Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Don’t be afraid to be confident.” Vanessa didn’t know how many times she had to say it. The girls were getting their walks down. A few of them had pretty unique strides, eye-catching and bold. But the overall body language still screamed: Please, God, no one look at me.
Which might be typical for this age group and women in general. But if she had the power to do one thing right here, it was to show these kids they did deserve to be there, and they were worth the attention.
“You’re still walking like this.” She hopped onto the stage and strutted half the runway. “The mechanics are all right, but the sass isn’t there.”
They all stared at her blankly.
“When you can walk like this.” She rolled back her shoulders and shook her hair out.
With her chin held high, and sensing Jordan’s eyes were fixed on her, as they had been all afternoon, she walked like she did that morning.
Full of utter confidence knowing that the one person in the room she couldn’t stop thinking about was eating her up like a serving of tiramisu.
When she stopped at the end of the runway, Rory looked at her pointedly. “There’s no fucking way I can walk like that.”
“Language,” Vanessa scolded, wagging her finger. That one cussed like a sailor. While Rory had come a long way since they met, Vanessa had never been able to clean that mouth. “And yes, you can. As soon as you see what I see, you will.”
“And what do you see?” Tessa asked, crossing her arms defensively. “Because all I see is a room of under-privileged kids on the wrong side of the bridge trying to play dress-up with a princess.”
The words hit Vanessa like a punch to the gut. Resounding silence fell around her. After three weeks of meeting five days a week, anywhere from two to four hours a day, was that really how they saw themselves? How they saw her?
She scanned the room, her heart sinking as she caught the subtle nods, the downcast glances. Most of them avoided her gaze, and the few who didn’t only confirmed what she feared. To them, they were kids pretending, not worth more than what they’d been told they were.
Her chest tightened, but she fought to steady her voice. She knew better. She believed in them. But at that moment, the weight of their doubt was crushing.
“Get up here,” she said to Tessa.
With a heavy sigh, Tessa got on the stage.
Over the last couple of weeks, Vanessa had learned a lot about her.
She worked two part-time jobs, one at a donut shop with Rory and the other at a care home washing dishes.
Tessa managed to get to school most days, but sometimes skipped class to pick up an extra shift.
At first, Tessa also skipped several rehearsals or left early, but lately, she showed up to every single one and stayed the whole time. Vanessa could see it: Tessa loved this, but she was also tired, more than a kid her age should be.
When Tessa stood in front of her, the tension between them thickened.
Vanessa challenged Tessa with a slow lift of her chin, and Tessa instantly copied the movement, her gaze unwavering.
She continued to pull Tessa up with an invisible thread, lifting her straighter, taller, beyond the weight of her doubts.
“Are you working a shift tonight after rehearsal?”
Tessa followed as she nodded. “Yep, at The Cedars.”
“You make good money there, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question. She’d heard Tessa talk about how she made more there than at the donut shop when she tried to convince Rory to work there too.
“Decent enough,” Tessa replied, her tone casual, but also with a hint of pride.
“You almost hit your savings goal.”
Tessa smiled. “I’m over it. Got my first year of college in the bank.”
Vanessa rolled her shoulders back, her own pride swelling in her chest, and nodded when Tessa did the same.
“Impressive. Earning your own college fund. You know there will be a lot of girls in this gym on Saturday night who are going to be inspired by you. They’ll see what you’ve done, read your bio in the program, watch you on this stage, and they’ll want to be like you. ”
Tessa huffed a laugh, disbelief flickering across her face. “No way.”
“Way.” She kept her voice firm, unwavering. “Because you’re a powerful woman who works harder than most girls her age. You have a dream, and you’re not letting anything stop you from achieving it.” She spun Tessa to face the length of the catwalk. “Now walk.”
She stepped aside, and let Tessa have the spotlight. The young woman took the runway with a sassy half-smile, her face lit with pride. Her chin was lifted, shoulders squared, hips swaying with newfound confidence. She owned the space, the room, the moment. Like she deserved.
“That’s it!” Vanessa cried. She whirled around to face the rest of the kids. “The world is your runway. I want you to walk everywhere like it’s a stage because it is. You deserve to be on it. So show them all what you’ve got.”
For the rest of the practice, the girls fed off the motivation, hitting their marks with more confidence each time. They were nailing it, and the energy shifted in the room. But the boys, particularly Beck, were still struggling.
Where Murray exuded a natural swagger, despite his obvious embarrassment, Beck’s gait was more awkward, his movements choppy. He seemed caught in a tug-of-war with himself, not quite as confident as he was with a basketball in his hand, but also not wanting to give up.
An idea formed in her head, and she searched the room for Jordan from her spot on the floor. She found him dragging out microphone stands. He had a mic shoved inside the back pocket of his jeans, tatted biceps bulging as usual.
Everything about the man was incredibly alluring. She knew why, but now she wanted him to show the boys.
“Jordan,” she sang his name and watched with a smile when he halted.
A frown etched his face as he faced her.
“Can you come here for a moment?”
His eyes narrowed. “No.”
Damn it. Undeterred, she turned up the sugar. “Please?” She added a pout.
When he inhaled deeply, she knew she was breaking him. “I need some positive male reinforcement for our new recruits, and I know you can do it.”
“If you think I’m going to strut my ass down that runway—”
“It’s not a strut,” she interrupted. “It’s a swagger.
And yes, I think you’re going to do it, because you’ve been mentoring these boys for months.
Now you’re going to show them that a real man can do anything, whether it’s shooting the buzzer beater or swaggering down a runway to save the gym they love.
” She tilted her head, adding in a softer tone, “Come on, Zeus. I believe in you, and so do they.”
With a low growl, Jordan set aside the stand he was holding and stalked to the back of the stage. He stomped up the steps and glared at her. “How do you want me to…swagger?”
At this point, there was a ripple of snickers and giggles, but when she glanced at Beck, he was watching Jordan intently. These were the small moments, she knew from experience, that defined both the teacher and the student.
“I’m going to turn on the music, and you’re going to walk toward me like you always do.” She smiled. “With glowering intent.”
His lip curled as he took his stance, and she bit hers to stifle the giggle that bubbled up. It was dangerous, this feeling she had when she was around him, but God help her, she couldn’t stop it.
“Eyes on me, Thompson,” she said, right before she hit play.
As requested, his eyes locked on hers like a magnet while the first notes filled the air.
The song was the same as the one she’d walked to earlier that afternoon, the same one that had played the night they’d kissed.
She wondered if he’d made the connection.
Judging by his smoldering, she was pretty sure he did.
He took the catwalk at a clipped pace, far too fast for the show, but his swagger was perfect.
Masculine and powerful. His long legs ate up the distance with a possessive prowl.
He was dangerously attractive, and his magnetism was electric, addictive.
He could be wearing anything (or nothing) and she would’ve bought whatever he was selling, given any donation he’d ask.
When he made it to the end, he glowered down at her, but there was a twitch at the corner of his lip that betrayed him. He hadn’t hated that.
He dropped to a crouch, so his face was level with hers. “Did I do it right, princess?”
She swallowed, resisting the urge to break eye contact. Instead, she cocked her head and said, “You were too fast, but other than that it was okay.”
She turned to her models in training. “See, boys?” It came out croakier than she wanted, and she cleared her throat. “If Jordan can do it, anyone can. Shoulders back, head up, confident swagger and the crowd will be handing over donations like they’re in pews at a church.”
She glanced at her phone for the time. “Okay, we’ve been here for two and a half hours. See you all tomorrow. We’ll run it again, and then Friday is the dress rehearsal, so please don’t be late. I’m looking at you, Rory.”
“I have school!” the girl cried.
“Which finishes at three. Rehearsal is at four. If you want to open the show, don’t be late.”
Rory grumbled under her breath, which better have been affirming she’d be there, as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door with Beck at her heels.
As the last of the group left, Chantal walked into the gym. She staggered to a halt, blinking several times at the stage and the curtained backstage area Jordan had almost finished putting up.
“Wow,” she said. “This place is transformed. Look at that runway.”
“My father made it,” Vanessa told her proudly.
“Jordan assembled it last night and has been working on the curtained backstage today. I’ve used a big portion of our budget on proper lighting, but I think we’ll make back all the costs and then some with the final show.
It’s going to be so great, Chantal. I can’t wait. ”
With a shake of her head, the older woman smiled at her.
“I knew you could do it. I never had any doubt.” She squeezed Vanessa’s hand.
“Thank you so much for the work you’ve put in.
Everyone at The Link, myself included, is hugely indebted to you.
It’s not lost on me how many hours you’ve put into this, and I cherish that.
Especially knowing you were…hesitant at the start. ”
Vanessa’s cheeks heated at the memory of how rudely she’d refused Chantal’s request that day.
Truth be told, this project gave her a purpose and a place to go every day. With all the strange things going on, The Link had become a safe haven for her as much as the kids.
“I’m grateful that you’ve let me run this event my own way. I’m hoping it will pay off.” She chuckled. “And if it doesn’t, I’ll beg for forgiveness.”
Chantal laughed. “I’m sure it will be spectacular.” She held up the pile of letters she’d walked in with. “Here, this came for you today.” She pulled out one of the bigger manilla envelopes and handed it to Vanessa.
Her name was neatly printed on the front, with The Link’s address below.
“Thanks,” she murmured, a warning chill snaking through her body as she took the envelope, immediately recognizing the familiar handwriting.
“If I don’t see you before the show on Saturday, let me say now, break a leg!” With a cheery wave, Chantal left the gym.
Vanessa was alone in the eerie silence as she tore open the envelope. The contents confirmed her fears, and a cold dread filled her.