“Yep.” She snorted. “Always practicing for my future modeling career. But Finn went in the opposite direction. He became a ghost at school and took refuge at the performing arts academy, which had all sorts of classes in music and theater and acrobatics as well as dance.” Trinity shrugged. “That was how we drifted apart.”
Chapter 3
Finn drove his Audi into the parking lot of the North Cove Performing Arts Academy. After seeing Ray Atkins this place that had once been a second home to him looked all the more welcoming. Finn hated that he had stooped to making that crack about a room full of gorgeous dancers just to one-up Ray. He thought he was past that kind of adolescent crap. Was that what coming home did to him?
Maybe he’d made a big mistake going to see Trinity. There was no turning back time. They had gone their separate ways, and if she was still into guys like Ray, then forget it. This compulsive desire Finn had to be with her was all wrong.
Except…at one point when they were sitting at the table with no one else there, it felt so right.
Finn shook off thoughts of Trinity and strolled to the familiar side door of the academy building. The truth was he did have a meeting with the leading dancers and teachers who would be heading up Casey’s holiday program. And, yeah, dancers had beautiful bodies.
The minute he started down the short hallway he heard a recording of the “Snow” variation from The Nutcracker Suite in one studio; in another room a teacher was calling out counts while beating on a hand drum; in the next, the sound of a tinkling piano playing Chopin for a class brought him to a stop.
This was the studio where he’d watched Trinity take her class the first time Finn came here with her. He stood outside the open door the same way he had eleven years ago.
“Maybe you should try doing a few steps. See if you’re any good.”
Finn turned to see Casey Richardson Byrne, the founder, owner, and director of the North Cove Performing Arts Academy—and the teacher who had spotted him dancing in the hallway that fateful day and invited him into class.
“Casey. This place is hopping.”
She pulled him into a hug. Yeah, dancers were big huggers. If you were afraid of touching or being touched, forget ever having a dance career. By the time Finn had finished high school, he had lifted and twirled and dipped and caught and held the hands and arms and legs and waists of more girls than he could have ever imagined.
“It’s that time of year,” Casey said, pulling back and smiling at him. “How’s the ankle? The back? I can set you up with some massage therapy or—”
“Stop, Mama Bear. Both are good.” He’d had a couple strains during a national tour he was on last summer with the Dance Time cast. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got two little daughters to focus on now that Josh and I are all grown up and on our own.” Josh was her stepson who had just gone off to college.
Casey laughed and then poked her finger into his chest, saying, “Just because you won a Tony on Broadway are now a hot TV star that has all my female students in love with you does not mean you are no longer one of my flock.”
Hand to his chest, he bowed his head. “I am honored to be one of your flock.”
And he meant it. Casey had been more than a teacher and mentor to him. All through his teens she had been like a big sister and counselor. He’d had a lot to catch up on starting dance training at fourteen, although his background in gymnastics had helped. Every step of the way, Casey had made him believe he could do it.
She had also acted as a buffer against his father’s judgment and disapproval and gave him a place to escape the tension at home—and convinced him to not hate himself or feel ashamed for falling in love with a career that was out of the ordinary path for guys.
“I’ll be having the meeting in the reception room,” she said.
They ambled down the hall past the smaller studios, the office, and the dressing rooms toward a huge sunny space with a high ceiling slotted with skylight windows. The main studio was used for advanced classes but was also equipped to be a small theater where they held performances, not only dance but also theater and music as well as community fundraising events. Finn had danced here many times, and this would be where his guest performance would take place for Casey’s annual holiday show. A far cry from the big arenas where he’d performed the last several years.
“I love this place,” Finn said. “Don’t ask me how you created all this and manage to keep it going.”
“Hey, all I did was marry a guy with enough bucks to make my dream come true.”
“Sorry to blow your line, but no one else could have made this happen except you.”
The big studio was empty now, so they walked straight through, and a kind of being-home-again comfort settled inside Finn. But before he and Casey reached the reception room on the other side, phone cameras flashed behind them.
Finn turned and a group of young girls squealed and called out to him.
“We love you, Finn!”
“I can’t believe I’m going to dance in the same show as you!”
“Welcome home!”
Casey beamed at him. “Go ahead and greet some of your fans.”
Finn walked to the little group that was now growing larger and larger. He posed for selfies, fielded questions, and signed a couple T-shirts and a pair of ballet slippers.
Among the crowd, he saw one boy that looked maybe twelve years old hovering at the edge. Finn nodded to him and said, “What’s your name?”
“Michael,” the boy mumbled.
Casey stepped in. “Michael is a really strong jumper and he’s already mastered a triple pirouette. He also performs with my Cove Corps and does a couple of the roles you and Josh used to do.”
The Cove Corps performed hip hop-style dances. Casey’s school also sponsored a small pre-professional ballet company, a modern dance ensemble, a musical theater group, and a wheelchair ballroom group, as well as rock and jazz bands.
“Finn!” Casey’s sister, Jenna, came bounding toward him and leaped into his arms as he twirled her around.
She was about seven years older than Finn, a professional ballerina, and had been one of his favorite teachers when she used to come out to the North Fork while American Ballet Theater was on hiatus. He had always been in awe of her.
Finn placed her back on her feet and said, “I hear you made principal.” An outrageous accomplishment in that world-renowned company.
“That news is three years old, buddy. Where you been? You better get your butt out here more often.” Jenna gave him a play punch in the arm. “Whoa. Packing on some muscle there.”
“How else am I supposed to lift all you hefty women?” Finn said, and backed up quickly, knowing Jenna would take another swing at him.
“Dem’s fighting words,” Jenna said. “Just wait till you come to class tomorrow morning. You’ll be sorry.”
Casey and Finn laughed, and he said, “Uh-oh. Death by entrechat quatre?”
Jenna crossed her arms. “You will just have to wait and see.”
Casey said, “Jenna will be only be here a few days a week because, wait for it…she is doing Sugar Plum this year.”
“Wow. Major congrats.” Finn gave her two thumbs up. The Sugar Plum Fairy solo in The Nutcracker only went to the best.
“You want comps?”
“Absolutely. Wouldn’t miss it. In fact, I am humbled to be in your presence right now.”
Jenna snorted. “Says the man with over three million Instagram followers. I can barely break the twenty thousand mark.”
Casey shook her head. “Apples and oranges. The traditional stage arts can never compete with a popular TV show.” She turned to Finn. “But I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, sweetheart.”
Finn shrugged. “Hey, you’re talking to somebody who still hasn’t figured out how all this happened to me.”
Casey tsked. “It did not just happen, Finn. You worked your butt off and struggled and networked and danced in every dog fight
you could. Laney picked you out for the show because she saw your skill, personality, good looks, intelligence…”
“Watch it, sis. Don’t want this guy to get a big head,” Jenna said.
“Not Finn,” Casey said. “I know this boy so well.”
Finn’s heart swelled with love and gratitude for this woman whose constant support and encouragement meant the world to him.
The three of them sauntered to the reception room where they were soon joined by other teachers and lead performers as well as some of Casey’s administrative and technical staff. Casey mapped out the program she had been working on and they discussed what still needed to be done. When Finn had agreed to be her special guest performer, he hadn’t even asked what she wanted him to do—because he would do absolutely anything for her.
Just as the meeting started, Finn’s phone went off. He checked and it was a text from Trinity asking him to call her. Something he wasn’t so sure he wanted to do.
During the meeting his phone went off again.
“Go ahead and take that if you need to,” Casey whispered to him.
He looked at his phone and when he saw it was Trinity’s number again, he said, “No. It’s not important.”
He tried not to be angry or feel betrayed by Trinity for dating Ray, telling himself those feelings were ridiculous considering he had not seen her or contacted her in so many years. Who was he to say who she should go out with? But he could not help feeling disappointed in her choice.
When the meeting was almost over, a slinky brunette walked in, clearly a dancer, and her eyes met his with an almost feral seductive intensity.
Hmm. Maybe this month home would turn out to be more interesting than he thought.
She turned to Casey and said, “I’m so sorry. My flight was delayed.”
“That’s all right, Maya.”
Then he recognized her. He and Maya had been cast in minor roles for a TV musical series that never made it past the pilot stage. They had been friendly back then, but nothing more than that.
When she saw Finn, Maya acted as if they had been lovers, and swooped in on him. Finn had always been cautious about having sex with co-workers, not that Maya appealed to him because her aggressive and phony nature turned him off. But he was so annoyed over Trinity and Ray that he accepted Maya’s invitation to have a drink after they left.
One beer was all he had and said goodnight.
When he got in it was too late for a phone call. Surprise, surprise.
Okay, so he purposely stuck it to Trinity by not calling her back. Maybe he would call her tomorrow.
And say what? That he wanted to take back his offer of friendship? Which at the time he had hoped would develop into more. And that they would somehow discover they were in love.
He had to stop this crazy fantasy of searching for the kind of connection he’d once had with Trinity. Just because they were best buds as kids did not mean they were soul mates.
As Finn dumped his car keys and phone on the kitchen table, he remembered he had never listened to her voice mail message. He picked up his phone and scrolled to it.
Finn, I’m so sorry you had to encounter Ray Atkins. I know he is an ass and even though I was a naive insensitive idiot in high school, I am not that person anymore. I would never date him. But we ended up as co-chairmen of the Christmas bazaar. That is the reason we had to meet. You can check the website for the bazaar if you don’t believe me. I really want to try being friends. I’ve missed you so much and don’t want to lose you again.
Not what he expected. At all.
He sat at the kitchen table and listened to the message again and decided maybe ten thirty wasn’t too late to call her.
“Finn?”
God, he loved her voice. “Hi. Just got back. Listen, Jenna offered me complimentary tickets for The Nutcracker. She’s doing the Sugar Plum solo. Want to go with me?”
“Yes! And maybe we can go to Rockefeller Center and see the tree like we used to. Remember the first time we took the jitney into the city and got lost?”
“Boy, do I. And we ended up in that strange deli that was like something out of the Twilight Zone.”
They laughed and talked on and on, reminiscing about so many things they had shared. The next time Finn looked at the clock on the kitchen wall, over an hour had passed and he still didn’t want to hang up.
* * *
Trinity and Finn walked out of the theater and headed across the courtyard of Lincoln Center toward Columbus Avenue. She was tempted to grab his hand but had no idea how he would react to that.
“Jenna looked so beautiful,” Trinity said with a giddy laugh. “Onstage and off. Did you notice down in the dressing room she looked as if she hadn’t even broken a sweat?”
Finn shook his head in amazement. “Yeah. She’s a veteran. After over a decade with the company and she’s still got it.”
“You make it sound like Jenna’s in her sixties or something. How old is she, mid-thirties? And she’s in super condition.”
“Now that you mention it, Margot Fonteyn and Daniel Nagrin danced into their sixties, but most—”
“Excuse us!” A high-pitched voice right behind them interrupted their conversation.
Trinity and Finn put on the brakes and turned to greet three young women decked in winter coats, big adoring smiles on their faces as they gazed at Finn.
“Aren’t you Finn Brogan from Dance Time?” asked a blonde woman who looked to be in her early twenties. It was hard to tell, with her red-and-green hat pulled down low, coupled with a white billowy scarf draped around her chin and halfway down her back.
“Got me,” Finn replied.
“You’re lots of fun as a judge on the show, but mostly I love watching your dance routines,” said a tall, exuberant girl in the middle of the trio. “I have at least ten of them saved on my phone so I can look at them any time I want.”
“Wow,” he said, beaming. “Thanks. That’s a real compliment.”
Another one of the group chimed in with, “I am such a huge fan. I’ve been taking ballet and ballroom for years and you are the best!”
“Can we take a group selfie?” girl number one asked, already holding her phone.
“Sure,” Finn said.
Trinity watched the posing and laughter and flattery, feeling somewhat inconsequential, the dent in her ego not being all that serious. Still, a part of her couldn’t help feeling a bit envious. She had gotten plenty of accolades—not to mention male attention—during her career as a model, but she had never hit it big enough for her to be recognized on the street. And her gig wasn’t on a par with the stars of the TV or film industry.
No, the whole fashion game focused on a lot of high rollers rather than average folk and Trinity had made the rounds with some of the world’s wealthiest men. She even had a brief fling with a rock star so well-known just uttering his name in public might incite a stampede.
Now, as she watched him pull a Sharpe pen from his coat pocket and begin signing their concert programs, she couldn’t get over his patience and sincerity. A far cry from some of the rude reactions toward fans that she’d witnessed by a few of the big shots she’d hung with during her wild years in New York and Paris.
After plying him with questions, one woman even got a a hug, the three fans thanked him profusely and walked off chattering to each other.
As Trinity and Finn resumed their course across town, she asked, “Are you always that generous with your fans?”
“I try to be.”
“Commendable.”
“How could I not be?” He shrugged. “Anybody who makes it big in showbiz should be grateful as hell. There are millions of talented actors, dancers, and artists out there walking the streets who are out of work. And I could be one of them.”
“Not you, Finn. You’re too talented and hard-working.”
He snorted. “When producers and directors are auditioning six hundred super-gifted people at a pop and choosing only one, it’s a l
ottery. Flat out. And hard as I’ve worked, I thank my lucky stars each night that Laney chose me. And I’m thankful for all those viewers, like those three women, that are keeping me afloat. You bet I’m nice to them.”
Instinctively she tucked her arm under his and moved in close to him. Finn didn’t give her any kind of look or act awkward. Instead he squeezed her closer.
“Time to see the tree,” he said. “Next stop, Forty-Ninth and Fifth.”
“Yes!”
They walked along the south side of the park heading due east.
“I haven’t been to Rockefeller Center in ages,” Trinity said. “I’m in the mood to watch the skaters.”
“Watch?” Finn said, his eyebrows lifting.
“Don’t get any ideas. I haven’t been on skates since I was a teen.”
“Too bad,” Finn teased. “I estimate after two minutes on the ice you will suddenly morph into an Olympian figure skater going for the gold.”
“Don’t think so.”
“We’ll find out.”
“Not if I don’t put on the skates.”
“You will.”
“Not.”
“Will.”
“Not.”
They laughed and bumped shoulders as they turned down Seventh Avenue toward the glowing lights of Time Square. And she could hardly believe they were acting like the old Trinity-Finn duo, as if no time had passed at all.
And of course she let him lead her through the Channel Gardens, down the stairs at the promenade, and right toward a friendly greeter in a red coat at the Skate House.
“So, we’re really doing this?” she asked, still hoping for an out.
“We are.”
After putting on his skates, Finn knelt down and helped Trinity finish lacing up her shiny leather and newly rented footwear. It was not long before the current group on the ice was let out and they made their way across the ice.
Trinity could tell the muscle memory in her ankles and feet would have to do some pretty speedy recall just to stay upright at this rate—much less carving out figure eights in the ice. Which Finn was already doing. He had lifted his coat collar, put on his shades, and donned a ball cap that shadowed his face, no doubt to avoid being surrounded by more fans.
Finn's Christmas Dilemma (Holiday Hunks Book 3) Page 3