by Kayla Perrin
Despite Jay’s denials, was there something going on between him and Naderia?
He acted as if there wasn’t, but he was good at keeping his emotions under wraps. Naderia made it no secret that they’d been involved, and she intended for them to be a couple again.
Vivian knew she had to go back, if only to lock up for the night, and she would never walk out of her studio again. If anything, she’d put everyone else out. Starting with all high-heeled, loudmouthed troublemakers.
The door to the restaurant opened and closed, and raindrops sprinkled the bar next to her.
Jay’s cologne was distinctive. “You never leave your house. Kick assholes out, but you never leave.”
She chuckled. “I was just reflecting on that. Margarita?” she offered.
“Is it good?” He took hers and sipped.
She gazed up at him. “I just offered to buy you one.”
“I didn’t want my own.”
“Are you flirting with me, Jay?”
“The dancer finally catches on.”
He sat on the stool beside her and swung her way, his arm on the bar.
“What’s your girlfriend up to?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. We dated a couple months ago, but Naderia only hears and does what she wants to hear and do. I’m not into being hateful to women, but she’s been warned to stop the lies and the nonsense.”
“But?”
“But she believes if she denies we’re not together, it won’t be true. She’s using this thing about Destinee’s mom as leverage, and I suppose the rest of us are letting her.”
Vivian nodded. “You must have been really good to her.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He sidestepped her obvious leap into his business. “She paid for the floor and left. She might be leaving the wedding party altogether. I don’t care if she stays or goes. I’m tired of trying to keep up appearances just for Destinee.”
Vivian nodded again. “The thing is, Jay, I’m not the high-maintenance type. I don’t make scenes, I don’t show off, and I don’t demand attention.”
Jay laughed, stroking where her arm met her shoulder. “Yes, you do.”
Vehemently, Vivian shook her head. “No, I don’t.” She then shook off the thrill of his touch. He’d excited her earlier, and that’s what had angered her about Naderia. She’d ruined their good time. The anger was returning. “I’m nothing like that spoiled woman. Stomping all over my floor. Who does she think she is?”
Jay grinned at her and pulled some cash out of his pocket. He left three twenties on the bar. “Come on, Ms. Don’t Make Scenes.”
“Where?” Vivian stood, and the room revolved a quarter turn. Jay caught her as she swooned. “Oh, my.”
“Come on, I’ve got you.”
They left the restaurant, and Vivian didn’t mind Jay’s arm around her waist. He helped her into his car and they took off. Pressed back into the seat by the speed of his ride, Vivian closed her eyes enjoying the motion. Her little Cutlass registered every bump and dip in the road. This car practically floated.
Signs from businesses seemed to float by. “I need to lock up the studio.”
“Mr. Sullivan stopped by, and he locked the doors. I gave him an autograph and he was fine. I told him you were sick and had to leave in a hurry.”
Vivian turned in the fast-moving Audi. The liquor was playing with her head, but not so much that she wasn’t grateful. “Thank you. He could have canceled my contract.”
“You can repay me by continuing to teach me how to dance.” He stopped the car and parked. Hopping out, he ran around and opened her door.
“Where are we?”
“A place a friend of mine owns. Come on.”
The bass beat coming from the Club Carlyle could be felt inside the car. “Jay, I’m not dressed to go to a club.”
“You look fine. The people here are real down-to-earth. Come on. We’re just going to dance.”
“But I have on a leotard and tights, with a ballet skirt barely covering my butt.”
He took her hand and guided her out of the car. “I promise. You’ll be the best-dressed woman in there.”
Vivian got out of the car, grabbing only her shrug sweater and lip gloss; the rain had since slowed to a mist. Her bag was too big and bulky to bring inside. She had changed into high-heeled boots upon leaving the studio but she felt that she looked like a hooker rather than a professional dancer. She ran the roller of gloss over her lips, and then Jay took the tube and put it in his pocket.
“Are you sure I’m going to be okay in there?”
By then they were at the door and Jay was fist-bumping some guy who let them inside. They walked up a long hallway and into the club. It was deceptively large and nicely built with shiny wood floors and a marble bar that stretched to all four corners. Men and women filled the space, lingering here and there, while some danced.
Jay walked her straight to the dance floor, taking her by the waist.
Despite her reservations about not being dressed appropriately, and being a little tipsy, the music felt good and Vivian couldn’t help but enjoy moving with Jay. He had become a smooth dancer in just a short amount of time. His steps were sure, and he smiled a lot as he danced. He wasn’t afraid to spin and just do his thing. Without knowing it, he was doing Cha-cha moves and Lambada steps, but it was his Dougie that got her going.
Jay was masculine and sexy, and so fine that when she reached up and touched his face, it felt natural.
He kissed her palm, and they moved into a slow boxed step she hadn’t taught him.
“You’ve got skills you didn’t let me know you had.”
“A man has to have some secrets.”
“Yeah, we do, bruh. Your wife is gorgeous.” The man dancing next to them wore a fashionable straw hat, with a black band, and his lady, a red suede skirt.
“She’s—”
“Thank you,” Vivian interrupted. “He doesn’t care about us,” she said beneath her breath.
* * *
The man continued on his way; he and his lady sliding into a Chicago Step dance move as R. Kelly belted out his tune.
The dance floor had gotten crowded with couples squeezed in real close. Vivian moved in close to Jay as the DJ slowed down the music. They didn’t do the typical two-step Grind, instead, a more sensual dance done close and in sync. People watched them with approving looks on their faces.
Jay brought her to him, his hands sliding over her butt and staying there. Vivian started to back away, but he held her firm.
“Jay, people are watching.”
“You’re a dancer. You’re meant to be watched.”
He leaned his head down to kiss her then. Firm but gentle lips met hers, the pressure just right. Her arms glided around his neck, her body against his, and her heartbeat thundered, deep and throbbing, that made her want more.
She had to end this showcase of intimacy. Jay was well-known on TV, and she was not going to be remembered for being the woman he made out with on the dance floor.
Slowly, Vivian pulled away.
“Dance for me,” he asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “Not here.”
“You only dance when strangers are paying you?”
Jay was still holding her waist, and she could tell he was joking. Still his words stung a bit. “I should slap you.”
His fingers strummed her waist. “I’d get you back somehow.”
“I can’t be baited, Jay. I’m a professional.”
“I didn’t get my full lesson tonight, and I still have to pay for it. It’s in the contract.”
“I won’t dance alone.”
“Bust Your Windows” began to play by Jazmine Sullivan, and the floor cleared a bit. Apparently men weren’t exactly fon
d of the song.
Vivian did a series of pirouette turns, stopped and swept across the small space back to Jay. She used the words in the music to motivate her movements, playing with them and him, sliding up and down his body until he threw his head back and laughed. She was behind him, goading him, the lyrics of the song echoing through the room. The other patrons were into their little display, as Jay pretended to explain and Vivian wasn’t having it.
She pretended to bust the windows, executing turns and leaps, landing with powerful blows on his imaginary car. Getting right up on Jay, she showed him why she should be in the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, with one of her high leaps. In the end, she unthreaded his necktie and took it with her, tossing it at his feet before leaving the floor.
The audience went wild.
Watching her, Jay stuck his hands in his pockets, put his head down and walked off to thunderous applause.
Chapter 6
The next practice started as if nothing had happened the prior week. Only Naderia never showed. Vivian pushed them hard and by the end of the night everyone was limp and weary.
Elliott shouldered both his and Idalia’s bags, holding his wife’s hand as they walked out. “I’m giving you a massage when we get home.”
“I’m not going to complain, but you have to take off those leg warmers first.”
He kissed her softly and held the door for her to walk out ahead of him.
Vivian watched and Jay started for her, but Harv got to her first.
“They’re adorable.” Vivian toweled her neck as Beth and Harv crowded around her.
“They’re the reason the best man and the real maid of honor aren’t walking up the aisle together. Elliott wasn’t having it. Idalia is the real best friend of the bride.”
Vivian looked on with interest. “You’re kidding.”
Harv shook his head. “No. Elliott said that’s his wife, and if she’s walking up the aisle with anyone, it’s with him. So now we have Cruella de Ville with Jay.”
“That’s quite a story,” Vivian said, unable to tear her gaze away from Jay. Watching him through the mirrors, he was trying the tick-tick movements, but was getting them all wrong.
“He really sucks today,” Harv said, and got poked in the stomach by his wife.
“You just stopped being pregnant. Do you wanna try it again? And stop talking about Naderia. She needs a friend right now.”
Vivian moved out of earshot of the bickering couple and onto the dance floor. “Bend your knee, crook your arm,” she told Jay. “And move your body up, arm up, over, over, over.”
She walked nearer to him, taking his arm and moving it into position. Their gazes met and held. “Come on,” she encouraged in a quiet voice.
“My arm isn’t remembering anything. It hurts.”
“Soak in the tub of Epsom salts tonight. It was remembering fine last week. Five, six, seven, eight.”
Jay watched himself in the mirror, his arms doing strange things. Vivian could see his problem. Harv and his wife, Beth, had let their bags fall off their shoulders and were watching them. Harv moved his arms, but made no move to join them on the floor.
“Jay, don’t watch yourself. Watch me and do what I do,” Vivian told him. “Join us,” she encouraged the other two members, but they declined.
She moved into the dance and soon had Jay dancing without stopping. He lifted her and set her down, moving in and out of step with an easy flow. He wasn’t quite ready to close his eyes, but he was getting there.
The fourth time, he took her into his arms, and when it was time to let her go, he didn’t. “You think I don’t know what you did?” he asked, looking tired.
“What did I do?”
“You got me to stop watching myself,” he answered, waving to Harv and his wife who signaled they were heading home.
Vivian waved to the exiting couple, and then turned her attention back to her dance partner.
“You’re so full of yourself, you’re dazzled by your own beauty. You couldn’t keep your eyes off yourself.” She couldn’t finish the insult with a straight face. She relaxed in his arms. It was late, well past 9:30 p.m., and they were finally alone.
“I’ll get you back for that comment.”
Vivian thought of pulling away, but Jay probably wouldn’t let her, so she didn’t try. “I don’t have time to play with you. I have to practice. Go home.”
“Only if you come with me.”
The invitation shook her up a bit. She’d thought of him all weekend. He’d told her he played basketball on the weekends. All she could think about was him in basketball shorts, on a court playing in a shirts-and-skins game. He’d be on the skins team. The idea of him with a bare chest took her breath away.
Vivian shook her head and the music stopped. “No, I’m not coming with you.”
“I’ll take you to dinner. You have to eat.”
“I eat. I have food in my bag. Now you have to go. I’m serious. I have to practice.”
“The dance you were doing the other day?”
“Nobody is supposed to have seen that. It’s not ready.”
Jay followed her to the music stand and started stretching his warm muscles to cool them down. “Why not? It was beautiful.”
“That’s the problem. It’s not supposed to be. It’s supposed to haunt you.”
He nodded. “Well, the problem is the music. You have to choose something darker. Something heavier. ‘At Last’ is a love song. When you analyze the lyrics, she’s talking about how she’s finally found the love she’s been looking for. She’s been waiting for him and it’s like heaven now that he’s finally hers.”
She gazed at him from beneath her lashes, unwilling to admit he’d just impressed the hell out of her. “I understand, but I have to use that song. They chose it. I just have to change the choreography, but I have to do that without you here. You distract...”
“I distract you?”
Her nod was brief but sure. She hated admitting anything to his probing green eyes. They missed nothing. He knew she was attracted to him. “I promise not to bother you.”
“No.”
She pushed him, but he caught her hands and when he did, he brought her arms around his waist. “Why not?”
“Sometimes I cry. Sometimes, I stop and sit down and think, or I roll on the floor. Dancing is not all leaping in the air and spinning around. It’s a process like anything.”
“Okay. I’m going then.”
She pulled her arms away from his waist, squeezed his hand and let go. “Thank you, Jay.”
He put on his jacket and grabbed his bag. “See you Wednesday.”
“Okay. Good night.”
Vivian turned on the video cameras and blasted the music, closing her eyes, reflecting on the heaviest tones of Etta’s voice. Vivian leaped into Etta’s breaths, and swung her body on the grooves of the sultry alto. This woman hadn’t had a man in a while, though she’d yearned for one.
Yearned. The dance began there. From that wanting place. That secret little quiet spot of desire everyone had experienced at one time or another.
From there she found the soul of the dance, the true meaning of “At Last.” It wasn’t fast or rushed. It was poignant, tender. The singer meant love was finally there. She soared on “I” and landed, the smile vibrating up her body when the move was inside and outside of her. The dance took over until she was too weary to go on. She collapsed on the floor and grew cold.
Elongating her body, she stretched each muscle until it was properly cooled and only then did she turn down the music and turn up the studio lights.
Turning toward the door, she saw the flashing lights of a police squad car in the parking lot. As she looked closer, she saw a familiar face and hurried outside.
Chapter 7
“Somebody stole your tires? Why didn’t you come back into the studio?”
Jay eyed the woman he’d just watched perform the most amazing dance he’d ever seen in his life and finally found his voice.
“I called the police instead. They just got here. I thought I should stay with the car in case they came back.”
“So they could attack you?” the officer and Vivian said as the same time.
“Are you crazy?” Vivian demanded.
Vivian paced the parking lot behind his car. The flatbed wrecker truck pulled into the lot, making a lot of noise for 11:00 p.m. The driver had Jay sign some paperwork before hooking up his car and towing it away.
The officer handed him a slip of paper. “You can call this number in twenty-four hours and get your police report. Your insurance company will probably need that information. Sorry it took so long, but we had higher priority calls to take.”
Jay accepted the slip and shook his head in disgust. “Appreciate it. I’ll be sure to mention you on my show.”
“Don’t bother,” the female officer said, walking back to her squad car. She drove away, looking sad.
“I wasn’t planning to dog her out.”
“It’s not her fault your car was vandalized, Jay. But are you hungry?” Vivian asked. “My treat.”
Jay shook his head and looked at the ground. “No, I’ve got to get home. I’m worried about Gretchen.”
“Gretchen? Is that your girlfriend? Do you need to use my phone?” she offered, disappointment filling her.
“No, Gretchen is my car. What if she falls off that wrecker? What if he steals her? We should follow him. He was driving very fast.”
Vivian started laughing and didn’t stop until she was doubled over.
Jay could feel stupid crawling all over himself. “What’s so funny?”
“You bring your fancy car into this neighborhood and don’t expect anybody to want it? Sorry, you got jacked, Mr. Big Shot. And now you’re going to hang around more of the area to get double jacked? Come, let me drop you off at home. I don’t want anybody to take your Rolex watch and your Prada shoes.”