by Anna B. Doe
So, I dance.
In exhilaration, I find my peace.
In the darkness, I reach the light.
It could be minutes, or it could be days. I don’t know. When my eyes open all of the students are gone and the light in the studio is dimmed.
I can feel sweat pouring down my face and under my emerald leotard. My breathing is hard and noisy.
“Your mom said to let you dance.”
My eyes snap to the far corner, as my heart starts beating even faster than a second before, and find Grace sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, looking at me. She gets up, brushing the dust off the back of her turquoise tights.
“You should be a dancer, Sienna. You look so happy when you dance. So free. So beautiful.”
Her awed tone and wide eyes—the same eyes that reminded me of her douchebag brother—make me giggle. “I’m not that good of a dancer.”
I walk toward her because on the floor by her side are both of our bags. With one hand, I grab the towel to dry my sweaty face and with the other, I grab a water bottle and drink half of it in one swallow.
There is nothing like a good dance routine to awaken and use all of the muscles in your body.
I haven’t danced for a long time, being busy with work and all, so I guess I forgot how demanding it can be. Tomorrow I’ll wake up sore. I can already sense it, but it was so worth it.
Grace shrugs at my comment. “Does it matter when it makes you happy? I’ve stalked you on the internet …”
“You what?” I almost chock on my water.
“Internet. I was curious about what you do, so I Googled you. You look beautiful in all of the photos, but I didn’t see this kind of happiness in any of them.”
Her words make my heart squeeze painfully in my chest. How can she know it? How can this twelve-year-old girl see what millions of other people don’t?
They see perfection and beauty of the cover, not thinking twice about all the hard work put into it.
“So, yes.” She nods her head once like she is making one important decision. “I think you should dance more.”
“I’m thinking about retiring.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. My hand covers my mouth like I want to hold them in, but it’s already too late, so I let it fall back down to my side. “From modeling.”
“What would you do then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should think about dance. Not professionally or anything like that. But work as a teacher here or someplace else …” Grace nervously brushes her hair behind her ear and I can see the faint redness of her cheeks. “You don’t have to do it. It’s just a thought … But you seemed happy and the girls miss you when you are not here and …”
“Grace?” I call, in hopes to stop her nervous rambling.
“Yeah?”
She lifts her head and looks at me through the curtain of her dark hair.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You will?”
I laugh at her surprised, yet hopeful face. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”
Loud knocking sound interrupts us. Frowning, I look at her. “What time is it anyway?”
“Almost eight.” Grace puts her phone back into the pocket of her hoodie.
One of the Knights’ hoodies.
I should know, I have one just like this one sitting in my closet, pushed into the far back so that I don’t get tempted to get it out. I bought it for the game William invited Anabel and me to come. It was the first and only time I wore it. Okay, maybe I did wear it afterward. But it was only once! And I was home and wanted to be comfy, sue me.
She looks at the door behind me and smiles. “It’s J.D.” She bends down to get the strap of her gym bag and pull it over her shoulder. My shoulders stiffen at her words and before I can stop myself I look over my shoulder. “I text him …”
Her words become a blur in my brain because the only thing I can see are green eyes looking straight at mine through the small glass window in the door.
His face is an unreadable, stiff, and stone-like mask.
Green eyes bore into me.
Suddenly, my mouth feels dry. I swallow hard and my tongue comes out to wet my cracked lips.
“Ohh …,” is the only smart thing I can utter. Her voice is a background noise filling the silence between J.D. and myself.
“Anyway, I better hurry up.”
Once she reaches the door, she turns halfway around to look at me over her shoulder. “I’ll see you next week?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Her smile is instant and so big it covers half her face. “See you then. And, Si?”
“Yeah?”
“Think about the dancing.”
The door shuts behind her, and I keep standing in the middle of the dance room. Towel thrown over my shoulder and water bottle in my hand.
J.D. was there, on the other side of the door.
He didn’t come in.
He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t even blink.
“She’s one nice girl, isn’t she?”
I turn around to the sound of Mom’s voice. She’s still wearing her simple black leotard and her blond hair is collected in a neat bun at the nape of her slender neck.
“Yes, she is.”
“She has potential.”
Acknowledging her with a nod of my head, I return to my bag and put my stuff back inside. “She thinks I should teach dance.”
“Do you want to?”
Mom and Dad never put their own dreams and wishes over my head. Both Lisa and I could choose to do with our lives what we wanted. What made us happy. Oh, they wanted what’s best for us, but they also understood that their best doesn’t necessarily equal our best.
“Maybe.”
She nods, her face not giving away one single thing or emotion, and walks to the stereo.
“You up to dance a bit more?” She looks at me over her shoulder with a soft smile on her lips.
Every muscle in my body protests but I stand up. “Like in the old times?”
“Like in the old times.”
Stupid woman!
Why do they have to be so confusing?
I kick it up a notch on the treadmill, although I’m not sure how much of my pent-up anger and frustration this machine can take. I hope a bit more, because if not, I’ll end up on my ass and embarrass myself.
Right what I need.
Then I could be angry and frustrated about something else because guys that are also working out today won’t stop harassing me about it for at least a few weeks.
“Shelton!”
Even with the noises of the gym, music blasting all around me and headphones in my ear with my preferred workout playlist on—all hard rock and heavy metal—I can hear my friend calling my name.
I take one earbud out and acknowledge William with the lift of my chin.
“Where have you been, man?” Will hops on the treadmill next to mine and starts slowly jogging.
“Busy.”
William Price is the quarterback of the New York Knights. He’s a big guy, not as big as me, but on the other hand, there aren’t many men out there who were. Or women for the matter. Just one. The one who’s frustrating the shit out of me.
We’ve been friends for a long time, although he is a few years younger than me. I was a new kid in town and he lived in the house next door. We both loved football, so we started playing together, the rest is history.
“With what?” Will’s hand goes through his already messy hair and brown eyes focus on me. They are dark like coffee or maybe somebody would compare them to chocolate, but the only thing I can notice is that they have nothing on Sienna’s golden-brown color. They aren’t as warm, as shiny. “The season is over, and as far as I know, Sienna is out of town.”
His words make me frown.
I’m thinking about her.
Again.
And what’s worse? Will knows I’m thinking about her
. Am I that obvious? “Not everything is about Sienna Roberts, Price.”
His brows rise in surprise at my grumpy tone, making me even angrier.
“What? Just because that little fairy of yours has you wrapped around her pinky doesn’t mean we all give women power over us.”
“Anabel doesn’t have me wrapped around her finger. Just because …,” he protests but I cut him off. I’m so not in the mood to listen to his perfect girlfriend. Who is a friend of the same person who is making me feel shitty.
“Oh, of course not. She has her small hand wrapped tightly around your dick and is dragging you around like a puppy for her to pet.”
“Seriously, man?” His voice is low and filled with anger.
I watch my friend come off the machine. His body is rigid and his fingers clench into fists by his side.
I hit the nerve. Good.
“Yes, seriously.” I also get down form machine and we are standing toe to toe. “Soon you’ll start to discuss your emotions and talk about moving in together or some other shit.”
I have a few inches on him, but I know him well enough that that doesn’t mean shit.
We had our fair share of fights growing up and sometimes he could be one sneaky dick. There is also the anger factor. Right now, we both had plenty of that, so I had no idea who had the better chance of winning if fists started flying around.
Maybe that is what I needed. One good fist fight to help me get out all this frustration and anger. Make me feel more centered. More myself.
But even when the thought enters my brain I push it away. If that is what I need, I wasn’t about to start it with my best friend. I wasn’t about to start it in my workplace, either. I’m too old for that shit.
“Listen to me, Shelton.” Will’s hands land hard on my chest and he gives me one strong shove. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but that fat mouth of yours will shut up now, and you won’t ever—do you hear me—ever speak about Anabel in that tone again. If I want, I’ll give her to drag me around town for my dick. And if I want I’ll ask her, or anyone else I want, to move in with me, that’s not your problem.”
I let him push me once more, but that’s the last time. I was a dick, I get it. Should I have said it? Probably not. Am I sorry? Maybe a little. Will I apologize? No chance in hell.
I don’t pick around his life so he shouldn’t try to do the same with me. We never discuss the women in our life. William bangs his, I bang mine. Sometimes they are friends, sometimes they aren’t. It’s not like we cared much. Not until Anabel and Sienna. Once those two came, it’s all that the guy’s been concentrated on.
There isn’t time, nor do I want to, think about Sienna. I have Grace to think about. Cassie is always there, in the back of my mind. She got her money, yes, but there are no guarantees she’ll stay away. And there is always next season and summer camp to think about. No guarantees on that field, either. You want to keep your spot? Come and earn it.
William turns around on the balls of his feet and starts walking toward the door. I stand on my spot, looking at his retreating back. My mind is miles away, lost in its own world. But not far enough not to hear his parting words.
“Don’t worry, Shelton. I won’t come so soon to talk to you about my feelings. After all, you have to be man enough to talk about them, the thing you obviously aren’t.”
“I think this covers it.”
“Good,” I mutter. “Because I can take no more.”
Alice, my agent, laughs from the other side of the table. If you can call it a laugh.
It’s stiff, simply a curve of her lips because her facial features can barely move. I guess she got her newest shot of Botox recently.
Once upon a time, she was beautiful. Her long, silky hair was platinum blond. Her blue eyes were bright and her skin had a natural look and tan all around the year because of her constant traveling.
When she was younger she was a model. Working with the best brands, agencies, and photographers she made a name for herself and connections that now help her work as an agent.
Now she looks washed out. At forty-something her hair is not as silky as it was before, her tan has an orange tone to it and she’s trying to hide her growing age behind Botox, not eating properly, and exercising too much only to wear clothes that don’t fit her age at all.
But she’s one of the best and all these contracts that I’ve just signed show it.
“My brain hurts from trying to organize my schedule to fit all of this in and my hand is stiff from signing my name on a dotted line.”
“There are so many bigger problems than that, my darling.”
I remember J.D. and our fight.
“Tell me about it.”
Our waiter finally brings us our food, and I dig in as soon as he turns his back on our table. Some kind of fried chicken breasts with spices, veggies, and salad on the side that melt in my mouth.
When Alice invited me to work lunch I thought we’ll work and eat, but no such luck. First, we settled with drinks, went through all the contracts and then we could eat.
I look at the plain salad on her plate she’ll pretend to eat.
I take another bite and moan escapes my lips.
“This is so good.” I let my eyelids flutter close to savor the taste. “You should try it.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I open my eyes and look at her questioningly. She’s frowning, or what would look like frowning if her face was capable of showing some expression, in disappointment.
“You know,” she starts slowly, “there’s this one guy girls have been telling me about.”
“What guy?”
“Some new trainer. He has opened this new gym in Manhattan and girls are telling me he’s been doing miracles.”
The fork that’s been going to my mouth stops mid-way, so I let it fall down on my plate. I look at my half-eaten lunch and then lift my eyes at her.
“I’m already going to gym,” I deadpan flatly. “Two times a day to be precise.”
Her red lips purse. She taps her chin with the tip of her finger a few times. “Maybe you should change it.”
My mouth hangs open in disbelief. Is she …
“Do you think I’m fat?”
I don’t know where does she come up with this shit. I haven’t changed my size since my teenage years. I eat healthily and eat five meals a day. Mostly it’s fruit, vegetables, cereals (and not the sugary-colored kind), white meat, and fish. Occasionally I’d indulge in eating junk food—ice cream, cupcakes, pancakes, and pizza are my biggest vice—but not always. I get up to run every morning and I go to the gym every afternoon. When I’m not doing either of those things I dance.
“I wouldn’t …”
“Because that would be a pretty shitty thing to say.” To spite her, I put a huge piece of chicken in my mouth and chew it slowly. It doesn’t taste as good as it did a second ago, but I don’t care.
I think a dessert would be a great option once I’m done with the main course. She’ll hate it, and it’ll taste even sweeter because I know she’s sitting on the other side of the table looking at me and suffering because she’s too silly to order proper food.
Dessert is a food category of its own. Even if you’re full you’ll find a place for dessert because it doesn’t go to your tummy, it goes to your heart.
“I’m just saying what I’ve heard,” she defends herself. “People are talking good stuff about the guy. Maybe you should give him a try.”
There is irritation in her blue eyes. She totally thinks I need less food and extra exercise, but she won’t say anything because she knows she’ll piss me off. You don’t do that to the best client you have. You keep them content and happy so they can do a good job and earn you more money.
We don’t discuss the touchy subject for the rest of our lunch. Once the waiter comes to take our plates I thank him and order a piece of chocolate cake. I see Alice’s eyes grow wide before they narrow at me, her lips pressed into a thin line.
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br /> I give her one sweet, innocent smile as I proceed to eat every last bite of the chocolate cake.
Later I’ll have to run a couple extra miles, but it’ll totally be worth it.
The place I go every time I feel like shit? Home.
Since Grace came to my life I’ve been so busy I didn’t have time to take her to meet my dad.
It was better that way, too.
After everything that happened, we all needed time to adjust. No matter what he said or how cool and composed he acted I knew he was affected by Cassie’s reappearance. How could he not be? The woman he loved, married, had a life with only to watch her walk away, was now back and she had another kid with somebody else and is now blackmailing me for money.
We talked occasionally on the phone. I mentioned Grace a few times and he was supportive. He listened and gave me advice when I needed it, but he didn’t ask us to come over. Now, more than four months later, I think it was time for them to finally meet each other. Grace wasn’t going anywhere, and I know if I want to succeed in this whole big brother/father figure/guardian thing, I need my dad.
“So …” Grace looks at the house in front of us. “This is where you grew up?”
I look at small two-story house in front of us. “After we moved from Texas. Yeah.”
“How was it? Living here?”
“Different, but nice. It was lonely in the beginning, with just Dad and me. Then I met some new friends and it got easier.”
Grace nods her head in understanding.
“Ready to head out?”
She’s been nervously biting her lip and playing with her fingers. I guess this is a big deal for her. Apart from Mrs. Tayson and girls in school, we haven’t been out much. Especially not together.
After another nod, we both open our door and get out.
As we walk to the front door I look toward the house next door where Will’s mom lives. Mrs. P is the only mother figure I’ve ever had in life, and I love her like such. I haven’t seen her since the last game of the season when she and dad came to cheer us on. I should definitely stop by and say hi before returning to the city.