Page 25 of Heartless

MICAH:Hey, sis. I just wanted to tell you again how proud I was of you. That performance last week was stellar.

ME:Aww, you’re so sweet, bro.

MICAH:Just speaking the truth. I always knew you hung out with the stars above. The other night, you shined brighter than them all.

ME:Got me over here blushing.

MICAH:LOL! I’ve never known you to be so humble. Also wanted to tell you that Dad was bragging about you to his friends last night during their Domino game.

ME:Thanks for telling me that. We both know he’d never share that.

MICAH:Give him some time. He’ll come around.

ME:It’s been two years, Micah.

MICAH:Mama said the same thing to him. In his mind, he’s waiting for you to leave Onyx.

ME:Whatever.

MICAH:Heading into a meeting. Talk to you later. Love ya.

ME:Right back atcha.

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I smile, put my phone away, and turn my attention to the lady and her daughter standing in front of me.

“Welcome toMirage.Thanks for coming out today.”

“Oh, we saw you guys perform last week,na and Tiana insisted that she had to come to this studio.”

“My mom’s been promising for a while that she would sign me up for dance classes,” the daughter says, drily glancing at her mother as she twists her lips.

Laughing, her mother replies, “Sassiest ten-year-old I’ve ever met.”

“Aren’t they all?” I ask, laughing.

“So, you’ve had a big turnout today. I know we’re the last ones, but is there any more space?” she asks in a tone that says, “If there’s not, would you please create another one?”

“Of course,” I say before launching into my spiel about the programs that we offer between tap, ballet, jazz, contemporary, lyrical, and hip-hop.

We spend fifteen minutes talking before the girl is enrolled, and she and her mother say their goodbyes.

“Meadow, we’re leaving,” Zandra says as she and the others grab their things to leave.

“Okay, I’ll see you ladies next week,” I call out.

“Don’t forget to lock up,” Zandra says.

“I won’t,” I reply.

I spend the next several minutes preparing things for the next week before I hear the bells chime.

I smile at a man dressed in construction overalls and steel-toe boots who looks up from the brochure table.

“Hi, I’m Meadow.”

“Hi, Meadow. I’m Jeff.”

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