by Kate Swain
“I know,” Carter said. When I looked up, the look in his eyes was soft. He was clearly not as mad at me as he was making out. “Let’s get started. Valentin was hoping we’d get that bike back to him this evening. He looked at the bike in the corner.” He clapped his hands together, indicating the conversation was done.
“I can do it,” I said, going to where the bike was parked. It was a beautiful vintage Kawasaki that we’d recently painted. The owner was a regular client of ours, and we knew the bike well. Working on it was straightforward and easy, and we already had the parts so it wouldn’t take long.
“I know you can,” Carter said.
I crouched down by the bike. We’d discussed the repairs yesterday, and I knew what I had to do. Brakes, oil change, and replace the head gasket. It wasn’t hard stuff. I was just getting started on it when Matt came over. He and Adam had been working on the Honda while Carter told me about the importance of being on time.
“Sorry about that,” Matt said.
“It’s fine,” I said, red faced. I felt embarrassed. I looked down at the concrete and tried to act like nothing had upset me.
Matthew didn’t say anything, and I shrugged and got on with my work. When I looked up, he was smiling down on me.
“What?” I asked in a raw voice. Adam was standing about five feet away from us, busy loading paint into the paint gun. If Matthew was going to say something about Maddy, this was not the ideal time.
“I just wanted to ask about breakfast,” Matthew said. “I’m quite glad I didn’t make it.”
“What does that mean?” I asked crossly. He grinned though, and I knew what he meant: that he was pleased I had alone time with the girl I wanted to see. I grinned back. I couldn’t help it.
“Come on,” Matthew said, as we both sat there laughing. I looked at the screwdriver in my hand and he looked at the can of oil in his hand, and he said, “Let’s get to work.”
I nodded. I started sliding the brake pads into the caliber, but they were not fitting right, when Adam appeared at my elbow.
“Carter said you saw my sister this morning?” he asked. It was a neutral statement, but somehow it sounded threatening to me.
“Yeah,” I shrugged. What else could I say? I wasn’t about to lie about something that was perfectly acceptable and known to everyone. “She spilled coffee on me.”
“Carter mentioned that,” Adam nodded.
I wondered what his point was, and so I stared at him for a moment, then looked away and started getting on with my work. The brake-pads were not made by the manufacturer, but instead from a cheaper company. They were not fitting. We hated it when bike owners insisted on using cheaper parts.
“Damn it,” I grunted. Why were they not going in? I checked the part number on the box, but they seemed right.
When I looked up, Adam was still there. He was busy checking the oil on the bike, but he didn’t need to. He had another bike to work on. I wondered why he wouldn’t leave.
“Adam, what is it?”
“Um…when you were talking to Maddy, um, did she say anything…about jobs, I mean?” Adam asked. He sounded hesitant and I wondered why. He stood there, the oil rag in one hand, watching me.
“No,” I said, wiping the dirt off my fingers on a rag. “She didn’t mention anything about jobs. Why?” I felt the need to guard her secret about the dance studio. I don’t know why. She’d said it was a secret—or did she. Either way, it sounded like Adam didn’t know about her plans.
“Well, I just know she’s worried about money,” Adam said carefully. “She insists on paying for groceries, even though she has no income. I feel bad. And I wondered if she’d said anything.”
“Not to me,” I said lightly. I could see how worried Adam really was. “Listen, man. Maddy is a strong girl. She’s the best dancer I’ve ever seen. She’s educated, confident, clever. She’s amazing. She is really good at taking care of things and I know she has a plan. You don’t need to worry about her.”
He gave me an odd look. “She is amazing,” he nodded. “Which is exactly why I do worry about her.”
“What?” I asked. His voice had a strange tone and I wondered what he was trying to suggest.
“Well, I think maybe it would be better if you were impressed from a distance, that is all.” He looked away when he said it. Nevertheless, his words landed like a violent slap across my face.
“Dude, what is your problem?” I asked. I was sick of avoiding the issue. If he had a problem with me, he might as well say it. If it came to blows, well, so be it.
Adam stared at me, eyes widening. I glanced sideways. Matthew was in the corner, deliberately looking away but listening to everything. Matthew clutched a spanner in one hand and I noticed his grip tightening. I knew I could count on my brother to be on my side, if there was a fight.
“Maddy is special,” Adam said. He spoke mildly, but his eyes held mine and I could see the challenge there. “And she’s too good for a playboy like you to be fawning on.”
I dropped the rag I was holding as blood rushed into my cheeks from the insult. “I am not fawning!” I nearly shouted.
Behind me, I heard Carter growl. “Yes, you are, Mark. Adam, leave him be.”
I looked at Adam. He glared at me a moment, but I saw him decide to forget it. He shrugged.
“Sorry, Mark. But she’s my sister and, you know. I want her to be safe. I don’t want her to get hurt by somebody who’ll mess around on her.”
“I won’t do…,” I said.
“No, you won’t,” Carter joined the conversation, adding to the intensity and tension. And when I stared straight at him, he held my gaze. His dark blue eyes held a warning.
Leave Maddy Barnes alone.
He didn’t have to say it.
“I’m not a playboy anymore,” I muttered.
Carter laughed. “You are, Mark. But we love you. Now, let’s see if we can give Valentin a surprise and do those repairs by four, shall we?”
I swallowed and nodded and got on with my job. What more could I say?
I turned around as I heard Matt come to sit down beside me. He was wearing overalls, and he had a little paint on his face. He just grinned at me.
“Dude, I know you’re not that bad. I can tell Maddy is different for you. I am sorry Carter sided against you on this.” He shrugged, looking upset.
I just shrugged. “Doesn’t matter,” I said. It did matter—a great deal—but I wasn’t about to let anybody else see how much this was hurting me. Being misjudged by my older brother and my best friend, two people who knew me better than most people, hurt badly.
“You know what?” Matthew asked. “I have free time this evening. Maybe we can go to the East Club. Then you can forget about this.”
I looked at Matthew with big eyes. “Do you think that will help?” I asked. I was shocked. Was I really so shallow, that even my brother thought that being around other girls would be enough for me to forget about Maddy? I hadn’t forgotten her in five years!
Matthew shrugged. “Hey…I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wanted to cheer you up.” He looked hurt and I felt bad.
“I know,” I said gently. “Well I have an idea. It would cheer me up if I came over to your house for dinner. We can cook together. And it’ll be fun for Connor, too.” I smiled. My brother and his son were the two people in the world who really could make me smile just by existing. Apart from Maddy.
He grinned. “Great!” he said. “That would be great for me, too. So, it’s decided. And we’ll bake a pizza?”
I nodded. “That sounds awesome. I’ll grate the cheese.”
“Yes.” He laughed. “You know it’s the part I hate more than anything.”
I was still smiling when I turned back to the brakes. This time, the pad slid in ridiculously easily. I glanced over at Adam as I replaced the wheel. He was busy spraying a bike with paint, his back to me. I felt a stab of resentment. He judged me way too harshly, and I didn’t like it.
We
ll, I thought sadly, putting the wheel back in place, I probably wouldn’t like a sister of mine to go out with me, either, given my track record. I had always taken girls for granted and never wanted to settle down. But that was then, and this was now. And Maddy was different. I really did care about her and I knew that I would treat her with all the respect in the world if she were with me. How could I prove to her that this time it was different?
9
Maddy
“What do you think of the dressing-room?” Becca’s asked me in a slightly distorted voice from behind the thick wall between us. I walked around to where she stood while noticing the pale but sturdy floorboards.
“I like it.” I ran my hand across the smooth-plastered wall.
Becca gestured to a small room. The space was empty now, but in my mind I could envision a small bench, carpet, and a curtain to cover the front. The curtain fabric would be a nice neutral gray, and the carpet a shade darker but full of color.
“Good,” Becca nodded. “And the floor is amazing.”
“It is,” I nodded. Varnished and smooth, the floor was a wonder. I could imagine little girls dancing on that, learning the same moves I did when I was five years old. I shut my eyes, almost able to hear their little, happy voices.
I twirled in the space, arms wide. As I did so, I shut my eyes. My stomach tingled with the memory of this morning. Having breakfast with Mark played heavy on my mind.
“It’s pricey, though,” Becca said.
That was the problem. I agreed. The space was about $2500 a month… almost five dollars per square foot. I knew the rent was reasonable for the space, but it was just way more than I could afford. I swallowed hard.
“It’s too much.”
Becca shrugged. “That depends. If you had a class of twenty-five girls, and you charged a two hundred dollars per month, you could easily cover it, and the electricity and advertising. Throw in some private lessons and a few special events and you might have a little money for food,” she joked.
“I know,” I murmured. “But I don’t think I’ll have twenty-five girls. Not for a while. And I don’t want to charge that much.”
I imagined my classes costing half that amount. Otherwise, it would just be like any other dance school meant for kids whose parents could afford it. I didn’t want that.
“I know,” Becca sighed. “Well, we’ll keep looking.”
“I know it seems like I’m picky,” I sighed. “I know that.” I could see the “can’t-I-do-anything-right expression” twisting the corner of Becca’s mouth. She was the kind of person who made her mind up quickly, and she got impatient with people who considered things too much.
“You’re not picky,” she said instantly. “I think we can find the right place. I have one more place… no.” She shook her head.
“What is it?” I was instantly alert.
“No. It’s not a good area. Not safe.”
“I want to see it.” I was interested now. If she had an idea of a place I might be able to afford, I really wanted to at least look at it. It might be the right thing.
“Maddy…”
“I want to start this studio, Becca,” I said, looking up at her sadly. I didn’t want to upset her, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted this studio more than I could describe. “If there’s a space I can actually afford, and would make my studio possible. I need to know about it.”
She sighed. “Okay. But please promise me that you’ll at least take measures to make the space safe—alarms, video cameras, you know. I am not letting you and a bunch of young girls be in an unsafe place after dark.”
I grinned. “You’re just so protective, Becca.” Her thoughtfulness stirred my heart. I had never had a mom who thought my safety and well-being, not really. But if I had, it would be nice to think that she would have been something like Becca.
“Well, exactly,” Becca nodded. “I am. And I’m not letting you take it if it can’t at least be made a bit safer.”
“Yes, sir.”
We both giggled as we went out of the room and down the steps. I listened while she called the owners on the phone.
“Yeah. And I have a client who wants to see the place. Yeah. Sure. Sure. At one p.m.?” She looked at me. I nodded. “Sure.”
I waited until she ended her call and then she smiled at me. “We could have lunch first?”
“Sure,” I nodded.
We drove to one of the newer restaurants in town. I was sitting across from. When our plates of pasta arrived, I felt myself start to relax.
“Maddy,” Becca said through a mouthful of spaghetti. “You know, you could find a really great studio in a smaller town or in one of the suburbs. The rents are higher around here because we’re in Kansas City. You might do better if you went outside the town. A smaller place, like this one in…”
“No,” I interrupted swiftly, as she was taking out her phone to show me something. “Sorry,” I added quickly. “I just… I want to stay here.” I sighed.
She frowned at me. “I know you grew up here, Maddy. But…” she waved her hand at the café, the town. “It’s no different than anywhere else really. I mean, there’s nothing special about starting here—is there?”
I looked at my plate. “It’s not the same,” I said slowly. It was odd, but having to put my feelings into words meant that I really had to think about them. “I mean—this is my hometown. Adam is here. And yes, it is important for me to start here. It was where I started. I want to give underprivileged kids here the same chance that I had.” I looked up at her.
“I know,” she sighed. “But it’s going to be tougher to find something here.” She smiled at me.
I shook my head. “I just know I want to stay here.”
“Well,” Becca shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sure we can find something that will be just perfect.”
I nodded. I hoped so. As I started eating again, I thought through my plans about staying here. Was it really just because I wanted to help kids from the same kind of neighborhood that I came from? Or was it actually because I wanted to be where Mark was?
“How’s Mark?” Becca asked.
I dropped my fork, staring up at her in surprise.
“I don’t know. How should he be?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward.
She chuckled. “No idea. Sorry. I was just wondering.”
“Well, he’s fine,” I said. I hadn’t mentioned the fact that I’d seen him this morning. The memory of that was so sweet in my chest that I couldn’t quite bear to bring it out into the open. If she had said something against him, it would have upset me too much.
She gave me a look that wanted more information and I put my fork down.
“What?”
She just smiled. “I hope you know that you two would go really well together.”
“What?” My heart leaped and I almost forgot to breathe. I felt a big grin stretching my cheeks wide. “You think so?”
Of all the things I had expected her to say, that was not it. She was so supportive and nice. I couldn’t quite believe it. She just laughed.
“Of course. Yeah, in lots of ways you are opposites. But I think, you know, it’s worth a go.”
“Opposites?” I couldn’t help the fact that I was fascinated. “In what ways are we opposites?”
She laughed, setting aside her knife and fork and resting an arm on the table. “Well, you know. Mark is a playboy and you’re just kind of innocent.”
“I am?” Now it was my turn to laugh. I had never really thought of myself as innocent before and the idea really surprised me.
She lightly slapped her hand on the table. “Yeah. You know. And you are such a hopeful person, and he’s kind of a cynic.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “He is.”
“Oh!” she looked up at me as she pulled out her phone, which just beeped. “That was a text from the property owners. I think that we should get going soon. We agreed to see them at one.”
I nodded. She was right. It was twelve-twen
ty-five, and we’d need about half an hour to get to the place. I put my hand up to signal the waiter. He came over and we paid, then left.
“Is Mark a cynic?” I asked Becca as we pulled into the traffic.
She laughed. “I think so! I believe anybody who says realtors make money by lying is a cynic. Don’t you?”
“He said that?” I stared at her, shocked.
“He did. The other day. I don’t think he knew what I do for a living…”
“No, he didn’t,” I informed her. I remembered this morning, and how genuinely surprised he was to learn Becca’s line of work.
“He asked you about me?” Becca sounded surprised.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. If she asked me when, I was going to have to tell her about breakfast this morning, and I didn’t really want to go there.
“Did Adam?” she wanted to know.
I laughed. “Becca…will you just ask him out, already?”
She laughed. “I’ll think about it. But I don’t want to risk it.”
“Becca. I have never seen you not take a risk in my life.”
She just laughed. “Oh! I’d better keep an eye out,” she added, glancing down at the address and map on the screen of the phone. “We are getting closer now, and I need to listen to the instructions, if we want to get there on time. Let me turn up the volume.”
I nodded. “Looks like we are close.”
While she drove, swearing cheerfully at the GPS when it told her, too late, about a left turn, I looked through the windshield, wondering about what she had said. Mark could be cynical, clearly. He wasn’t always nice and friendly. Nor attentive.
When I recalled how encouraging and warm he had been that morning when I told him my plans for a dance studio, I felt really surprised. He was so supportive and nice. And, he talked about me in such good terms. That made me confused.
Was he being genuine with everyone else? Different with me? Did he have an ulterior motive for me?
