Page 30 of Wounded Dance
“Hello,” the driver says. His tone is abrupt. He looks like a football player, broad shouldered and wide necked. His blond hair is smashed beneath a jaunty hat.
“Can I take the sign out of the window?” I ask. “We’re trying to avoid being spotted.”
“Sure.” His nod is curt. “You’ll know the car from now on.”
“And can you lose the hat? I don’t want to be obvious.”
The man laughs and tugs off the hat, tossing it in the back. “I hate that thing anyway.”
“Good,” I say. “Thank you.” I pull down the paper from the window as we head toward Dreamcatcher. My heart hammers. I definitely want to avoid Denham seeing me when I go in. But I have every intention of deliberately talking to him when I come out.
When we reach the academy, we pass the green truck with Denham inside, and I instruct the driver to take me around to the back. I have my phone in my hand in case the backstage door is locked this time, but just like earlier this week, it opens easily.
I pass through the storage area and into the hallway. It almost feels strange to do this without Blitz. He’s been such a constant by my side since December.
Gwen and Gabriella haven’t arrived yet. I head into Studio 3 to wait.
I run through some warm-ups, thinking about Denham sitting in his truck just outside. I try to decide exactly what to say to him to convince him to leave.
He was a complicated boy, even at sixteen. He has to know his criminal background isn’t going to look good for trying to get Gabriella. He must think of her as a baby still. What would he do with a four-year-old girl in a wheelchair anyway? Surely I can convince him to move on.
The door opens and Gabriella rolls in.
“Where’s Benjamin?” she asks. She’s in a new emerald green dance leotard with a bright fluffy tutu. She looks like a little queen.
“He had to go away for a couple days,” I say. “He’ll be back next week.”
She looks disappointed, and I try to stuff down any feelings about that. I’m just the plain old regular dance helper. Blitz is a superstar.
“Why don’t we just have fun today?” I suggest. “And make up a little dance we can surprise him with?”
“Yes!” she says, her eyes sparkly now. “We can call it Benjamin’s Dance.”
“Perfect,” I say, waving to Gwen as she heads back out to the hall. “What sort of music should we use?”
We spend our hour listening to songs and coming up with silly dance moves to make Blitz laugh. We practice them over and over until Gwen comes in to remind us it’s time to go.
“See you next week!” Gabriella says, lifting her arms for a hug.
I lean down to her, swamped with emotion as I always am when I have to let her go. It’s been a good hour. I couldn’t bear to lose this time with her. I won’t let Denham take it from me.
As they head out and I change to street shoes, I try to muster my courage. I’m going to let them get out of the building, into their car, and out of the parking lot before I go out front to confront Denham.
I take my time in the halls, pausing to watch Aurora with her toddler class, then to chat a moment with Suze at the front desk. She asks about Blitz and I explain he’s in LA. When I’m sure Gwen is long gone, I take a deep breath and push out the front door of the academy.
The bodyguard in the SUV should still be parked at the back. There’s nobody to get in my way. The wind lifts my dance skirt as I head across the lot. I should have brought something substantial to put over my outfit for this meeting. It’s still warm, so I’ll be heading to Denham in just a leotard and a sheer skirt.
But it’s too late to do anything about it now.
I know when he sees me. He’s tapping on the steering wheel, obviously listening to something on his headphones, when he goes still.
His face locks on mine. As I approach the truck, I see the windows are down and his eyes take in every detail of my body in the tight, thin spandex. I stop a couple feet away from the door.
“About time you came to talk to me,” he says.
“You going to spend your whole life sitting on this curb?” I ask.
“Don’t got much else to do.” He leans over and opens the passenger door, pushing it wide with a shove. “Come on in.”
