Page 51 of Wounded Dance
A girl in a black leotard and tights with slashes through them comes out one of the doors. Her white-blond hair is slicked back into the tiniest sprig of a ponytail. She sees Blitz and obviously recognizes him immediately, because she says, “Are you serious?”
Blitz holds out his hands and smiles. “As a heart attack!” He drapes his arm around my waist. “I’m guessing you aren’t Jenica.”
“Omigawd, Jen let you in here?” Her hands tighten into fists. “She said she would never sell out!”
My ire starts to hit a fever pitch and I want to slug her. But before I can say or do anything, Blitz simply says, “I’m guessing you aren’t going to help us find her, so maybe we’ll just show ourselves around.”
A shirtless man in dance tights and jazz shoes steps out from the door behind her and spots Blitz. “Holy hell, it’s Blitz Craven!” He hurries forward to clasp Blitz’s hand and shakes it vigorously. “It’s an honor, man, a serious honor.” He realizes he’s shaken too long and lets go, running his palms across the shiny satin surface of his skullcap. “You looking for Jen?”
“We are,” Blitz says. “Is she around somewhere?”
“She’s in the studio,” he says. “She know you’re coming?”
The girl in black lets out a huge sigh and plunks down on the exercise ball behind the desk. She jerks open a box on the floor and pulls out an iPad.
“I don’t think she’s as glad to see me,” Blitz says conspiratorially.
“Weeza isn’t glad to see much of anyone,” the guy says. “I’m Corey.”
“Nice to meet you, Corey,” Blitz says. “Lead the way.” He gestures for the door.
I flash one more angry look back at Weeza. What sort of name is that anyway? She doesn’t look up from the iPad, the screen full of colored squares like the scheduling software Suze uses at Dreamcatcher. I feel a pang of grief that we’re here and not there.
We pass through the door, which opens into a huge multi-use room the size of a gymnasium. There are high mats and ribbons hanging from the ceiling in one corner. A woman is pushing off the mat, her arms wound in the silks.
Along the back wall is a mirror and a barre that must be twenty feet long. There are two different groups using it, a half-dozen young women all dressed in flesh-colored leotards that make you look twice. And two male-female couples at the other end, stretching each other with the barre to steady them.
In the center are three small trampolines. A muscular man is doing flips between them, landing cleanly on one and bouncing to the other. And in the far corner, near the other door, a couple is dancing to the actual music that blares through the speakers, a stunning contemporary dance with very high tosses and dramatic falls.
A woman with blond-brown hair twisted into an elegant chignon directs the dancing couple. She is striking in a deep scarlet leotard and long skirt made of separate jewel-toned scarves.
Corey has paused to let us take in the space, but now he leads us over to the woman in scarlet. I assume this is Jenica.
Corey taps her shoulder. She turns and I realize she is younger than I figured, only in her thirties. “Blitz!” she says, extending her arms. “I’m so glad you made it over.”
She embraces him, then turns back to the couple. “Ferris and Gina, work on the lift in the second chorus. I’ll be back in a moment.”
The couple nods at her. The music abruptly stops and starts again mid-song. I haven’t spotted where it’s coming from yet, but obviously someone controls it.
“This must be Livia,” Jenica says, reaching out to grasp both my hands. Her skin is chilly despite the warm room. “So lovely. I saw you on the show. Have you beenenpointelong? It looked new.”
“Just a few weeks,” I say. “I probably shouldn’t have done it then.”
“You were perfect,” she says. “We can get you stronger on them. Did you bring a pair?”
I pat my bag. “Of course.”
She turns back to Blitz. “And you want to learn lifts. I think I’ll pair you with Gina there.” She gestures back at the couple right as the man, Ferris, tosses the girl perilously high. “She has a lot of experience and can get you ready to work with Livia.” She pats his arm. “You’re strong, but we’ll need you stronger!”
“Weeza didn’t exactly give them a warm welcome,” Corey says. “Just so you know.”
“Oh, Weeza doesn’t welcome anyone,” Jenica says with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure Blitz is familiar with professional disdain.” Her smile makes her eyes sparkle. “Let’s dive right in. Livia, go warm up at the barre with the girls over there. I’ll introduce you. Blitz, Corey will warm you up until Gina is ready for you.”
And just like that, Blitz and I are separated, and I have a new class and instructor. I glance back at him, unsure and anxious. Dreamcatcher was the last little bit of my old life. I feel as untethered as I have ever been.
Jenica walks me over to the women in the skin-colored leotards. “This is Livia,” she says. “She just beganenpointeand needs more strength and flexibility. Take good care of her.”
The girls glance over at me and continue theirpliés, except for the last one, who breaks away. “I’m Ingrid. I lead this group. You can change into shoes.”
