Chapter 3
1537 Words
3
A week had passed by in the blink of an eye.
Trihn sank down to the floor of the dance studio and started working at the knots on the ribbons of her pointe shoes. She had just spent six long hours rehearsing for the Senior Showcase at the NYC Dance House this upcoming weekend. Her feet were killing her, and she had worn through another pair of shoes. At this rate, she would go through at least two more pairs before the performances and probably one each night next weekend during the shows.
Renée flexed her feet and then pushed up onto the toes of her shoes. “Do you see this s**t?” Renée asked.
She moved up and down on her shoes, and Trihn could see that the hard insole of the shoes—normally, a perfect curve to her friend’s foot—had split in half.
“The shank is completely broken. f*****g hell.”
“Mine, too.”
“What the hell am I going to do? I can’t keep spitting out seventy-five dollars every week. I’m not made of money.”
“We’ll work it out. We always do.”
Renée plopped down next to her and mercilessly tore at her shoes. “This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t in the middle of the f*****g Intensive as well.”
Trihn laughed. “My shoes are falling apart, and I’m not doing Intensive.”
Every year, the NYC Dance House would put on a big summer dance workshop called The House Intensive. Dancers from all over the country would come to their studio to compete for dance scholarships. Renée was a scholarship recipient, so her participation in the summer program was required. The studio liked to showcase their prodigies. It helped that Renée had just been admitted into Juilliard for the fall. It was an incredible achievement for anyone but even more so for an African American scholarship student from the Bronx.
“Well, you should be helping with Intensive! There are so many f*****g kids, and we need more brilliant-minded choreographers.”
“Ha! You must be joking. We all know that I’m not a choreographer.”
Renée gave her the look. She tilted her head down, c****d one eyebrow, and pursed her lips. “Puh-lease. I know what you do on your days off. That freestyle s**t works in contemporary, too.”
“That’s why, in a week’s time, I’m performing my senior piece in contemporary and then spending the rest of my summer doing what I do on my days off!”
“Whatever, hooker,” Renée joked.
Trihn shook her head. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that one. “I just like to have a good time. Why don’t you come with me tonight?” Trihn asked.
She shoved her shoes in her bag, and they headed to the dressing rooms.
“As much as I’d love to, I can’t. My mom’s expecting me home to watch the boys while she takes the night shift,” Renée explained.
“What is she going to do when you’re out of the house next year?” Trihn asked.
Renée sighed heavily. The choice to move to Manhattan and pursue her dreams had been really tough on Renée. Outside of dance, she’d work her butt off around the house while her mom worked three jobs to try to support their family.
“I try not to think about it. One day at a time,” Renée said. “At least Matthew will be there to help tonight.”
“Oh, I see how it is. You’re really going home to be with the BF.”
Matthew was Renée’s boyfriend of three years. They were pretty much the cutest couple around. He was a jazz musician and swore up and down that he was going to compose a ballet for Renée like nothing anyone had ever seen before.
“Whatever,” Renée cried.
Trihn stepped into a shower stall, peeled off her sweat-soaked tights and leotard, and stuffed them into an empty side pocket of her bag. She turned on the water and hurried under the spray when it was steaming hot. Her hair was still tightly held in its bun. She wouldn’t have time to blow it out before meeting her friends. After washing off the hours of practice, Trihn dried off and changed into a pair of tight leather booty shorts and a low-cut V-neck tank before slipping into her favorite pair of heels.
When she stepped back out, Renée just shook her head. “There’s my hooker. Are you man-hunting tonight?”
“Yeah, right. You know me.”
“Reconsider it. You look hot and could have any guy you wanted.”
Trihn shrugged. “Maybe,” she said, giving the same answer she had given Lydia.
When they had gone out last weekend, Lydia had ended up making out with two different male models who were out with them. Trihn had left empty-handed—again.
They hurried down the three flights of stairs and into the marble-tiled entryway. The revolving door was already locked tight for the night, and all but one light had been left on. The rest of the girls had left the building as soon as they could. Some of the management was still upstairs, but otherwise, it was dead.
“Do you want me to walk with you?” Renée asked.
“No. Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch a cab. Get home to your mom.”
“I’m not looking forward to telling her about the shoes,” she said softly.
Trihn grabbed her hand and stopped her before they exited. “I’ll cover it if I have to. It’s only one more week.”
“Thanks, Trihn.”
“What are friends for?”
They stepped out of the building and onto the brightly lit street. Even at eleven at night, people were still strolling the streets, and the sight made Trihn smile. She would never get tired of watching the way her city operated. It was home.
Trihn threw her hand out, and a cab pulled up to the curb. “You take this one,” Trihn told her. She opened the back door and pushed her best friend toward it.
“No! You take it. You have to meet people!”
“I’ll make it. You have farther to go.”
Renée sighed. She could see that she was going to lose the argument, and the cab would leave them if one of them didn’t get in. “Okay, but be careful.”
“I always am,” Trihn said.
She kissed Renée on the cheek, and then after she climbed into the backseat, Trihn shut the door behind her. The car drove off, and she searched for the next cab.
“How’s the shoulder?”
Trihn whirled around in a panic. Her stomach leaped up into her throat. “Jesus!” she cried when she saw who it was. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
Preston smiled and held up his hands. “Sorry about that. Can’t seem to get my footing with you.”
“How the hell did you even know I would be here?” she asked suspiciously.
It was kind of creepy, having him show up outside the studio at the exact time that she had finished with dance. How did he even know that I dance here? It was probably about time to get into a cab or else she wouldn’t be heeding Renée’s advice to be careful.
She hedged backward a step.
“I saw your dance bag that day we ran into each other. I was in the neighborhood and thought I would just swing by,” he clarified.
“At eleven o’clock at night?”
“Okay,” he said with a nervous laugh. “You caught me. I actually asked around to see when your class would end, so I could surprise you.”
“You have my phone number. Why didn’t you just call?”
“Can’t a guy surprise a girl anymore?”
Trihn raised her eyebrows. “Probably not at eleven at night after staking out her studio.”
He ran a hand back through his messy blond hair and looked at his feet. This wasn’t going at all the way he had planned it. She figured he had wanted to surprise her and have her think it was cute. And while she couldn’t deny that her heart was beating wildly in her chest at the thought that he had stood out here, waiting just for her, she wasn’t an i***t and didn’t want to end up on a Missing Person poster.
“All right. My bad. I guess…I’ll just head out. I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he apologized.
He shoved his hands down into the pockets of his dark jeans, bunching his black T-shirt up around his muscles and drawing her eyes to his body. He looked back up at her then with those sexy blue eyes, and her stomach dropped out of her body.
“Wait,” she said before he could walk away. “I was just surprised. Why did you really show up anyway?”
“I wanted to check on your shoulder,” he offered.
She rolled it twice. “It was a minor thing. Went away before dance last week.”
“Oh. Oh, okay. Good.”
He smiled again like he might just leave it at that, and in that moment, she decided that she couldn’t let it end. He was undeniably attractive. He had sought her out at dance. There was no way she was just going to let him walk away again. She had been kicking herself for letting it happen in the first place.
“You have plans?” she asked.
“Have something in mind?” He took a step closer to her.
Her body heated at his nearness. Dear God, he was going to be the death of her.
“I’m meeting some friends. You could join…if you wanted,” she offered.
“What am I in for?”
She shrugged, all nonchalant. “Just a regular night in New York City.”
He laughed, and it was beautifully effortless. “This should be interesting.”
- Writer
