The Devil in the Saddle

by Julia London

  Rafe pushed himself up off the couch. David barely spared him a glance.

  “I think I’m going to go get a run in,” he announced.

  “Cowboys are up by fourteen, man!” David said without taking his eyes off the screen.

  “I can’t handle the bitter disappointment when they blow that lead.” No one argued or objected.

  He changed into sweatpants and a hoodie, and walked out with a cheery, “Back later.” He jogged down the road that separated the mansion from the real world. He saw Hallie’s SUV coming down the road at a speed that was too fast, and had to put himself in the bar ditch to avoid being hit.

  She rolled down the passenger window. “What are you doing in the ditch?”

  He gave her an exasperated look, then climbed into her SUV.

  She looked so pretty this afternoon—running tights, a down vest over a black tee, her hair in a high ponytail.

  “You don’t look as full as me.” She poked his stomach, then goosed the car and shot it down the road and stopped just past a cattle crossing. “Didn’t you eat?”

  “Trust me, I ate my weight in tamales.” He glanced at the seat behind them and noticed boxes of champagne glasses. “Having a party?”

  “Party for one, actually. I’m setting them up in the warehouse, and I’m going to domino them.”

  “You’re going to what?”

  She hit the gas, and the SUV rocketed backward onto the crossing so she could turn around. “You know, like dominoes.”

  “They’ll break.”

  “Exactly.” She flashed a sunny smile.

  “How was your Thanksgiving?”

  She turned the wheel and pulled out onto the road. “Pretty shitty, if you want to know the truth. But don’t ask—it’s not worth the breath to explain how dysfunctional my family can be, and besides, I’ve decided I’m done complaining to you all the time.”

  “You are?”

  “One hundred percent,” she said cheerfully. “I told you! I’m a new leaf.”

  “You mean you’re turning over a new leaf—”

  “I’m making changes, and I’m waking up to possibilities.” She rocked the Range Rover down the road and past the ornate gates of the Three Rivers Ranch. She was driving like a maniac, and Rafe grabbed the handle over the door.

  She gave him a sidelong look. “Scared?”

  “Yes, I am. You drive like a madwoman.”

  “It is just so weird that you’re this brave Army Ranger and it’s the little things that scare you.”

  “Our definition of ‘little thing’ is not the same,” he said. “Every time you turn the wheel, I see my life flash before my eyes.”

  “Rafael Miguel Fontana, are you actually implying that women are bad drivers right now?” She laughed.

  “Not at all. I’m implying that Hallie Jane the Princess is a bad driver. You drive almost as bad as you sing.” He braced himself as she hurtled around a corner.

  “Chicken,” she said, and barreled onto the main road through town.

  She slowed down to the speed limit and coasted along Main Street. It looked like they’d just entered the ghost town formerly known as Three Rivers—Prince Tool and Die was silent, the restaurants were closed up and shuttered for the holiday. Even Jo’s Java House, which was usually a hive of activity, was dark. The only exception was the cars parked on the town square.

  Hallie suddenly gasped and braked the car so hard that Rafe nearly pitched through the windshield.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “It’s the ballet! Remember? Kidz Korner? They’re performing in the Galaxy Theatre!”

  Rafe looked toward the old movie theater that had been renovated into a community stage, and recalled the flyer posted to the community bulletin board.

  “This is fantastic!” Hallie said, and suddenly hit the gas, pulling into a municipal parking lot.

  “Hallie, what—”

  “We have to see it,” she said, as if that were a foregone conclusion.

  Rafe looked at the people walking toward the theater, entire families, some of them holding the hands of children dressed as ballerinas or toy soldiers. “What is that?” Rafe asked when a little girl wandered by wearing a pair of pink tights and a big pink puffy thing around her torso.

  Hallie gave it a discerning look. “If I had to guess? A sugarplum. Or maybe bubblegum. Could go either way.” She reached behind Rafe’s seat and pulled out a camera.

  “Wait—what are you doing?”

  “I’m going to take some pictures!” She flung open the driver’s door and got out.

  Rafe got out, too, and joined her in front of her vehicle. They surveyed the theater across the street, the families streaming in. Someone had set up a food trailer selling hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy. A banner proclaimed that this was the third and final performance of the ballet, following two at locations in San Antonio.

  “Can we go in?” he asked. “Isn’t there a ticket or something?”

  “I bet they take donations at the door,” Hallie said, then patted her pockets. “But I don’t have a dime on me. Come to think of it, I didn’t bring anything but a key.”

  “More safe driving tips, courtesy of Hallie Prince,” Rafe said, and shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a twenty.

  “Great,” she said.

  “Sure—it’s my twenty.”

  She tried to snatch it from his hand, but he jerked it away. “Excuse me, what do you say?”

  Her hand landed on his chest, and she smiled up at him with a pair of happy dimples. “Thank you, Rafe,” she said in a singsong voice, and while he was distracted by her smile, she snagged the twenty. “Come on, we want to get a good seat.” She took his hand as if that were the most natural thing to do.

  Rafe let her, because it was beginning to feel to him like it was the most natural thing to do. He’d held her hand more times in the last two weeks than he had during their entire friendship.

  The last two weeks had been a bit of a fever dream for him. He’d been thinking a lot about her. Fantasizing about her, really, wondering what she was doing. Checking her Instagram account for revelations. Mulling over what the hell was happening between them.

  He’d even thought about her while he was in bed with Brittney.

  Yeah, that.

  Rafe glanced at Hallie as they jogged across the street, and felt a twinge of guilt.

  He hadn’t intended for things to go so far with Brittney. He hadn’t intended for anything to happen at all. They’d struck up a friendship during the semester, had gone out a couple of times, and when she’d texted him, he’d been more than happy to meet up. Not because he had any particularly strong feelings about Brittney, other than she was cute and fun to hang out with—but because he’d needed something to distract him from the thoughts he was having about Hallie. Distractions that were increasingly hard to conjure up.

  That night with Brittney, in his desire to put Hallie out of his mind, he’d let one thing lead to another, and yes, he’d released a little tension that had more to do with Hallie than with Brittney.

  That disturbed him more than anything. He was not that kind of guy. But lately, it felt as if he’d been skating closer and closer to the middle of a frozen lake, and the ice was getting thinner, and he was trying desperately to hang on to anything, even those things he knew would not hold him. Sooner rather than later, he was going to go under and not be able to get out. And yet, he just kept skating.

  “Is it weird we don’t have a kid in the show?” he asked when they reached the entrance.

  “Only if we don’t stick that twenty in the bucket. That makes us good community partners. If we didn’t stick a twenty in the bucket, we could be counted in the pervert column.”

  He chuckled.

  “Don’t you sort of wish you had a kid in t
he show?” she asked as she surveyed the crowd. “I do. I think that would be awesome to have a mini me onstage.”

  “You do?”

  “Sure,” she said, and glanced up at him. “I want kids. I want to go to their performances and clap louder than anyone. Don’t you?”

  “I do,” he said. “Someday.”

  “Well, if you have them with Brittney, they are going to be little pixie children. Just saying.”

  He smiled wryly. “Are you implying there is something wrong with pixie children?”

  “Not at all,” Hallie said breezily, and dipped inside the theater.

  The entry was crowded with parents and siblings and grandparents and, just as Hallie said there would be, a conveniently located bucket for donations.

  On one side of the theater, children wearing costumes that had been created with varying skill were huddled around one of the dance instructors. A few of them, Rafe noticed, were intellectually or developmentally disabled. One was in a wheelchair.

  “Hey,” Hallie said, and surprised him with a soft punch to his side. “Is that who I think it is?” She pointed to a woman wearing a green pantsuit. She had sleek brown hair that was knotted behind her head and a pair of very high heels.

  “I have no idea who that is.”

  “You don’t know Genevieve Bertram?” she whispered.

  The woman turned. She saw Hallie looking at her. She smiled. She waved. And she started in their direction

  “Oh no. No,” Hallie whispered, and at first tried to slide in behind Rafe, then suddenly stepped forward and said very brightly, “Hi, Genevieve!” and held out her arms. “It’s been such a long time!”

  The two women gave each other a half-hearted hug. “I’m surprised to see you!” Genevieve said. “I didn’t think you had anything to do with dance anymore. I didn’t think you were even in Three Rivers anymore. Oh, that’s right, didn’t you get married recently?” she asked, smiling at Rafe.

  “Nope, didn’t get married, still a fan of dance,” Hallie said stiffly. “And still in Three Rivers.” She groped for Rafe’s arm. “This is my friend, Rafe Fontana.”

  “Oh. A pleasure to meet you, Rafe,” Genevieve said politely, and took his hand in both of hers to shake it. “Are you a fan of the arts, as well?”

  “I am,” Rafe said.

  “So are you still dancing?” Hallie asked Genevieve. Rafe noted she was gripping his arm as if she thought he intended to escape.

  “Here and there. I’m more of a patron of the ballet now,” Genevieve said. “I had a knee injury a few years ago, and I’ve been slowly working my way back.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Hallie said.

  “Surprisingly, that injury led to some rewarding work,” Genevieve said. “I’m on the board of Kidz Korner. I helped choreograph the performance today. So I guess I’m dancing again in a way.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “What I’m really hoping to do is take this pilot program citywide and perhaps discover a true talent. You remember, Hallie, there wasn’t anything like that when we were dancing. It was whoever could afford to put their kid in ballet classes. But I would dearly love to find the next prima ballerina, no matter where he or she comes from.”

  “What a great idea,” Hallie said.

  Genevieve glanced over her shoulder. They were ushering the kids through a backstage door. “I should go.” She smiled at Hallie. “It was really good to see you. I hope you enjoy the show. Nice to meet you, Rafe.” She smiled and glided away with the grace of a ballerina.

  “She seems nice.”

  Hallie released her death grip of his arm. “She is. She was my archrival in the San Antonio corps de ballet when we were teenagers. She always got the good roles. They said she had good lines.”

  “Excuse me, the show is about to start,” a man in a blue vest said. “Please take your seats.”

  Hallie and Rafe followed everyone else into the theater.

  The auditorium was already filled. As several families were still looking for places to sit, Hallie and Rafe decided to stand in the back. Or, rather, Hallie decided Rafe should stand in the back. “Wait here,” she whispered, and started to walk away.

  “Hey,” he whispered loudly, and caught the back of her jacket before she could get away. “Where are you going?”

  She held up her camera and then disappeared into the darkness down the aisle.

  Rafe shifted uncomfortably. The aisle was so narrow that he had to squeeze against the wall in order to let people pass. The lights started to dim, and Rafe twisted around, peering into the darkened theater, searching for Hallie. He spotted her on the other side of the theater, her camera to her eye.

  The curtains suddenly opened. A set, crudely painted onto plywood, revealed a bedroom. Six kids sort of shuffled onto the stage in party clothes, including the kid in the wheelchair. The music began, and a teacher appeared below the stage, shadowing the moves the kids were supposed to make.

  Rafe had never seen a ballet. He’d at least heard of The Nutcracker, but he had no idea what was happening, who or where the dancers were supposed to be, other than clearly in someone’s bedroom.

  The kids danced, including the one in the wheelchair. Not one of them seemed to want to crawl off the stage like he had in the second grade when he was forced to be a singing tree in the school play. Every one of them seemed to want to be up on that stage.

  The dance ended, and the theater went dark. There were a lot of scraping sounds and whispers from the stage, a lot of feet scrambling to get in place. When the lights came on again, another group of about seven kids, dressed like toy soldiers and ballerinas, were arranged on the stage. When the music started, the soldiers paired with the ballerinas. One girl, however, didn’t have a toy soldier to pair with.

  The music began. The pair work between soldier and ballerina seemed more difficult than the first dance, and there seemed to be some disagreements as to who was supposed to do what between two of the couples. But like the first group, the children were determined to finish their dance.

  It was the girl dancing solo who caught Rafe’s attention. She had Down syndrome. She was not intimidated by the lack of a partner, but quite the opposite—she was dancing as if she had a partner, and with great enthusiasm that put her a beat or two ahead of the rest. She danced with an earnestness he doubted he’d ever applied to any job. She never once looked at the teacher below the stage—she didn’t have to. She knew this dance, and he found himself wondering how many hours she’d devoted to learning and practicing it.

  Rafe’s vision began to blur slightly, and his nose felt a little stuffy as he watched the girl. He was alarmed by his reaction—he was supposed to be a man’s man, an Army Ranger who taught martial arts to tough street kids. But what was that bit of wetness beneath his eyes? A fucking tear. All he knew was that he felt that fervent little dancer in his heart. Right in the middle of his big fat heart.

  A touch to his hand startled him, and he glanced to his right. Through a sheen of tears, he saw Hallie smiling up at him. “Softy,” she whispered, and slipped her arm around his waist, hugging him into her side.

  “You are,” he muttered, and put his arm around her shoulders. He needed someone to hold on to while he watched the girl dance.

  When the number ended, and the girl bowed, and Rafe clapped loudest of all, Hallie looked up at him with so much tenderness swimming in her hazel eyes that he feared he would crumble into sticky bits right there in front of God and all the parents in Three Rivers.

  She reached up and brushed the lone tear from the corner of his eye.

  “Allergies,” he said gruffly.

  “There is a lot of dust in here,” she agreed.

  They watched two more performances, then slipped out into the silence on the street. It had begun to rain, and they jogged to her car. Once inside, she showed
him the pictures she’d taken of the kids. “These are damn good,” Rafe said, flicking through the shots. She’d managed to capture the kids as artists, and not curiosities, or even awkward preteens. Even his little ballerina.

  “I’m glad we stopped,” she said as she viewed the pictures. “I haven’t seen a ballet in a long time. Although technically, it wasn’t a ballet. Other than the costumes and the music, it really wasn’t a ballet at all. More of a performance.”

  Rafe laughed. “You’re going to critique a group of kids?”

  “I’m critiquing the choreography. Those kids could do real ballet, you know? They can do more than hop around. Genevieve is not going to find her prodigy if they don’t actually perform ballet.”

  “Maybe you should offer your services and teach them,” he said with a wink. “You can be a part-time photographer-slash-choreographer-slash-dance-instructor.”

  “You laugh, but maybe I will. I’ve been thinking about it. I mean maybe. I don’t know if I could even plié.”

  “I don’t know what that is, but you should try it. It’s like a bike, right? No one forgets how to ride one.”

  She gave him a curious smile. “Don’t you know anything about ballet?”

  What he knew about ballet was that there was a time in his life he lived for glimpses of her thighs and her breasts in the tights and leotards she wore on the east lawn. “Today was my first time.”

  Hallie gasped with delight, her eyes as big as fried eggs. “That is ridiculous. How have we been together so long if you’ve never seen ballet?”

  Rafe stumbled over what she’d just said, knocked off balance by the word together. That meant something to him, and it didn’t mean friends.

  Apparently, it meant something to Hallie, too—he could tell by the way her cheeks bloomed. “I’m just saying that we should fix your total ignorance of ballet. You can’t be a big softy and not even know what you’re being soft about.”

  “Well, you can’t critique a performance if you don’t know if you can do whatever you said.”