Chapter 2
Janae
Yeah, it’s probably not healthy to bethisinto a stage combat panel.
But like…Iam.
Because it’s dancing.
Violent dancing to an explosion soundtrack.
I mean what the fuck is better than that?!
Oh!
Maybe I should take a stage combat course if I don’t get offered the lead choreographer gig!
That could be a fun change of career choice unlike being told you’re now “too old” to be a professional cheerleader in the NBA because you’re a little over thirty.
And by a little over I mean a few months.
Literally.
Months.
Applause for the group of directors from The Society of American Fight Directors immediately begins upon their stated ending and continues with standing ovations I’m proud to be a part of for another forty seconds or so.
However, the instant the crowd begins to disperse, something I’mlesspleased with appears.
“Hey, J,” slyly greets Wheeler from my left, appearing like he’s one of the long lost Duras Sisters. “Knew I’d find you here.”
Of course, he fucking knew I’d be here.
It’s adancethemed panel!
The only thing I love more thanStar Trekis dance, although there have been times when I’m pretty sure I love the former more.
Probably because it never had someone tell me I was too fat.
Or too dark skinned.
Or too tall.
Or not tall enough.
Or didn’t have enough ass.
Or enough tits.
Or wasn’t worth the zeroes I worked tirelessly for on every contract I signed.
“Wheeler,” I cordially greet back knowing better than to fully engage.
Yeah.
He’s one of those give a person an inch, they take you screaming on a cross-country road trip type of individuals.
“Come on, peaches…” His body noticeably creeps closer. “You know I like it when my girl calls me Wheels.”
