33. Zara
33
Zara
K enyon accused me of running again as he watched me get dressed, but leaving right now was for the best. Plus Rajah needed help perfecting a new routine she was debuting this weekend. I wasn’t sure if I missed the club or the opportunity to dance that it provided. Either way, I couldn’t get out the door fast enough when Rajah told me she was outside.
“Do I even want to know?” Rajah finally asked, breaking the silence between us.
“No.”
“Unless you want that baby to come out looking just like him, you better fix your face?”
“What?”
“They say whoever you argue with the most is who the baby looks like.”
“Tayshaun looks just like you, so you must’ve been arguing with yourself.”
“And was!” Rajah’s chuckle made me laugh despite still being irritated with Kenyon, “I let that nigga trap me with a baby like Keyes did you.”
“Really bitch?”
“You were smart. He’ll be a much better baby daddy than mine, though.”
I accepted Rajah’s compliment even though I didn’t feel very smart. This was only the tip of the iceberg, and underneath it, there were a host of issues for us to work through. During the car ride, Rajah talked a mile a minute about her new routine, bouncing ideas off me like we used to. I smiled and nodded, but my mind drifted back to everything that happened this morning.
Rajah parked, and the familiar bass spilled from Utopia’s doors, vibrating through the pavement under my feet. I almost felt it in my bones, like the rhythm was calling me back.
“I’m gonna go change real quick,” Rajah said, tossing her keys into her bag as she disappeared into the back.
I sat down near the edge of the stage, reminiscing about the rush of performing and feeling lost in the music. Now, every time I thought about dancing again, my mind would shift to something else—something bigger than just me.
Not working here anymore was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make it easier. A few minutes passed before I heard the door swing open behind me. I thought it was Rajah coming back, but when I looked up, it was Kross.
My fingers curled into a fist as I stared him down. Not because I was scared. I was angry. I was furious because the last time I saw him, he pulled a gun on me. Kross didn’t say anything at first, just gave me that cold, assessing look he always gave around the club.
“Does Keyes know you’re here?” Kross’s sarcastic smirk had to be drenched in guilt.
I clenched my jaw, trying to keep the rage from spilling out. “And risk you putting another gun in my face if he doesn’t?”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
His gaze flickered, but he didn’t press. Instead, he stepped further into the room, suffocating the space between us. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, the anger simmering beneath the surface.
“Sorry if I don’t buy that,” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended. “I’m just here for Rajah.”
“I’m genuinely sorry for what happened, but I won’t apologize for looking out for my brother. That means looking out for you too, so like it or not, we’re all stuck together, Zara.”
“I don’t like it.”
“We used to get along just fine.”
“Did we? Or did I just stay out of your way and do my job?”
“We were cordial,” Kross smiled again, and honestly, it was the most I’d seen him smile since I started working here. “We should get back to that because I’d hate to whoop your baby daddy’s ass standing in your honor.”
My eyebrow shot up because I’d never bet against Kenyon, “Watch your mouth.”
Kross threw his hands up and asked, “How are you?”
“We’re fine. Thanks for asking.”
“If you need anything, you know where to find me.” Kross’s hand patted my shoulder before he turned and headed for his office.
I wasn’t sure if it was my hormones or what, but there was something admirable about the way he was willing to stand in the gap and defend his brother against anyone, including me.
“Let’s get to work, coach!” Rajah sang, climbing on the stage.
Her movements were sharp, and while she oozed sex appeal, something was off. Although she had natural talent, pieces were missing—little things that could have made her performance go from good to unforgettable.
I stopped the music, and Rajah wiped her brow, giving me a frustrated look.
“What am I doing wrong now?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“You’re rushing through the moves,” I said, stepping closer. “Slow down, make them feel every step. You can’t just hit the moves. You have to tell a story with your body.”
She nodded, but I could see the doubt flicker in her eyes. Rajah had raw talent, and the way she moved naturally drew people in, but there were things that only experience could teach.
“Let’s take it from the top,” I said, my voice softening. “This time, I want you to focus on your transitions. Don’t think about the next move while you’re in the middle of one. Stay present.”
Rajah sighed but nodded, resetting herself. As the music started again, she moved confidently, swaying with the beat, but her balance faltered as she went into her spin.
“You’re rushing into the spin, Rajah. Plant your feet first, find your center, and then spin. Otherwise, you’ll lose your balance.”
She tried it again, this time more focused, and her spin was smoother, more controlled.
“That’s better,” I said, smiling. “Now, when you hit the floor routine, don’t just drop into it. Glide. It should be seamless.”
She started over again, and this time, her transitions were cleaner, her movements more deliberate. Each time Rajah finished the routine without interruption, the pride in her eyes flickered. There was no denying Rajah had something special, and with a bit of refinement, she was going to bleed these nigga’s dry come Saturday.
We packed up after that, and Rajah offered to drop me off at Nana’s so I could get my car. The ride back was quiet, and I stared out the window, thinking about how much I missed dancing.
“Now you have to come Saturday and see your hard work in action.”
“I do miss it.”
“And tell Keyes not to start his bullshit either. Do you need me to tell him myself?” Rajah asked.
“No, I can handle Keyes.”
“Oh, we know. Wear that lil’ pudge out too, so Phoenix can be sick.”
“Wow, you’re already using my baby.”
“She’s going to find out anyway. No need to prolong the suffering,” Rajah said, pulling up in front of Nana’s house.
I nodded and unbuckled my seatbelt, “You are crazy. Thanks for the ride.”
“No problem,” she said, reaching for my stomach. “Bye, Titi’s Baby!”
“Girl, move!” I joked, pushing her hands away before climbing out of the car.
My heart sank as I turned toward the house and watched Nana on the porch with Sonya. I walked up the path, trying to shake off my nerves.
"Hey baby," Banana Girl greeted me, motioning for me to come sit.
"Hi, Banana Girl," I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek before nodding at Sonya. "Hey, Ms. Sonya."
Sonya smiled warmly, setting her tea down. "Zara, it’s good to see you again.”
“Where have you been?” Banana Girl asked.
“At the club helping Rajah with her routine.”
"That’s exactly why I wanted to talk to you. I know you’ve taken a step back from dancing for obvious reasons." Sonya shot a glance at Nana before turning back to me. "But I wanted to extend an opportunity your way."
"What kind of opportunity?"
"I’ve been tied up with many things lately, but I’m looking to expand the studio. I need someone with the creativity and drive to help push the boundaries. You’d be helping choreograph routines, teaching, and managing some of the new projects.”
My head spun. Sonya's studio was one of the best in town, and working alongside her would be a dream come true. Then reality hit. How could I take on something like that when I was pregnant?
“That’s an amazing offer, Ms. Sonya. But I’m not sure I’m in the best position right now.”
“Do you know I was six months pregnant with my son when I auditioned for Dancing Shadows?”
“Chile, I remember,” Banana Girl added.
“If it weren’t for my girl here offering to babysit even when I didn’t have anything to pay her, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” Sonya’s eyes flickered with understanding. "Lily told me you’re expecting.”
I glanced at Banana Girl, then back at Sonya, my heart racing. "Oh, did she?”
Sonya nodded, her gaze still on me. "I know it’s a lot to think about, but this could give you a way to stay connected to dance without the physical demands of performing."
I could feel the weight of her offer settling over me. It was everything I wanted but with a new layer of responsibility.
"I don’t need an answer right away," Sonya said, standing up. "Just think about it. You’ve got the talent, Zara. This could be a fresh start."
I nodded slowly, still trying to process everything. "Thank you, Ms. Sonya. I can’t thank you enough for even considering me.”
Truthfully, I didn’t feel worthy of the offer. I didn’t go to school to study dance or have any experience outside Utopia. There had to be somebody somewhere more qualified than me.
Sonya smiled and gave Nana a quick goodbye before heading down the porch steps. After she left, I sank back into my chair.
“I hope you’re not actually thinking about saying no.”
“It’s a lot to think about, Mouth of the South . You’re just out here telling my business.”
“Oh, hush. If you told me yourself, I’d know not to tell anybody, but since you didn’t,” she shrugged, her mouth winged down.
“I was going to tell you, Banana Girl. I just didn’t know what to say.”
Nana squeezed my hand again. "I know you were baby.”
I nodded, forcing a small smile. I hung out with Banana Girl until my lids grew heavy. Part of me thought about staying the night. Then I remembered I’d just be doing what Kenyon accused me of earlier.
After I grabbed a few things from my room, I drove back to Kenyon’s house. When I walked in, the lights were low and too quiet. Then I saw Sydney sitting on the couch, legs crossed, like she belonged there.
"Where’s Kenyon?"
She looked up from her phone, not at all surprised to see me. "He’s out."
I wasn’t in the mood for this, so I headed for the stairs. It was better for everyone after the way she acted earlier.
"Zara.” she stood up, crossing her arms as she faced me. "I was out of line earlier. It’s Hearing about your pregnancy messed with my head.”
I frowned, not sure where she was going with this.
“It seems like you have an issue with our relationship more than you do the pregnancy.”
“Please, he is all yours,” she laughed a little before dropping on the sofa. “Seeing you two like that reminded me of what we lost.”
I slowly walked over, sitting on the chair's armrest across from her. The woman in me sympathized with Sydney even if she wasn’t my favorite person.
"I understand, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on me. This isn’t easy for me, either."
We sat quietly for a minute, caught in the weight of everything that wasn’t said.
"I don’t want to be at odds with my best friend’s girlfriend," Sydney admitted.
I studied her, trying to decide if I believed her. She seemed sincere, though, and I could see that the weight of everything she was carrying was heavy enough without me adding to it.
"We don’t have to be friends, but we don’t have to hate each other, either."
A reluctant smile tugged at Sydney’s lips. "Deal."
It wasn’t perfect and didn’t fix all our issues, but it was a step.