Marcus stood, pulled his coat off the back of Ty’s chair, and threw me a wink, while Ty put his socks and sneakers on. “Got a hot date?”
It had been so long since I’d been out on a semblance of what could pass for a date, I didn’t know if I’d recognize the process. “Uh, no.”
“What do you do now, use hookup apps? I’ve been out of the scene so long, I don’t even remember.” Marcus slipped on his coat.
Tyler snickered and patted him on the cheek. “Babe, you never dated. All you had to do was crook your finger and the men fell into your bed.” He put on his jacket and slid his arms around Marcus’s waist. Marcus smoothed the dark waves off Ty’s face while I stood by, watching them.
“All except one. The one I wanted the most. He ran away.”
“Only until I let you catch me.” Tyler nuzzled into Marcus’s neck. “I may let you catch me tonight too. If you’re good.”
“Or very bad, depending on how you want it.” Marcus took Ty’s hand and dragged him out of the studio, Tyler laughing as he waved to me.
“See you tomorrow.”
Watching them get into the cab Marcus hailed, I wondered if I should even bother going into Man Up tonight. I ached all over. Physically, my legs were tired and my feet hurt, but that was standard after dance class this afternoon and teaching. A hot soak in some salts and I’d be good as new. I flexed my ankles and wiggled my toes. But it was the emotional ache I couldn’t escape. Night after night, dancing and pretending.
Panic gripped me for a moment. For the first time, I was aware of my solitude. Frankie was my best friend, but he had his own dreams to follow and was living his life. My mother was gone, too fragile to last in a hard world full of disappointments and disillusionment. By opting out of her life, she’d changed the course of mine, leaving me to be raised by a father who in public pretended to love me, while in private railed against my very right to exist.
No, no, no.I ran my fingers through my hair and scrubbed my face. You don’t move forward by thinking back. I refused to wallow in self-pity. That was a trap that got a person nowhere. I grabbed my phone, searched through my music, and found my mantra, Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” When I left my father’s house, I’d play this on repeat, curled up in a ball in my bed, wondering if I’d made a mistake. Now here I was, working two jobs, with new friends. Making it work. I didn’t need my father to give me anything, or a man to tell me what to do or how to act.
Not gonna waste my time on that shit.I took a seat at the desk and buried myself in scheduling forty-five five-to-nine-year-old children for ballet and contemporary dance for the next month. An hour and a half later, I clicked off the last Excel spreadsheet and was finished. My phone screen read 8:35, and I’d missed four texts and three obscene voice mails from Frankie, all asking where the hell I was.
Grinning to myself, I texted him.
Still at the studio. Leaving soon. Pretty please could you get me a turkey wrap?
I imagined Frankie sputtering out loud with rage. My phone pinged.
Fuck you.
I chuckled.
With mustard, no mayo.
I know. And lettuce. See you soon.
I texted him a kiss emoji, my mood suddenly lighter. My life was pretty fucking good. I had steady money coming in, good friends…Why fuck it up with a man who’d only lie and hurt me…No.I smacked my hand on the desk and shook my head, unwilling to let anything steal my joy tonight. I was stronger than I was only a year ago when I’d almost given up.
It took less than ten minutes to shut down the computer and run through the closing checks for the studio; then I was making tracks to the subway. Depending on the trains, it could take less than fifteen minutes to get to Man Up or more than an hour, and I didn’t want to be late. Lucky for me, it was the former, and I walked in the door at nine fifteen on the dot.
“Hey, James.” In his usual alcove spot near the entrance, James jerked his head up from studying his laptop and frowned.
“Oh. Austin. Come here, please.”
I leaned against the doorway. “What’s up?”
“About what happened last week.”
I hadn’t told James what the disgusting pig had done to me. I hadn’t told anyone except José the bartender, who dated Hector the bouncer, and promised to tell him not to let the creep inside the club.
“What?” I chewed on my lower lip, anxious that he’d discovered my secret.
My heart plummeted as James arched a brow at me, his eyes skeptical. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out one of my employees was assaulted in my club? What I don’t understand,” he said, his voice rising with frustration, “is why you didn’t think to tell me. Why, Austin? Did you think I wouldn’t believe you over him? After all this time, you should know better.”
Shocked, I remained frozen. “I…I don’t know what to say. I guess I didn’t want to think about it after it happened. I just wanted him gone.” What I didn’t tell him about were the painful, ugly memories it dredged up of a past I thought I’d put to rest. “How did you find out?”
He closed the laptop with a sigh and faced me from his seat, weary, troubled lines still creasing his face. James might only be in his early thirties, but he seemed miles older than the rest of us in our mid-to-late twenties.
