Chapter 4
Drew – Age Twenty-Three
I take a deep breath as I get into my stance.
I begin the routine I’m practicing for a show next week, a show I’m taking part in to help raise funds for the underprivileged kids that I work with every day.
I allow the music to fill me, to center me.
Even as I hear the door open and close, I keep my eyes shut and maintain my composure as I get myself ready to follow the notes.
As soon as I hear the slightest change in the tune, I open my eyes. I lock on my form in the wall mirror, noticing my parents' figures near the back wall and I bounce up onto my tiptoes and gracefully move to my left.
Moving my arms above me to in front of me, I spin once, twice, three times, then gently bend forward. I slowly move my left leg behind me, a serene look on my face as I let the music help me disappear from reality.
Ballet, even after all this time, is my everything.
After four years at the Ballet of the Arts Academy and competing in many shows, even winning a few competitions, I’ve decided to hang up my slippers so to speak professionally.
After a lengthy conversation with my parents, I have turned down the offer to compete next month at the prestigious world’s invitational competition.
My studio, which I rented out last year, needs me more right now than another medal around my neck. I already have several upstairs hanging on my wall.
I spin on the spot and keep my leg bent at the perfect angle, following the melody in the background.
I have achieved more than I ever thought I would within the ballet community, including dancing on Broadway for six months, which was a dream come true.
That made my parents proud, though renting this space on my own and bringing in kids from the streets also helped with how proud they are.
I love the fact that I teach young people, which keeps the income coming so I can keep this place, along with the apartment upstairs, and continue helping others.
Helping to get kids off the streets and gain scholarships within the ballet community brings me more peace than dancing professionally ever did.
While winning another medal would be an honor, watching the kids I teach reach their goals, or find new ones, and want more from life is more rewarding to me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still dance, like I am now. I’ll still help hold shows that bring in thousands, knowing my professional background would bring in the crowds, but my main focus currently is teaching.
From three-year-olds and adults who pay me a substantial amount to keep this place open, to underprivileged kids and teens, for whom I secure sponsorships to help them get into dance schools and find a purpose.
I’m living my dream. I just—I guess I feel like a little something is missing. I just don’t know what.
The music slowly fades, and I breathe heavy, and I spin to a stop, and I can feel the sweat building at my lower spine underneath my leotard, and my mom cheers, “What a show,” making me huff out a chuckle.
After Elizabeth was kicked out of school, Dad put her in an all-girls Catholic school as punishment for screwing my ex-boyfriend, with whom she happens to be on and off again.
Mom did as she promised and came to my show, sitting front and center with my father.
She cried her heart out as she watched me perform Beauty and the Beast. She watched me live my passion, and since then, she has been to every show, even encouraging her church friends to buy tickets because it is always for a good cause.
I hate the cynical part of me because I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop where she’s concerned.
I don’t trust her, even after all this time.
“I swear, Mom,” I laugh as I shake my head to ride my thoughts and turn towards her, and Dad and Mom grins widely while Dad is trying to hold in his laughter.
“I don’t even know why I come to your shows, sweetheart. I should just come here and get a backstage view,” she continues, and Dad’s laughter escapes.
Six years, and I feel like I have a mom but again the trust isn’t there all the way.
She does sometimes fall for Elizabeth’s crocodile tears, just like she did a month after the cops escorted her to the principal’s office, while Drake was dragged down to the precinct and charged with statutory rape.
She realized her daughter played on her emotions.
But she’s there for me now, which, as far as I’m concerned, is all that matters and I’m learning to forgive her.
“You still need to come to the shows, Mom, every cent counts,” I state, trying to be serious, but Mom waves her hand at me and says, “Oh, I’ll still buy a ticket, but coming here is just easier than fighting those big crowds because you know, you are this big Broadway star and all that…”
I laugh this time, and Mom grins wider.
Broadway star, my ass, I did six months.
“I am far from a Broadway star, mother dearest,” I say with sass as I grab my large shirt and put it on.
“Hey, I accused your mother of stealing that!” he says with a fake gasp, and I stick my tongue out, not sorry at all.
“It’s comfy,” is all I say, and mom chimes in, “She has a point, darling, your shirts are comfortable, though if our daughter here would just, you know, date…”
I point at Mom and threaten, “Don’t even go there!”
Dad coughs to hold in his laughter while Mom shrugs and innocently reminds me, “The last guy you went out with was Drake, Drew.”
I roll my eyes as I grab my bag and reply, “Yeah, and look how that ended, Mom, with my sister…”
The same sister, she forces me to have dinner together twice a week with Drake present. It doesn’t really make sense as to why she would put me through that. Hence, why I still have trust issues.
Mom scrunches her nose up and mutters, “Okay, so Drake was not a good example, especially when I walked in on him, your sister, and the pastor's son, Britton, this morning in some kind of three-way. I will have to bleach my eyes out later, but in my defense, he is the only example.”
“I really didn’t need that visual, Mom,” I gag while Dad looks white, Mom just sighs, “Neither did I, and I had to walk in on it. I’ve told your sister she needs to get a job and find a place within two months because, honestly, I feel scarred.”
I snort a laugh knowing that will never happen as I turn off the lights and ask, “Is she joining us for dinner?” Instead of even trying to question my sister or mom’s decisions regarding her, I think I stopped years ago.
She’s derailed a lot over the years, mainly because Mom has kind of gained a backbone with her, but fifteen years of ensuring she got everything she wanted is a long time to break a cycle.
I mean, she and Drake, despite the fact that he was told he’d go to prison if he went near Elizabeth, continued to break his bail.
He ended up spending a year in prison and was placed on the sex offenders list, losing any chance at going pro with the ballet community.
As soon as he was released, him and my sister went straight back to where they left off but I don’t think Elizabeth wants him for him.
She wants him to piss off Mom and Dad and at first it did, but now, they know she’s going to do what she wants to do.
She’s twenty-one, has no job, no college prospects, no aspirations.
She solely wanted to live off our parents, trying to use the fact she nearly died as a baby as the excuse. She feels like she deserves an easy life, and it seems Mom has finally had enough, or sometimes I think she has.
“Unfortunately,” Dad mutters, and Mom slaps the back of his head as we walk outside my studio, and I chuckle.
“I take it she’s bringing Drake?” I confirm, and Mom winces, causing me to tense because yet again, she’s putting Elizabeth first knowing how uncomfortable it makes me to have him there.
Several times he’s propositioned me despite still sleeping with my sister, and the more he’s around, the more uneasy I feel.
Unfortunately for me, not only does he still want me back, but he now blames me for losing the life he thought he should have had before he acted like a jackass when I told him we were better off as friends.
“Yep,” Mom replies curtly, “and if he so much as even looks your way, I am going to skin him alive!”
I raise a brow at Dad, who shakes his head as he looks at Mom with what I really hope is not lust, and I quickly look away before I’m traumatized.
Okay then…
“How come you two have decided to meet me here anyway? I thought we were meeting at Dante’s?” I quickly change the subject, and Dad chuckles under his breath, making my back tense.
Oh, please don’t tell me she…
“There’s this boy at church group,” Mom says sweetly, and I groan as Dad laughs his butt off.
Jackass.
“No, Mom,” I instantly state as I lock the studio door.
“Oh, come on, Drew, what is the harm in meeting him? You never know your sister might dump Drake and want Kenneth instead because he’s there for you,” Mom admits, and I scrunch my nose up in distaste.
Okay, I don’t know if she’s done it so I could really fall for the guy or if she’s using me to set my sister up.
Well, that is a nasty feeling to have, thanks Mom.
I shake my head. “Who names their son Kenneth?” I ask, trying to shake the sudden hurt, and dad loses it again. Mom scolds him, though I don’t miss the twitching of her lips.
“He could gain your interest,” Mom tries again and I mutter, “Not with the name Kenneth,” making her scowl again just as a rumble echoes and I look towards the end of the street to see a guy with a bandana covering his mouth, shades on, riding a black Harley Davidson our way and my whole body tingles, like fireworks are setting me off.
What on earth…
My eyes trail the biker the closer he gets, the spider on the tank of his bike with fire burning around it plain as day, and I swallow the lump forming seeing the name underneath it.
Carnage.
He’s an MC biker from Hill Crest, and yet that doesn’t scare me away like it does when I see other bikers riding through town.
If anything, I’m intrigued, something I haven’t felt for another man since Drake, before I realized there was no spark there.
I haven’t even looked in this man’s eyes, yet, I feel like my body is on fire.
He turns his head as if he can feel me staring at him, and even though he has shades on, I know our eyes have locked. My body comes alive with the movement, and he slows down slightly.
Oh crap, my heart pounds in my chest and I quickly break the trance and look away.
I can feel my heart beating faster, my palms are sweating. Only when I hear the revs going past me do I look up and follow the biker as he drives towards the local motel.
Is he staying the night?
“No, no, absolutely not!” my mom instantly snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look her way.
“What?” I feign innocence, but she just shakes her head and reminds me, “The two biker groups live three hours on either side of our town, there is no way I am letting you fall for one, I need you close, I need my future grandbabies close!”
I scowl this time which just makes Dad laugh louder as I state, “Mom, I’m twenty three, there will be no grandbaby talk for a few years yet.
Especially when I have only kissed one boy,” and she rolls her eyes though I don’t miss the tilt of her lips before I add, “Besides, that man was definitely pretty to look at…”
Dad scowls this time as Mom agrees, “Yes, he was,” and we both laugh at the look Dad gives us before he shakes his head with a sigh.
“That biker is Cage, he’s been through a lot, been in and out of prison a few times, and is riding through town after going nomad six months ago.
Somehow I doubt he’d want a woman so it’s probably better off staying away from him.
And maybe by some miracle we can keep your sister away,” he grunts and I swallow hard as my laughter dies down and I look back down the street towards the motel which is just in the distance.
“Crap,” Mom mutters, realizing her youngest will be all over the biker despite being with Drake.
I have the compelling need to walk down the road, to I don’t even know what, introduce myself?
Shit.
Clearing my throat, I give Dad a small smile while he looks at me intently and I don’t know what he sees.
He tenses before he wraps his arm around my shoulders then Moms and says, “Let’s go get some grub and try not to vomit up our food with El’s antics,” and I allow him to guide me towards Dante’s Italian restaurant.
Meanwhile, my head keeps swinging towards the motel as my mind repeats one word that scares the living crap out of me.
Mine.