and the phone in my handbag, then make my way to the exit. “Good luck, Gavin.”
“Have a nice life,” he says tonelessly.
I feel his gaze on me, and it feels like knives in my back.
As I leave the Plaza, I see Thalia coming toward me. “Hey, what are you doing out here, without Gavin?”
“I’m going home, because we had a fight,” I say.
“It’s possible to fight with Gavin?” she asks with surprise.
“Didn’t you know that?”
“No. I’ve never had problems with him. The opposite, in fact. We’re good friends, because he’s so easygoing,” she says.
I sigh. “Yeah, well, what was going on up there surprised me, but I’d rather find out now than later, how he really is.”
“What happened?” she asks, looking concerned.
I’m surprised by someone coming out the door behind me, so I jump a few steps to the side. Then I explain to her what Azer said and how Gavin reacted.
She sucks in her breath. “And you left because you thought you were just a one-night stand for him?”
“I left because I found out he’s just like any other guy,” I say, avoiding her searching gaze.
“Gavin isn’t anything like other guys at all. He’s . . . totally different. Honestly, Madeleine, I’ve rarely met men like Gavin or Linden, especially when I think of the ones I know from Miami,” she says.
“What’s Linden like?”
“Different from other guys I know, and I really know a lot from my . . . wild times, let me put it that way.”
“But you can’t really say Gavin is different, too, if you hardly spend any time with him,” I say.
Thalia smiles. “That’s true, but I know Gavin, and he’s not the asshole that you currently think he is.”
I take a deep breath. “In the meantime, I don’t really care anymore. I think we just botched up our friendship, anyway.”
“Are you honestly trying to tell me you’re just friends?” she says with a skeptical laugh.
“Yeah. It wasn’t more than that.”
“If you think so, you’re fooling yourself. The air was crackling between you . . . There were sparks flying! I’ve never seen Gavin that way.”
“And how often have you seen him?” I ask.
She smirks and pushes a strand of black hair behind her ear. “Oh, I know him well. It’s not important how often I’ve seen him.”
“That’s true,” I say softly. “But it doesn’t matter to me anymore. I . . . just want to go home.”
“Shall I drive you?”
“Would you? That would be great.”
“Of course. Linden isn’t expecting me anymore anyway, because I’d planned to go shopping. And besides, he’s probably still asleep.”
“When are you going shopping?”
“I was shopping a little already, but I didn’t find anything that really turned me on.” She hands a parking card to a valet. “I’ll bring you home, and I’ll be back here before Linden wakes up.”
“Thanks, Thalia.”
The car appears a moment later. Our conversation about Gavin has dried up, and I’m not unhappy about that, because I’m tired of talking about it. But I know Macey won’t give up so easily once she hears what happened. Sure, the weekend with Gavin was fun, but the fact that my inner voice is still speaking to him is a betrayal of my own decision. I just wanted to have fun, not a relationship, but my heart seems to see things differently. Sometime I’ll just tell the damn thing to shut up. I don’t know if it will listen to me, though.
Thalia stops in front of my building. “Will you give me your cell number? Maybe we can do something together next time I’m in New York.”
I smile at her. “Sure, I’d be very happy if it worked out.”
“Me, too.”
I save her number after I’ve given her mine. “But don’t give my number to Gavin.”
“I won’t, I promise,” she replies cheerfully, and hugs me. “It would be great if we could get together every now and then.”
“I’d love to, Thally.” I let her go and get out of the car.
She drives off in her car, or maybe Linden’s, waving from the open window. When she’s out of sight, I walk up the stairs to the apartment, preparing myself mentally for one of Macey’s question-and-answer sessions. When I come in and call out a greeting, I’m that much more surprised to find she’s not at home.
Three days later I have to practice with Jonah, and he wants to talk to me about what happened on Friday. As I enter the main room of the Dance Academy, he’s already waiting. If I know him like I think I do, he’s already warmed up. “Hey,” I say, and put my bag down in the corner by the door. I’m already wearing my practice clothes. We’re only taking part in competitions because I don’t have enough money. But Jonah teaches here, because he’s one of the best. He’s an exceptionally gifted dancer.
“Hi, Lane,” he says, turning around. His gaze is hard as stone, just like his body language.
“What’s your problem?” I ask with a smile, trying to distract him from the fact that I promised to talk to him about the other night. I don’t really feel like talking about Gavin or about the weekend in general.
“How about the Friday night problem?”
I roll my eyes. “Do we have to do this now? Let’s talk about it after we practice, then there won’t be any danger of my walking away before we’ve done what we have to do.” I laugh a little, trying to defuse the situation.
“We should talk about it now, so there’s nothing hanging between us,” he says moodily.
“OK . . . What happened on Friday . . . sucked. You behaved like a shit, I wasn’t nice either, and my friend was a complete idiot. Are you happy?”
“Who is that guy, anyway? Your new boyfriend?”
I laugh. “No. Just a friend, not more.” I’m still lying to myself, I guess.
“Then why did he get so pushy?”
“Jonah, you were really pushy, and he thought you were threatening me . . . Let’s just forget about it, OK?” I try to sound rueful, because that’s always softened him up in the past.
“Then why didn’t you tell him to fuck off?” he wants to know.
“Jonah!” I complain. “Let’s just practice, OK? I don’t want to talk about it, and the competition is already on Friday.”
He sighs. “OK. Then let’s get to it, but afterward, we’re going to talk again.”
“Thanks.” I’m relieved that he’s given in, because I don’t know what else I would have done. I don’t like fighting with anyone. With Gavin, it was probably due to a misunderstanding on my part, or because I blew things out of proportion. But Jonah and I fight like cats and dogs if we get riled up.
Then he switches the music on. This will be a ballroom dance competition on Friday. Jonah and I have taken the gold several times, but that was just national. This competition will be international.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re always falling out of step,” he says impatiently when I step on his toes for the third time. “You’re not normally so flighty.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, my mind is on a roller coaster and I just keep . . . flying off the track.”
“Why?”
“Because something else happened this weekend, but it’s not so important. Let’s keep trying, I promise I’ll concentrate now.”
“OK,” Jonah says, pulling me toward him again. As we execute the choreography, I fall out of step again, and his feet are paying the price. “Lane!”
“I’m sorry!” I say.
“Good. If you want to dance dirty, that’s fine with me.” He takes a step back and spreads his arms wide. “This is my space,” he says, drawing a
n imaginary half circle around him with a finger in the air. “And that’s yours.”
“Are you for real? Am I supposed to call you Johnny now, or what?” I ask, deadpan.
“If I can call you Baby.” He laughs.
“You always used to, so it wouldn’t bother me that much.”
We take each other’s hands and try again, and this time I manage it. Jonah seems to trust me again. He pulls me close again, and this time it works in tight formation without a hitch. From the basic step to a lift, back to the basic step, into a spin, and so on. I like the salsa—you can really bring in your own ideas. This time, the entire choreography has to contain Latin American elements only. We’ve decided on a mix of several dance styles: salsa, tango, and rumba. We take typical tango patterns, the basic steps of the rumba, and a few elements of salsa that aren’t too serious. It’s just a combination of dances that we like. We’ll dance to three songs in various rhythms, each one giving one of the styles its own emphasis.
Four hours later, we stop practicing and sit down on the floor. “Wow, that worked really well after you pulled yourself together.”
“Thanks,” I reply, and lie down on my back.
“So what are our chances of winning, do you think?” Jonah asks as he lies down next to me.
“With you as the leading man and me as the sexy dancing girl? I would say we should wait and see, because some of our competitors will be real stars,” I answer.
“We’re allowed to dream.”
“True, and that’s why we’re going to win the damn thing, too.” My giggle stops short as Jonah bends over me. “What are you doing?”
“We wanted to talk about what happened on Friday, and I want to know if you’re going to give me another chance, Lane,” he replies, bending down close to my lips.
“Jonah, it was you who ditched me, and I don’t know why you even want another chance.”
“I can’t live without you, Lane,” he whispers, moving in for a kiss. Then I turn my head aside.
I slide out from under him and sit up when I have enough space. “You left me when I needed you most . . . We have no chance, because I’ll always remember that. And maybe . . . maybe you’ll leave again when things get tough.”
“I won’t.” He sounds very convincing, that’s one of his talents. Jonah can talk total bullshit, and anyone will believe him.
I don’t want that anymore, because I’ve been there too often and always regretted it. “Giving each other a second chance won’t help. Let’s just be friends, OK?”
“And if I fight for you?”
“I don’t think that’s a fight you can win,” I say seriously. “Besides, I don’t want to be a trophy.”
“I don’t think of you that way at all, but you can’t just throw away all the time we’ve spent together,” he says, looking at me pleadingly.
I shake my head. “It wasn’t me who threw it away, it was you, Jonah. You walked out on me when I really needed you. I don’t want you anymore.”
“Ouch.”
“It also hurt when you left me, but the pain fades after a while,” I say softly and stand up. “I’m going home now. You know I live further away than you do.”
Jonah stands up, too, and looks at me questioningly. “Shall I drive you?”
“I’m here with my car, but thanks anyway.”
“That old pile of junk?”
“Tiffy still runs, OK? And as long as she runs, she’ll be my baby, no matter how ready she is for the scrapyard.”
“Sure. Then have a safe trip home, and please let me know when you arrive. You know I don’t like it when you’re driving around in that car,” Jonah says, this time with real concern.
“OK, I’ll call you,” I say, and hug him good-bye. “I’ll see you at the costume fitting.”
I leave the dance room with a smile on my face, and make my way home. It did me good to get all that out of my system. Besides, it helps if there’s nothing unresolved between us during the competition. It’s the first time we’ll be competing again since we became national champions. I have a really good feeling about it, even though we’ll be up against some of the best dancers in the world.
Chapter 7
Two weeks later
“Hello?” I say, answering my phone.
“Miss Madeleine Dubois?” a female voice asks.
“Yes, with whom am I speaking?”
“My name is Kerry Greene. I’m the production manager for Celebrity Dance Hall. I’m calling because we need you as a stand-in. One of the featured dancers injured herself, and now we need a replacement as soon as possible, because she’s in the hospital. We’d like you to take her place.”
I’m all ears, because this could save my lousy summer. After I fought with Gavin—weird, that sounds like we were a couple—everything started falling apart. Jake had to cancel my classes again, because he’s deep in debt and there’s no way the school is going to float without making more cuts. At the dance show, I crossed paths with Gavin a few more times, but he didn’t even bother to look at me. Today is Monday, and Saturday is the next show. It’s dedicated to Brooke. Jonah and I are supposed to dance in her honor.
“Miss Dubois?” She reminds me she’s waiting for an answer.
“Uh . . . sorry, I was thinking about something. Of course I’ll do it.”
“I’m happy to hear that! I’ll send you a list of all the participants and their addresses by e-mail so you can get in touch with anyone you need to. And you’ll receive all the information for the coming show.”
“Thanks so much, Mrs. Greene.”
I end the conversation and look out my bedroom window. I’m in my parents’ house. After Jake canceled my classes, I came here. I only drive to New York now when the show is being recorded, and I come directly back afterward. I like the peace and quiet in the Hamptons, but my car—an ancient Ford Fiesta that’s ready for the scrap heap—doesn’t deal with the trip very well. I have a feeling it won’t be long before I have to buy a new car.
“Mom, Dad!” I cry excitedly, and run down the stairs.
My father walks toward me. He’s been sitting on the back porch. “What’s gotten into you, Madeleine?”
I jump from the bottom step into his arms. “I’m in the show! Dancing with one of the candidates!” I say happily. After the fiasco at the competition, where I fell because Jonah made a misstep, this is really a ray of hope.
“That’s wonderful! I’m very happy for you, sweetie.” He laughs and swings me around in the high entry hall. My parents are very wealthy, but I got tired of depending on them and decided to try to make my way on my own. I only accept money from them in serious emergencies. Every time I do it’s like torture for me. At least with the little bit Jake was able to pay me, I managed to cover my share of the electricity and water bills for the apartment. Thank God I don’t have to worry about having enough for paying the rent in time now, thanks to CDH. At least for the next three months.
My father puts me down. “Your mother is at her book club meeting.”
“OK, but then the two of us have to celebrate. Wine for you, a Diet Pepsi for me, and a thick pizza from Marco’s.”
“You know my doctor says I shouldn’t eat fatty foods,” he tells me, dismissing the idea.
“Really, now? You aren’t allowed to sin even once? What about our living room picnics? Does it always have to be raw vegetables and sauerkraut juice, like last time?” I put my hands on my hips. “That one time was really enough, I have the feeling I’m still peeing the stuff.”
Dad starts to laugh. It’s so loud that it rings through the entry hall and infects me, as well. “OK, you get your pizza, but I’m ordering a salad for me. Deal?”
“OK, as long as we tell Mom that you ate half the pizza,” I say with a wink.
“You shouldn’t always tease your mother, Lane,” he scolds me, but I can hear the amusement in his voice.
“Usually, she deserves it.” I walk into the kitchen giggling, and get the cordless
telephone. Sometimes I think this house is behind the times, because most of its rooms have those old-fashioned things with dials on them.
After I’ve ordered from Marco’s Pizza, my father and I sit down in the living room. We sit in front of the fireplace like we used to, and talk.
“Do you know who you’ll be dancing with yet?” he asks.
“I have no idea. But since we’re already to the third show, it can’t be the worst of them,” I reply, taking a closer look at my dad. He’s looking older recently, which is surely because his heart is working too hard. At his company, which has something to do with software, a substitute has taken over for a while now. It’s my half brother Etienne, actually, whom I get along with really well. But we don’t have much in common. He’s older than me, from my father’s first marriage. “How’s the company doing?”
“Very well. Etienne is doing a good job, and he always calls me if he needs help with something.”
I suppress a grin. “Have there been any catastrophes?”
“You’re such a little devil, Madeleine. Your brother has everything under control, but sometimes he needs help with the company intranet.”
The intranet . . . I remember how many problems it caused when they launched it four years ago. In those days, my dad always came home late, my mother was always complaining to me. “Does Etienne come to visit now and then?”
“He wanted to come on the weekend to see you, but now that you’ll be dancing in the show, we’ll all need tickets.” My father’s smile motivates me, and above all gives me courage. He knows what the weekend means to me and what I have to invest in this job, that’s why I’m incredibly thankful that he’s making this little gesture.
I pull my legs up onto the sofa and rest my chin on my knees. “Now don’t act like there are no tickets left,” he jokes. I smile back at him. “You know how much I like to see you dance.”
“I know I chose a completely different path than you would have chosen for me,” I say, suddenly serious.
“Then you’ll go your own way, Madeleine. Of course I’d have preferred it if you’d come home after you finished college, but out there in the big city, you have a lot more chances. Your fall at the last competition wasn’t your fault, and you’ll be better the next time. Now that you have a featured role on the dance show, I’m sure you’ll win this time.”
Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1) Page 10