Uncovering Love

by Kacey Shea

  “Okay.”

  I followed her back out to the bar. It had somehow filled up even more in the short time I was gone. I relieved Trevor from door duty and tried not to over-think what happened while I finished up my shift.

  A little after two in the morning I headed back home to Evie’s apartment. I was exhausted mentally and physically, and ready to succumb to sleep for the night. Working at the bar was shit hours, but it was necessary for the time being. I unlocked the front door and was surprised to find Evie and Kate both curled up on the couch, fast asleep.

  I slipped my boots off and locked the door behind me. I tiptoed towards the kitchen for a glass of water before heading to my room. After setting my empty glass in the sink, I crept towards the hallway, casting a look at the sleeping beauties as I passed the couch. Kate lifted her head groggily and met my gaze. I stopped in my tracks, overcome by her tender expression.

  She quietly stood, wrapped a big blanket around her shoulders and walked to where I stood, pinning me with an intense look.

  “Oh Jon, I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, and threw her arms around my waist, pulling me in for a big hug. She was shaking and I pulled her away, my arms gripping her shoulders.

  “Are you okay, Kate? Are you sure you didn’t get hurt earlier?” I studied her face and she smiled sadly.

  “I’m okay. Just a little shaken up. Thank you, Jon. Seriously, thank you so much for what you did.”

  I grinned and shrugged my shoulders, “It’s no big deal. You know I’ll always look out for my girls.”

  “Did you get in trouble at work for hitting him?”

  “No, I don’t think so. My manager understood what went down, but I’m sure I’ll get an earful from Matt tomorrow. It’s okay though, I couldn’t help what I did. When he wouldn’t let you go, I don’t know what happened. Everything went white in my mind and I just reacted. He was an asshole though, so he had it coming. I don’t regret what I did.”

  Kate grinned, “I know I should probably be appalled or something, but I’m glad you hurt him too.”

  I pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head softly before releasing her. “I’m glad you’re okay. Good night, Kate.”

  “Good night Jon. Sweet dreams.” She padded back to the couch and I headed down the hall, feeling a little more settled than when I first came in the door.

  That was the Kate I remembered from high school, the sweet girl who could calm my restless mind with a few softly spoken words. I was sure the new Kate would be back in full effect tomorrow, but I was glad to see the old one still existed, even if she only came out in the middle of the night.

  I SPENT THE MORNING LOUNGING around the house with Jon. Kate had awoken early and snuck out of the apartment before I was even awake. She liked to start her Saturdays with an early morning yoga class, so I wasn’t surprised. The fight last night had me exhausted. Even though I hadn’t been the one fighting, the entire incident scared me and reminded me why I hated going out to drink. Losers like that guy ruined all our innocent fun. Jon must have been wiped too, because he was content to laze around with me. He put in a movie and I ordered Chinese food. We were both too tired to do anything else.

  I had plans to meet up with Tate this afternoon for our official first date. I was already looking forward to seeing him again. My remaining time with Tate was limited now, and I should tell Jon. Instead, I chickened out and told him we made plans to hang out. I purposefully omitted the part about it being an actual date, and that I knew for certain he was straight.

  We were done with Stacey’s investigation, but I wanted an excuse to spend more time with him. I recalled what my sister said the other night. I wasn’t sure what I should do, but I hoped an answer came to me soon. I could only string Jon and Stacey along so much further before they became suspicious. If I actually wanted a relationship with Tate I needed to confess the real reason we met was because I was hired to investigate him. I pushed away the conflicting thoughts swirling inside and studied the man sitting beside me.

  Jon was quiet today, lost in thought as he sometimes was. He was like this more often since he moved back, and I tried to respect his space. If something was bothering him and he wanted to tell me about it, he would talk when he was ready. I wondered if he was upset about the fight from last night.

  There was something still bothering me about the case of Blackman’s daughter. It was as if the answers were sitting at the edge of my brain; if only I could recognize what they were. I looked back to the television screen where a high school party was taking place. Jon had conceded and let me watch one of my all-time favorites, 10 Things I Hate About You. A young Julia Stiles, who played a no-fun rule-following teen, had let loose and was dancing on a table top.

  Something about that scene hit me abruptly and I jumped up from the couch.

  “She doesn’t dance! That’s it!” I ran to my room to grab my laptop, returning with renewed determination.

  “Who doesn’t dance? Are you okay, QT?” Jon sat up from where he had been spread out on the couch, and scooted in nice and close so he could see what I was doing. First pulling the web browser to Violet’s school, I clicked on the link showing a slide show of photos from the winter formal.

  “There! See! She doesn’t dance.” I tapped my finger against the laptop screen to show Jon how in each photo Violet was either talking with friends at a table or standing in the background like a wallflower.

  “Okay . . . so she doesn’t dance at a school formal. What does that tell us?”

  “Just follow me, okay?” I pulled up Violet Blackman’s Facebook page and started scrolling through the countless photos she had been tagged in. “There.” I pointed to several house party photographs, where girls and boys gathered around tables with red plastic cups. In each photograph Violet’s friends ended up dancing at some point in the night, but she never did. “She doesn’t dance.”

  “Okay, yes. We’ve already established that. She doesn’t dance. Maybe she’s not any good or doesn’t know how, and that’s why she’s hanging out every night at a dance studio instead of going home.”

  “Yes, but if she’s your average teenager then it doesn’t matter if she can dance. If she gets a few drinks in her and the music is flowing and she’s got her girlfriends, it shouldn’t matter. If she loved to dance she’d be out there. I knew something was bothering me about those photographs.” I felt excited but Jon just looked frustrated.

  “So, she doesn’t like to dance. I’m confused. What exactly does this tell us, QT?”

  “The mom, she had an affair with a dance instructor. Violet doesn’t dance but has been spending endless hours at the dance studio. Can those two things be related?”

  “I don’t know. That seems like a reach, Evie. We still haven’t found what links them together.”

  “The mom’s ex-boyfriend’s name—The salsa instructor she left Harold for—Crap, why can’t I remember it?” I could be grasping at straws, but we were close now. Jon’s eyes lit with recognition. He pulled out the printed paperwork file for Blackman, shuffling through papers until he came across the name we were looking for.

  “Antonio Rodriguez, Jr.”

  I typed his name into the search engine and the first thing that popped up was Dance Connection’s Meet the Instructors page. “Bingo,” I muttered. I suddenly had a very bad feeling about what we would find.

  I pulled up the web page, and Jon and I both scanned Antonio’s short bio. He was originally from New York City, a recent college graduate who studied and taught dance full time. His father, Antonio Rodriguez, Senior, was a famous choreographer on Broadway.

  When I scrolled past his headshot, Jon commanded, “Wait, go back.” Now it was my turn to be confused as Jon raced down the hall and back, bringing his spy equipment bag with him. He unzipped the bag and pulled the digital camera from its case. After powering it on and scrolling though images for a few seconds he handed it over to me.

  “That’s the same guy who wal
ked Violet out to her car last night.”

  I nodded. “And he’s the same man her mother had an affair with and claimed to move to Mexico with, but never did.”

  At Jon’s confused expression I quickly answered, “I spoke with Jolene Blackman last night for a few minutes. I didn’t learn much; she doesn’t speak regularly with the girls, but she did feel the need to let me know how great her sex life with AJ was. Also that he decided to stay behind but she moved to Mexico anyway, something about him wanting to pursue his career.”

  Jon nodded with his lips pursed. “Why do I feel we’re missing something? Why would Violet spend time with her mother’s ex at a dance studio every night? We have all the pieces, but what does it mean?”

  “I think we need to talk with Harold Blackman immediately. There’s something going on here. These can’t be coincidences.”

  “Yeah, I agree. I’ll call him now and see what I can arrange.”

  Jon moved to the other room to make the call and I perused the Dance Connection website. I looked through class schedules and made note of Antonio’s teaching schedule.

  The times lined up to the few nights Jon tailed Violet, but that wasn’t proof of anything. The studio was large and had up to six different classes and instructors on any given evening. I tried finding him on various social media sites but his accounts were blocked from public viewing. Frustrated, I closed my laptop as Jon came back into the living room.

  “Okay, I’m meeting with Blackman at his shop in two hours. He’s finishing up lunch with his youngest daughter now. Violet is MIA once again, but she left the car today so he’s really pissed. I’ll see what I can find out. I know you have another meeting set up with Reynolds this afternoon, so I can handle this on my own.”

  His words made me feel guilty. My time with Tate was for my entertainment only. We had our background investigation done; I just wasn’t being honest with anyone at the moment. I should cancel with Tate so I could be there with Jon. That would be the right thing to do, but I had caught myself in a web of deception so thick it was difficult to find my way out. Jon misread my troubled look.

  “Don’t worry, QT, I’ve got this. You get what we need from Reynolds tonight and hopefully we will wrap both cases up with nice big bows by this evening. You won’t ever have to see Reynolds again. Hey, let’s celebrate once we do!”

  I forced a smile and Jon grabbed his keys. He rushed out the door with a “See ya, QT.” What was I doing? I took a deep breath as my cell phone pinged.

  Tate: Looking forward to seeing you soon! Don’t be late!

  I looked at the time and decided I needed to come clean soon. This guilt had me nearing a nervous breakdown. Jon was a good friend, roommate, and my business partner. He deserved to know the full truth of my growing feelings for Tate, even if he didn’t like it. I resolved to come clean tonight after I enjoyed my afternoon with Tate. I spent the next hour primping for my meeting with Tate, wishing I could fast forward time.

  I pulled onto the street in front of Tate’s home and took a deep breath. I was determined to enjoy my time with Tate. I just couldn’t help the feeling of impending dread that had settled in my stomach. Getting out of my car, I stood and smoothed my blouse and skirt before walking towards the front door. I had chosen a flower-patterned skirt that came just above my knees in a swirl of red, black, and gray. I paired it with a simple fitted black scoop neck blouse and my black strappy sandals. My hair hung loose, and in a fit of nerves I had taken the painstaking time to curl it into waves. Before I reached the door it swung open, revealing two smiling little boys.

  “Evie!” Eli and Ezra shouted, running towards me and wrapping their arms around my legs and waist. I couldn’t help but smile as my nerves eased.

  “Hello, Eli. Hello, Ezra. How are my favorite boys?” Tate appeared at the open doorway. “Ouch, you really don’t help my ego.” He chuckled and I couldn’t help but rake my eyes over him. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans with a soft gray sweater that fit snugly over his form. He had pushed the sleeves up, revealing the defined muscles of his forearms. The man was beautiful and this afternoon he was all mine.

  “You ready to head out? I made reservations for us, so we should probably leave now.”

  “No! Don’t go, Evie, please stay here,” Eli whined.

  “Pretty please, Evie, will you please stay with us?” Ezra asked with all his charm.

  I just laughed and Carly appeared next to Tate in the doorway. “Okay, that’s enough, boys. I’m sure they will be back soon and you can play with her then.” She mouthed a sorry to Tate and he just chuckled, walking over to the boys and crouching down to look them in the eyes.

  “Don’t worry, we can all have special time with Evie, but it’s my turn first today, okay? I promise I’ll bring her back.” He gave each boy a hug, and although they looked put out they must have realized that was the only compromise they were getting.

  Tate stood and clasped my hand in his. “You ready for some special time?”

  I nodded, rendered unable to speak by the intense look he was giving me. We walked to his car and he opened my door, waiting until I was inside before closing it and jogging around the front. Carly and the boys stood in the doorway, waving good-bye with infectious smiles. I couldn’t help but return them.

  “So, are you going to tell me what you have planned for us, or are you going to make me wait and see again?”

  “Well, first off, I’m going to take you to an actual restaurant, with excellent food because we both love to eat. Have you ever been to Culinary Dropout?”

  “No, but my friend Kate always raves about it. Don’t they have that outdoor dining area with foosball, bags, and games like that?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  I smiled as his hand came over the center console to wrap his fingers with mine. We drove downtown listening to the soft music playing over the stereo, sharing easy conversation. When we arrived at the busy district Tate pulled his vehicle into the valet line. The entire hub of restaurants in this renovated downtown area were unique and pulled huge crowds on the weekends, probably a good reason why I never came down here. There was great energy in the air with groups of people chatting loudly all around us. Tate smiled at the host, and gave the young man his name. Since we had time to kill Tate led me over to the outdoor bar and game area.

  “You up for a challenge, Miss Harper?” He nodded to the open foosball table.

  “I think the more appropriate question would be how sore a loser are you?”

  He laughed. “It’s on.”

  As we took our respective sides at the table I offered him a serious expression. “I have to warn you, I was actually crowned champion of our annual foosball tournament two years in a row back in college, so . . . I’m kind of a big deal.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  The next twenty minutes flew by in a blur as our competitive natures took over and we battled an intense game, complete with smack talk and taunting. We quickly drew a crowd of spectators, drinks in hand, picking sides and cheering along. By the end of our game I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard. I was ahead four points to three when Tate received a text that our table was ready. When he moved away from the table I cheaply scored on him and pronounced myself reigning champion for the remainder of the night.

  Our server led us to an intimate table where the seating resembled a couch more than an actual booth. I slid in and Tate scooted next to me, holding my hand and grinning as he examined the menu.

  “You look awfully happy for someone who just got his ass handed to him in a game of foosball.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m having too much fun to care that I lost. I’ll lose to you anytime, Evie, as long as it means we get to be together.”

  How did I answer that? I gulped my glass of water, not knowing quite how to answer. It was more than a little overwhelming having this handsome, intense man focused completely on me. Our server returned to the table, bringing a platter of various cheeses and mea
ts before taking our order and disappearing once more. The next two hours passed in a blur of wine, good food, and steady conversation. A warm feeling settled inside me as we traded smiles and laugher throughout our dinner. It was the kind of feeling I had never experienced before, and I wanted to bottle it up and save it for years, much like the vintage wines adorning the restaurant walls. I savored every look and word, memorizing this moment and secretly hoping this could last forever.

  I ARRIVED AT JOLENE’S INTIMATE Apparel an hour before I was scheduled to meet Blackman so I decided to sit in my truck until our designated time, people watching as I waited. I had to laugh because Sunny Lee was in her usual spot, peeking out her storefront window, her calculating eyes watching those strolling by. Now that woman probably knew everything about everyone.

  I was parked at one end of the storefronts, Restoration Décor and More being situated on the corner lot, just across from where I sat. Jolene’s Intimate Apparel was next to that, followed by seven other boutiques. I was watching the people strolling along the wide sidewalk when a couple at the farthest corner caught my eye. I couldn’t quite make them out, but the man had his arm wrapped around the young woman’s waist before pulling her flush against him and leaning in for a passionate kiss. Something about them struck a chord of familiarity. I scrambled for my camera and used the lens to zoom.

  Fuck me. The couple doing the tonsil tango was none other than Harold’s daughter, Violet, and the dance teacher Antonio. I grew angrier by the second. That man was a good six years older than the minor he was making out with. And the guy had balls. They were standing a mere thirty yards from daddy’s shop. I had to hold myself back from jumping out of the truck and teaching him a lesson with my fists. I took a few calming breaths, clenching and unclenching my fists with each inhale to calm my boiling rage. The man was obviously taking advantage of a vulnerable girl.

  Seeing the couple together made me sick, and I could only imagine how I would react if that were my daughter. As if my thoughts could conjure him, Harold Blackman and his younger daughter Elena pulled into the open space in front of Sunny’s store. They exited the car and Elena gestured wildly with her hands as she talked to her father. He seemed the most relaxed I’d ever seen him, smiling and giving her his complete attention. I looked back over at Romeo and his very young Juliet to see they were walking arms interlinked towards Harold’s store, sucking face every few steps. It would have been nauseating even without the circumstances and age difference.