This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel (4 page)

“Thanks, Lindsay, you’re a true friend.” Claire couldn’t suppress a grin.

“What? I’m just saying; it never hurts to be vigilant.”

“David leads a very public life. Don’t you think that if he were sneaking around behind my back, it would have leaked out in the tabloids already?”

“True, you’ve got a point there. Maybe he is really busy at work then.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Well, then you just have to wait for things to get back to normal. He didn’t always keep these crazy hours, did he?”

“He didn’t when we first starting dating, but lately it’s become the norm…”

“Then maybe you need to become less available to him; make him miss you.”

“You think? Geez, Lindsay, each pointer you give me is more original than the next. That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but if I see any less of him, I’m afraid he might forget what I look like.”

“Don’t worry – things will work out eventually. Either he’ll stop working these crazy hours, or you’ll get tired of waiting around for him and move on.” Lindsay grinned.

“Great. Thanks for the wonderful relationship advice.”

“No problem. You know that you can always count on me.”

It was almost eight o’clock at night when Claire walked up to her building. She and Lindsay had spent the Sunday roaming
SoHo’s
galleries and boutiques and had finished the day off with dinner and drinks. It was always fun hanging out with Lindsay, but, throughout the day, Claire could not help wishing that David had been there with her.

She was about to enter the lobby when she had a sudden impulse to look up at the windows of the top floor apartment. The lights were off; her musical neighbor was probably out, dancing the night away. Claire shook her head, wondering what on earth possessed her to look up. It was about time she put the foolish incident out of her mind.

Chapter 4

By eight a.m., Claire was in the office. It was early by an architectural firm’s standards, but Claire liked having the quiet office to herself. In an hour, the place would become a beehive, but right now it was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

While she waited for her computer to boot up, Claire turned to the drawings that were spread out on her five-foot long desk. She loved her job. When it came to architecture, there were laws to be obeyed, and as long as you thought through your design, you were always assured of a gratifying outcome. To her mind, there was nothing more beautiful than the purity of lines in a perfectly designed drawing.

Years ago, it was Claire’s love of drawing that lifted her out of grim reality. She still remembered the day she discovered her passion for it – that day everything changed forever.

A daughter of two college professors, Claire grew up in Great Neck, Long Island. Her childhood had all the prerequisites of being a happy one: loving parents, financial stability, a beautiful home. There was just one small wrinkle: Claire’s weight. At two, her chubbiness was written off as adorable; at five, it was still cute; but when Claire turned ten, she became the fat kid in school.

“It’s only baby fat, Claire. You’ll shed it all, just like I did, and grow into a beautiful swan,” Claire’s perfectly slim mother would assure her, aided by pictures of her own chubby childhood as proof. It was all fine and dandy for her mother to say: she was not the one being teased: “Chubby Claire ate too many éclairs.”
Éclairs
. Back then, Claire used to sigh at the thought. She could not remember the last time she had as much as a jellybean, but apparently her classmates thought otherwise. She watched what she ate, rode her bike every day, and swam in the community pool, but the weight would not budge.

Then her mother had a wonderful idea: why not try dancing? Claire could not see why not. She loved music, loved the rhythm and feel of it. Sometimes, in the privacy of her room, she would blast Paula Abdul on her stereo and belt out the moves she had picked up from the videos. The girl she saw in the mirror of her room was fat; still, that fat girl could move.

But the kind of dancing Claire loved most, the kind of music that made her mouth open in a wishful gape, was ballroom. Now and then, she would catch a glimpse of it on the PBS station, and the sight of glamorous couples gliding together across the gleaming parquet floors took her breath away. She loved it all: waltz, foxtrot, quickstep, but it was tango that left her spellbound. As she watched the dancers make each move with knife-like precision, Claire imagined a grown-up, slim version of herself. One day she too would be beautiful.

When the classical ballroom studio in the area held auditions for group classes, her mother signed Claire up. The night before the tryouts, Claire secretly practiced the dance moves she had memorized from the PBS broadcasts: she could do the waltz box, the beginning of the foxtrot, and she had finally figured out the basic tango step
s
. She was sure she was going to impress the dance teacher, and who knew, maybe the dance school would finally help her drop those stubborn pounds.

The next day Claire was up bright and early. She had taken extra care to brush and braid her hair and selected her most flattering dress for the audition. She was so excited that the thought of breakfast made her sick, and she rushed her mother to get into the car.

Finally, they had arrived. Claire’s stomach lurched. Perhaps she should have listened to her mother and had that oatmeal after all, but it was too late now. Her mother parked the car, and together, they walked into the studio. Inside, the foyer was already crowded. 

“Are you here for the audition?” An extremely tall, gaunt woman greeted them.

“Ah, yes.” Claire’s mother smiled. “My daughter would like to take dance lessons.”

“I see.” The woman’s plucked eyebrows rose as she eyed Claire. “The audition for the group lessons will start in fifteen minutes. You see, there are always more girls than boys, so boys get admitted without tryouts, but with girls, we have to be more selective.”

“But that doesn’t seem fair, does it?” Claire’s mother reached for her hand.

“Well, I think you’ll agree with me that life isn’t always fair, is it?” The woman’s lips parted in a chilly smile. “The parents wait in the foyer until the audition is over.”

Claire sensed her mom’s hesitant glance.

“It’s okay, Mom. I want to do this.”

“I’ll be waiting for you here, honey. Good luck.”

Claire smiled bravely as she felt the woman’s bony hand on her shoulder.

“Follow me,” the woman said. “The audition will be in there.”

As though in a dream, Clair
e
followed the woman down to the door at the end of the hall.

What she saw next, left her spellbound. Outside, the studio was an unassuming suburban building, and Claire was stunned to discover that a building so ordinary could conceal such vast, open space. Her mouth almost dropped open when she saw the gleaming ceiling-to-floor mirrors that lined the walls, the polished parquet floor, and the bright light that bounced off all the shiny surfaces.

“Wait here with the other candidates.” The woman shut the door behind her.

The other candidates?
Claire blinked and saw that there were about twenty girls in the room. Quietly, she walked over to the group and took her place at the end of the line. As always, aside from a few brave kids, no one was talking. Quietly, Claire scanned the crowd. Luckily, there was no one there from her school.
Oh, shucks
. She spoke too soon. There, in the center of a small circle, stood the blond girl she remembered from her class. Claire knew that her name was Amber, but she did not bother to wave. Girls like Amber were not friends with girls like Claire.

The chilly woman returned into the room. This time she was accompanied by a younger woman with a notepad and a boy of about ten or eleven.

“Places, everyone.” The woman held up her hand and the crowd froze in fear, except for Amber who continued to chew her bubble gum, clicking it loudly.

“There is no
room for
chewing gum in
ballroom
dancing. The garbage bin is over there.”

Under the woman’s icy glare, Amber spat out her bubble gum and threw it into the wastebasket.

“Now, we can begin. My name is Miss Katz. Today, you will be auditioning for this fall’s group class. The class size is ten couples, and as you can see, we have an excess of applicants. Bryan is this year’s champion.” The woman cast a benevolent glance at the blond boy with an impossibly erect back who was standing next to her, and Claire could literally hear all the other girls swoon. “This is not some amateur dance club. We train professional dancers here. If you are not serious about dancing, you might as well leave right now. Bryan is going to be helping me make the selection decision. Those of you who make the cut are to stay in the
room,
those who do not are to leave immediately.”

By now the fear in the room had become palpable, but Claire remained calm. Being the fat kid had some benefits after all; she had developed a pretty thick skin.

“Right, we will start in alphabetical order.” Miss Katz nodded at the younger woman with the notepad.

“Amber Bancroft,” the younger woman
read,
her voice shaky.

Her platinum ponytail bouncing defiantly, Amber walked into the middle of the room. Long, slim legs, willowy arms, long neck, and the cutest, doll-like face – even as a ten-year-old, Amber was fully aware of her beauty.

“Right.” Miss Katz nodded. “You will audition to three different dances.”

“But I don’t know any of the steps.” Amber crisscrossed her arms on her chest.

“I’m aware of that. This is the point of the exercise, to see how quickly you can pick things up. Try to follow Bryan as best as you can. Music, please.”

A Viennese waltz flooded the room, and Claire jealously watched Bryan take Amber’s hand. The two made a perfect couple. No doubt, Amber would turn Bryan into another one of her conquests in no time, just like she did with all the boys in school.

But what
happened
next contradicted Claire’s expectations.

“The clumsy cow stepped on my foot!” Bryan pushed Amber away.

“He tripped me!” Amber pushed him back.

“Silence!” Miss Katz’s scant eyebrows grew into one line. “Amber Bancroft – you failed the audition.”

“This is total bollocks anyway.”

“This kind of language will not be tolerated in my studio, young lady. Please leave immediately.”

“Gladly! To hell with you and your studio.” Her chin jutting out, Amber stomped out of the room.

Claire took a deep breath, bracing herself for the worst. If someone like Amber did not make the cut, what chance did she have?

As if in a dream, Claire heard her name called out.

Sensing Bryan’s domineering stare, Claire stepped toward him and assumed her position. The music started, Bryan made the first step, and she followed him. It was easier than she had imagined and much more fun than dancing by herself
in her room.
One, two
,
three
, the waltz music carried her as she followed Bryan.

Next
came
the foxtrot, and finally, the tango. Claire’s body quivered as she followed Bryan’s lead, ever so careful not to make a mistake.

“Thank you.” Miss Katz raised her hand and the music stopped. “Well done, Claire.”

Claire’s heart leapt as she imagined herself dancing in this magnificent studio. With practice, she could get really good.

“Come back when you’ve lost about twenty pounds. Next.”

She wanted to cry, but she refused to give Miss Katz the satisfaction. Instead, she calmly walked out into the foyer where her mother was waiting for her.

“Well, how did it go?” Her mother eyed her anxiously.

“It went fine.” Claire smiled. “But I think I’d rather try drawing instead.”

On the way home, they stopped by the art school and Claire filled out the application. There was no humiliating audition, no nerve-wracking waiting around. She was signed on immediately.

When she got home, Claire threw her music tapes away. It was time to wake up. Nobody wanted to see a fat chick dance.

The next day, Amber approached her in the cafeteria.

“If you say a word about what happened at Miss Katz’s, I will tell everyone that you’re a liar.”

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone,” Claire stammered, still shocked by the fact that Amber Bancroft was talking to her.

“Oh, right. Okay then.” Amber’s face reddened. “By the way, you did really well on your audition, and Miss Katz is a total bitch.”

“Thanks.” Claire smiled. Dancing was history to her, but the fact that Amber Bancroft liked her more than compensated for the humiliation she had endured at Miss Katz’s.

“You should keep it up, you know. My dad is going to get me private dance lessons; you can come too if you want.”

“That’s all right. I’ve signed up to take art classes instead.”