by Various
“Not all guys are stalkers,” Liz said. “And I’ll be there to help you pick out the good guys.”
“How many good guys do you think go to a ballroom dance lesson?” Rachel asked.
Liz thought for a moment. “Actually our odds are pretty good. Probably just guys that are confident enough to brave a room full of women.” She warmed to the idea. “And they’re probably looking for a relationship if they’re willing to do that. This could be very good.”
“I don’t know—”
“Come on, it’ll be fun, or at least interesting. Maggie’s never taken me to anything remotely boring.”
Rachel still looked uncertain.
“You owe me,” Liz said, pulling rank.
“How do I owe you?” Rachel sputtered.
“For inviting Ryan to my birthday party.”
“You wanted him there.”
“I did not!” Liz protested hotly.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll go. But there better be hot guys there!”
Chapter Thirteen
Liz, Maggie, and Rachel entered the Jorge Chavez Dance Studio and took in their fellow dancers. Six women ranging from sixties to seventies, Liz guessed, and a short old man with balding white hair and a beard that he kept way too long, probably to compensate for what he’d lost on top. He was all smiles, liking his chances with this ratio of male to females.
He bore an unfortunate resemblance to a gnome.
“I’m going to kill you,” Rachel hissed.
Liz patted her arm. “Maybe this isn’t everyone,” she whispered. “We’ve still got ten minutes until class starts.”
Rachel shot her a look that promised retribution.
“Come on, girls,” Maggie said. “Don’t just stand there. Let’s go meet the instructor, Jorge.” She glided by in a flowing blue floral skirt that ended just below the knees, paired with a white blouse with cap sleeves. She’d used gel to push her hair into white spikes on top “a la Judi Dench,” as she said.
Liz looked down at her usual button-down shirt and tailored pants and wished she’d thought to buy a flowing skirt. It would spin and twirl so nicely when dancing. She mentally added it to her to-do list, though she’d wait for it to go on sale at summer’s end. Rachel wore a red V-neck short-sleeve sweater that showed off her cleavage, paired with a denim skirt that was definitely too tight to twirl when she danced.
They followed Maggie across a shiny hardwood dance floor. The room was large and mirrored on three sides. In the center of the dance floor, a fiftyish man with slicked-back black hair, a black tank top, and tight black pants danced a complicated spin and dip move with a twenty-something woman wearing what looked like a real ballroom dance outfit—a one piece skin-tight red dress with a flared skirt. The dress was sleeveless and had large keyholes on the sides, showing even more skin. Her shoes were red leather strappy heels. How did the woman dance in those things? Liz much preferred her practical ballet flats.
Jorge looked up at Maggie and set his dance partner back upright. His teeth gleamed white against his golden tan when he smiled. “Maggie,” he crooned in a slight Spanish accent that was just this side of romantic. “You came. Lovely to see you.” He kissed Maggie’s hand, and she preened under his attention. Jorge turned to Liz and Rachel. “And who is this?”
Maggie introduced them with a huge smile.
“Lovely to meet you, Liz.” He leaned in slightly, smiling.
Liz held her hands behind her back to avoid any hand kissing. “Nice to meet you.”
He glanced at her posture, but remained unruffled. “Rachel.” He kissed her hand. Rachel waggled her eyebrows at Liz. “And this is my assistant, Arianna.”
“Welcome,” Arianna replied. “If you enjoy the trial class, please see me after about signing up for lessons.”
“We’ll be with you shortly,” Jorge said. “Please have a seat.” He gestured toward the row of folding chairs on one side of the dance floor, and Liz hurried toward them, with Rachel trailing behind.
Maggie was still talking and smiling at Jorge by the time Liz sat down. Then she gave a little wave and, with a slow swaying of her hips, positively sashayed to the chairs. Sashayed! And Jorge noticed, pausing in his conversation with Arianna to watch.
“Maggie,” Liz whispered when Maggie sat down. “Exactly how do you know Jorge?”
“Isn’t he handsome? A fine man. Very fine.” Maggie fanned herself with her hand.
“Yes, he’s handsome. But how do you know him?”
“He’s my neighbor’s nephew. I met him when he stopped by to do some yard work for her. And does he have muscles!”
Jorge looked up at that and winked.
Maggie blushed.
Omigod.
“Oh, great,” Rachel muttered on the other side of Liz. “The one cute guy here has the hots for her.”
“He heard you,” Liz warned Maggie. “Keep your voice down.”
“I know,” Maggie replied. “I wanted him to hear me. Don’t keep your light under a bushel. Let it shine, girl. Let it shine.” She said this while eying Jorge like he was some candy she couldn’t wait to unwrap.
And devour.
Liz couldn’t believe she was witnessing this. Was Maggie really going to get lucky before she was? The last time she’d had sex was with her cheating ex-fiancé, who thought foreplay was squeezing her butt while whispering, “Let’s do it,” in her ear.
A few more senior citizens arrived. Oh, wow, pinchy-lipped Diane and sweet Pam from knitting class were here. Liz gave them a little wave.
“Oh, I told Pam about the class,” Maggie said. “Didn’t know she’d bring Diane,” she added under her breath. “Hi, ladies!”
Diane stared while Pam smiled and waved enthusiastically.
Liz took stock. Ten women, plus the three of them, made thirteen women and one gnome. She exchanged a grim look with Rachel.
As luck would have it, the gnome was named Richard. “Call me Dick,” he told Liz, “everyone does.” He seemed to think he and Liz belonged together because their names matched Liz Taylor and Richard Burton. Never mind the fact that she was blond, whereas the famous Liz had been brunette. And then there was the non-gnome appearance of Richard Burton. None of this deterred him. He claimed her for every dance.
Maggie had no sympathy to spare. She was too busy purposely doing the moves wrong, so Jorge would feel the need to correct her.
“You must get the rhythm of it,” Jorge said, rolling the r in rhythm. He stood behind Maggie now, hands on her hips, guiding her in a box step. “And one, two, three.” She got the hang of it pretty quick, and he turned her around for a forward-facing waltz. “And one, two, three.”
“I think I’ve got it now, Jorge,” Maggie said, gazing up at him under her lashes. “You’re such a good teacher.”
They continued to dance.
He smiled lecherously while she giggled flirtatiously.
It was nauseating.
If Ryan saw the way they were carrying on, he would kick some ass. Poor Rachel was dancing with Miss Pinched Lips Diane. Pam was dancing and chatting with a tall, willowy woman, looking like she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
Liz worked on moving her way over to Jorge and Maggie, but Dick was difficult to redirect. She endured a tango that involved Dick’s face pressing too close to her breasts—an unfortunate combination of his stature and his enthusiasm.
Miss Pinched Lips glided with Rachel to Liz’s side, only to dip Rachel suddenly and hiss at Liz, “You think because you’re young and pretty you can just steal the only man.”
Liz’s mouth opened in shock.
“Hey, let me up!” Rachel yelled.
The sour woman pulled Rachel upright and whirled away.
Finally, finally her time with the gnome ended as Jorge announced the end of class.
“Never again,” Rachel said to Liz as they exited the dance floor.
“Maybe a different class would have some guys our age,” Liz offered. As long as
the gnome wasn’t there, it could be good. She actually liked the dancing part. With the right partner…
Rachel stared at her. “Read my lips, never again.”
Dick headed straight for Liz, and she braced herself. He pressed a business card into her hand. It read: Dick Wittleman, Connoisseur of the Finer Things. She shuddered to think of what “finer things” he meant.
“Here’s my number,” he said. “Call me.”
“Oh! I have a boyfriend,” Liz said. It was the only way she could think of to tell him not now, not ever. “But, um, nice meeting you. I’d better catch up with my friend.” She grabbed Rachel, whose shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter, and speedwalked to the desk, where Maggie was talking to Arianna.
Apparently, Maggie was signing up for ballroom dance and a series of four private lessons from Jorge. Liz didn’t even want to know what might go on in those private lessons. Maggie was a speeding dynamo of determination and newfound libido.
~ ~ ~
Maggie called the next morning to see how Liz liked the dance class. “I liked the dancing,” Liz answered truthfully, “but my dance partner was a little pushy. I don’t think I’m going to sign up for lessons.”
“Now don’t you let Dick deter you,” Maggie replied. “Dance with someone else next time.”
“You mean one of the other women?”
There was a pause. “I’ll get my boys to come along. You’re right; we need more men in there.”
“No! I mean, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure they don’t want to go dancing anyway—”
“They’d do it for me.”
Liz’s heart squeezed. She loved Maggie’s confidence in her grandsons.
“And if they’re all busy,” Maggie said, “could you still drive me? My night vision is terrible. I shouldn’t be on the road.”
“Oh, of course! I want you to be safe.”
“Good deal, then. I’ll see you next Thursday.”
“Okay,” she replied with a sinking feeling. What had she just agreed to? She knew once she got there, Maggie would insist she come inside. Would she be forced to dance with Miss Pinchy Lips or Dick? Or one of the O’Hare guys?
Relax, she told herself, Shane was the most likely one to go. And Shane was the kind of guy she should be with anyway. It would be fun to dance with him. He never made her feel off-center and jittery. She never made a fool of herself in front of him.
That’s what she told herself all the way until Monday at lunch when Ryan walked into Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill, where she was having her mother’s famous gazpacho with a taco salad.
He slid into the booth across from her, looking hot and dangerous with hair that was a little too long, a stubbled jaw, and a white T-shirt that showed off his tan. And his muscles, don’t forget his muscles. Her heart picked up a rapid beat.
“Heard you and Gran are going to ballroom dance class again,” he said.
She blinked. Is that a problem for you? It’s just dancing. “Yes.”
He signaled the waiter. “Cheeseburger, fries, and a vanilla shake. Thanks.”
How does he eat like that and still look lean and muscled? Totally unfair.
“So…you and Shane, huh?” he asked.
She set down her fork. “What do you mean?”
“Gran said he’s going to be your dance partner.” He watched her expectantly.
“Oh! I didn’t know. She mentioned she was going to ask you guys to come along—all three of you. I didn’t know who was going.” She smoothed her napkin in her lap, reaching for a measure of calm. Why should I be nervous? I’ve done nothing wrong.
He leaned back and stretched out his legs, relaxed as could be. “I’ve got a stakeout that night. Trav has a new client appointment.”
She registered “stakeout” and tried to imagine him spying on cheating husbands and wives. The image just didn’t fit right with what she knew about him. He studied her with a disconcerting intensity, seeming to want more from her.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m glad Shane’s coming. It’ll save me from the attentions of The Gnome.”
His eyebrows crinkled in bafflement. “The who?”
She giggled and told him about Dick and how he’d monopolized her that night, acting like they were the famous Liz and Dick.
He cracked a smile, and the moment hung between them, just smiling at each other.
She looked away first. “So…” she said brightly and too loud.
The waiter arrived with his vanilla shake. “Thanks.” Ryan turned back to her. “Yeah?”
She whirled a few topic questions through her mind—how’s work, how’s your family, how’s your love life—which level were they at?
She played with her straw a bit and looked up. “I was just wondering…”
He leaned forward. His hazel eyes met hers, looking curious and interested.
Her throat went dry. “How’s work?” she croaked.
He leaned back in his seat, and she felt a distance between them that she didn’t understand. “Can’t complain, I guess. Business is steady. I lost a good office assistant. You know Lauren Bishop?”
Her eyes widened. “I used to babysit her when she was a preschooler.”
He smiled. “She’s all grown up. She’s backpacking across Europe with her boyfriend this summer before she goes away to college.”
“Are you serious?” Liz put her head in her hands. “When did I get so old?” she moaned.
Ryan laughed. “You’ve still got a few good years. I’m older than you anyway.”
She straightened and pressed her lips together. “It’s not the same for guys.”
“What do you mean? It’s worse. We die sooner.”
She’d been thinking about her biological clock and the fact that men could have babies well past their prime, but she didn’t want to talk about that with him. She changed the subject, and they chatted a bit about Maggie and Trav’s landscape business. She told him about some of her third-grade students and their science unit with hatching chicks, how one boy had slipped an egg home that hatched in the back of his turtle tank to the surprise of the turtle and his mother.
The waiter arrived with his food. He took a big bite of burger, and she finally returned to her own lunch. It was kind of cozy eating lunch together in this booth.
She was relaxed and enjoying herself, so she blurted cheerfully, “You should come to the next dance class.”
He dipped a fry in ketchup. “That’s more Shane’s speed.”
Pop! There went the bubble of happiness she’d felt from being with him. Deflated, she stuttered out, “N-no problem.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’d better be going. Nice to see you.” She snatched her purse and fled for the front door.
When would she ever learn her lesson? Ryan was not interested in her, never had been, never would be.
She found herself heading for Shane’s Scoops. There he was—Shane was cheerfully chatting with the customers as he scooped some of his homemade ice cream into a waffle bowl. He wore a blue and white striped apron over his Shane’s Scoops T-shirt.
“Hi, Shane!” She waved and got in line.
“Hey, Liz, be right with you.” He finished up an order, then took another while she perused the menu. He’d added a low-sugar frozen yogurt in peach. That sounded good.
She placed her order, and when he handed the cup to her, she told him, “It’s so nice of you to come dancing with me and Maggie.”
“No problem. Hey, Gran said Rachel went last time. Is she coming too?”
“Probably not.”
“Oh, okay, no problem. So just me and you.” Red flooded his cheeks.
“Yeah, just me and you.” She smiled at him. This was why she should be with someone like Shane. She felt calm, cool, and collected when they spoke. Not rattled like with Ryan, who was forever setting her on edge.
She left the shop, walking across the street to see Rachel. She finished her yogurt outside, tossed the cup in the trash, and
opened the door to Book It. The bell jingled cheerfully, announcing her arrival. She found Rachel in the mystery section, taping yellow “Crime Scene, Do Not Cross” banners around the perimeter of the shelves.
“Cute,” Liz said.
Rachel turned. “You like it? I’m trying to give each section of the store its own special flair.”
“It’s eye-catching, for sure. Makes me want to grab a mystery and solve a crime.”
“Good. What’s up?”
Liz lowered her voice. “I’m taking Maggie to dance class next week since she can’t drive at night—”
“No.”
“Just listen. Shane’s coming.”
“You heard me say ‘never again’ last time, right?” Rachel set her stepstool in the corner of the store and headed for the back storage area with the caution tape.
Liz followed, hurrying to keep up. “Well, what do you think of Shane?”
Rachel whirled around, eyes flashing. “Back off, Liz. I don’t want to go. Okay?”
Liz’s hand involuntarily flew to her throat. Rachel almost never got mad at her. “I meant what do you think of Shane for me.”
“Oh.” Rachel opened the storage room door. “I thought you meant”—she shook her head—“Shane’s sweet. You know that. He isn’t the kind of guy who does casual. Even in high school he went out with Kerry for three years until she left for college. Remember?”
Liz nodded.
“So now you want Shane too?” Rachel asked, an edge to her voice.
Liz was taken aback. She and Rachel never fought. She certainly didn’t want to fight about Shane.
“Why, do you?” Liz asked.
“I’m not ready for a relationship.” Rachel put the caution tape on a shelf.
“Okay.” Things were getting weird between them. “Hey, you want to do something Saturday night?”
Rachel studied her for a moment, then smiled. “Yes, I do. Let’s go dancing at a club in SoNo.”