#scenebreak
I arrived at the studio at eight o’clock rather than ten. Two advantages to a small town: everywhere is walking distance and it’s easy to find out when the only dance practice starts.
Music filtered through the cracked glass. My look was a very carefully executed casual: sweat pants and a tank top that showed off my boxing shoulders. I checked to make sure everything was in place. How would I explain being early? I just thought I’d stop by and practice my lame ballroom moves. What do you charge for floor fees?
Okay. Showtime.
The studio was no better than the first time I’d seen it. Without sunlight filtering in, it was even shabbier, like something Liberace puked up in 1975. I’ve said there are advantages to having a gay dad. One downside is accidently dropping phrases like that. Google “liberace living room” and you’ll get a good picture of the studio decor. Literally.
Practice was full-on. The “crew” was running—wait. Damn ironic quotation marks. I shouldn’t let the sarcasm slip into my voice. Try again.
Practice was full-on. The crew ran a piece with K-pop and Juicy featured up front. They locked with a little popping and K-pop didn’t completely suck, but Juicy was awkward. K-pop was more fluid, but slow. Juicy was faster, but she counted the moves out loud. Who did that?
The rest of the crew struggled through a time step in the background, a basic “step-touch, step-touch” thing white boys have danced for fifty years. Shilling moved pretty well, but her timing sucked. Woody had rhythm but moved his pelvis like a dick dancer. Put him with Juicy, upload the video to a porn site and they could raise some serious money. Ephraim and Mono were nearly invisible.
Taco was. . . Bless his heart, Taco just didn’t belong on a dance team.
For those of you not familiar with the saying, “Bless his heart” is the greatest Texan contribution to the English language. You can say anything you want about someone as long as you precede it or follow it with “bless his/her heart.” As in, “She is the biggest slut on the planet, bless her heart.” Get the tone right and you have free rein.
The song ended, they struck a final pose and I applauded. “That was great, y’all. How long have you been working on that?”
Big grins all around.
K-pop answered. “Bro, that’s our new piece. We started it today.”
I excel at fake surprise. “Whoa. Today?”
Katy stomped over. “What are you doing here, Foxtrot?”
I raised my hands, warding her off. “I just thought I’d stop by and practice my lame ballroom moves. What do you charge for floor fees?” Rehearsal always pays off. The crew bought it.
Katy remained skeptical. “Take five, chicos.”
I lowered my voice as she dragged me to the black leather bar. “I need to see what you have to work with, Katy. If I can’t coach them directly, I need to know what they can do so I know what to show you.” She wound up to get sarcastic with me, so I disarmed her with a compliment. “You’re better than the rest of them. I can’t choreograph based on what you can do.”
She rolled her eyes. “You suck up.” She squeezed my elbow really hard and I’d guess my growing excitement was the opposite of what she’d intended. “You can stay, but stop with the surprises and don’t you dare. . .” The intense glare she fed me had a similarly opposite effect. “Don’t you dare do anything to insult them.”
I nodded. “I’d call first, but I don’t have your number.” Hopefully, the innocent face worked better than the compliment.
She released my arm and turned away. “Leave thirty bucks on the bar, Foxtrot. It’ll cover you for the month.”
K-pop wandered to my side. Fist bump. “Bro, you totally need to join the crew. Your shit on YouTube is beast.” Big grin. “Total Beast, hai?”
Yeah, that wasn’t a shocker. I had a routine on YouTube to a song from this Korean band called Beast, spelled B2ST for reasons undisclosed. Coming from one of their fans, it was a pretty big compliment. Those guys could dance.
I leaned closer. “Thanks, bro. But I don’t think Katy likes me.”
For the record, I’d never called anyone “bro” before.
He nodded sagely and the red streaks in his anime hair bobbed in the dusty light. “Let me work on the coach, bro.” Another fist bump. Katy shouted his name and off he trotted.
He needed to be my new best friend. Everything about him screamed sidekick. Also, he was nicer to me than anyone else I’d met.
Speaking of which. . . a heavy arm fell across my shoulders. A deep voice said, “Hey, ‘Foxtrot’,” forcing me to check punctuation. See, that’s why I rehearse. He didn’t actually make the air quotes, but I heard them anyway. It was Boyfriend, and I could tell he was working hard to keep his voice dark and menacing. “I see you staring at Katy, bro. I need you to stop.”
Seriously? Do guys say “bro” anymore?
“Come on, Boyfriend.” My response flew out of my mouth before I could stop. There was no lisping or mincing, but it was an Emmy-worthy performance. “Look at that outfit. And her hair? Perfection. How can I not look at her? OMG.”
Lol.
I’m not proud of that moment, and if Dad ever found out. . . at least he’d likely touch me again. You know, to smack me. But I had to make sure this goon didn’t see me as a threat or he’d never let Katy work with me alone.
“Wait a minute.” His face ran the gamut from confused to stupid, back to confused and settled on stupid. Game show themes ran through my head. “Katy said you’re straight.”
My hip pushed out in a perfect copy of Katy’s and I imitated her eye roll. To avoid an utter stereotype, I didn’t put my hands on my hips. “I’m a teenage ballroom champ with a gay dad, how in the hell could I possibly be straight?”
Why did I do it? I can only guess I figured he might think I was funny and perhaps a little creepy and he’d want to leave me alone. Yeah. That didn’t work.
Boyfriend’s face lit up like I’d just offered him a free spoiler for his Challenger. “Bro!” He led me away from the group while I dealt with the whiplash from his change in attitude. “Next week is Katy’s birthday, and I have no-o-o idea what to get her. You totally have to help me pick out something awesome so she doesn’t break up with me.”
I raised an inquiring eyebrow.
He grew sheepish. “We’ve been having a few problems.”
In the mirrors, I saw Katy look around and spot us. From her expression, she was utterly perplexed as to why Boyfriend was suddenly my new BFF. She saw me watching her watching us and looked away abruptly.
My innocent face is my best. I have that open honest expression that helps me get away with murder. I gripped his arm with all the companionable bon ami I could manage. “Of course, I’ll help you. We can’t let Katy break up with you. . .” Wait for it. “. . . bro.”
Fist bump.
Practice resumed. I had to remind myself that I’d promised not to insult the crew. Katy glanced at me a few times, obviously judging my reaction, but I’m so good at using the mirrors she couldn’t have known when I was watching.
Their technique was shoddy. I mean, only one or two could smoothly pull off a double turn, which should’ve been easy after the first few months of dancing. Half of them had bad posture, and Taco, bless his heart, was never going to get the new bit. Then K-pop pulled him aside while Katy worked on something else. The skinny Korean wannabe drilled with Taco over a dozen times until he managed to—almost—nail it.
K-pop raised his arms and whooped. “You rock the world!”
Taco could barely dance through the move, but K-pop celebrated as if it were the most amazing accomplishment in the world. For Taco, maybe it was.
They rejoined the group. Everybody high-fived them and pushed ahead to the next section.
When Monika and I had practiced in Austin, we were serious about it. We were always preparing for the next comp or performance. Even with the other dancers at our studio th
ere was competition. We never, ever laughed or joked with them. If another couple earned higher ranks, Monika wouldn’t speak to me for a week.
The atmosphere at the Emporium was more like Dad’s gym: a bunch of folks having fun. It was about spending time doing what they loved rather than being the best in the world. That was so not my norm. It wasn’t even my occasional.
I wasn’t there just to stalk Katy anymore. Watching the team practice was fun. But when it reminded me of the good times I used to have with my dad, I decided to head out. It was too confusing.
Everyone waved and said goodbye. K-pop and Boyfriend made a point of bumping my fist. Katy kept her back to me as I left, but she used the mirror to watch me all the way out the door.
three
David watched the feeds from the studio. Fox made his way to the door—
“Excuse me?”
David snapped the tablet to his chest and looked out through the open car window where a hot blonde displayed her cleavage as she bent and smiled at him. “I’m looking for the dance studio.”
He glanced across the motel parking lot. “Why?” A snazzy rental was parked outside the office.
The blonde rose and her smile shifted to something more sarcastic. “I like to dance?” She giggled and leaned over again. “I’m looking for a young man named Ethan Fox. He’d be new to town. I figure he’ll be at the studio.” She held David’s gaze seductively.
A hot slut looking for Fox? That was lucky. Hm. Had that spell worked?
The girl rose. “I can always ask at the motel and try tomorrow.”
“No!” That was abrupt. Damn. “Sorry. He’ll be there after ten tonight.”
The girl raised one perfectly lined eyebrow as if curious how he knew that.
David shrugged. “It’s a small town. And Katy’s a friend.” He pointed down the road. “Three blocks down and around the corner.”
The girl’s whole face showed her bemusement. “Katy?”
David smiled. “Well, shucks,” he said in his best small town voice. “Katy’s darn near the best dancer we have in these parts.” He smiled again. “She and Ethan Fox have already hit it off.”
One eyebrow raised so high, David was amazed it didn’t break off. “Oh? Well, I’ve known him a long time,” the slut said. “We’ll have to see what happens, I guess.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After she walked off, David tapped his tablet. There had to be a spell to ensure her success.