Page 90 of The Dance

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Or the beginning of goodbye.

29

Blake

It wasweird to watch Stacey drive out of the parking lot, knowing we weren’t going to hookup later. Or maybe weird wasn’t the right word. Bittersweet? Heartbreaking? Nah, I couldn’t be heartbroken since I wasn’t in love with her. All I knew was I would have been down to fuck if the conversation had gone in that direction. But it hadn’t, and I wasn’t sure when I would get totalkto her again and maybe reconnect like old times.

Pulling the concert tickets out of my back pocket, I checked the date and then texted my buddy Dylan, asking if he wanted to go.

Dylan: Maze? What kind of shit is that?

I texted back as I walked toward the door of The Wild Pony.

Me: Remember Stacey and Molly?

Dylan: Who?

I shook my head and grunted a small laugh. I couldn’t fault him for not remembering. I didn’t think anything came of him and Molly from that night on Lake Houston.

Me: From Jimmy’s lake party a few years back.

Dylan: Oh your dancer and her friend?

A smile spread across my face, but quickly dropped. She wasn’tmydancer. She wasn’t my anything.

Me: Yeah them. Stacey is a backup dancer for Maze and she gave me two tickets. Want to come?

Dylan: Yeah sure. Text me the details.

I did and then went back behind the bar to finish the night.

* * *

“You’re going out?”Mom asked, looking up from the magazine she was reading at the kitchen island as I walked into the kitchen, dressed for the concert.

“Yeah, with Dylan.”

“Don’t you have schoolwork?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Blake,” she scolded as though I was a ten-year-old. “You know you need to stay on top of your schoolwork.”

“I’m just going to a concert.”

“Where you’ll be drinking. Are you driving?”

“Dylan is driving,” I snapped. I got it. I’d had two DUIs, and the last one put me back under their roof, but I was a grown-ass man.

“Good.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m going to the concert because Stacey is a backup dancer, and she gave me two tickets.” I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Your Stacey?”

My Stacey …

“She isn’t my Stacey, Mom.”

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