Chapter 17 #2
“It’s okay,” Joe said, backing away. “I’ll catch up with you soon.” He stumbled over a football straggler and Leslie laughed.
“I…I’ll see you later.”
Leslie turned and left without looking back.
Fuck. Fucking fuck to the fuckedyth power . How the hell was he going to make Leslie understand their weekend escape was a bad idea? Without hurting his feelings?
Joe returned to clinics grateful he had something else to focus on because this whole unraveling sensation was terrifying.
“Hey, the kids all here?”
Marti startled him and he pressed a hand to his chest .
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Marti said, her brow furrowed. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s been a morning. I just, my director for West Side Story wants me to audition for a show. Broadway.”
“That’s…” She reached out and put her hand on his forearm. “That seems like a lot. I thought you were committed here for the year.”
He exhaled and planted his hands on his hips. “But what if I can make both work? Not during the fall, of course, but like a summer show…”
“Joe, FOMO is real, I get it. But can you give your all in both places? And Dance Machine ? The kids need you here, especially since you’re teaching courses.”
Was it fear of missing out ? “Right…I know. I just…I feel like this is it, then, you know? My dance career is over.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile and then the music got louder inside the common room and Joe realized he needed to face the music, in more ways than one.
He’d taken the job because he felt obligated to the school and the kids…
and Leslie. It meant finally having time and proximity with Leslie to see if their relationship would blossom, which was very important to him.
He’d thought he could find a way to keep one toe in the dance world.
A lot of college professors did that, right?
They still played music, or had their art in gallery shows, or wrote books…
Sure, Joe’s art required him to be away at times.
He wasn’t ready to close the door completely, especially not if it was Broadway.
If auditions were in March, rehearsals in May, maybe they could be pushed to late May for Joe, the show would open in June and run for ten weeks.
It should be plenty of time. Joe could stay in shape on the off-season with his workouts with the kids.
It could work. Arthur seemed to think so.
He would need to discuss it with Barry, of course.
And Leslie.
Shit. His expression had seemed so confused earlier, which would make sense after the candid conversation they’d had the night before.
Joe had meant everything he’d said. He really did want Leslie, wanted that intimacy they had to grow, wanted that familiar comfort to be a daily part of his life.
Did that necessarily have to mean giving up his career?
He was right back where he’d been the night they’d met. Running. That wasn’t fair to Leslie.
Joe stepped inside and was faced with thirty-five kids looking to him for leadership, support, and knowledge.
It hit him suddenly just what he’d taken on by coming here.
This job wasn’t another gig, wasn’t a notch on his belt.
It was his chance to give back to the community that supported him during a tumultuous time in his life, that had given him the foundation he needed to launch a successful career.
It was a big responsibility, one that had sounded plausible over the summer as he’d pondered it, but now, with thirty-five sets of eyes—including Terrell and the daughter of the guy he’d bought his Bronco from—waiting anxiously to see what he’d do next, he was humbled.
No one was expecting him to be a superstar here; they wanted to learn from him.
They didn’t care how his makeup and hair looked, if his body was the right size and in the best shape…
They only cared that he cared about them and that he provide for them the level of support he’d had when he was a student.
He could do this. Nothing else mattered right now. This was important work, bigger than himself. Maybe that was the phase of his career he needed to ease into next. Broadway would have to take a backseat.
“All right, Jackets! Show me what you’ve got.”
The whole group lined up and ran through the three cheers Marti had taught them the day before. They looked good. Only a couple of weak links in the group and they were mostly guys. Today they would be working on some simple stunts so Joe could get a sense of their strength and dependability.
“Great job, everyone. Take a seat.”
The kids sat together, smiling eagerly up at him, hanging on every word.
“I want to share with you my philosophy. From what I can see, and from my experience, any of you can learn the cheers we have to teach you. Most of you can pick up the dance routines, and some of you will become proficient in tumbling and stunting. But what’s more important to me than any of that, is that I have to know I can trust you.
That your teammates can trust you. For you to make it on this team, I have to know that if I put you as a spotter, you’re not going to let one of the flyers hit the ground, not even one hair on their head touches the mat.
I have to know that if we have an away game, you’re going to be there with your uniform clean, pressed, the right shoes, and even the correct bow in your hair.
Ability to cheer and dance is not the end all be all.
Integrity is important. Creativity is important.
Attitude really is everything. I will not jeopardize any member of my team by allowing someone to compete who I can’t rely on, that the team can’t rely on.
I’m asking you to put cheerleading first after your studies.
I’m asking you to be willing to miss parties, and I’m absolutely asking you to be on your best behavior.
You will be representing Greenvale College twenty-four seven.
There is no room for bad behavior on my team.
That may sound harsh, and if so, thank you for your time and there’s the door.
If you need to ask what I mean about bad behavior, I’m happy to discuss it with you, but it absolutely means being sober during the season.
At all times. Even if you are of age. Now… are there any questions?”
A few of the kids looked around as if they were thinking of bolting, but Joe was pleased to see that most of the kids just seemed excited to get started. They all gathered around waiting for instructions. The B-boys, however, moved away from the group and muttered to themselves.
Joe looked to Marti to start discussing stunting roles so he could head his prospects off at the pass.
“Hey,” he said to them. “Be real with me, which part of that speech did you guys have a problem with?”
The three boys looked at each other and Ivan sighed. “Look, Coach, we’ve got a DJ business going and we were hoping to book gigs on weekend nights when we didn’t have games.”
That was not at all what Joe was worried about. “Okay, so we go over the schedule together and you make sure it doesn’t interfere.”
They looked at each other and David cleared his throat.
“We, uh, can’t guarantee there won’t be certain—”
“Substances?” Joe figured he’d help him out. “I’m not asking you to control other people, but if you can agree to stay away from substances yourselves and to avoid trouble with the cops, I’m willing to compromise. ”
David shrugged, Ivan nodded, and Gino answered for them, “Yeah, Coach. We can agree to that.”
“Cool, now...I’m going to go over stunting with the group, but I want you guys to show me some of the partner stunts you do in your dance battles. I’d love to get creative. I don’t want to only use the tired old stuff for our competition routine.”
The guys shrugged. “You got it, boss.”
Joe chuckled and then the guys broke into a flurry of movement that captivated the entire group. Joe stood next to Marti and they pointed out moves they thought they could work with. When the boys started to flag after just a couple of songs, Joe laughed.
“And this, my friends, is why you can expect to spend hours conditioning with me. You’ll be in the best shape of your lives this season. I can promise you that.” There were a few groans. “Now, let’s get an idea of what we have to work with. How many of you have experience as flyers?”
Five of the returning girls and four of the incoming girls raised their hands.
“Good, that’s good. How many of you have had experience as a base?”
The five returning guys raised their hands as well as Terrell, but that was it.
“All right, then. Let’s head over to the gym and see what we can do.”
Joe and Marti spent the next two hours pairing up different kids together.
Terrell shared some ideas that the group seemed to get excited about, and Joe found himself thrilled with the prospects he had to work with.
He was tempted to take them all so he had reserves.
He’d seen other colleges do that, have stand-ins available in case of injuries.
They could have separate teams to hit all of the sports on campus so no one was overwhelmed.
Barry had said he had carte blanche, and though the budget was lacking this year, he could work with it.
They’d raised nearly thirty-thousand dollars in one day, and funds were continuing to roll in from his friends and colleagues.
They were so going to beat the football team.
Oh, Leslie, winning will be sweet…
Joe was excited…for the first time in a lo ng time.
It was different than nailing a performance, or looking forward to a show.
It was an act of creation he was joyful about.
The only thing close to this had been when he watched the performers on Dance Machine land the routines he taught them.
That made him happy, too, but this was on a whole other level.
It felt organic, not forced. It was real, this life, this job, not something fabricated for network television.
These cheerleaders were nothing like the dancers he shared the stage with on Broadway or on tour.
They were naive and innocent and had no idea the potential they possessed.
He wanted to call Leslie and talk to him about it. No, he wanted to see him face-to-face and discuss his feelings while holding hands. Maybe even cuddle on a couch somewhere while giving Leslie a foot massage.
Say what now? That was some domestic shit he’d never envisioned himself enjoying before. Not true, he’d had some fantasies about playing house with Leslie in the past. But this was real. He could actually do this.
Joe got through the rest of the clinic, flying high despite his body’s protesting the demonstrations he’d done with a flyer named Krista and the three or four times he’d caught a kid’s full weight because the spotters were just learning how to get in there and catch.
By the end of the night, the kids were pumped and left chattering excitedly about the tryouts the next day and how much they wanted a chance to shine.
“Damn, Joe. I didn’t think you could still do all that.”
He grinned at Marti and clenched his teeth.
“I wasn’t sure I could. I’m definitely not sure I can sit down and be able to get up again.”
Her smile disappeared. “What do you need? Ice? Advil?”
He waved a hand at her. “Nah, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to stretch out a bit and then hit the shower.”
“Don’t forget dinner.”
Joe looked at his watch. It was already 7:50, meaning The Buzz was closed. He hadn’t made it to the grocery store and there was no food delivery in town.
“Ah…yeah. I’ll figure something out.”
Marti rolled her eyes. “Don’t let this be the start of your downfall, Joe. We’re no spring chickens. We need to take care of ourselves. I’m going to say goodbye to Terrell and get home unless you need anything?”
“Hey, Marti? What do you think about keeping them all, having alternates, special teams?”
She grinned. “Already a softie. I’ve seen it done, and it’s not a bad idea. I’ll back whatever you decide. Let’s talk again tomorrow morning. Good luck with your first classes tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” He cringed a little remembering he had a basic flexibility class in the morning for the PE department and a beginning dance course the kids could take for fine arts credit.
Barry had suggested they start slow when they talked last spring, and so Joe agreed three classes plus the cheerleading would be best. On the alternate days, he’d teach Hip Hop.
All three of his classes had waitlists. The hope was there would be enough interest to offer more the following year and to start a degree program.
Which was the kind of long-term planning Joe wasn’t sure he was prepared for. The only plans he wanted to make at the moment included how he could see Leslie and apologize for their earlier conversation. He pulled out his phone and texted before he chickened out.
I’ve been told we do have to eat at some point. Have you done so?
Joe was heading out of the common room after stretching a bit and packing up his things and about to give up on a response when his phone buzzed.
Mom packed us spaghetti. There’s some left if you have time to come by my classroom.
Joe did a little victory dance and rapped, “Palms are sweaty. Mom’s Spaghetti.
” He asked where and when. Leslie answered they’d be taking a break soon, giving Joe enough time to shower and hopefully unclench the muscles in his lower back.
By the time he jogged across campus, he felt like he might make it.
He felt like he was winning today and Leslie was his victory prize.