Fragments (42 page)

Looking at me, Robbie’s eyebrows quirk as he asks, “You backing out, Trice?”

I shake my head vigorously. After today’s lesson, this decision was made even clearer.

“Definitely not. Cannot wait to make a start.”

              We continue eating our dinner until the doorbell rings. Robbie jumps up and strolls to the door and I immediately recognise Hazel’s voice on the other side. She walks into the lounge, red-cheeked from the wind outside, and her curls are unruly under her cap. 

“Hey guys.” She smiles, walking around the couch to sit next to me. Peering into my bowl, her lips purse in appreciation. “Pasta, yum!”

I wink and finish up the last few pieces of penne. Tilting my chin to the kitchen, I offer her some but she declines.

“No thanks, hon, I already ate. Plus, I want to eat dessert later so I don’t want to over-indulge now. I need the room!” 

Earlier that week, we had made plans to catch up and head to the new restaurant around the corner to try their cake. I had heard from Regan that it was pretty cool, so we were looking forward to it.

Robbie shuffles in his seat on the couch near us, and I can’t help but glance at him a few times; he is fidgeting with his hands while making subtle glances at Hazel. I smile, bursting to give him shit for his not-so-subtle crush, but I don’t want to embarrass Hazel. Ever since that night when I thought something was up, both parties have been like an iron fortress.

“Um, Trice, has Robbie asked you yet?”

I look back from Robbie with a concerned expression upon my face. “Asked me about what?”

I shuffle in my seat, placing my bowl on the coffee table and tucking my feet under me.  Robbie nods to Hazel before turning to face me.

“Trice, remember how I had half an act organised that I wanted you to join? You know, when you weren’t out the back.”

“Yeah …” I side glance at Hazel and then raise my eyebrow.

“Well …” He clears his throat. “I thought you could join … Hazel.”

“Robbie asked me a while back. Then when he said you were unhappy …. he just ... suggested that maybe we could do something … out the front? I know you’ll have the back room, too.” Hazel grips her hands together, biting her lip as she watches me. 

I can’t help but blink at her. Robbie has offered me the back room as a studio to teach in. I haven’t worked out the finer details or the age group yet, but it feels right. Part of me wants to offer up classes to older women for a bit of fun. It would bring in a crowd, but the setup needs adjustment. What Hazel is asking, though, confuses me. Isn’t she going to be an actress? “What do you mean?”

She licks her bottom lip before continuing. “I mean, we could be a duo act in the burlesque club. Friday and Saturday nights we could sing and dance.”

My chest feels fluttery as my mind works over her idea.

“Us? Burlesque? As in, hot outfits and cute routines?”

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s not too hard, your voice isn’t half bad, and we could really make it work.”

“What about your career in the theatre?”

“I changed my mind, Trice. I wasn’t happy, either.” She blinks rapidly while staring at me.

I don’t have to second guess. I’m in.

“Honey, sign me up!” 

Hazel squeals and launches herself into my arms. “I am so excited,” she sings. “This is going to be so much fun! I’ve even talked to Trinity about making our corsets and other outfits!”              

“Oh, my God!” I exclaim. “That is awesome! She will love doing that.”

I glance over to Robbie to see the big smile on his face. I wink at him and he winks back. My future suddenly feels fresher, and I can’t wait. 

So, like that, our duo is formed.

*               *              *              *                *             

              The next day, I am a bundle of nerves during our performance practise. I had dreamt about different dance routines and scenarios that the duo with Hazel could bring. It had been a long time since I’d felt any relief or happiness over my future. I wanted out from under the hateful eye of the dickhead director. It would be Hazel and me against the world, with the help of Trinity to make us look hot while doing it. Suffice to say, I lost a lot of sleep chatting to Alex about it while filling my mind with various ideas. I could not wait.

Currently in class, whilst daydreaming, I practice my various dances, but my other duo routine with Josh manages to get more airtime than the other dances that I need to practise. My fatigue is beginning to show, and I need to regain my composure.

              “So, is Alex coming on Saturday? And by coming, I mean to the concert; get your mind out of the gutter,” Josh quips while stepping out the last part of the song.

“Yeah, and he’s pretty excited and overprotective. I showed him some of the costumes, though, and he got a little alpha. On one hand, he was thrilled to watch me, and on the other he wasn’t thrilled at how little I was wearing.” I can’t help but chuckle. “I had to keep reminding him the times of the songs; three minutes, four minutes thirty seconds, as well as the others. That was roughly what our conversation consisted of.” 

I wasn’t exaggerating, either. As hot as the lustful look was that he gave me when I held up a few costumes, it soon turned possessive when he clicked that I would not be dancing a mediocre dance to a mediocre audience.

“Does he know that you’re dancing very closely with me?” Josh asks as he twirls me around. “Yeah, he knows we are dancing, but I haven’t told him the extent of it. He tends to get overprotective.”

Josh laughs as he continues to count out steps with me. “He knows my preference for guys, right? I haven’t changed my mind. Will he punch me on Saturday?”

“Of course, he won’t. It wouldn’t matter if you were a married gay man, he’d still not appreciate you touching me,” I answer. “It’s fine now, though, as all I had to do was remind him how many sets of boobs he touches throughout the year for ‘work’,” I say, using my index fingers to emphasise his job. “And he shut up. So, I won!”

We continue working through the last steps of our dance before turning on the music and doing it properly. The beat and timing feels right and I’m grateful that we are in sync.

Just as we’re about to call it an afternoon, DD’s voice is heard like a bitter chill in the studio. “Beatrice! What in God’s name is that awful mark on your wrist?”

I look to the left to see DD storming over to me. Looking at my wrist, I cringe as in my sleepy haze this morning I neglected to cover up my tattoo. I cover my wrist with my right hand and look away, but his gaze tells me that he isn’t done with me yet.

“Well? Explain yourself!”

My eyes glance back and are assaulted by his scathing gaze. “It’s a tattoo. Normally I have it covered up but I forgot. It won’t happen again.”  

He huffs and stands with his hands on his hips, no doubt revelling in pumping up the drama. Pointing to my wrist, his lips flick spittle as he continues to berate me. “That monstrosity is distasteful, and you look like a skank.”

I am taken aback by his cruelty. “But Sir …”

His face reddens as he continues, “Do not interrupt me. It is a good thing that the finale is this weekend. It will be a pleasure to see the last of you. That disgusting stamp will not see you hired. Mark my words, you will see. Maybe next time you will think twice about lowering your already lowered standards.”

My eyes blink at his antagonism. For once, I don’t feel tears, only hatred. 

“That’s a shame you feel that way,” I respond nonchalantly. “Lucky that we are judged by our talent and not our appearance.” Turning to Josh, I say loud enough for DD to hear, “It’s a good thing he never knew about my back tattoo then, isn’t it?”

I hear a gasp and I ignore it, marching to my duffle. I pull it over my shoulder, smile at DD and walk past my classmates and out the door. Fuck him. 

I reach into my bag for my iPod when I look out towards the car park. There, leaning against his car, is Alex. I sigh in relief and run quickly over to him. He extends his arms and I clutch onto him and plant the biggest thank-you kiss on his lips. He kisses me back, releases me slowly, and kisses my forehead while hugging me close.

“Well, if I had known that was the reaction I’d get for picking you up, I would have come every day.” 

I chuckle and tighten my arms around him. “You just made the crappy end of my day so much brighter.” 

He moves his hand up to my face and strokes my cheek and along my hairline. Before I can tell him more, Josh, Regan, and Aiden come barrelling out and sprint towards me. All three begin to talk all at once.

“Are you all right?”

“What a bastard.”

“That was fucking epic.”

“Thanks guys, I’m okay. Just pissed off, really.”

Alex looks down at me and strokes my cheek. “What happened, babe?”

I huff and quickly retell the director’s comments about my tattoo. His eyes darken and he snarls, “That motherfucker. Where is he?” 

I squeeze my arms around him to hold him close. “Babe, don’t. Retribution will be on Saturday, you’ll see.”

Alex’s body is still tense under my grip, but at least he isn’t rushing off to belt up DD. No, this Saturday, that arsehole is mine.

              The next few days pass the same way, routine practise with the occasional snarly comment from the director. Leticia keeps her comments to herself, but her knowing grin is always smeared across her bitchy face. Whatever. Countdown is on.

Since Alex asked if we could move in together, he’s had most real estate websites tagged on his phone while also looking at the paper. It’s exciting and fast, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. On Sunday, he wants to show me what he’s found and to make sure I think it sounds perfect before checking it out.

              By the time Saturday comes, I’m ready. Preparing myself in the bathroom, I soap up every inch of my body while reflecting on the past four years. Most of my times here have been fantastic, but the added pressure to strive for perfection eats at me like an infectious disease. I’ve seen too many dancers fall to the pressure, to be made into lesser versions of themselves; all because they were conditioned to be perfect or they’d be seen as worthless. That’s not what I want. Sure, I could go through a theatre company and really enjoy it, but the pressure would stay the same. It wasn’t the life for me.

              As the water runs down, I can’t help but remember the moment where I danced for my life last time. Where I begged to be given a chance to escape. To become a dancer and be free of the mess of high school. What a scared, bitter, hostile girl I was. I remember the beat of the music from that piece thrumming through my body as I obsessed over every single move. Every step took me closer to this academy. To where I was now. But now? Being here … it isn’t what I want. Now, I stand with the motions of the routines running through my mind as a means to an end. A swirl of energy ripples around my core. A Machiavellian forethought. I will play my part and then begin the future that I now believe that I am destined for. I smile at the thought of not having my future planned. The unknown is enough to fuel me for today’s gala. 

              I quickly dress and grab my bag by the door. Alex is waiting for me, and even he holds a nervous energy about him.

“C’mon baby, let’s see you light up that stage!” He winks while draping his arm over my shoulders. He leans in and whispers, “I missed being in the shower with you.”

I nudge him in the ribs; I want a moment to clear my head a bit. He knows it; he is just stirring.

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply.

Robbie is already out the front on his phone, waiting for us. Once he spots us, he ends his call and heads to Alex’s car. 

“Right, let’s go. The girls and Theo are meeting us there.”

              Walking into the dressing room, I have my mind set. I set my duffle on the ground before the vanity I will be using and peep at my reflection.  My eyes aren’t haunted; I look determined and happy. Unzipping my duffle, I prepare for the group number while setting out the things that I need for the next few numbers. Luckily, only my solo requires slightly different stage make-up. Pulling my hair half up, I tease the back ready for our “Every Time” number. Regan is jumpy and can’t seem to sit still beside me. This night means more to her than it does to me.  

              Positioning ourselves on the stage, I feel the familiar lure of nerves begin to take hold. I straighten my shoulders and calm my breathing. The lights dim and I wink at Josh without the audience seeing.

The lights begin to illuminate the stage as the music fills the auditorium. It is time to show the director, Craig, what we can do. My body begins to move with the music as the haunting lyrics sway us to feel. Each step highlights the plight of our characters, of their journey, their struggles and their failures. By the end, I feel emotionally vulnerable, and pleased that Cory’s choreography was given the beauty it deserved. 

              As the night progresses, each number I dance feels like a farewell song to this journey. Watching my fellow classmates perform their solos and duet performances truly moves me. It is like I have been given a precious gift of seeing their souls embossed across their chests. Joshua uses his body beautifully as he dances across the stage. Regan’s solo is also ever so exquisite. Gentle tears mist in my eyes, but I draw them back for my next routine.