Slow Burn, page 7
Gabriele walked into the centre of the room and I joined him there, standing opposite, definitely not looking at the biceps bulging out from the arms of his T-shirt. And absolutely not thinking about what it would be like to run my hands over them, to see if they were as rock-hard as they looked.
I lifted my head, making eye contact, my heart hammering in my ears so loudly that I could barely hear the music, although thankfully I could still feel it in my body.
First things first, we needed to find the character of the dance – this was where I could shine. I might not have been dancing in Gabriele’s league for many years, but I had been creating routines all day every day, and since we could only use limited steps with our clients at the studio, I had a ton of ideas built up in my mind already.
I restarted the track so that we could listen again.
‘What do we think the story is?’ I asked Gabriele.
He paced around the studio a little, as though deep in thought. ‘It’s about lust,’ he said.
I swallowed hard. He was right, of course, the music lent itself to it, but was this really a good idea, for us in particular?
‘Lust between two people who cannot be together because of their external circumstances,’ he added.
I nodded along, as though I was perfectly fine with all of this. Which I was, from a professional point of view – unrequited lust worked perfectly for a really sharp Argentine tango.
‘Why don’t we begin apart, maybe mirroring each other,’ I said. ‘One behind the other.’
Gabriele nodded, getting into the position I’d suggested. ‘For two or three beats.’
I mapped out some steps. ‘Something like this?’
‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. ‘And then I will come to you, place my hand on the back of your neck, spin you around and lower you to the ground.’
‘Let’s try,’ I said. I had to be confident that I could do whatever he asked of me; that I could match him step for step.
As I faced the mirror, he walked around me. I didn’t have time to acknowledge the spark that ran through my body as he placed his firm hand on the back of my neck and spun me around, because before I knew it I was bent backwards, inches from the floor, and then almost as quickly flicked up again to standing, as though I was as light as air. I remembered the story – lust that must be avoided at all costs. My instinct was to move away from him, then, as though I was trying not to give in to the feelings coursing through my body, and I took a few walking steps forward, like I was trying to brush him off. His instinct was clearly to follow me, as suddenly he was behind me, his breath warm on the back of my neck, his arm wrapped around me.
‘El Cruce,’ he commanded, as I let him turn me around to face him and then take me in hold for the traditional tango cross, crossing my feet in sync with his gentle pivot as he led me across the floor.
‘Let’s go again from the beginning,’ I suggested, and he nodded his approval.
While I went to cue up the music, I watched him rubbing the small white towel he carried with him over his face and neck. And then I tore my eyes away, thinking that the less I actually looked at him, the better.
As the music played, I began to let myself relax into it as we repeated the steps, over and over, finding our rhythm, adding in more complicated moves, even trying a lift. I let the music wash over me as I followed his lead, trying my hardest to forget that this was Gabriele in front of me, imagining another dancer in his place. Someone I had absolutely no feelings for, whom I was having to force a connection with under great duress, for the good of the performance. Before I knew it, we’d been rehearsing for over an hour and the routine was beginning to take shape.
‘You seem pleased with yourself,’ he commented, as he glugged at his bottle of water and I did the same.
I swallowed my mouthful hard, nearly sending it down the wrong way. ‘How do you mean?’
‘In your opinion it is going well?’
‘I think we’re making a good start, yes,’ I replied, bristling.
What was he getting at? There was no way he could deny that the dance was beginning to come together, and I was coming up with lots of ideas of my own, which he’d seemed to like.
‘Then this just shows your inexperience,’ he said. ‘We have a long way to go, and only two and a half weeks before opening night to do it.’
Okay, then. Clearly, I’d been lulled into a false sense of security. He was being difficult for the sake of it. Was this how it was going to be the whole time? Was he like this with everyone, I wondered, or was it just me he had a problem with?
I’d only ever had one proper dance partner before – Tomas. We’d competed together throughout childhood and our teenage years, and he was like the brother I’d never had. We bickered, sure, but we never spoke to each other the way Gabriele was speaking to me right now, like he hated me; like he wanted me to mess up so that he had somebody to blame if things didn’t go exactly to plan.
‘Have you got a problem with me getting the job?’ I asked him, deciding that being upfront and direct was the key if this was ever going to work. I was prepared to lay it all out on the table if he was.
‘Why would I have a problem?’ he asked, his mouth contorting into the sort of sneer that indicated, yep, he had a massive problem.
‘You tell me,’ I said, doing a quick sweep of the studio, gathering up the cups that I and the other dance teachers had left dotted about the place throughout the day. Coffee was the main way I managed to keep myself alert and energized for each and every lesson. ‘Has it got something to do with your girlfriend? Only, I know she auditioned just before me, and I see she’s been cast in the ensemble. I’m guessing you’d much rather be dancing with her in the lead instead of me. Is that it?’
He spluttered, looking at me aghast. ‘What girlfriend?’
‘Daniella, I think her name is. She blew you a kiss on the way out of her casting?’
I tried to keep judgement out of my voice, but I had found it a bit ridiculous – if she was going to see him later, why did she need to make such a big deal about it as she left the room? She’d caught my eye on the way out, as if to warn me not to have too much of a good time because he was hers and so was the job. Obviously, the latter had turned out not to be true.
‘Daniella is not my girlfriend. She is my former dance partner.’
‘Didn’t look that way,’ I said, trying not to sound bothered.
‘Anyway, why would it matter if I was dating somebody?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows at me, goading me.
‘Obviously it wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘I was simply trying to work out why everything I say seems to irritate you.’
‘I had not realized you were such a delicate flower, Lira,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you ought to go back to teaching your wedding dances. I am sure everyone is molto nice to you there.’
‘They are, actually. And for the record, speak to me as your equal, or don’t speak to me at all. Now, shall we run what we’ve got one more time, before you have to get your train? The last one leaves at ten past ten.’
He shuddered. ‘I would hate to be stuck all the way out here for the night.’
God, he was annoying. He was nothing like the man I remembered from Paris, who had been sweet and attentive and had acted like he never wanted to let me go.
I jabbed at my phone to press play on the music and took my place on the dance floor, waiting for Gabriele to join me.
‘Five, six, seven, eight,’ I said, impatiently.
We began to dance, both of us easily remembering the steps we’d rehearsed. Irritatingly, every time we found ourselves attached at the hip or the forehead or the nose, as was traditional in the Argentine tango, I forgot all about how much his attitude was driving me mad. Instead, I kept remembering how otherworldly it had felt when we’d been in bed together and he’d been pounding into me so intensely I’d thought I might have been about to pass out.
CHAPTER EIGHT Lira
I opened the door to Sedi, who continued to forget her house keys no matter how many times we all reminded her.
‘Twice in a fortnight – we should be honoured,’ I said, teasing her and standing aside to let her in.
‘Yeah, well, I thought I’d make an effort to come home while I’m in London. I’ll be flying to Australia at the end of next month, so I won’t be seeing you at all for weeks after that, you’ll be pleased to know.’
I pulled her in for a hug. ‘I always love seeing you, you know that.’
‘The feeling’s mutual, I suppose,’ she grumbled. ‘God, I’m hungover,’ she said, heading for the kitchen. ‘I need a pint of water!’
‘Out last night, were you?’ I asked, calling after her.
It didn’t surprise me. Sedi’s social life was about a hundred times more exciting than mine and always had been. Sure, all three of us had spent most of our time dancing in our teens, but Sedi, more than either Nolo or I, had managed to balance that with copious amounts of drinking and partying. And there were boyfriends, lots of them. She wasn’t the luckiest when it came to love, and by her own admission, she had dubious taste in men, but I’d always admired her for going after what she wanted, for not being afraid to upset people, whether that be some guy she was seeing or our parents. Sedi would never have found herself in the position I was in: pretending to run a dance studio while secretly rehearsing for a West End show. It sounded ridiculous even in my own head. I needed to tell them, and I was going to do it today. My stomach twisted itself into knots in anticipation, although I wasn’t quite sure why. They’d be happy for me, wouldn’t they?
I followed Sedi into the kitchen, where she was gulping water directly from the tap like a thirsty dog.
‘Gross,’ I said, teasing her.
‘Sorry,’ she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Desperate.’
‘Just don’t let Mum catch you,’ I warned her.
Mum was a stickler for manners, but she also forgave Sedi anything, and boy did Sedi know it.
‘Where were you last night, then?’ I asked, thinking I might as well live vicariously through Sedi in the absence of any social life of my own.
‘Just at a dinner,’ said Sedi, suddenly going all coy.
‘Somewhere nice?’
‘Mayfair.’
I whistled, impressed. Then I peered more closely at Sedi – I was pretty sure she was blushing.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she demanded, pulling the black cap she was wearing further down over her face.
But I was not to be deterred. ‘Were you on a date, DJ? Because you’ve gone all red.’
Hiding my smile, because it wasn’t very often I got to embarrass Sedi – though it happened much more regularly the other way around – I went over to the worktop and carried on peeling the potatoes for the roast we’d be having in a couple of hours’ time. It was Sunday, so no rehearsals today, which meant I didn’t have to pretend to be somewhere I wasn’t. And roast beef was Dad’s favourite – maybe when I told them what I’d been up to, I could at least get him on side. He wasn’t explosive like Mum and Sedi, but he was also very practical, and he’d be worried about how the studio was going to keep afloat without me overseeing every single little thing. I wasn’t sure whether he’d be up for stepping in and doing more – apparently he and Mum also had an announcement to make today. It could be anything. They were free spirits, our parents, and at any given time it was impossible to know what they were going to do next – it could be setting up another business or moving to the Outer Hebrides. I thought there was very little that could surprise me about those two.
‘It wasn’t a date,’ said Sedi. ‘Now what can I do to help?’
She must really need to change the subject if she was offering to cook.
* * *
The roast turned out well and everyone was tucking in. Everyone except Nolo, that was, whose face was on an open laptop screen placed in a corner of the table. I’d always found this ritual my mum insisted on a little strange – once a month, Nolo had to ‘join’ us for dinner. Since New York was five hours behind, our mealtimes never matched up with hers, so we tended to eat while she talked, and then when we’d finished, we’d ask her lots of questions or – only very occasionally, in my case – talk about ourselves.
Things were going well for Nolo, as they always seemed to be. The dance company were about to go into production with a new show and for the first time in ages, this didn’t send me into a tailspin about how lacklustre my own life was in comparison. It hadn’t felt great to be envious of my own sisters – I wanted the best for them, of course I did – it was just that I’d wanted good stuff to happen to me, too. And suddenly it was and, yes, I wanted to share it with them. Maybe I’d test the waters first.
‘So I’ve been thinking…’ I ventured.
Sadly, Nolo was so caught up in telling us the minutiae of her Manhattan life that she seemingly hadn’t even noticed I’d spoken.
‘So yeah, our neighbours are this really cool couple – he’s an actor and she works in PR for Google and they keep having—’
‘I think Lira was about to say something,’ interrupted Dad. ‘Were you, Lira?’
Fuck. Now I was actually going to have to say it, wasn’t I?
‘Lira has been thinking, apparently,’ said Sedi with a smirk.
‘It has been known,’ I replied, stalling for time, but I could feel all eyes on me expectantly.
‘So I know I’ve been pretty much running the studio single-handedly for the last, well, thirteen years… but there might be some other things I might want to pursue. Like, for the next eight weeks or so.’
I swallowed hard. Was I really doing this?
Mum put her knife and fork down with a clatter. This was not a good sign.
‘What kind of “things”, Lerato?’ she asked.
‘It’s just a hypothetical question at this point,’ I said, immediately losing my nerve. I glanced nervously at Dad, who I thought was most likely to come up with a reasonable response.
‘Why don’t we hear her out before we jump to conclusions. Go on, Lira, you were saying?’ said Dad.
Aaargh! Could I un-say it, maybe? Could I just get up and walk out of the room and make them forget any of this had ever happened? But I’d started this, and so I could hardly bottle it now, much as I wanted to.
‘I’ve been offered an opportunity that I don’t feel I can turn down. And I wondered if I could have some time off?’ Their faces said it all, but I garbled on regardless – I’d started now, hadn’t I? ‘And don’t worry, the teaching side of things is sorted, I’ve got cover for all the classes, teachers we trust and have worked with before. I just wondered if maybe you could all be on hand to help keep things ticking over – the admin side of things? Popping into the studio to check everything is as it should be, that kind of thing?’ I ventured.
‘What? Why me?’ asked Sedi, in indignation.
‘Why not you?’ I countered. ‘I know you’re going to Australia soon, but there’s a bit of time before you go?’
‘But this has always been our agreement, Lira. As the oldest child, you told us you were more than happy to manage James Jive for us and to make sure it was a success. It’s in all of our interests that it continues to do well,’ said Mum, glaring at me.
Everyone’s interests except, perhaps, mine.
‘I was happy. Am happy. And it is doing well,’ I insisted. ‘I think you’ll agree that earnings are up year on year. All our classes are full, and there’s a waiting list for private lessons. I’ve never let you down and it’s not my intention to do that now. It’s just eight weeks, guys. We can make that work, can’t we?’ I asked hopefully.
Met with silence, even from Nolo, who was frowning at me through a screen, I realized I’d under-estimated how much of a shock this would come to them. I supposed that’s what happened when you did everything anyone ever asked of you – I might have been keeping the peace at the time, but what had I been setting myself up for in the long term?
‘Lira, what’s brought all of this on?’ asked Dad. ‘You’ve never complained before.’
I suddenly felt a lump in my throat – why were they being so difficult? Didn’t they think I might want a change, and wasn’t that okay? They hadn’t even asked what it was I was planning to do!
‘Maybe I don’t want to be just a dance teacher my whole life,’ I said, keeping my voice steady. Except for Dad, my family were all so loud and boisterous and opinionated that I felt my needs fade into insignificance when I was with them, but I was determined not to let that happen this time. I was confident in myself, I could stand up for what was right.
‘What do you want to be, then?’ piped up Nolo. ‘Because if it’s anything to do with dance, you’ve left it far too late. You’d be retiring soon, anyway.’
‘Thanks so much for your support, Nolo,’ I said sarcastically.
She always had to play the age card – it must be delightful to be the youngest sibling and to have absolutely no familial responsibility.
Mum turned to me, her face a mixture of confusion and determination.
‘Lira, you are so good at managing the studio. How could I ever trust it to somebody else? And I need you more than ever now, because our big announcement is that me and Daddy are going on an extended trip and we’re going to need you to hold the fort here. You will have to run this house while we are away, as well as look out for your sisters. We are counting on you.’
