by Tepe, Mandie
“I can help out if you need someone. Just let me know,” Anthony volunteered.
Meg rose up on her toes and threw her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Anthony! You guys have been great—so supportive. It was a bad day before I got here and now this thing with Sean. What’s going on?”
Anthony steered her over to an empty table. “You sit down and I’m going to get you something to eat. Stay right here.”
“I don’t know if I can eat. My stomach is clenched tighter than a fist.”
“You have to. You have to get your creative juices flowing for the planning and choreography sessions this afternoon. Just try to concentrate on that.”
After Anthony sauntered off, Marcy Carrington, SDDI’s director, walked up and sat down next to Meg. “Have you heard anything, Meg?”
“No, Marcy. I’m so sorry. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Sean can seem like a loose cannon at times, but I’ve never seen him shirk his duties before. This really has me worried.”
Marcy patted Meg’s hands where they rested, clenched on the table. “Well, you’re being a real trooper. Thank you for continuing with the workshops this morning.”
“Thanks to Kai for stepping in. You have some great kids here, Marcy. Everyone has been so good to be there in whatever capacity we need. Well . . . almost everyone,” she added.
“About that . . . my assistant is calling Steffy’s phone every thirty minutes without fail. We’re trying to find one of her friends to drive over and check on them at her place, but they all seem to be in protection mode. They have millions of excuses about why they can’t leave campus today.” She sighed and ran her fingers through her boy-short dark hair. “She doesn’t have a lot of friends, but the ones she has are loyal.”
“Do you think they’re just skipping out? Maybe something bad has happened and they just couldn’t get here.”
Marcy looked intently into Meg’s eyes. “I just don’t trust her. She’s always been a troublemaker.” She patted Meg’s hand again. “You hang in there . . . and let us know if you need any kind of help or support with anything. I’ve got students chomping at the bit to be able to work with you, so all you have to do is ask and we’ll set it up.” She rose to leave. “If you do hear from Sean, would you let him know I’d like to see him?”
Meg nodded miserably. Marcy turned and walked away just as Anthony was returning with a tray of chicken noodle soup, crackers and tea. “Here you go. Just what the doctor ordered.”
Meg had to laugh. “I’m not sick, Anthony.” She leaned over and took a big whiff. “It smells great, though.” She picked up her spoon and dug in.
“Not ‘sick’ sick . . . but heartsick. Am I right?”
“You’ve been talking to Tobi about Trace. Right?”
“Maybe a little. We’re just concerned about you. We don’t want you to make yourself sick and have to drop out of the showcase. Pure selfishness on our part.”
“I don’t think so. I think you guys have been better friends to me than anyone I’ve worked with in a long time . . . better friends even than my partner is turning out to be.” She took a few more sips of her soup. “Anthony, what do you have on your schedule this afternoon?”
“Just one class right after lunch. Why?”
“After that would you want to meet me and help with some ballroom choreography? I love Latin ballroom, but I’m no expert . . . and with my partner gone . . .”
“Really? You’d let me help you with some of the routines?”
“I’d actually really appreciate it,” she smiled.
“I can help you as soon as lunch is over. Let me find my TA, Sergei. He can fill in for me in class. He’s completely up to speed.”
“Oh, no . . . I don’t want you to skip your class. We can do it afterward.”
“Are you kidding? We’re doing this! Finish your soup and meet me in my studio.” He jumped up and was out the cafeteria door before Meg could stop him. She smiled and forced down the rest of her lunch.
When she got to Anthony’s studio he was speaking to the class and filling them in on what he expected of them in class that day. He and Sergei turned when they heard her enter the room. “Here she is. Have all of you met Meg yet?”
Over half of the students nodded their heads and smiled at her. “I look forward to our workshops coming up next week so I can get to know all of you.” She glanced over at Anthony. “I guess Anthony’s told you I’m stealing him away for a while today. I hope you don’t mind.”
They all shook their heads. Anthony teased, “I really don’t know how to take that. You’re not going to miss me at all?” The class laughed. “I know Sergei is looking forward to cracking the whip over your heads.”
Meg turned to Anthony, “Do you mind if I take a couple minutes to talk to your students? Just a short survey.”
“Not at all.”
“I just want to get your opinion on what you’d like to see the Institute present in the area of ballroom dance. I’m, at heart, a contemporary dancer—though I like to integrate ballroom flavors into my choreography. But you all are experts.” She looked around the room. “Just jump in and speak right up. Let me know what you’d like showcased.”
Everyone enthusiastically participated and Meg had a hard time keeping up as she made notes. The ideas were coming fast and furious. Anthony and Sergei got into the spirit as well, shaking their heads at the most outlandish ideas and puffing up with pride at the more creative ones. After about fifteen minutes Meg called the brainstorming session to a halt.
“You guys have given me some great ideas. Thanks so much for taking time out of your class to help me out.” She glanced over at Anthony. “We’ll get out of your hair and go see what we can do with all of this,” she said gesturing to her notes.
She and Anthony gathered their things and left the room on their way to the small studio she and Sean had been using during their tenure at the Institute. They worked hard and by five o’clock had the bare bones of three routines down. They would need to spend hours more polishing and refining, but Meg felt good about the work they had done. Tobi had dropped in to sit on the floor in the corner and watch them work for the last hour. She called out suggestions occasionally. When they decided to quit for the day she insisted they all go out for dinner, mostly to distract Meg from her worries.
After they quickly showered, they met up and caravanned over to a nearby Ruby Tuesday’s for dinner. Meg’s cell rang as she pulled into a parking space.
“Hello?” She didn’t recognize the number on the screen.
“Hey, Meg. This is Trish. Are you busy?”
“No. I was just on my way to dinner with friends from work. How are you?”
“I’m doing okay. I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were holding up okay. These deployments are tough and the first one is always the hardest.”
“Thank you, Trish. I’m holding up. Work today has helped . . . kept my mind on other things. And it was certainly a Monday . . . that’s for sure!” She laughed.
“Was it a bad one? I’m sorry to hear that.”
“In the grand scheme of things it could have been worse,” she admitted. “I was out of sorts before I got there.”
Trish chuckled, “You and me both. Listen, I asked Joe to have Trace give you my contact numbers . . . and some of the other girls’ numbers too. Did he do that?”
“Yes. He emailed them and I printed them out this morning. I have them in my handbag. Thanks for thinking of me. You have enough to deal with, though. I feel bad you’re so concerned about me.”
“I had great women to nurse me through my first deployment with Joe and I’m just trying to pay it forward. At least this one is going to be short-term compared to some. The last one lasted ten months.”
“That’s a good thing,” Meg admitted. “I’m praying for their quick return.”
“The key is to keep yourself busy. We’re all going to meet at my house on Wednesday night . . . around six or seven o’clock. W
e’ll have dinner and just hang out. Project Runway is on. Can you come?”
“That sounds fun. Count me in.”
“I’ll email you directions to my house. I’ve been to Trace’s so I can give you directions right from your front door. What’s your email address?”
They exchanged more contact information and signed off. Meg hurried across the parking lot and through the restaurant door to meet up with Anthony and Tobi.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning Meg was almost afraid to go to work. All night long she had waffled back and forth . . . first worrying about Trace . . . then worrying about Sean. She must have left a dozen more messages on Sean’s phone until finally his inbox was full and she couldn’t leave any more. After the previous sleepless night and the worry and stress of the day, she was able to sleep. It was a deep sleep and she woke that morning with memories of frustrating dreams where she was running through fog trying to find Trace, but he never appeared or even answered when she called his name.
She walked into the front lobby of the Institute with a determined look on her face. Surely Sean would show up today. To skip out one day was one thing, but he would never do that two days in a row. She was rehearsing everything she wanted to say to him, and trying to tone it down to a professional level when she practically walked right into Marcy. It was obvious to Meg that Marcy had been loitering in the lobby outside the offices. Was she waiting for Sean to speak her mind too?
“Meg, I need to see you in my office,” Marcy said briskly.
“Oh. Okay.” Meg reluctantly followed her through the outer office, then her assistant’s small office and into her own. She guessed Marcy had been waiting for her and not Sean.
“Is . . . is everything okay? Have you heard from Sean? Is he okay?”
“I have.” Marcy gestured toward one of the chairs in a small seating area in the front right corner of her office. “Please sit down, Meg.” She walked over to the door and asked her assistant, Cheryl, to bring in some coffee then moved to sit in a chair perpendicular to Meg’s.
Meg was hoping it was a good sign that she didn’t sit Meg across from her at her desk. She supposed she would have had that “called into the principal’s office” feeling. This seemed a little friendlier. Didn’t it? Marcy’s face didn’t look too friendly, though.
She decided to jump right in. “What’s up, Marcy? You’re starting to scare me.”
Marcy opened her mouth to answer, but Cheryl entered with the coffee service tray. She waited until Cheryl had poured the coffee and left the room, closing the door behind her.
“Sean showed up right after you left last evening. I was coming out the front door and noticed your car pulling out of the parking lot, and he and Steffy came around the corner of the building. It was like they were waiting for you to leave before they approached me.”
Meg looked at her in disbelief. “But why would he do that?”
Marcy took a deep breath. “We talked for a long time. Here’s the thing . . . he wants me to ask you to back out of this contract. He feels that his connections got this job and he expects to keep it and bring Steffy in as his partner.”
“What?!? No way!”
Marcy watched her as she tried to process the news. “That’s what he said.”
“But why? We’ve never had any problems. We had lunch on Sunday and he didn’t say anything. He just wants me to back out of this contract and meet back up with him after he fulfills it on his own? That doesn’t make sense.”
Marcy’s intercom buzzed and Cheryl’s voice announced, “Marcy, Sean is here. Should I go ahead and send him in?”
“Yes. Thanks, Cheryl.”
Meg shot a stunned look at Marcy and jumped to her feet as Sean and Steffy walked through the door. “Sean? What is going on?”
Marcy quickly stepped over to Steffy and grabbed her arm. “Steffy, I don’t want you here. You can wait outside in the lobby.”
As Steffy started to balk, one of the security guards showed up and grabbed her other arm, then hustled her out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
Marcy looked at Meg. “Do you want me to stay or leave?”
“Well, since it seems like you know more about what’s going on than I do, please stay.”
“If you change your mind and want some privacy just say the word.” Then Marcy sat down.
Sean looked shiftily from one of the women to the other.
“Sean?” Meg prodded.
“Look, Meg,” he started almost defensively. “We’ve had a great partnership over the years, but sometimes these things get stale. I just think we’ve gone as far as we can go. It’s time to go our separate ways.”
“And your way is going off to form a partnership with Steffy. Right?” Meg shook her head in disbelief. “You know, I’d understand if you wanted to go your own way . . . no matter who it was with . . . but in the middle of an obligation? A contract? You’ve never been this irresponsible . . . no, unprofessional . . . before.” She dropped into her seat and shook her head, too stunned and sick at heart to speak.
“It’s nothing against you, Meg. You’ve been great. I just have to move on now.”
“Now?”
Sean just nodded dejectedly.
Meg started to stand up. “Well, I guess I’ll clean my stuff out of the studio.” She looked over at Marcy. “Do you mind if I stick around long enough to say goodbye to everyone?”
“Stay seated, Meg. This is not how this is going to work.” She motioned for Sean to sit down in a chair across from them but didn’t offer him coffee from the service in the center of the table. “The contract you both signed is null and void.”
Sean straightened in his seat. “Now wait a minute . . .”
Marcy put her hand up. “I spent all last evening with our attorney and this is the situation. We signed a team . . . both of you. Legally it doesn’t matter who had the connections to get this contract. Because of the dissolution of your partnership the contract is void. You cannot bring in a new partner and finish the contract.” She stared hard at Sean.
“Well, we could draw up a new contract with Steffy’s name and she’ll sign on.”
Marcy laughed, “Yeah . . . no . . . that will never happen. Steffy is expelled from the Institute. She will never be allowed to walk onto the premises again, much less teach any of our students or perform on our stage.”
Sean choked, “But . . . but . . .”
“It’s over. She’s been nothing but trouble from her first year here. This time she’s gone too far. Don’t think I don’t know she put you up to this.”
“Well . . . we can just continue on with the contract the way it is, then. Okay? If we decide to dissolve the partnership we can do that after our obligations are fulfilled here. Right, Meg?” He looked imploringly at Meg.
Meg looked at him in disbelief. “I think it’s too late, Sean. I don’t think Marcy can trust us at this point to act in a professional manner. She probably has doubts we can trust each other to do the work she has commissioned us to do.”
“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Marcy jumped in.
Sean’s face lit up with relief. “See, Meg? We can still do this.”
“That’s not what I mean, Sean,” Marcy said. “I’d like you to clear your things out of your studio and go. I’m confident that Steffy has already packed up her things with the help of security. You can meet her in the parking lot and security will make sure you’re off the premises within the hour.”
Marcy stood up and walked over to her desk and pulled a sheaf of papers from her desk. “Meg, I have a revised contract here. Our attorney was up most of the night drawing it up. I’d like you to sign on and finish out the next few weeks. It includes continuing the workshops in whatever way you can single-handedly. Also the showcase is still included, but we’ll have to do a lot of brainstorming to get it worked out. It’ll be a lot of extra work, but you can count on any resources we have to help.”
Sean had jumped up
and stood sputtering, unable to get out a single word.
Meg just sat stock-still trying to process her thoughts. Just moments before she had been without a job or a partner and here was Marcy offering to let her at least keep the job. If she signed the contract at least her next few weeks would be settled. She could worry about the state of her career later.
“Well, Meg, what do you say? Do you need some time to think about it? You can take the day off to mull it over if you’d like and get back with me in the morning.” Marcy watched her with concern.
Sean finally found his voice. “This isn’t right! You can’t take our contract and just give it to her!”
Marcy lost her cool then. “Oh, but I can take her contract and just give it to you? Are you crazy? You really think I can trust you after this stunt?” She shook her head in disgust. “I have some advice for you, Sean. If you have half a brain you’ll get as far away from Steffy Collins as you can. She’s nothing but trouble and, if you haven’t figured it out yet—she’s already ruined your professional life.”
She stalked to the door and jerked it open. Immediately another burly security guard entered and glared at Sean with his arms crossed over his chest. Sean jerked his head around to look at Meg who was still sitting in the same position—petrified with shock. He turned and stormed out the door with the guard right on his heels and Marcy closed the door with a soft click. She walked over to sit next to Meg again.
“Meg, are you okay?”
“I just can’t believe this,” she said in a small voice, her eyes welling with tears.
“What would you like to do? You should think it through and do what’s best for you. I know what I’d like you to do, but I won’t pressure you. Take all the time you need.”
Meg smirked at her and bravely blinked the tears away. “I don’t think we have much time to waste. We’ll have to rework all of our routines . . . I’ll need help with a lot of the choreography . . .” she murmured as she reached across the table for the contract.
Marcy let out a breath of relief. “Great! Just tell me what you need, Meg.”