Page 129 of Bottle Shock
Lily’s spine stiffens, but I see the tiny flicker of embarrassment.
And fuck if it doesn’t make me want to bust through these doors and drag Kathleen out by that stupid long ponytail of hers. I’m pretty sure it’s mostly cheap extensions anyway.
Kathleen claps once. “Curtsy, and you’re all dismissed.”
Twenty tiny knees bend, their small heads bowing.
They’re all trying so hard, trying to perfect it even though they’re lacking in skill.
Parents start filtering in. Shoes squeaking. Backpacks being collected. Lily beelines toward me.
“Scottie, did you see the part where we did the turning jumps? Did you see when I got up on my toes? Did you see?—”
“I saw everything.” I bend to meet her. “You were incredible.”
She beams, cheeks glowing rosy. “Miss Kathleen said you were picking me up because Dad has work.”
I nod. “Yep, I sure am. We’re going to have a girls’ night, just me and you.”
Before we can make our escape, Kathleen appears.
“Scottie.” Her smile is thin and fake. “Acting as Gavin’s nanny now, I see. First his maid and now his babysitter. Soon he’ll start paying for your services by the hour.”
I tap Lily’s shoulder and lower myself to her ear. “Why don’t you go use the restroom before we leave?”
The last thing I want is for her to hear Kathleen’s evil bullshit, even if she doesn’t fully understand.
“Okay,” Lily says happily, and runs down the hall.
As soon as she’s gone, my smile drops.
“I’m not his nanny. We’re friends.” The word feels so wrong in my mouth I almost think I pronounced it incorrectly. We’re a lot of things. But just friends isn’t one of them.
“Did Gavin tell you about proper pickup protocol? Parents aren’t supposed to stand in the hallway. It’s distracting.”
She’s full of it. As if the other parents weren’t doing the exact same thing.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her with a sticky-sweet smile before stepping closer to make sure I’m out of everyone else’s earshot. “Don’t ever single Lily out like that again when it has nothing to do with her dancing, and you know it.”
She rolls her eyes. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?”
I straighten my shoulders. “I’ve been recommended to take over as theater director,” I say, keeping my voice smooth. “Which would make me your boss. And I’ve heard through the grapevine that you’ve already been blacklisted from everyother dance studio in a twenty-mile radius.” I let that settle, watching the shift in her eyes. “Word is you were sleeping with your students’ dads, and their wives were understandably not thrilled.” I tilt my head. “And you had the audacity to callmea slut? That’s a little pot-and-kettle, don’t you think?”
After Kathleen showed up at Gavin’s with a very thinly veiled excuse for her visit, I did some poking. Made a few calls. Kathleen and I danced together; the community is small and nothing if not full of gossip. It took me almost no time at all to dig up some dirt, and all I did was file it away until an opportunity to use it presented itself.
As for the threat to potentially become her boss—it’s not a lie. It’s not the truth either.
But I have been seriously considering it.
Walking away from my dream—or, really, my mom’s dream before it became mine—isn’t something I take lightly. Because I do love it. There’s nothing like being on stage when the only safety net is your instincts.
That electric, tightrope feeling of stepping out there with no script, no plan, no idea what the audience is going to throw at you, and making something magic out of it anyway.
The rush when your scene partner says something absolutely unhinged and you have one second to either tank or take off running with it.
The way the audience laughs because they know it’s happening in real time. How you have to trust yourself, trust the moment.
It’s like flying blind. Sometimes you miss. But when you land? The high is better than anything else I’ve ever known.
