Her eyes soften and it looks like she’s about to say something when I hear Mr. Banks clear his throat. Her gaze shifts to him, and when she locks eyes with me again, all the softness is gone, replaced by the severity I’ve come to expect from her. She shifts some papers on her desk, looking down and pulling a folder out from the bottom of a stack of papers. “Normally a parent would be present at this type of meeting, but since you are eighteen, your parents are not required to be here.”
“Be here for what?”
I’m angry.
Annoyed.
Pissed.
Sad.
Hurt.
Scared.
“This is a disciplinary meeting.” She pauses, flipping through some of the papers in the folder before handing me a sheet of lined paper. “You can write your comments, concerns, and version of the events on here. Then when you are done, sign the bottom of this paper,” she says, sliding another paper over to me.
“I don’t feel like you’re listening to me—”
“There is a possibility of expulsion for improper conduct. Bribing an instructor is against our conduct policy and should the board determine that you have done so, it will result in your immediate dismissal.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong!” My whole life I’ve dreamed of being a ballerina. I worked hard every day of my life until I was finally accepted with a full ride scholarship to one of the best schools of ballet in the world.
And now that dream is over.
Tears flood my eyes, my vision blurring until Madame Jolie is just a hazy figure in my warped reality.
A cell phone rings, and Mr. Banks pulls it out of his pocket. “I need to take this. Will you be okay to finish up here?”
“Yes, we will be done soon.”
He stands and walks out, shutting the door behind him.
I’m still crying when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up and Madame Jolie is sitting next to me her eyes soft and her forehead creased with worry. “My dear,” she says, wiping a tear from my cheek. “I am so sorry this is happening to you.”
“How can they do this? How can he do this? I didn’t do anything …”
“I hate to tell you this, but the board has almost certainly already made up their mind. No matter what truly happened, politics rule these decisions. And anything involving Simon Auteberry is a political decision.“
“So are you saying I’m going to be expelled?“ I ask, my voice shaking.
She nods, resigned in the decision. “I wish I had more influence, but I’ve only been here a few years. This disciplinary meeting is just a formality.“
“So he can just say whatever he wants and that’s that? He’ll ruin me ...“ I choke out the words.
“Sweet girl … he may be trying to ruin your career as a ballet dancer, but he has not ruined you. I’ve personally been through something similar and I know you’re strong enough to overcome this. I won’t go into detail, but I trusted a man who almost ruined me.” She shakes her head. “I am sorry you have to see the ugly side of this world, but you are a beautiful person and a beautiful dancer. You will go on to do wonderful things, my dear.”
I look up at this woman who has always seemed so serious, so harsh, so cold. Right now, she is the warmest thing in the world and she is starting a fire inside of me.
“If you need a reference for anything, let me know. I know you think that I never liked you, with your rough mouth and loud laugh. But to tell you the truth, you have been one of my favorite students. When I see you dance, I feel it. You have power. You are a goddess when you dance, and you will be a goddess in your life.”
“I always thought you hated my dancing.”
“I always push those with the most potential the hardest.” She smiles.
“Thank you, Madame Jolie,” I reply, touched by her words.
“Call me Claudette.” Her accent peeks through more than usual when she says her name.
I chuckle. “So French.”
I fill out the paperwork, sign the papers, and sit with Claudette while the board meets in the conference room down the hall.
It may look like I’m giving in and giving up, but that’s not the case at all. I may be leaving New York, but I won’t take this kind of treatment.
Don’t mess with me.
I’ll never back down.
***
Six months later
San Bernadino, CA
When I moved home, I started teaching some dance classes at a local studio and I absolutely loved it. Still do. I’m living at home for now while I attend community college, but I plan on transferring to the San Diego College of Arts and Music in the next few years to get my degree in dance instruction.
I’ve even made a few friends. Before I moved to New York, every free moment was occupied by ballet, so I’d never really made friends outside of that circle. And those few friends I did have were nothing like the friends I have now. I think I’ve found a life-long friend in Rachel. She’s been through a lot in the past couple of years and she needs a good friend just as much as I do.
I’m incredibly happy with where my life is heading and I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. But I didn’t let my expulsion be the end of it. I got my never back down mentality from my strong and loving mom and dad, so when I told them what I wanted to do, they supported me one hundred percent. My dad is a lawyer, and with his help and the support of my mom, I won a private settlement against the school and Simon Auteberry. Claudette wasn’t lying when she said she would help me. Without her honest recounting of the events and the corruption she’s witnessed with the members of the board, there’s no way we would’ve won.
We decided to go with a private settlement because my parents and I agreed that if we made it a public case, it might make headlines and we didn’t want my name dragged through the mud. Even though I didn’t really do anything wrong, the media can manipulate the situation and we wanted to maintain control. It worked in our favor and the terms of the agreement were easily met by the board. They realized we had a case that, if made public, would completely ruin the reputation of the school. Along with some money from the very generous board, my expulsion was converted into an early graduation, Simon was fired, and Mr. Banks and three other members were removed from the board. The integrity of the school was preserved and the new director they elected? Madame Claudette Jolie.
When Claudette was offered the position as director of the board last month, the first thing she did was call and offer me the option to come back to New York. I sincerely appreciated the offer, but I declined.
My dreams have changed.
I want to inspire children like Claudette inspired me. I want to fight for their rights. Simon may have been a shit instructor, but I won’t be. I will inspire. I will influence. I will teach.
But I will never love again.
Because as much as Claudette was right about a lot of things, she was wrong about one thing.
Simon did ruin me.
Chapter 2
Present Day
San Diego College of Arts and Music (CAM)
I’m officially a blond again, and it’s time to find out if the answer the age old question has changed.
Do blondes really have more fun?
No.
It doesn’t matter what color hair I have. I always have the most fun. Hair color doesn’t dictate how much I enjoy my life. And I’d know, considering I’ve dyed my hair nearly every color of the rainbow.
In fact, each time I dump a guy, I get a dye job. It actually started when I got back from New York. My first day back in California, I chopped off my beautiful, long black hair into a pixie. And then I dyed it purple. I saw it as a fresh start and a new beginning. Even though it may sound silly, my hair was a symbol of who I was. I always kept it long and plain so I could put it in a bun when I was dancing. It was nondescript and easy. Nothing like me. I wanted to leave my old dream behind and embrace the new one I made for myself. And I’ve never seen a ballerina with
a purple pixie. I may have toned down the color choices since then, going with more natural colors when I dye it now, but I’ve kept the tradition alive.
So with another loser dumped, I’ve got a new hair color and plans for a night out so I can find a guy who is looking for the same kind of thing that I’m looking for.
What is it that you are looking for, Jenna?
It certainly isn’t somebody to love for the long run. More like someone to love me for a long time … in the physical sense.
It’s not that I don’t believe in love. I do. I see what my parents have and what my grandparents have. That’s true love. But I’m not strong enough for that. Opening myself up to love means putting my heart at risk. It was broken once and that was one too many times for me.
I’m happy with the way I do things. I love it. I can see men through clear colored glasses when I’m not looking for the one. I can spot the liars. I can spot the cheaters. I can spot the users. And I can spot the losers.
I don’t excuse or glaze over the things I don’t like about a guy because I have no reason to. If he doesn’t fit the bill, there are no strings and no attachments formed; I just dump him and move on. And trust me when I say that I always do the dumping.
When Hector, the guy I was hooking up with a couple of weeks ago, started getting too affectionate and was always telling me about his feelings for me, I dumped him. We had been seeing each other for a week. I wasn’t mean about it, I just told him the truth. Hector, calling a girl “Mommy” after sex is not cool. Especially when you suck your thumb while you cuddle.
The night I met Jeff, he was great. He bought me a drink, made me laugh, picked up my tab, and took me back to his place. Even with his lack of equipment in the manhood department he had me coming … twice. It wasn’t the best sex I’d ever had, but it was good enough to go again. I went out with him the next night, hoping for another night of okay sex, but he was rude to me when I tried to help a friend. If you are a dick to me or my friends, you lose the opportunity to stick your dick in me. I told him so and left him at the club.
And today I’m rocking my post-Jeff blonde and red shoulder-length hair and I look amazing. It’s been a week since I’ve gotten laid and tonight I’m looking for someone new. My search for a new man will be happening at a new bar that Lisa found. The Grove is more low-key than anything around campus and she says they have live bands there every Saturday night.
I finish slipping into one of my short black dresses and sit down to put on my shoes. The dress I picked for tonight is so short it makes my legs look even longer than they already are. Guys like my legs and I can’t argue with their greatness. I was a dancer—I have nice legs. And when I’m looking for someone to take home, I always show off my best feature. I finish zipping up the heel and when I stand in my black ankle boots, the heels make me over six feet tall. And yes, the weather is better up here. Assholes.
I hear a knock at the door and rush to answer it, knowing Jimmy is behind the door. We both work on the same floor of the dorms at the San Diego College of Arts and Music. I am the resident advisor and he is the academic mentor. We plan things for the freshmen on our floor and we do it well. We make a great team.
“Ready to go? Dan and Lisa are heading over from their parent’s house. I want to get there before them so we can pick the table. I certainly won’t be leaving it up to Dan,” Jimmy says as I grab my purse and do one last mirror check.
“Oh no! Trouble in paradise for the lovebirds?” I say, mock concern in my voice.
“Shut up! Dan and I are fine. He just thinks that sitting near the bathroom is a good decision. And bathrooms in bars smell,” he says, wrinkling his nose as I close and lock my door.
“Why do we even need a table? We can stand at the bar.”
“Just because you want to flirt the night away with a bunch of randos doesn’t mean I do. I’ve been happy flirting with one for a while.”
“I know, Jims. And it makes me sick.” I laugh as he shoves me lightly.
“Ha ha, Miss-Down-With-Love.”
“I’m not against love for everyone. Just against love for me. You know I’m giving you a hard time, right? I think you and Danny Boy are both great guys. You’re part of the better half of your gender.”
“I know you’re kidding. I just wonder why you think you can’t find a guy from the better half.”
We get to his car and open our doors at the same time. Like a synchronized dance, we slide in and shut them together, buckling our seatbelts before Jimmy starts the car.
“I know I can, I just don’t want to find one.”
***
This bar is pretty great. It’s a bit of a drive from campus, but most of the guys here are a little older and a little more mature. I’ve been scanning the room all night and even though there are a lot of prospects, my eyes keep finding their way back to one in particular that’s sitting at the bar. I’m undeniably attracted to this guy, but I don’t think there are many women that wouldn’t be. He’s gorgeous: tall, all lean muscle, dirty blond hair down to his chin, and piercing eyes. His gaze is magnetic, and every time we lock eyes across the room, I feel it. He’s got the type of eyes that can look right into someone’s soul.
And that reason alone is enough of a reason for me to stay away from him.
The problem is that staying away from Mr. Gorgeous might be difficult because the other guy I’m interested in is the bartender. And to get to the bartender, I’m going to have to go near him.
Now the bartender …
He’s my type of guy.
He’s about my height, shaved head, and pierced. I can see he’s got several rings in his ears and eyebrows, and with that much metal in view, I can only imagine what piercings are out of view. He’s a big flirt, but when he’s not laughing with all of his customers and winking his way to bigger tips, his eyes are on me. But what it really all comes down to is that he’s hot and seems like a good time—just what I’m looking for. So the next time he looks my way, I smile at him. The smolder I get back from him is my cue that it’s on.
“Okay, ladies, it was fun but now I’m on to bigger and hunkier things,” I tell them as I continue to watch the bartender watch me.
“Someone catch your eye?” Dan asks.
“Definitely. I’ll be back later.”
“No, you won’t …” Jimmy sing-songs.
“Oh, how well you know me,” I reply, shooting a grin his way as I stand and start to make my way to the bar.
When I get there, I take a seat at a recently vacated stool, coincidentally leaving me right next to Mr. Gorgeous. Smiling at that bartender again, I lift my nearly empty drink. “Can I get another?”
“What do you want?” His voice is low and his question sounds like he’s asking for more than just my drink order.
“Vodka cranberry,” I respond, my voice just as seductive.
“Coming right up,” he promises, stepping back to make the drink. He sets it down on the bar, but when I reach for my wallet he stops me, letting me know it’s on the house. Before I get to thank him, his attention is pulled away by a group of people who are trying to order and I’m left alone with my drink. I hear a throat clear next to me and turn to look at Mr. Gorgeous.
“I’m Nate. And that,” he says, indicating to the bartender, “is my friend, Will.”
“Well, hello there, Nate,” I respond, turning to face him fully. Now that I’m looking at him straight on, I’m starting to think that maybe I should ditch my efforts with the bartender and go for this guy. The magnetic pull that I felt when I looked at him from across the bar is even stronger now that I’m so close to him. Looking in his eyes, I can feel my body responding to him.
I can’t even remember why I didn’t just go for him in the first place.
We sit there looking into each other’s eyes for a moment longer. We’re both smiling, both quiet, and I’m about to start turning on the charm when his eyes shift to look at something behind me and his smile drops. I look over my sh
oulder and see Will looking at us, his face serious. When I turn back around, Nate is taking a drink of his beer, his shoulders stiff and his muscles tense. The mood between us has changed. What was comfortable silence is now strained.
Trying to get rid of the unexplained tension, I brighten my smile and nudge his knee with mine. “So is Will really your friend, or are you just saying that because he has bartender conversations with you?”
He chuckles, the tightness in his body loosening with his laughter. “We’re actually friends. I’m in a band that plays here once a month.” He’s still not looking at me, and I’m surprised that I feel a little bereft.
“So you’re in a band? Is that the pick up line you normally use?”
He laughs harder, finally looking back over at me. “Uh, no. I don’t usually pick up girls like this. I don’t think I’ll find the type of relationship I’m looking for at a bar.”
“I don’t want to mess with what you’ve got going on or anything, but you shouldn’t be so quick to judge a girl just because she’s trying to meet a guy at a bar. You might miss out on meeting someone pretty great,” I respond, raising an eyebrow.
His cheeks flush and his smile is sheepish as he looks away from me, seeming embarrassed about what he said. “You’re right. I probably seem like a total ass ...” He takes a sip of his beer and when he looks up, our eyes lock and …
Wow.
I was right about this guy. There’s something about him and the way he makes me feel that’s different, almost dangerous. Like I should be running away from him, instead of letting him draw me in.
“So, if you’re not here to meet someone, why are you here?” And even though I know I shouldn’t, I ignore my mind’s warning and lean closer.
“I came to see the band,” he tells me, looking at the stage where the band is setting up.
“Are they any good?”
“They’re great. Almost as good as my band,” he answers, his gaze moving back to meet mine.
In My Bed Page 2