Page 53 of Lovers' Dance

After ten minutes of going through my breathing exercises, I felt brave enough to open my eyes. When I did, it was to see the familiar surroundings of our office. Dante peered at me, worry etched on his face as he cupped my face in his hands.

“What—what the hell is going on?” I cried, shaking like a leaf. “Were those reporters? I don’t understand. How do they know about me and Matt?”

Dante’s gaze travelled over my face, clinically assessing my state. “It’s been in the news since Wednesday. I tried calling you dozens of times, but your cell was off. What the hell have you been getting up to? Talk to me, Madi. Is it true? I mean, I saw pictures—”

“What?” I yelled, feeling my heart picking up tempo. “Pictures? Oh shit. How is this happening?”

Dante shook me by the shoulders. “Is it true? Are you hooking up with some old, white dude? Some rich, white man?”

I blinked hard. Swallowed hard. Sweated hard. “He’s thirty-seven, that’s not old.”

Dante’s hands fell to his sides as he regarded me with something I wanted to call disbelief; it looked more like revulsion.

“You got a rich, sugar daddy? Do you know what they’re saying about you? Have you seen what’s on the Internet?”

“What?” I whispered, stomach falling to the floor. “What are they saying, Dante? This isn’t supposed to be happening.” On shaky legs I hurried over to the desk we shared. The computer was on, it was always on. I sank into the seat, unable to comprehend what was going on. How on earth had this happened?

“Madi, the phones haven’t stopped ringing. Reporters have been out front since Wednesday afternoon. We’ve had to cancel classes—”

“What?” My attention diverted from the computer screen to Dante’s serious face.

“I had to, sweet cheeks. A lot of parents have been asking questions—”

“What? Why?”

“Because they’ve seen pictures of you wearing next to nothing with a half-naked white man on a boat,” he said, frigid, artic. Dante was pissed. I didn’t blame him. This would impact our bottom line. Fuck. Would we lose business because of this?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dante asked in a hurt voice. “We’ve been friends almost twenty years and you kept this from me. Why?”

My chest was tight as I peered into his soulful brown eyes. “I don’t know,” I whispered in a small voice. “I’m sorry, D. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think anyone would find out.”

Dante folded his arms, shaking his head slowly. “Just explain to me how you managed to get yourself involved with this guy. Do you know anything about him? Are you on fucking drugs? I—” He exhaled loudly, then took a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t understand, and I need you to explain it to me. The things they’re saying about you, your mom—”

“What?” I jumped off the seat, banging my knee underneath the desk. “My mother? What on earth are they saying?”

Dante came over to the desk, planting his strong hands on my shoulders and shoved me back down in the seat. He leaned over and clicked a few keys. His aftershave wafted up my nose. Dante always smelt nice, like the forest, fresh, yet earthy, untamed. It was a scent I had grown used to over the years. It reminded me of home. He was my home away from home.

“Read that, Madi.”

I grimaced at the picture of me standing in the circle of Matt’s arms on his boat. How the hell had these pictures been taken? Who had taken them? Shaking my head, I ignored the pictures and read the article. There was a link to another webpage. I read that one and four others. Each article had comments posted. After reading the comments—people were such racist bastards—I ended up huddled under our desk, crouched in the corner like an injured creature, rocking back and forth like a terrified child. There were pictures of the crash. The one I survived, the one that had taken my world away. On one website, they had shown old footage of the crash site. That was the final push that led to me cowering under the table.

“Madi,” Dante coaxed on his knees, with a hand outstretched. “You’re not a kid anymore. Come out from under there.”

I shook my head and squeezed myself in further. This was a bad dream. I would wake up in my bed and breathe a sigh of relief any second. This was all a bad dream.

“Get in,” Matt said impatiently to his friend clutching a briefcase. Before Nathan had a chance to close the door, Matt pulled away from the station. He had tried calling the number for Madi’s studio but it was constantly engaged.

“Have you seen the articles?” Nathan asked in a harassed voice as he buckled up.

“No,” Matt gritted out. “I left Madi’s place right after talking to you.”

“You were at her place? I thought you were holed up at your house. For God’s sake, Matt.”

Matt sent him a sidelong glare. “Are you here to help or do I have to boot your arse to the kerb?”

Nathan sighed, rubbing his nose bridge as if trying to ward off a headache. “I am here to help. How far is it?”

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