Chapter Six
Nico
“Good, good, point your toes. Chin up,” I said, my arms across my chest as I watched Toby working on the solo steps I’d started teaching him. They came at the start of the routine, and he’d be in the middle of the floor, under the spotlight, on his own.
I’d watched a few of his tour videos and award show performances from his time in Underground Dreaming and noticed he’d never done much solo stuff, so I was determined to put him front and centre.
This was his time to stand out and show the world who he was.
Which, by the time I was through with him, would be a bloody good dancer.
“Good, watch your elbows. Don’t drop your shoulder,” I added as I took a few steps around him, watching closely. A small smile curled the corner of my lip as he came to the end of the sequence. “Nice work.”
“Thanks,” he said, bending over and breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed from exertion. Sometimes I forgot how much dancing took it out of people, especially when they were new. It looked easy but that was where the skill came in. Making a dance look effortless was the hardest thing in the world.
“What do you mean about my shoulder?” he asked as he straightened, pushing a few strands of hair out of his face. “I’m not sure where you mean.”
“When you turn at the end, you’re dropping your right shoulder slightly,” I said, lifting my arms to demonstrate. “So, you go one, two, three, one, two, three, turn…”
I paused, holding my position. “And you need to remain upright. At the moment, this shoulder is coming down to here.” I used my left hand to tap my right shoulder as I lowered it slightly, demonstrating to Toby what I meant.
“And if you do that, can you see how it affects my posture? The way my spine is curling slightly. It’s making your bottom stick out a little too. Not horrifically but still.”
He chuckled. “Luckily, I don’t have too much to stick out.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll have a butt by the time I’m done with you. Actually, you should probably do a few squats and deadlifts to help strengthen your leg muscles.”
Toby’s expression was one of pure horror, but the way his mouth was open and his hands were resting on his hips made him look less of a dramatic pop diva and more comically sassy.
It reminded me of some of the drag artists I knew.
“More exercise? That’s just cruel! The stretching is bad enough without adding all that. ”
I raised my eyebrow and smirked as I stepped out of the position I’d been holding. “I take it you’re not a fan of the gym?”
“Obviously not.”
“Did you not have some boy band exercise routine you had to stick to?”
“Sort of, but luckily I’m not Haru and preferred not to be shirtless at every opportunity.”
“What does ‘sort of’ mean?” I asked, trying to get Toby back on track. I’d quickly realised he was very easily distractible if I wasn’t careful. It was more endearing than obnoxious, though.
“I mean, we had personal trainers and they’d find us gyms to work out in or organise fitness things, but it wasn’t really something I liked doing.
It sounds awful but being skinny through genetic luck made things a lot easier.
” His face fell into an expression I could only describe as melancholy.
“I still didn’t get to eat what I wanted, none of us did, but they weren’t as hard on me as some of the others. ”
He sighed and shook his head, waving his hand slightly. “Ignore me. It’s the best thing to do when I start rambling.”
“No, I get it. The dance world is very similar. It’s partly why my brother, Adam, is a nutritionist.”
“That’s good, about your brother I mean. It’s shit that you know what I’m talking about, though,” he said. “But since there is nobody here to say no, and because Mrs Nolan is the most fabulous person in the world, I have more biscuits for us. They’re gingerbread this time.”
I brightened instantly, and it must have been noticeable because Toby smiled. “Is that a hint for us to take a break?”
“Please,” he said. “Then I’ll do those solo steps again and you can tell me if my shoulder is dropping.”
“Fine, we can take ten.”
“Excellent, thank you!” He almost skipped across the floor towards his bag, humming loudly as he went. I followed him slowly and by the time I’d reached him, Toby had pulled a round tin with ducks running around the sides and a blue lid out of his bag.
The rich, spicy-sweet smell of fresh gingerbread filled the air as he popped the lid off, holding the tin out towards me.
The biscuits were round and thick, with soft fluting around the edge from the cutter, and my mouth watered as I reached out to pick one.
Biting into it made it feel like Christmas had exploded on my tongue and reminded me of the lebkuchen my oma had made when I was little.
I chewed slowly, hoping to make it last for as long as possible.
“What do you think?” Toby asked as he took a bite out of his own, leaving the tin open on the floor so we could easily help ourselves to more. And since Mrs Nolan had gone to the effort of making them, it would be rude to refuse.
So I took another.
“Very good,” I said. “Makes me think of Christmas. Tell Mrs Nolan I said thank you.”
“I will, and she’ll be very pleased.” He made a satisfied noise as he finished his biscuit.
One that I shouldn’t have paid so much attention to.
“Feels very seasonably appropriate, especially considering what we’re doing.
I did wonder if it’s too early, but it is November and they’re already putting Christmas lights up near me.
Also, I can’t really talk because I wrote a Christmas song back in, like, April. ”
“I was choreographing Christmas shows in August,” I said with a wry laugh. “There’s no such thing as too early when you work in entertainment.”
“Even if I wish there was. Although the Christmas song was my idea, so I don’t really have grounds to complain.” He fished another biscuit out of the tin and took a long swig from his water bottle.
“I didn’t know you wrote music,” I said, the comment falling off my tongue before I could stop myself. But I was intrigued.
“Oh yes, I’ve written quite a lot of songs over the past few years.
All under a pen name, though, because I wasn’t sure how people would react if they knew who’d written it.
I didn’t want artists or producers to pick the songs up just because I wrote them or dismiss them for the same reason.
A few people know, obviously, otherwise I’d never have gotten a foot in the door, but I keep it pretty quiet.
” He smiled as he stretched and then held out his hand with his little finger extended.
“So I do have to swear you to secrecy now.”
“A pinky swear?”
“Are you going to refuse?”
“What happens if I do?”
“Then I tell Mrs Nolan not to make us any more biscuits. Say you were horribly allergic to the gingerbread or something.”
“Feels a little extreme,” I said with an amused smile. This man was more ridiculous than I’d been expecting, and it was catching me off guard. He was nothing like I’d expected him to be. I didn’t quite know how to deal with it.
“Desperate times and all that.”
“I mean, we could have other snacks: bananas, oranges, cheese strings, maybe some fruit and nut mix, oat bites.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had a cheese string,” he said. “Probably primary school.” He grinned and waved his hand. “But no, you still have to swear.”
“Fine, but I want to know what you’ve written. If you’re being that secretive about it, it’s either got to be amazing or terrible.”
“Well, not to brag, but one of them did win a Grammy last year.”
“Fuck, that’s impressive.” I put my hand out and interlinked my little finger with his. “All right then. I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“Excellent.” He held on to my finger for a second as he stepped closer, lowering his voice like we were conspiring together. “It was ‘Martini’.”
My eyes went wide. “Seriously? The one by Sierra Rose. I fucking love that song.”
“I know. It’s good, right?” Toby’s smile was adorably mischievous and my stomach turned oddly. “You’re welcome. Neil and I wrote it a couple of years ago—he’s my writing partner, based in LA—it took us months, and the process was awful, like pulling teeth. But it was worth it.”
“I’ll say.” The song had been a worldwide hit, and I didn’t even know how long it had sat in the UK charts. At least six months, probably longer. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was still there.
“Sierra took our Christmas song too,” Toby said as he released my finger and stepped away, making my stomach drop again. “I imagine you’ll start hearing it any time now. Maybe another few weeks. Thank God it didn’t come out last year or we’d probably be dancing to it.”
“Don’t like the idea of dancing to your own work?”
“Not really.” He paused for a second and picked up another biscuit.
“Once an artist has a song, it’s not mine anymore, so it shouldn’t really matter.
But strangely, I do find it grating when they change things I worked hard on—even though it’s nothing to do with me.
Then there are other times when I hear a song back and immediately notice things I should have changed.
Lyrics that don’t quite fit, repetitive wording, verses that don’t come together in the way I wanted.
I don’t think anyone else ever notices except me, luckily, but it still irritates me. ”
“I get that. It’s the same with choreography.
Sometimes people change things I’ve done because they want it their way or they have a different intention for the piece.
Sometimes it’s a skill thing. I guess that doesn’t always bother me as much.
It depends who changed it. But I do notice things I’d change, stuff that’s awkward or doesn’t flow.
” I let out a hollow laugh and turned my head slightly, watching my reflection in the mirror.
Trying to work out if I liked what I saw.
I wasn’t sure.
“It’s why I get defensive,” I continued, not sure why I was telling him any of this. But he’d opened up to me and it almost felt like I owed him something in return. “I can criticise myself easily, and if someone I respect gives me feedback, I’ll consider it, but it’s still painful.”
“And if you don’t respect them?”
“Then I don’t consider them at all.”
“Quite right,” Toby said, brushing the gingerbread crumbs off his fingers. “Right, let’s go. I have a routine to learn, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I have your reputation to uphold.”
“And yours?”
“Not really, I don’t think anyone believes I can dance.
Not properly anyway. We did dance on stage, but it wasn’t complex choreography.
And I never had to do any dancing on my own.
” He stretched again then tipped his head forward to redo his small bun, little hairs sticking out of it awkwardly where they weren’t quite long enough in places.
His hair was gorgeous, though. It was one of the first things I’d noticed about him.
It was still the second thing I noticed every time he walked through the door, after his smile.
“Hmm, maybe I should get a hairband instead,” Toby said as he straightened, examining himself in the mirror.
“Maybe. It might be easier.”
“I’ll order some later. Or now, if I can have five minutes?”
“You can do it later. As you pointed out, you have a routine to learn,” I said teasingly, gesturing at the floor. “We’ll do the solo and then we’re going to work on your hold position.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He gave me a dramatic fake salute before he danced onto the floor, and I smiled.
I wasn’t sure what was surprising me more: his personality or his dedication. Neither was what I’d expected.
And I wondered what else the next few weeks had in store for me, because I got the feeling I was only just getting to see the real Toby Darling.