Chapter 7
Hit, hit, step, slide, reverse, kick, and drop.
Watching the choreographer run through it one more time, I repeat the steps in my head.
She told us she would only show us twice, and then it would be up to us to replicate it.
If there is one thing I’m good at, it’s picking up dance moves.
I used to spend hours in my room watching music videos and learning the choreography every day after school.
So even though it’s my first audition back in LA, it’s going to be easy.
“Are you ready?” she calls out, turning towards us.
Everyone begins to stretch, moving into position. Then we start.
Hit, hit, step, slide, reverse, kick, and drop. Repeat.
It’s hip hop, so you have to hit it hard, yet still flow through the movement. Gliding into each sharp move with ease, I feel it in my bones that I’m pulling this off.
“Okay, thank you,” she says.
And just like that, it’s over.
“We will keep 3,7,9,14, and 21.” Having remembered my number, I don’t even need to look down to know that I’m one of the people staying. I try to push some excitement into my steps, but the glee isn’t there.
“This time we can see you better. Let’s run it again.”
I don’t even need to repeat the steps this time in my head. I know them like I have been practicing for months. Now it’s my turn to add a flair that really makes me show out. Even without being able to see the other people, I know that I’m the best.
“We can only choose three, so we will be going with 3,7, and 21.”
I nod in appreciation, trying to find that same joy I felt two years ago.
When I can’t, I still jump up and down, giving the best performance of my life.
Everyone around me is smiling so brightly, it’s like they are the lights shining down on the stage of our show, which only makes the dimness of mine so much more evident.
Even my hugs are stiff as we take our time to congratulate each other.
“We’ll call you,” she says.
Dismissed, I run out of the studio and down the street, my legs incapable of staying still now.
The adrenaline from performing is still charging me enough that I have to move.
That’s the way it’s always been. When the music moves through me, it takes a while before I can pour it back into the world.
No matter what’s changed, we still have that connection.
When I step into the restaurant, Farrah looks for any signs that I made it. When she sees my pinched lips, her face falls. Her expression matches how I feel as that ache echoes a little louder today.
I throw my gym bag under my chair, sliding into my seat. My leg shakes under the table.
“Did you get the job?” She leans forward and grabs my hand in hers, nearly blinding me with the diamond bracelet her husband bought her for Christmas.
“Yes,” I sigh.
“But you aren’t happy?”
I shake my head and try to gather some sort of emotion other than dread.
I have barely anything inside of me that resembles the way I used to feel in these moments, and I might never get that back.
Whether I like it or not, I have to take the job if I want to pay rent.
This is about so much more than my passion now.
“What next?” she asks, adjusting in her seat. Like me, her ass is too big for the width of the chair, and it’s hard to get comfortable.
“We practice for the next month, and then we go on tour for thirteen weeks. We also get to be in the music video.”
Still trying to find the bright side, she says, “I can’t believe you are going to be dancing for Tasha Rae. Her music is revolutionary. It makes me want to divorce Errol and go mess around.”
“I know, it’s my fuckgirl album,” I say before I order enough for two people.
All the dancing has made me hungry.
“Speaking of sleeping around. You want to finally talk about a certain person.” She bats her eyelashes and wiggles her eyebrows.
“I told you everything.”
Having put my hair into a slicked-back bun, I wish I had my usual braids to flip over my shoulder.
“No, you told me you slept with Rowan’s brother. You didn’t tell me any of the details.”
The change in subject has me lighting up a little.
“What do you want to know?”
She pushes her drink away and rests her forearms on the table. Leaning in, she tries to keep the conversation between the two of us.
“Who’s better, him or Charlie?”
The waiter drops off our appetizers. I take a bite while I think it over. She pouts at the delay.
“They are different. Charlie knows more of what I like and knows just what to say to really get me going. Callahan has more stamina and seemed to really get off on getting me off, and that’s hot.”
“So Callahan is better.” She tilts her head, wiggling her eyebrows.
“How is that what you got from my answer?”
“You have been having sex with Charlie for three years. If he doesn’t know those things, then he is bad in bed. Callahan can learn what Charlie knows and still surprise you.”
“Nuh uh. There are things Charlie can do that I would never let Callahan do, like spank and choke me.”
I eat a few more pieces of my calamari. She still seems more interested in devouring this information than eating her spinach dip.
“Why wouldn’t you let him?”
“You know why,” I say.
“Well, I support you either way. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know, and I appreciate that. Sometimes you feel like the only person who likes Charlie.”
“I like Charlie, he is my friend, and I’m certainly not the person who can tell you to give up on someone.
But I also want you to take the advice you gave me.
You should open yourself up. The person you are meant to end up with could be the person you least expect.
So it might not hurt to date Callahan, too. ”
I sigh, and that just makes her seem happier. She ignores my eyeroll and does another toast to my success. We get day drunk, and my mind switches between picturing hazel eyes and some deep brown ones.
I think it makes sense that my hopeless-romantic father was born on Valentine’s Day.
Giving himself so freely to every woman he loves, we should celebrate his existence on the day that we are supposed to show that emotion.
Which is why I decided to throw him a party.
I may have also invited a few older women I’ve met while living in San Francisco, but that is neither here nor there.
“Let me get those.” Charlie lifts the bags of ice from my hands and promptly brings them over to the metal tub I got for the drinks.
Not stopping at dumping them in, he continues to add the beers and mixed drinks.
He has been here since I woke up, looking to do everything he can. I think it’s his way of showing me what kind of partner he will be. Which I like.
I don’t know why I wonder what Callahan would be doing if he were here.
“People should start showing up soon, I just want to make sure it’s all ready,” I say, while spinning around, trying to clear that thought.
The floating balloons and streamers look good in the big living room. They hover above the two couches and the coffee table. Flowing into the hallway, they stop before the kitchen. The island has catering-sized containers of food, and there are bowls of candy on the dining room table.
“Maybe I should let you throw me a party for my birthday,” Charlie says.
Since he hates that day, I know he is joking, but I wish he would. Maybe if he is surrounded by the people he loves, it will be less of a reminder of the ones who haven’t been there since he turned ten.
“I’m going to go change,” I say.
He promises to finish up, and I pop upstairs. When I come back down, there are already people milling about.
Errol walks over to me, with his dimples on display, and a gift in his hands. Having quickly won over my dad with their love of jazz music, I assume that the square shape of it means that it’s an album.
Even with him not wanting me to date Charlie, my father has become a pseudo-dad to him, and now Errol, too. Showing them what a father and a successful Black man looks like, he has always set the example for me for what I should want, and now for what they should be.
“I know Farrah must really love you to be spending today here,” Errol says while giving me a hug.
“You spoil her every day of the year, she can miss out on one.”
“Is someone spoiling you?” Errol asks.
“I’m trying to,” Charlie says, walking up to us and throwing his arm over my shoulder.
They do a quick shake and start talking about a book that Charlie thinks would be a great movie for Errol to direct. The whole time, he holds me to his side. I watch them with something warming in my heart. Knowing that this could be our lives all the time.
“Well, I should go check on Farrah. She is on her period, so she is whinier than usual. I need to keep feeding her before she starts to get on everyone’s nerves.” Errol waves goodbye to us and walks over to his wife.
Without hearing them, I already know that he is babying her, just from the look in her eyes. It’s what he has been doing ever since they stopped fighting long enough to fall in love. You would never know she hated him the first day they met on set by looking at her now.
“Please tell me you aren’t on your period too? I have something in mind for tonight.” Charlie nuzzles my neck, but it creates no response.
I’m too busy trying to catch my breath.
“Excuse me,” I say to him, pulling out of his arms. I storm over and interrupt whatever conversation Farrah is having with Errol, and pull her into the bathroom downstairs.
“What?” she asks after I close the door.
“I didn’t get my period.” I sink onto the closed toilet seat and press my hands to my chest.
“Maybe you are just late,” she says, sliding down onto the edge of the tub.
“I’m never late. Literally never.”
Someone knocks on the door and we both scream taken, but they knock again.
“Your dad is going to be here,” Charlie says.
“Fuck.” I stand up, and Farrah follows suit.
With one look at each other, we both understand that this conversation is just the beginning. Then we open the door, acting like nothing is happening.
My dad is surprised and delighted by everyone being here. To my joy, he even hits it off with one of the women I invited. The night goes smoothly, and it’s clear people are having fun, but around 1 a.m. we shut it down to stop my dad from getting any more wasted.
Everyone but Charlie, Farrah, and Errol leaves, and soon we are seated in the kitchen with the last of the food.
“Did I ever tell you about the time that Monty fought a teacher?” My dad asks on unsteady feet.
“I need to hear this,” Errol says, sitting forward.
“No, you don’t,” I say while grabbing my dad’s arm. “It’s time for him to go to bed.”
“No, baby girl, they need to hear about how you beat up a male teacher who thought it was okay to hit on you.”
“Of course she did.” Charlie shakes his head.
“I was in the ninth grade! It wasn’t even a fair fight, so I don’t think I should have been suspended for winning.”
“Please tell me it came to light that he was a pervert,” Errol asks, then sips from his drink, his nose scrunched.
“It did, and Monty made the newspaper as a hero. I’ve never been more proud of her.” This time, my dad can barely keep himself up. I take the glass from his hands and gently lead him to his room, only returning when I hear him snoring.
“Now I understand why you and Farrah are friends. You both can’t walk away from a confrontation.” Errol promptly gets hit on the chest for his comment.
Farrah, not at all concerned that she just knocked him back, happily shifts on his lap.
“Actually, we are friends because our dance teacher told both of us we were too fat to be ballerinas,” I say.
“To which Monty proved her wrong by being the best in the class.”
I bow to their applause and find myself a little shaky when I stand back up. Deciding to put my glass down, I sit on the kitchen chair.
“Honestly, it was her confidence that drew me to her in college,” Charlie says, sitting next to me.
“No, it wasn’t. It was my friend Tiara Stone. Her fat ass was why you decided to talk to us.”
Farrah and I both laugh as we recount how badly that turned out for Charlie.
“The only reason she got mad at me was because I realized I would much rather be your friend than her boyfriend, and I cut it off.”
“Were you anyone’s boyfriend in college, Charlie?” Farrah asks, already knowing the answer.
“Doesn’t matter.” He waves his hand, causing us to laugh again.
“You and Errol are whores,” she says, trying to get up from Errol’s lap. He instantly pulls her back down and kisses her neck. She responds by playing with one of his locs.
“All that looking made it clear what we really wanted,” Charlie says.
“That’s right,” Errol says, fist bumping him.
“Well, you don’t always get what you want,” I say, pointing a finger at Charlie.
“I did,” Errol says, his cockiness making Farrah wiggle a little.
That causes him to grip her waist in a way that heats the room. Even though they can’t do everything, they can do enough to let me know they will be leaving soon.
They prove me right ten minutes later as he chases her out of the house, grabbing for her butt.
“I want what they have,” Charlie says, his gaze turning intense.
“So do I. I just want to do it right.”
“Do you think we’ll have it together?” He reaches across and grabs my hand, holding on to it tightly.
I link our fingers together and pull him closer. “I hope so.”
“I’ve wanted to build a family since I lost mine. I really want something to call my own.”
He kisses me, and in it, I feel so much of that dream press into me. Before I let myself get lost in the warmth that’s building inside, I remember the consequence I might be facing due to sleeping with him.
“We should get some sleep.” I pull him up by our connected fingers and drag him towards the stairs, hoping that closing my eyes will relieve my growing panic. But the silence only makes my voice of worry louder, as it yells all the what-ifs in my head.
Tomorrow will determine everything.