by Jones, Ayla
“Do you want to order?” Charlie asked Samira. His eyes barely shifted away from me.
“Yeah. Flatbread. Shrimp, scallop, chicken, and lamb mezze plates. We can share.”
“Everyone good with that?” Charlie asked but he didn’t seem satisfied with the agreement until I nodded. Soon Denise and John were being cutesy and testing the limits of their self-control with a few kisses, and completely ignoring the three of us. When Ghost returned, he whispered something to Charlie, who then laughed and told Samira. I reached for my phone to find something to look at, to avoid the awkward exclusion from the conversation.
“Is it okay if we talk about this right now?” Samira asked Ghost, and he shrugged.
“Old news, anyway.”
“So, Ghost was engaged a few months ago.” Her tone was grim but she looked amused.
“Shit was never gonna work,” Charlie mumbled, trying not to laugh.
Ghost frowned but didn’t look the least bit offended. “Hey! I was in love!”
Samira groaned. “We convinced him to call it off because it would’ve been a huge disaster. Huge. Charlie and I would’ve been elbowing each other the whole time in the church, like ‘Really?’” I liked them already. These people who canceled each other’s weddings. “Anyway, he just ran into the chick’s sister. God, Miami feels so small sometimes. His ex is engaged. Again. That girl was sweet but was just in love with the idea of love. And I never saw that spring in his step or that look between them—you know, when they were in the same room together—that look that just takes the floor out from under you. And Ghost knows he didn’t have that. These two clearly do…” She smiled and pointed to Denise and John.
“You sound like the inside of a fuckin’ Hallmark card, Mira,” Ghost said with a dismissive grimace, but throughout Samira’s short story his expression had more or less confirmed that he hadn’t really been in love.
“I’ve been with Patrick since we were eighteen. I know what I’m talking about,” she said. I nodded at her. But like Ghost, I hadn’t experienced what she had described, either. I dated a guy from the ballet company during the first year. It was my first serious relationship and it ended when he signed with a New York dance company. Then I met a guy in rehab I really liked, but dating was strictly forbidden. And my (many) adventures on the Dating for Alcoholics website were a bust. The floor stayed firmly beneath my feet each time. I’d felt more sizzle in the total minutes Charlie had stared at me than all of those combined.
When the food and drinks came, Charlie and Ghost moved on to another conversation they didn’t want us to hear. Samira brought her chair closer to mine. Then the questions rolled off her tongue in rapid-fire fashion; I felt like I was in the lightning round of a game show. I gave her the brief rundown on my family, how long I’d been dancing, and what life was like with a ballet company.
Her phone rang before I got a chance to ask about her. “Okay, Patrick’s calling…again,” she said, eyeing the screen of her cell. The handsome face of a guy with blue eyes and black hair appeared. “I swear he gets amnesia about the whereabouts of everything in our house when he’s alone with our baby girl. Mind you, she’s able to find everything usually.”
“You have a baby?” I asked loudly, gawking at her smoking hot body. She was curvy, but everything was firm, and with a dress that short and tight she wasn’t getting any help from Spanx.
“Oh, I like you.” Samira beamed at me before she replied to the call with a text.
Charlie flipped his phone around and slid it across the table. On the screen was a series of photos of him making faces with a child on his lap. “There’s Booger. That’s Lux Charlotte.” His eyes were alight with pride and I got butterflies. “She’s my goddaughter.” He must’ve really adored her; no one beat a parent to showing off pictures of their own kid.
Samira sighed. “Okay, I have to go home now because my baby is still awake and misses me. The husband-baby, not the baby-baby.”
“The Fun Police reporting for duty,” Charlie joked.
“We’re going to double the fun killing, actually; we’re heading out, too,” Denise said, rising from her seat. John’s hand was on her butt and she winked at me. John handed money to Charlie even after he turned it down. Denise gave me a big hug and whispered, “Probably not a sex cult but I’d join his if there is one.”
“I know, right? We’ll talk tomorrow,” I whispered back, and then they left.
“Call me when you get home, and give Booger a high-five for me tomorrow,” Charlie said to Samira.
“One…” She playfully slapped his face. “Get a new nickname for my daughter.” Samira turned to me. “And two, for the love of God, for me, for my old life, please dance on top of something tonight.” She kissed Charlie on the cheek. “Even if it’s him. It was really nice meeting you!” She was still waving when Ghost hooked his arm around her shoulders and walked her out.
“She’s a trip,” Charlie said, but his face reddened. I was pretty sure mine had, too. He pushed the plates aside. Then he leaned until he was over the halfway point of the table, his fingers linked in front of him. “So…hi, dancer with a past.” He smiled. Wow, he was really good-looking.
“Hey, vigilante,” I said, smiling back. “Find my iPod yet?”
“Nah. No time. Too busy getting ready for tonight. Couldn’t have you looking at me like you were earlier today.”
“Oh? And how was that?”
“Not like you’re looking at me now…” he said with a smirk.
“So that’s why you didn’t ask for my number…”
“Well…I’m asking now.” He lifted my hand and placed it on top of his phone, which was still in front of me. His eyes never left my face. His gaze flooded me with nervous energy: that mix of excitement and euphoria and anxiety that turned you into a blathering idiot if you weren’t careful. I already couldn’t keep my feet still under the table or my mouth from going dry. I was not the awkward around hot men or new people type at all, so imagine my surprise at this development.
I knew this place well enough to know that the DJ was about to spin a mix a few years too old for majority of the people in here, like he always did, so when Ghost came back, I coaxed Charlie to the dance floor. To shake off my nerves. Bulldozing our way to the center, we ended up right below the DJ booth. Obviously I loved dancing. I didn’t miss being the drunkest girl at the party, but I still loved the perks of the party: disappearing into a song and not caring that it ravaged my eardrums.
We sang at the top of our lungs when the DJ threw in some classics. My throat was actually strained after two back-to-back remixed Aerosmith songs. I was sure we sounded like a pair of injured parakeets during the high parts of “Dream On.” When the DJ went back to Top Forty, we headed for the table, which was crowded now. In a flash, I was shaking hands with Deacon, Charlie’s roommate; Brody, Charlie’s other roommate; and Shaw, a friend they’d gotten to know from the club scene. Each one remarkably represented a stage of intoxication, the steps from buzzed to blitzed. A benefit of being sober all the time was seeing how ridiculous everyone else looked drunk.
“What’s the move? Deek says he can’t be here all night…” Ghost said.
Mouth full of quesadilla, Deek gaped at my chest. All the alcohol in his system didn’t really allow for inconspicuous ogling of my boobs. Although this guy didn’t seem like he would do it any differently if he were sober. “This fucking place is shitty, Charles,” he said to my nipples. “Let’s go to Glass. What made you pick this dump, anyway? I mean the food’s good, but the dance floor is loaded with fives and sixes. I only say sixes because I’ve been drinking and it’s dark. Probably mostly fives. Or fours—”
“Finish up. Then we can figure it out.” Charlie grimaced as he tossed some bills onto the table. “You wanna get some air?” he asked me and I nodded.
Ocean Drive was serving up typical South Beach nightlife around us outside—eclectic beats, droves of people on the sidewalk, and outfits that towed the lines
of decency. “They’re drunk as hell; they’re not going to make it to Glass,” Charlie said. “Do you really want to go?”
“I haven’t been but Denise loves it, which means I’ll probably hate it. A lot,” I said, laughing. “Plus, we haven’t settled on who I’m playing on your show yet. How do acting auditions work, anyway?”
“Well, they tell me about themselves, usually, and then—before Hillington—I actually just made them read the newspaper out loud before reading lines. The way the character would. Anyone can prep the same lines over and over and come in and be perfect. I like to see them think fast on their feet. Improv. I think I have an old paper in my car, actually…” He ticked his head in a direction.
“Really? Such a serial killer thing to say,” I teased. We walked just down the block and he aimed a fob at his car, which was parked on the other side of the street. Charlie crossed the road and opened the driver-side door but I stayed where I was. “You’ve been drinking. You shouldn’t even be sitting in the driver’s seat,” I said. He rounded the car and got in the passenger seat much to my relief.
“Don’t worry; I’m leaving it here and we’re cabbing back home. And…told you there was a newspaper…” he said, reaching behind the seat. He handed it to me. “See…not a serial killer. But you’re probably judging me based on my friends now…”
“That Deacon seems…interesting.”
He grinned. “Ha! That’s one way to describe what Deacon is…” Damn. I noticed earlier that when Charlie smiled the curve tended to dominate one side. I thought it was incredibly sexy. Again, my panties were staying on tonight, but he’d probably end up as masturbatory material when I got home. “They’re all good guys. Even him. Sometimes.”
“I could say the same about you. Ghost told me what you did for me with the bill today.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Whatever the reason is that he gave me a discount for the work, thank you. But it’s not blackmail, is it?” I asked, half-joking. “Like…a naked video?” He huffed out a laugh. “So there’s a naked video.”
“Jesus. No.”
“Sex cult?”
“Not…that…I…know of…what?”
I sighed, laughing a little. “It would just make me feel a lot better if I knew why. He was in that shop longer than he needed to be. I feel bad.” I wore guilt like skin.
“Fine. We all know the story but you can never tell him I told you. Deal?” I nodded. “Ghost and I are the same age, and we were in the same fourth grade class in elementary school. Anyway, everyone in the class got to have a birthday party. You know, your parents bring cupcakes and the class sings “Happy Birthday.” You get to waste the last hour of school. Well, Ghost didn’t get that. And I asked my mom why. I don’t remember what she told me but I didn’t like it. I learned years later, though, that he’d bounced around from group home to group home—that’s actually how he and Deek know each other—and he never really got to experience even the little things, like a silly class birthday party. Anyway, I insisted that we throw something for him. Mom didn’t agree at first. But I wrapped up some of my favorite toys and books to give to him, and I guess she realized I was serious, so she worked something out with our teacher. She baked some cupcakes, and he got to have a party. Ghost and I became really good friends after that. We just look out for each other whenever…I guess.”
“Wow…that’s really sweet of you.”
“Yeah, but Ghost’s been incredibly supportive of me, too. He was our one-man street team when we launched How to Fuck up a Friendship.”
“So, are you ready for your meeting tomorrow?”
Charlie shrugged. “Sort of. Made my mom prep me earlier tonight. She’s a mergers and acquisitions attorney and spends a lot of time negotiating, so I figured she was the one to talk to if I need to push hard with those Hillington guys. My stepdad played one of the men from Hillington. They’re really excited about the whole thing.” His face lit up as he talked about his parents. I loved that they were close. I used to have that. I still had that, but it was pure once.
“They believe in your dreams.”
“Yeah, and I’m so grateful, but it’s a lot more fuckin’ pressure. They’ve invested emotionally—and financially—so I want to make them see that it was completely worth it. My stepdad grew up in a tiny village outside of Mumbai, and my mom’s family is from one of the poorest areas in Puerto Rico. I’ve seen how hard they’ve worked to get where they are.” With a heavy sigh, he slumped down and shut his eyes. “Succeeding is about them, too, you know. They’ve done everything to make sure my sisters and I never want for anything, and I don’t want to screw this up. It’s part of the reason I’ve been working so hard on getting the scripts right and making sure the story is strong enough and the acting is good and everything looks amazing on screen.”
“And not seeing the tears in the crowd,” I said.
Charlie’s brow furrowed before he reopened his eyes. “The what?”
“I was in Swan Lake, and I got to play Odette and Odile. If you learn nothing else about ballet, know that these are the roles nearly every female dancer wants when her company puts it on, especially if she gets to play both. We will spend every waking moment—forgoing food and sleep—perfecting it. On opening night, while I was performing, I analyzed every move I made. Everything felt wrong, and I was furious by the time it ended. A woman from the audience came up to me after the performance, bawling her eyes out. She said she’d never seen anything like the way I danced that night. I thanked her but I blew it off in my mind. All I told myself was that it should’ve been better. I picked at it for days, finding every flaw I could, until it became the worst performance I’d ever had, in my mind. Earlier today when you were tearing your work apart the way you were, you reminded me of me. Look, it’s okay to want to work harder, to improve, but enjoy succeeding, too. And enjoy how you’ve touched people. You can’t let yourself forget—”
“The tears in the crowd,” he said, nodding, getting it.
“Exactly.”
“I like that…and I’ll try.” No. Oh fuck. He was doing it again. The smile thing. It got me hot again, too. “Hm. You are something, Nikki…” Do NOT sleep with him tonight. Pretend your underwear has a chastity belt. I wriggled around in the seat.
“Something?”
“Yeah. Something.” He took his iPhone out of his pocket and plugged it into the auxiliary hole on the car’s dash. “Turn on the engine. I hate a world without music.”
“Me, too. Is that a song lyric on your arm?” I asked as I turned the key. Charlie shook his head but didn’t explain.
“So…don’t expect anything as amazing as your collection, but…” He shuffled through the songs, barely letting one play for more than a few seconds before moving on.
“Whoa. I haven’t heard this in a while.” I grabbed his wrist. “Can you keep it here?” I turned the volume up on Kings of Leon’s “Wicker Chair.”
Charlie raised his eyebrows, but his gaze was stuck on my hand. The warmth I’d felt earlier when he touched my back returned. “This song is always playing in my car and no one ever knows it. I’d believe you if you said you were really a fan.”
“You know how when you first discover a band and they’re still playing mostly on college radio? You know they’re struggling to break out as artists, but it’s just so damn good. It’s urgent and anxious. It’s painful and passionate. It’s not mainstream radio-friendly. And you’re singing songs no one else really knows? I love that. It just feels like you own it. ‘Youth & Young Manhood’ was that album for me. It got me through a rough patch. I was looking to connect with something. And I wanted a voice in my head that wasn’t my own…when I was in rehab.” I cleared my throat. “So…how much do you actually want to know? About my real story. About this dancer with a past…”
“Anything you want to tell me, Nikki, which could be nothing at all.” His eyes were almost black without much light in the
car. Yet there was a soothing quality about them. “No pressure. We did just meet a few hours ago.”
And maybe that was why I wanted to explain everything. But as I took in his kind smile, I hesitated. I never had before with anyone. Nothing about the way he was looking at me said he was trying to probe or guess what I was going to say. He was just…waiting. For me to talk, or not talk for that matter. It was sweet. So, speaking felt like a risk now because…he was something to lose?
What? I don’t even know him. But I want to. And I want him to know me. It’s important that he does.
I took a deep breath. This was normally the time when what I said broke my relationships with others. But I still refused to close off or shut down or run away. I didn’t want the accident or alcohol to define me, but they were both as present as any tangible part of me. “I had my first sip of alcohol when I was about fifteen. At a party. It’s hard to explain what happened but…it just made everything better. And they weren’t even bad. Ballet is so much about control and perfection. When I was drunk I didn’t have to be that. It was different. I wanted to be out of control sometimes. See how the other half lived. Being drunk is fun. That’s a universal fact. And I drank on and off for years without a problem.
“At So Cal, I started drinking mostly to relax on the weekends. Then it was Thursday nights, too. Then Wednesday, because the middle of the week is rough, right? Pretty soon I had to drink to get out of bed in the morning. And then I was doing it just to function, period. I was a mess—missing rehearsals, too hungover when I was there, and embarrassing my friends when we went out. My company finally got sick of my antics, and I was fired midseason two and a half years ago. I moved back to Miami, and I was blaming everyone for my problems, yet still drinking and partying all the time.
“One night, I had a bit—a lot—to drink at a bar while I was waiting to pick my dad up from the airport. He was tired and he fell asleep on the drive back. I hit another car straight on. A man, his wife, and their daughter. They’d just had a great week on vacation and were on their way home from Disney. When I hit them, the daughter…” I looked away from Charlie and stared at the stream of headlights going by. “Camryn…suffers from a Traumatic Brain Injury now.”