Текст книги "Thick Love"
Автор книги: Eden Butler
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
4 November, 2014
He sat on the hood of his car, looking thinner than he had when I first met him. Ransom was still large—too large for a teenager, though I didn’t think about his age, only the beautiful lines of his body and the deep, deep sadness that lived in his eyes.
There were bags under those eyes as he idly watched the traffic passing by, and his shoulders were tight, though he leaned on his elbows. In his hand he held a necklace, too small, too elegant to belong to him and I wondered if it was hers. That girl who was gone. Had he taken it? Had he made certain not everything of her vanished completely?
It was silver and held a charm that I couldn’t make out, even though it dangled from his fingers. The expression on his face reminded me of someone lost in thought, or maybe even praying. His whole attitude was aimless, like a tree branch drifting in a fast moving river, severed from the deep, earthy roots binding him to home.
That’s what Ransom had looked like to me that day, how he’d seemed to me ever since: drifting.
Present
Sometimes you can only escape, you can only feel completely free, when you are in solitude doing the thing that scorches your cells and makes you feel alive.
I found real, honest freedom in dance.
Tapping, twirling, pirouetting, pushing myself beyond my limits, breathing in the sweat-slick hardwood in front of mirrored walls, I discovered over and over again who I truly was. I fell apart, showed the world my soul, every hidden emotion, on the stage. Every day I let it tear me apart. Every night I put myself back together to do it all over again. I became everything and nothing I wanted to be all at once.
This freedom is real, part of all the good and bad I will ever be. And so I take this freedom and the lessons I’ve learned from every blister, every crooked toe, every aching muscle and show the world who I am through dance. We dancers tell a story with our bodies, moving through space, exuding all the emotions we otherwise keep hidden deep within ourselves; our struggles and our accomplishments on display with each movement.
It’s the freest I ever am.
But even that freedom and the effort I put into teaching dance was secondary to the fear I felt that Sunday. Fifteen pre-teens danced around me, their faces red with exertion, their budding bodies drenched with sweat as they worked through every step, each lunge and chasse I’d choreographed for the Christmas recital. I barely noticed the mess ups or the missed timed steps.
“Oke, cheris, one more time. From the five count please. And… senk, sis, sèt, uit…”
It was a distraction. Through the small window to my right, behind the eager parents watching how well their daughters performed, stood Ransom. Leann was talking to him, pointing this way and that, and I said a small prayer wishing for her to keep him busy so I could make an escape at the end of rehearsal without being seen. A quick glance at the clock above the window and I took a breath, tried to get my heart back into a normal rhythm.
When one o’clock hit, I’d have to step out the room and walk past him. Then I’d see if he had figured out that I was the woman who had danced for him. It was my body that he had touched.
“Ms. Aly, are you watching?”
I wasn’t, but I didn’t let that stop me from making a few suggestions to the girls before I let them go.
One o’clock.
Some of the students straggled, most immediately dug in their bags for their phones or shared gossip about whatever the hell it is that twelve year olds gossip about, until I shooed them out the door. One quick glance into the hallway and I spotted Leann in her office, blissfully free of Ransom’s company. I thought of sneaking past her, begging off anything else she needed from me, and maybe heading to my job at the diner an hour early just to avoid Ransom. I’d even managed to slip past Leann’s open door before she called for me.
“Aly, hang on a second please.”
Leanna wasn’t quite forty yet and still looked young enough that she’d be flattered if anyone tried guessing her age. She kept herself in shape and didn’t do that weird thing that I’d noticed some of our dance moms did—forget that radio station tees, mom jeans and Crocs looked good on no one. She didn’t sport yoga pants all the time or run around as though it was perfectly fine to forego any thought about how she dressed. Her hair was still thick, dark with chunky highlights of red around the crown of her head and the ends of her hair.
As I slipped into her office, she moved a file folder from the chair, offering me a seat. Then she theatrically slumped behind the white washed desk. “It’s only September and I’m already so over this recital.”
“Usually the way it goes.” I didn’t ask what she needed with me. Leann ran hurried and ragged most of the time and in the time I’d worked for her I’d learned that there was a method in all her frazzled madness. She’d take a minute to collect her thoughts, then spew out a list of things she hoped I’d help her with.
Finally, she exhaled, stretched her shoulders and then smiled at me. “Okay, you know Beth is taking college classes this semester and her mom is spending a good bit of the month in California for some work thing.”
“Beth mentioned that, yeah.”
“So,” Leann started, that friendly smile stretching, “I was hoping you could help me with the costume fittings.”
“I don’t know anything about taking measurements.”
I could keep myself washed, fed, and dressed, but I knew nothing about taking measurements or sewing or anything remotely artsy or craftsy. Leann waved off my excuse like my lack was nothing to worry about.
“We have that seamstress we used last year coming in to do the measurements. I just need you to call all the students and schedule their first fittings. I have a list somewhere…” Her desk was cluttered with an array of files, loose papers and costume magazines that always had my neat-freak tendencies twitching every time I walked past her office. “Here,” she said, pulling out a small stack of stapled papers. Immediately three folders fell off her desk, upturning loose pages and documents all over her beige carpet. “Shit.”
“I got it,” I said, going to the floor to gather the scattered paper. “Me zanmi, Leann, you have to let me get this office straightened out.”
“Oh, honey, that’s pointless. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“It’s nothing.” I had the papers neatly stacked and into the folders before Leann could leave her seat. “I kinda love doing that stuff.” Her exaggerated eye roll had me laughing despite myself. “What? Does that make me a weirdo or something?”
“No, but I do question your social life. You’re not even twenty yet, Aly. You shouldn’t be spending your weekends at that damn diner or, that other place.” I didn’t miss the frown Leann gave me when she alluded to Summerland’s, but I didn’t bother making excuses. My boss hated me helping Misty out. “And you damn sure shouldn’t be spending your time organizing my office, or for God’s sake that tiny apartment of yours.”
“I like things neat. Some stuff you just can’t shake.”
I didn’t miss Leann’s frown or how her eyes took on that soft, pitying stare. I hated when she did that. She knew a little about how I grew up in my father’s strict home. She knew about the ridiculous curfews, and how I, being the only female, was expected to do all the cooking and cleaning. How no matter what I did, how hard I worked to make him happy, I always disappointed my father and when I did, I was punished. He blamed me for everything—the breakdown of his contracting career because he had to take care of me, how he was forced into drinking two six packs a night because I stressed him out. How it disgusted him that by age sixteen I still hadn’t landed a husband. At sixteen! Most of all, he was upset with me because he thought I’d killed my mother the day I was born.
I’d been out of my father’s house since I was seventeen, even though Louisiana law was pretty particular about that. Sure, he could call the cops, but no D.A. or children’s advocacy group would bother hunting me down, not when I’d been so close to my eighteenth birthday. I did the cheap motel living for a while and I made sure to stay in school, even picked up a few shifts at the diner to help keep myself fed. But I’d never been able to leave that strict upbringing behind. My bed was always made. My clothes and shoes were always spotless and I never slept past six a.m. or stayed out later than was necessary. Things had to be neat. There had to be order. Always. It probably boiled down to a sad need to please which kept me adhering to those strict rules, and that made me eager to help Leann. Still, I didn’t need her pity. It wasn’t welcome.
“Don’t give me that look, Leann. I’m not a rescue mission.” But I said that with a smile, rolling my eyes at her so she’d get that I didn’t want a lecture or to talk about my damn feelings. She seemed to understand, but the mother in her was still unable to let it go.
“Still, Aly. You take care of everyone but yourself. And you work too damn hard.” She bit her lip. “I wish you’d stop paying me rent.”
“Modi, I’m not a charity case, Leann.”
“I know that.” She sat back then, rubbing her temples as though she was as tired of this conversation as I was. We’d had similar discussions that always ended the same: Leann telling me to relax, enjoy being young, and me telling her, with a wink and eye roll, to mind her own damn business.
“Look,” she said, tapping the desk absentmindedly with her pen. “You work your ass off for me—and for that cheap diner owner, for that matter. I wouldn’t even ask you to help with the fittings normally, but I need the costumes ordered on schedule. Keira was supposed to give me a hand, but well, she can’t do much right now with the pregnancy taking so much out of her.”
At the mention of Ransom’s mother the smile fell from my face. I liked Keira. She was funny, very friendly on the brief occasions I’d been around her. But hearing her name sent my mind back to Summerland’s, to Ransom and the reminder that he was likely still in the building. I didn’t think he’d guess it had been me dancing for him, letting him touch me, but I didn’t want to take that chance, and I still wanted out of the studio and away from any accidental interactions with him. To be honest, I didn’t think my body could take being around him.
“It’s no problem. I can help you.”
But there was something else that I needed to speak with Leann about, and even though I wanted to be gone from here, this seemed like a good time to bring it up. Even so, I looked down at my feet, hating that I had to mention this to her. “Um, Leann? I um… I might not be able to teach as many classes next season.”
“Why the hell not?” Her question came out a little panicked, and reminded me of a bird squeaking as it fled a predator.
“Well, I’m trying to save up.” I hated the warm flush I felt on my face. I didn’t like burdening anyone with my problems, especially Leann. In the back of mind I heard my father’s voice telling me my plans were stupid. Women belong in the home, not a classroom, he’d told me and, what had seemed like his favorite insult to sling at me, Why bother trying? You’re not clever enough to do anything but fail.
That voice only pissed me off and I stared right at Leann, giving her a look I hoped dared her to laugh at me. “I want to go to CPU. They have a great Theatre program and I want to take more dance classes, maybe do a double major with Voice because I have a decent singing voice and I think it would help because, well, I want my own studio one day. In the city, I mean.” My explanation came out in one breath and I paused, thinking that maybe Leann hadn’t got what I said, not with how her eyes widened and the pen in her hand stopped tapping against the desk. “But all of that costs money so, you know…because I get more tips on the weekend, I’m gonna ask Carl, my manager at the diner, if I can pick up some extra shifts.”
If I expected Leann to mimic my father’s attitude, I was wrong. My boss didn’t do anything but smile at me. She didn’t question my wanting to leave her or have my own place one day. She didn’t even look disappointed that I’d have to cut back my hours.
“Aly, I can give you…”
“Don’t finish that sentence. I’m going to do this on my own, Leann. I don’t want to owe anyone…”
“Oh my God!” She seemed so used to me turning down her offers to help, that I suspected she hadn’t heard me refusing her. Instead she dropped the pen and smiled—a giddy, wide expression. “Why didn’t I think of this? You worked at Stephanie’s day care before you came to the studio full time, right?”
“Um. Yes.” That was how I’d met Leann. Her sister-in-law owned the daycare I’d worked at part time and had thought my experience doing choreography for years at the dance program at the YWCA suited work at Leann’s studio.
“Keira needs help.”
“Oh…okay.”
She came around the desk, seeming excited, smile still wide. “You want to earn some extra cash for school and I don’t want to lose my best instructor. Why don’t you help her out for the next couple of months or so?”
“Help with what?”
“The little monster that lives with my folks.” The voice came from behind me. It was deep, edged toward bored and the second I heard it, I swear I thought my heart had stopped beating.
When I turned toward him, hands over his head as he rested them on the door frame, I was certain my heart would never beat again. There was no mask for me to hide behind, no slow, sultry music that seeped into my skin and moved my body to act as a buffer between how Ransom’s presence unnerved me and the cool calm I’ve had to wear around him.
But Ransom didn’t recognize me as that dancer, I knew that. Instead, he smiled, a beautiful gesture that I suspected was meant to charm me. One that I’d seen up close as I danced on his lap. But this afternoon, it seemed forced, the kind of expression that was more mask than smile.
“Um…” A glance back at Leann and my boss took over, thankfully.
“Aly, you know Ransom, Keira’s son.”
“I’ve seen you around,” he said, his eyes moving down, over my body, then the corner of his mouth came up when he returned his gaze to my face. Leann hadn’t known about his run in with my father, and we had never talked about it since. But now, a slow, methodical step and Ransom stood in front of me. He took up so much space, stood so close to me that I backed up and went to Leann’s side.
You couldn’t see it because I’d worn it for so long, but right then, with Ransom staring over me, dismissing my tight bun and pathetic excuse for an outfit, I pulled on the protection of my instincts, slipping over my nervous demeanor and shaking hands, the indifference that hid me well. I deflected. I was good at it, had to be. My father had always hated skittish, weepy women. He’d have never stood for me letting on how frightened he made me. And then, of course, that stealth skill of deflection had become a finely honed craft as Ransom entered my orbit. He’d never know that I spent too much time thinking about him, recalling the one day he’d rescued me. A day he clearly didn’t even remember.
I ignored and brushed aside anything I felt for him to save face. To protect what I’d worked so hard to earn—a safety net. My home.
“Yeah. Sure.” That mask worked well, didn’t expose how stupid I felt with him staring down at me, with the warmth of his body pulsing against my chilled skin. Yeah. Sure? Sure, I know you. No big deal that we were groping and grinding on each other last night. “Um, hey,” I said, glancing at him like that beautiful smile had no effect on me.
“So. You wanna do it?” he said, walking closer. Behind me, I caught Leann’s amused giggle. For all my aloofness, I suspected that she knew what I thought of Ransom; she had caught me more than once staring after him when he’d hung around the studio with Tristian. But just then, my boss’s laugh barely registered. I couldn’t make my focus move past Ransom’s question.
“What?”
That bata grinned, moved his gaze down my body again like he knew where my thoughts had gone but wouldn’t call me on it. “Help my mom out. She can’t get around that well and my little brother is, well. He’s almost two.”
Be around that family? With the chance that Ransom, demon to every female libido, could drop by without notice at any time? Running into him at the studio was one thing. Being in his home? Me zanmi, non. “I don’t think…”
“Come on, he’s not that bad and he’s looks just like me so he’s irresistible.” I guess Ransom thought his joke was funny. He smiled, wide and flirty, likely thinking that pretty face was going to have me agreeing. But when I could only manage to blink back at him, trying not to look too long at that thick bottom lip, some of his confidence dimmed and the smile lowered.
“Um, I’ll think about it.” My single focus at that moment was on retreating. No fighting needed. I wanted away from Ransom and that tempting smile. That thing should be illegal. Leann didn’t hide her laugh when I waved the student list at her or try to stop me as I grabbed my bag off the chair. “I’ll start on this tomorrow. I’m gonna be late for work if I don’t leave now.”
Her laughter quieted to a chuckle, and she grinned, falling into her seat as if my rushing out was the funniest thing she’d seen in a long while. I didn’t bother to shut her up and barely managed to squeeze around Ransom’s ridiculous body as I left the office.
Away, away, away, drummed in my head, a small mantra that propelled me out of the hallway and into the back exit. The stairs behind the building were just to my right and I relaxed a little, thinking that those stairs meant freedom, and the safety of the small loft at the top of the building that I called home. But I should have known better than to be so sure that I’d be able to make a clean break. That’s just not how my life has ever gone. Three steps up, and my name off Ransom’s lips stopped me.
“Aly, hey, hold up a second.” He was right behind me on the steps. I could almost feel that heavy focus boring into my back. Even on the bottom step, Ransom was taller than me and I felt the comforting warmth from his massive chest on the back of my neck. Another step up and I turned, watched as he looked at me as though I was something weird and freakish, then he looked up the staircase like something about it seemed familiar. That didn’t bother me, really, but the genuine confusion and the way he tilted his head like really focusing on me would somehow give him clarity about what had me running, stopped my retreat.
I backed up another step, trying to put as much space between us as I could.
“Did I offend you or something?”
“Sorry?”
“You didn’t even crack a smile.” Ransom moved his massive shoulders in a shrug and my attention dragged a bit on the slow movement. “That’s not usual.”
Feeling like a scared idiot, I took a breath and managed to reclaim my calm. “Usual for who?”
“I just…” He wasn’t trying to charm me anymore and just then, when Ransom stretched his neck, looking hesitant, I saw a glimpse of the man I’d been with at Summerland’s. The decent guy who was just trying to help. The tension in his eyes eased and when he spoke, his tone was light, almost shy. “My mom is kind of desperate, though she’d never admit it, and with school and practice and everything, I just can’t be there for her like I’d like.”
Honestly, I felt bad for him, for all of them. I got it, the whole wanting to help out your family thing, but I’d spoken to Ransom for less than five minutes and already felt like leap frogging at him like a skank. I couldn’t imagine taking care of his little brother and even pretending to be sane if he was hanging around all the time. There had to be another option. Ransom continued to stare, looking at me as though I could save his family a lot of grief. “What about your dad?”
Kona Hale. Me zanmi, that beautiful man gave Ransom those big shoulders and too-perfect smile. Like everyone else in the country, I’d heard about Kona and Keira’s lives. The media had painted them as something out of a chick flick. That video, well, the media had jumped all over it, even though it had been old, had happened years earlier. Had made their lives a living hell until the furor died down and the gossip mongers had moved on to something else. That poor family.
Ransom squeezed the bridge of his nose, like he needed to stop a headache from crushing him. “His paternity leave doesn’t start for another month. Please,” he said, reaching out and taking my wrist. I was too startled to move. His fingers were large with big knuckles and curved nails. Watching them on my skin, feeling how sure, how confidently he held onto me shot back the memory of us together. Couldn’t he feel how my pulse was racing? Those fingers had been inside me, had pleasured me right there in that public place, had made me forget myself, and just then I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be anywhere near where he might be.
Ransom didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d settle for a no, though, so I didn’t bother. I’d make an excuse later, but at that moment, I just couldn’t take him touching me for one more minute, giving me that expression that bordered on begging. That look alone could make me scream yes.
He didn’t stop me when I pulled out of his touch or when I took another step up. “Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll give her a call. Leann gave me her number.” That was a total lie, but I’d say just about anything to keep him from staring at me like that.
God help me, I thought when the smile returned to his face. “Okay. Thanks. We appreciate it…”
My feet running up the steps cut him off and I slipped inside my apartment before he could tell me how much my “yes” would help his family. I felt bad enough for lying. I really didn’t want to hear him say it. Back against my door once I slammed it shut, I closed my eyes, trying to breathe, to focus on anything but the quickening in my chest and the twinge of my skin where Ransom had held my wrist.
