by Janice Sims
Belana wanted to deny she would ever feel that way about her, but was silent because the referee only interfered when rules were broken.
“Belana would never think that of you,” Nick said, to Belana’s relief. He sighed and walked up to his daughter and held her by the shoulders. “I am at the end of my rope trying to figure out how to be a better father to you. To my way of thinking, I’ve done everything I could. My mistake, though, was not taking into consideration what you have been saying for so long, which Belana pointed out to me last night. You need to be living with me, even if I can’t be with you 24/7. But when you move in, you’re going to have to realize that there will be times I won’t be home overnight, or for several nights, for that matter. On those occasions, you will come here and stay with Mom, and not give me any arguments. Am I clear?”
Nona was staring at him with her mouth open in amazement. She closed her mouth and started to say something but instead threw her arms around his neck. “I was all prepared to state my case—I am the captain of the debate team, you know—and then you come out with that and leave my arguments in the dust!”
Nick was laughing and hugging his daughter. He peered at Belana over his daughter’s head. She was wiping tears from her wet cheeks.
There was a knock at the door. “I’m coming in,” Yvonne announced and followed through with her promise. She stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, looking from Nick and Nona, who were still hugging, to Belana, who was still crying.
“Dinner’s on the table. Come and get it before I throw it out the back door,” she said.
Nick laughed. That’s what she used to say when his father was alive. She hadn’t used that line in years. His dad—a big, boisterous man who loved to laugh—always got a kick out of it.
“Let’s go eat, ladies,” he said to Belana and Nona. “We don’t want her to throw a perfectly good meal out the door.”
They went downstairs.
Chapter 8
“Extension, Belana,” Victoria Gables, Belana’s dance instructor, said as she walked over to Belana and placed her hand at the small of her back. “Posture, too. What have you been doing on your break? Eating popcorn in front of the TV?”
Belana straightened her back and took a deep breath. Victoria, an African-American woman in her mid-forties, looked like Debbie Allen but had the personality of Attila the Hun, if Attila the Hun were a dance instructor.
Belana was used to Victoria’s caustic comments. They had worked together for nearly ten years. Belana paid her well for private instruction, and it was worth every penny because Victoria had trained some of the most accomplished dancers in the business.
“Yeah,” Belana replied. “I’ve been dating this really wonderful man and eating like there’s no tomorrow. I admit it.”
“Wait, wait, back up,” said Victoria. She raised her brows even farther than they already were. She plucked her brows within an inch of their lives, making it appear as if she was in a constant state of surprise. To add to the effect, she wore her long black straightened hair in a ponytail pulled back so severely she could hardly blink. “What man? You’re seeing someone?”
Belana lowered her leg, turned with her hand on the barre and raised the opposite leg as high as it would go without pulling a muscle. “It’s true, I’m dating a real man with a real job and, believe it or not, a real fifteen-year-old daughter.”
“My goodness,” said Victoria. “How is that working for you?”
Belana beamed. “What do you think?”
“You look like an idiot, so I suppose you’re happy,” Victoria said sourly. She had nothing against love, but it had been her experience that when a devoted dancer fell in love, especially with a nondancer who didn’t understand the life, what came next was a decline in ambition. Victoria believed a dancer without ambition and fierce determination to fight for good roles was just playing at the profession. She didn’t waste her time with those kinds of dancers.
“Oh, Vicky, don’t be like that. I’m in love, isn’t that worth celebrating?”
“Maybe for you, but I’m losing one of my best students.”
“No, you’re not. I’m not quitting any time soon,” said Belana. “Besides that, I may have a new student for you to pummel into shape. The fifteen-year-old daughter shows promise as a dancer.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes at Belana. “Don’t tease me. Who has she been working with? It’s usually too late to do anything with a fifteen-year-old. If they’ve been taught incorrectly they have to relearn everything. I don’t have the patience for that.”
Belana grimaced. That was an understatement! Smiling again, she said, “She’s had competent teachers and, in a way, you’ve been mentoring her for seven months already because I’ve been teaching her your methods.”
“You little thief!” Victoria cried, smiling for the first time. She was secretly delighted Belana had taken to her teachings so well she could in turn teach someone else.
Belana laughed at her reaction. “So, you’ll take a look at her and see if I’m right, that she has something special?”
“Bring her with you the next time you come,” Victoria said. “Now do your pointe work, and let me see some sweating. You’ve got to work off those five pounds you’ve gained. Lord knows what possessed you to eat so much.”
“I eat when I’m happy,” Belana said.
“Get in here, why are you so late?” Belana whispered to Erik as she pulled him inside her apartment. “She just phoned and she’s on the way up.”
“Why are you whispering?” asked Erik, “if she isn’t here yet?”
“I don’t know!” Belana laughed. Nick was at her side. He and Erik greeted each other and then they all walked farther into the apartment where around thirty of Ana’s friends were standing around, looking at Belana for instructions. She had planned this surprise birthday party for Ana, who was turning twenty-five. She scanned the room. No party favors or other decorations in plain view. Now, where to hide thirty people so that they could jump out and yell, “Surprise!” when Ana arrived?
There was no way all those people were going to be able to hide behind her furniture. The space in the living room was too sparsely furnished. She hated claustrophobic rooms with too much furniture and knickknacks in them.
“I’m just going to turn the lights off,” she announced.
The doorbell rang. Belana whispered, “Everybody be quiet as mice.”
“We can’t hear you!” Erik whispered back, messing with her.
“Be quiet!” his sister whispered back as she hurried to the door. Before she turned the lock release, she switched off the lights.
Ana gave her a quizzical look when she stepped inside carrying a large white shopping bag containing art supplies. “Why is it so dark in here?”
That was everyone’s cue to yell, “Surprise!” and Belana turned the lights back on.
Ana—tall, lovely, skin the color of toasted almonds, big dark brown eyes, and long, blue-black hair—screamed in fright and then in delight when she saw all of her friends. Belana wasn’t sure but she thought her friend said a curse word or two in Italian. Her own Italian wasn’t that good. But between Ana’s jumping up and down and grabbing Belana to hug her, she felt the surprise had gone over well. Everyone rushed forward to say happy birthday and give the birthday girl warm hugs and kisses which ended up looking like a group hug.
Belana disentangled herself from the human mass of love, grabbed Nick by the hand and led him to the kitchen. She looked back and noticed that Erik was the recipient of a kiss on the cheek from Ana, who was looking at him in a most peculiar fashion.
But Belana didn’t have time to analyze that look. She and Nick were going to take the food out to the waiting serving tables in the living room. She’d had the food catered and had hired a bartender, who was at this moment setting up the bar in a corner of the room.
Nick pulled her into his arms once they were alone in the kitchen and kissed her. “I haven’t seen y
ou in five days, and we’ve got to wait until after the party to be alone. I thought I’d at least get one kiss,” he said once they parted.
Belana smiled up at him. “I missed you, too.” It was October and they had been together a little over two months. She was back at work, rehearsing up to six hours a day, auditioning for roles, going to her private class with Victoria, which was now being shared with Nona. Nick was also busy. He’d been responsible for three major sports stars signing with the agency and the senior partners had offered him a full partnership. He was thinking about it. What he really wanted to do was start his own agency.
More importantly Nona had moved in with him and so far they were not having any problems. When he had to be out of town, she willingly went to stay with her grandmother. No arguments. Nick was content.
They kissed again, losing themselves in each other. Nick’s hands were in her thick, wavy hair; hers were caressing his muscular back. He backed her against the marble counter and lifted her so that she was sitting atop it. They continued kissing. Belana wrapped her legs around his waist. Her silk dress was hiked up to her shapely thighs.
Someone cleared his throat.
They broke apart and looked up, embarrassed, and saw Erik standing in the doorway. “No sex in the kitchen,” he joked. “I’d never be able to eat in here again.”
Nick helped Belana down from the counter. “You’re just in time to help take the food out,” Belana told her brother, all business again.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Erik, smiling.
Belana gave him her dead-eyes look and he laughed. “Don’t,” he warned her, “or I’ll have to say the dreaded words.”
Belana picked up a huge platter of spicy steamed shrimp and handed it to Erik. “Which dreaded words?”
Erik bent down and whispered in her ear, “I told you so.”
Belana knew he was referring to the fact that he had been the one who had told her she should give Nick another chance. “So you were right for once in your life!” his sister retorted.
Erik left the kitchen laughing, the tray of shrimp held aloft as though he were a trained waiter. Nick, who had not heard what had transpired between Erik and Belana, picked up a tray of food and followed Belana out to the living room.
The bartender was mixing drinks as fast as he could. The music was blaring, and Ana was talking animatedly with a group of friends, one of whom was Erik. Belana told herself she was not interested in matchmaking. If Ana and Erik got together they would have to do it on their own. But she wished that something positive would happen between the two tonight.
After she and Nick finished piling the two serving tables with food, she grasped him by the hand and said, “Now, I’d like to dance with my man.”
A smooth Maxwell groove had just begun. Nick grinned and pulled her close. No one else was dancing, but they didn’t care. They moved together as if their bodies had been specially made for each other. Belana had danced with a lot of professional dancers but this was so much better. With Nick she felt free and sensual. The feel of his hand at the small of her back sent lovely prickles of desire coursing through her. His muscular thigh touching hers made her want to get even closer to him.
Nick breathed in the intoxicating scent of her. Her skin, underneath his rough hands, felt like warm silk. In his mind he was already making love to her. This dance was just the prelude.
They were so engrossed in each other that they hadn’t noticed the music had stopped a couple minutes ago. They were jolted back to reality when everyone else in the room started clapping, whistling, shouting catcalls and “Get a room!”
“Very funny,” Belana groused as she and Nick reluctantly let go of one another. She glared at Erik who was standing suspiciously next to the wall unit that housed the sound system. “Turn the music back on.”
Erik hit the switch and Mary J. Blige began serenading them.
For the rest of the night, everyone kept it light, eating and drinking and laughing and simply enjoying each other’s company. Belana and Nick shared a love seat in one corner of the room, talking about anything and everything, and from time to time Belana would search the room for Ana and Erik and found them together each time, Ana smiling as though Erik were the most charming man on earth, which Belana seriously doubted what with his asinine behavior tonight. Not that she wouldn’t be perfectly happy if Ana became her sister-in-law. But she was not going to get involved.
At around one in the morning, Ana walked up to Belana and hugged her. “You were so sweet to do this for me. I was really missing my family. I think this is the first birthday I’ve spent without them. But you made it a happy one.” She turned around to look at Erik. He was talking to another guy. “I have to go home now, though, because I have a shoot tomorrow and if I don’t get eight hours I wake up looking like a raccoon.”
Belana wondered if Erik had offered to take Ana home, but swore she wouldn’t ask.
She hugged her much taller, five-ten friend and said, “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. How are you going to get home?”
“Someone offered me a ride,” Ana said, once again turning to look at Erik.
“All right, then,” Belana said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “I’ll call you. Don’t forget to take the rest of your cake home with you.”
Belana had had the wonderful Lyla Daly of Lyla’s Cakes make Ana’s birthday cake. It had been the highlight of tonight’s menu. A Southern treat: red velvet cake with cream cheese icing. Belana didn’t want it in the house for fear she’d finish it off. Homemade cakes were her weakness.
“Oh, no,” Ana said, mirroring Belana’s thoughts. “That cake is too delicious to come home with me. Send it home with someone who can stand the calories.”
Belana laughed and walked her to the door where Erik, having extricated himself from his conversation, was waiting. He kissed Belana’s cheek. “Good night, sis, I had a good time.”
“Mostly at my expense,” Belana said. She playfully shoved him out the door. “And don’t come back!” she shouted. Erik and Ana laughed all the way down the hall.
When she turned around, Nick was behind her. He smiled. “Party breaking up?” he asked hopefully. He and Belana, as far as he was concerned, were long overdue for some alone time. Nona was staying with his mother this weekend. Tonight was Friday. He had two nights to spend with the woman he loved and these people were cutting into his time.
“I can’t just throw everybody out,” Belana whispered.
“Allow me,” Nick said. He cleared his throat and said loud enough to be heard over the music, “People, it’s time to say good-night!”
Some looked around at him and laughed as if he were joking. They continued dancing and talking animatedly.
Nick was about to try again when Belana grasped him by the arm. “Wait, I’ve got an idea.”
She went over to the bartender who was looking rather haggard after four and a half hours of preparing drinks and handing them over with a smile. His jaw muscles were sore from smiling. So, when Belana walked over and softly asked him to tell a little white lie and say that all the booze was gone, he happily obliged.
He waited until someone else walked up to him to smile and say, “I’m sorry, but the bar is dry.”
“What?” asked a guy with curly blond hair. “Are you positive?”
“I’m the one mixing the drinks,” said the bartender in menacing tones. He picked up an empty vodka bottle, thereby flexing his huge biceps.
The blond guy held up his hands in defeat. “Okay, you don’t have to get testy.”
“I do when you’re up in my grill telling me I’m a liar,” said the bartender.
Belana walked up to them and stood between them as if she had to break up a fight. “I’m sorry, everybody,” she called loudly, “but we’re out of libations. If you don’t mind drinking tap water, please continue partying.”
Nick, who was standing beside her, said, “I thought we were trying to get rid of them.”
&nbs
p; “Wait,” Belana said.
Sure enough, the partiers started finishing off the potent potables they had in their hands, setting their glasses down, and heading for the door, or in the case of those who still followed the rules of social decorum, walked up to Belana and thanked her for a lovely evening.
In fifteen minutes, they’d all left.
After the last guest had departed, Belana surveyed the mess they’d left behind: glasses, plates, forks and napkins covered the serving tables, the coffee table and end tables. She went to pick up a discarded plate from the coffee table, and Nick grabbed her wrist. “I’ll help you clean up in the morning.”
“But look at it,” Belana protested. The mess was an affront to her compulsive cleanliness sensibilities.
Nick, not wanting to waste yet more time debating, simply picked her up and began walking to the bedroom. “I’ll get roaches,” Belana cried, as he carried her away from the mess. “You know New York City cockroaches. They can invade in the middle of the night and rearrange your furniture!”
Nick laughed. “I never liked the couch in that spot, anyway.”
Belana laughed and went limp in his arms, back arched and hand thrown dramatically over her forehead. “Okay, I surrender!”
“What a ham,” was Nick’s opinion of her performance.
In the bedroom he set her down beside the bed and the first thing they did was to get out of their shoes. Then they stood entwined in each other’s arms, kissing. Their bodies sang with the need to be as one. Belana used to wonder what true sexual synchronization would feel like because with her other lovers she had not achieved the sheer bliss that she had been told was possible between lovers who were in tune with each other. With Nick, she knew that sublime sensation.
It sounded cheesy, but it was like that old song: she was the magnet and he was steel. She pressed her hands against his hard, muscular chest and moaned with pleasure.