Even my hugs are stiff as we take our time to congratulate each other.
“We’ll call you,” she says.
Dismissed, I run out of the studio and down the street, my legs incapable of staying still now. The adrenaline from performing is still charging me enough that I have to move. That’s the way it’s always been. When the music moves through me, it takes a while before I can pour it back into the world. No matter what’s changed, we still have that connection.
When I step into the restaurant, Farrah looks for any signs that I made it. When she sees my pinched lips, her face falls. Her expression matches how I feel as that ache echoes a little louder today.
I throw my gym bag under my chair, sliding into my seat. My leg shakes under the table.
“Did you get the job?” She leans forward and grabs my hand in hers, nearly blinding me with the diamond bracelet her husband bought her for Christmas.
“Yes,” I sigh.
“But you aren’t happy?”
I shake my head and try to gather some sort of emotion other than dread. I have barely anything inside of me that resembles the way I used to feel in these moments, and I might never get that back. Whether I like it or not, I have to take the job if I want to pay rent. This is about so much more than my passion now.
“What next?” she asks, adjusting in her seat. Like me, her ass is too big for the width of the chair, and it’s hard to get comfortable.
“We practice for the next month, and then we go on tour for thirteen weeks. We also get to be in the music video.”
Still trying to find the bright side, she says, “I can’t believe you are going to be dancing for Tasha Rae. Her music is revolutionary. It makes me want to divorce Errol and go mess around.”
“I know, it’s my fuckgirl album,” I say before I order enough for two people.
All the dancing has made me hungry.
“Speaking of sleeping around. You want to finally talk about a certain person.” She bats her eyelashes and wiggles her eyebrows.
“I told you everything.”
Having put my hair into a slicked-back bun, I wish I had my usual braids to flip over my shoulder.
“No, you told me you slept with Rowan’s brother. You didn’t tell me any of the details.”
The change in subject has me lighting up a little.
“What do you want to know?”
She pushes her drink away and rests her forearms on the table. Leaning in, she tries to keep the conversation between the two of us.
“Who’s better, him or Charlie?”
The waiter drops off our appetizers. I take a bite while I think it over. She pouts at the delay.
“They are different. Charlie knows more of what I like and knows just what to say to really get me going. Callahan has more stamina and seemed to really get off on getting me off, and that’s hot.”
“So Callahan is better.” She tilts her head, wiggling her eyebrows.
“How is that what you got from my answer?”
“You have been having sex with Charlie for three years. If he doesn’t know those things, then he is bad in bed. Callahan can learn what Charlie knows and still surprise you.”
“Nuh uh. There are things Charlie can do that I would never let Callahan do, like spank and choke me.”
I eat a few more pieces of my calamari. She still seems more interested in devouring this information than eating her spinach dip.
“Why wouldn’t you let him?”
