by Tasha Black
“Your lordship, no,” Violet said, sounding aghast.
Kitt was sure she was a very good actress.
“Yes,” he read, “I insist. You’ve flown from me too many times.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, blinking at him.
The first time she had done that he’d been very concerned that she had something in her eyes, but she explained that it was a way to denote innocence. He still wasn’t sure it was effective.
“Oh, but I’m sure that you do,” he read. “Every morning I meet you here, every morning you smile at me with your kind eyes. Every morning I’m here by your side, talking with you about the weather and your health and your mother, and all I want to talk about is us.”
“There is no ‘us’,” Violet said sadly.
“But there should be,” Kitt said.
“I-I…” Violet trailed off. “That’s funny.”
Kitt looked down at his paper. None of those words were written on it.
He looked back up at Violet.
“Sorry, Kitt,” she laughed. “A woman just walked past and I swear she was staring at us. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll bet everyone stares at you.”
“What do you mean?” Kitt hoped she didn’t mean someone knew he was from Aerie.
“Well,” she blushed suddenly. “I just meant you’re a good-looking man.”
“Oh,” Kitt said, surprised. “Thank you. I was made that way.”
Oh dear, he had said too much. He was not supposed to share that his body had been lab-created specifically to attract Earth women.
“Aw,” she smiled. “That’s so sweet. I love a man who gives credit to his mama and daddy for his good qualities.”
Kitt smiled back, relieved. “I should go to work, I’m sorry my time was short this morning.”
“It was very helpful,” Violet declared.
“Thank you for the coffee,” he remembered, handing her back the pages the play was written on.
“It was my pleasure, I assure you,” she replied. “I hope it reminded you of home.”
Kitt could not think of anything less like the starlight he had absorbed on Aerie than the bean tea in the paper cup, but he nodded anyway, feeling a bit dishonest.
Violet nodded back.
Then she kissed him on the cheek.
Kitt was unsure what to make of her gesture. He decided that he should ask her, to avoid any confusion.
But Violet quickly walked past him and down the steps, carrying both coffee cups, the papers tucked in her pocket.
Maybe he would ask Honey instead.
Chapter 23
Honey was leading Audrey Feldman in a rousing waltz when the bell went off signifying the end of their class time.
“We’ll just finish our song,” Honey said.
“Thank you, dear,” Audrey replied. “How’s that beau of yours?”
“Not so good.” Honey said, thinking of the stone she was certain he had thrown through her screen door. “He wasn’t really my boyfriend though.”
“No?” Audrey clucked sympathetically. “He seems your type - tall, dark and handsome. Not like that unpleasant blond fellow.”
“Oh, him,” Honey said, realizing Audrey was talking about Kitt, not Wade. “He’s a nice guy, I guess.”
“Believe me, Honey,” Audrey confided, “being a nice guy is the number one most important quality. Looks will fade and money is overrated. Choose a nice guy, you can’t go wrong.”
“Thanks,” Honey said.
She thought about Audrey’s husband, Frank. He was a very nice man. And the two of them were happy together after all these years. Maybe the lady was on to something.
“Your nice guy is also hot as hell,” Audrey added with a twinkle in her eye. “I’ll bet he’s dynamite in the sack.”
“Oh, ha, ha,” Honey laughed weakly. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Well then find out, kid,” Audrey said seriously. “If you don’t, someone else will.”
The song ended and Honey bowed to her partner.
Audrey Feldman gave a very deep curtsy, grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “Ta, ta, darling,” she said over her shoulder.
“See you next time, Mrs. Feldman,” Honey said.
The door closed behind Audrey and Honey was alone.
She closed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair.
Kitt would be here soon. She had to pull herself together.
He’s just a friend, Honey. He’s attractive, but he’s pursuing another woman and you’re a disaster at relationships. Help him, be his friend, but don’t let it get romantic.
It would have been easier to just avoid him. Spending time with him and not getting too close was going to be like threading a needle.
But Honey had made a promise to her friend Posey. She could not abandon this man and his brothers. She had pledged to help them. And there was more at stake than her bruised ego.
As so often happened when Honey’s mind filled up with worries, her body came to the rescue and she found herself dancing.
With the first burst of movement she began to feel more like herself. Her legs and feet beat a rhythm on the smooth wooden floor and she rose and fell, flexed and flung herself into the heartbeat of the dance that enveloped her, soothing and invigorating her spirit until she soared and leapt and practically flew.
These moments when her head and her body aligned, when the heat of exertion softened her sore muscles and her hair flung droplets of sweat across the studio, these were the times when Honey McCarthy felt powerful in and of herself, when she felt wise and kind and capable.
She danced until she felt at peace with herself and had only begun to allow the tapestry of her thoughts to expand to Kitt when she suddenly became aware that someone was in the room.
She stopped and looked up.
Kitt was there in the doorway, staring at her like he was hypnotized. The studio lights burnished his copper hair, and played on the strong planes of his jaw.
“H-hey,” she said.
“Honey, that was beautiful,” he said softly.
“Oh, you should hear the music I choreographed it to,” she chattered.
“I heard music,” he replied.
She felt herself blush all the way up to her hairline.
“I want to dance with you, Honey,” he said.
“Okay,” she replied, grabbing her bag. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“We can’t stay here, Wade could burst in at any moment,” she told him. “We’re going out the back door into the woods. We’ll find a place outside to dance.”
“I’m not afraid of Wade,” Kitt said, not moving.
“I know you’re not,” Honey replied. “But it’s not about a fight, it’s about economics.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ll talk while we walk,” Honey said.
“Very well,” Kitt agreed, following her to the rear door of the studio.
They climbed down the flight of wooden stairs and Honey led the way into the pine trees.
Though the day was humid, it wasn’t overly hot, and the shade of the woods was refreshing.
“So Wade threatened us,” Honey said. “But we didn’t call the police and we won’t try to seek vengeance on him.”
“You said this was because of myself and my brothers,” Kitt said. “I have thought about this, and it is dishonorable for me to allow you to protect us.”
“No,” Honey said. “That’s one of the reasons, but it’s not the only reason. And by the way, it’s not dishonorable. If you’re caught here then Posey, Georgia and Rima and their husbands will all be in trouble, so it’s not just about you.”
Kitt looked troubled, but didn’t argue.
“At any rate,” Honey continued, “we’re also lying low because Wade is the son of one of the owners of Maxwell’s. If we make him too angry he could try and have us all fired.”
“He would take away your employment?” Kitt s
ounded furious.
“He might,” Honey said.
“This injustice will not stand,” Kitt said darkly.
And although what he had said was almost cartoonish, Honey got a little chill at his words.
“Actually, it will stand,” she said. “This world isn’t a fair place.”
She hadn’t meant to sound whiny. She was so bad with words.
“Kitt,” she said. “I’m not good at explaining things. But some people have advantages that others do not. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. It’s just the way of life. Is that true on Aerie?”
They had reached a thick part of the forest, and he held a branch back for her. “There are jealousies on Aerie,” he said carefully. “And there are those few who would make things miserable for the rest if not for the interference of the leaders.”
“One bad apple ruins the barrel,” Honey nodded. Her grandmother loved that aphorism.
“This is very sad, because I do love apples,” Kitt replied, looking puzzled.
“It’s a saying,” Honey explained. “A saying is… a little phrase that is supposed to convey wisdom because it means more than one thing. This one is true about apples, but it also means that one bad person can make everything go wrong for the others.”
“I like this saying,” Kitt declared. “It is unfortunate but true. On Earth and on Aerie. But perhaps a bit more so on Earth, since your leaders do not correct all injustices.”
“No,” Honey agreed. “I guess that’s more chaos for you, huh?”
He laughed and they walked on.
The trees began to thin out again, and sunlight filtered through the branches. Kitt smiled down at her and Honey felt the peace of the mild afternoon soak into her bones.
At last they reached the little clearing where Honey planned for them to work. A fallen, moss-covered log bisected the circle of long grass. Wild flowers filled the air with lush perfume. Overhead, birds sailed and sang. The whole thing felt like something from a children’s movie.
“Are you ready to dance?” Honey smiled up at Kitt.
“I am always ready to dance with you,” he replied.
She busied herself with the music app on her phone, trying not to think about the fact that every other thing this man said to her sounded like wedding vows.
“Okay,” she said at last, setting the phone on the overturned log.
The opening measure of the tango issued from it and a startled bird exploded out of the underbrush.
Kitt took her in his arms.
“Hold your arms like this,” Honey said.
Instantly his arms were in the correct posture. Not just better than before, but completely, perfectly strong and still as if he had trained all his life.
“Like this?”
“Yes, just like that, Kitt,” she praised him, stunned again at his natural prowess. She’d begun to think she’d been too swept up in the fun of the party to really remember how oddly amazing he’d been.
“Now, we’re going to listen for the slow counts in the music,” she told him. “You’ll step forward with your left foot, and then with your right.”
“Can you show me?”
“Sure,” she nodded, listening for the count in the music and then performing his steps. “Want me to do it again?”
“No,” he said. “I think I have it. Can we try?”
“Absolutely,” she smiled, mentally preparing herself to get kicked hard in the shins. Stepping forward left on that beat was counterintuitive.
He took her in his arms and they listened.
Then he melted into the steps, nearly leaving her behind in her surprise.
She stumbled slightly catching up.
“I have mistaken the beat,” he said sadly.
“No,” she protested. “You have not… mistaken it, you got it just right. I was just surprised, this isn’t an easy dance.”
“I see,” he replied, sounding like he didn’t see.
“You’re a natural dancer, Kitt,” she told him.
“Like you,” he said immediately.
She laughed. “Even I didn’t learn that quickly.”
“How did you learn to dance, Honey?”
“My mom wanted me to be a cheerleader,” she explained.
“Is this the woman with a small skirt who waves mops at football players?”
“Uh, yes,” Honey agreed, deciding not to explain about the pom-poms.
“Why did your mother want this?” Kitt sounded confused. “Should she not have wished you could play football yourself instead of cheering for others?”
“I-I never thought of that,” Honey said honestly. “Anyway, I didn’t become a cheerleader.”
“That is good. Cheerleaders are often unkind,” Kitt informed her sadly. “Especially to nerds.”
Honey chuckled.
“Yeah, I guess the movies make cheerleaders seem pretty mean,” she agreed. “But my best friend was a cheerleader and she was very nice. Anyway, I tried out to be a cheerleader and wasn’t chosen. So my mom put me in ballet classes so that I would be stronger and more flexible when I tried again the next year. And the dance classes were the best thing that ever happened to me.”
She smiled thinking about her teacher, Mrs. Flores, and the way the light played on the mirrors in the afternoon ballet classes, the sound of the piano, and the many pairs of leather shoes sliding across the floor. And there was the lovely sound of Mrs. Flores’s kind voice counting out the movements at the barre.
Honey had cried the day she graduated, knowing she would be going away for college, and wouldn’t get to dance at the studio anymore.
But Mrs. Flores told her, “Honey, a part of us will always be in this room. We can come back to it in our minds whenever we need comfort.”
Mrs. Flores was a dancer, not a philosopher. Honey had taken those rare words as a treasure and often did close her eyes and send herself back to the barre in times of sadness.
“But you did not study ballet as your career?” Kitt’s question roused her.
“I don’t have a ballet body,” Honey said. “I’m too short and too heavy.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Kitt scoffed. “Everything about your body is precisely perfect.”
“No, it’s true,” Honey said, her cheeks coloring a little at his frank appraisal. “Very few people have the right proportions to be a great dancer. But I love ballet anyway. And modern, and ballroom. There are so many kinds of dance.”
“What was the kind you were doing?”
“You mean this? It’s a tango.”
“No,” he said, “the dance you were doing back in your teaching room. Was that ballet?”
“Oh,” she said. “No. Well, yes. It was… a hybrid I guess - my own thing.”
“Your own thing,” he echoed.
“Yes,” she laughed. “It’s a little crazy, just something I like to work on in my spare time.”
“It is beautiful,” Kitt told her solemnly. “You will dance this way in a movie one day and everyone who beholds you will be strengthened for having seen it.”
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Honey laughed weakly. “Let’s try our tango again.”
She restarted the music and they danced on.
Kitt didn’t need much correction. What was truly odd was that his only weaknesses were the ones she shared.
Or maybe it was because she was always working on her own bent knees and neck posture that she was so aware of his shortcomings in those areas.
But he was able to make adjustments quickly. And within an hour, they were doing a top-notch tango.
Kitt’s moves were faultless - a carbon copy of everything she showed him.
It was amazing.
But there was something missing.
When the music ended, instead of starting it again, Honey stopped.
“How do you feel about this dance, Kitt?”
“It is complicated, yet simple,” he replied. “And it is rhythmic,” he added.
“
That’s all true,” Honey said. “How does it make you feel?”
“I love to dance with you, Honey,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied, “but that’s not what I meant. I meant the music, the movements - how do they make you feel?”
He stared at her, thunderstruck.
“The tango is a dance of love against all odds, of drama in the midst of danger,” Honey explained. “It began in the poor immigrant neighborhoods of Argentina. The people who did this dance might not have shared a language, but they understood each other while dancing.”
“The tango was their language,” Kitt said, looking surprised.
“Yes,” she agreed. “It was the language of people who had been through wild and dangerous adventures to arrive in their new land.”
“I know a thing or two about that,” Kitt laughed.
“I bet you do.” Honey smiled. “So you can’t just dance the tango with your body. You have to dance it with your heart, with your whole spirit. It has to tell a story.”
“How do you do that?”
“Let’s listen to the music again,” she suggested.
She started the song again.
They stood in the clearing opposite each other but without touching and listened.
“I think it’s about chasing,” Kitt said suddenly.
“You do?”
“Yes,” he said, warming to the subject. “I think it’s about a man who has made a long journey to find his woman, and she is trying to elude him.”
Honey laughed, and then darted across the meadow, paused and turned to him.
His mouth turned up in a half smile and then he sped after her.
Honey squealed and took off to the other side of the meadow.
Kitt dashed after her.
Honey ran again, but this time she moved to the beat of the tango.
An expression of recognition went across his features immediately and he followed suit.
He pursued her almost into the trees.
She retreated to a stand of wildflowers.
He chased her there.
She moved to the tree trunk.
He followed.
She did a quick cartwheel on top of the trunk.
“Honey,” he said sounding worried.
She figured he had never seen a cartwheel before and decided to show him a round-off dismount on the other side.