Vance opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck. She turned her head and froze at his presence. Removing her headphones, she sat up a bit, her demeanor now tense. He approached the railing and rested his palms against the wooden barrier. He inhaled the dusk air and stared out into the darkness, basking in the cool winds of the night air as it brushed his skin. The sounds of crickets danced along the atmosphere. He gnawed his lip, carefully thinking out his next words.
He turned to her and her gaze faltered.
"I was impressed with what you did today at the center. You handled yourself well," he said in a firm tone.
She blinked, taken aback. He understood her shock. This was the first fairly nice thing he said to her since she'd been here.
"Thanks," she said lowly and looked down at the cigarette between her fingers.
He stared at her for a while. He always remembered her to be so wild and outspoken, even unapologetically brash. But now she seemed much more reserved and timid. Ever so often, he waited for that wild girl to show up. The one that would've cursed him out, or gotten in his face ready to fight, but she just took every insult he spewed at her. Part of him took pleasure in that, since she deserved every bit of his rage. But a very small part of him, almost wanted that side of her to show up. Maybe then he wouldn't feel slightly bad afterwards.
Vance took a fresh cigarette from his pack and lit it. He smoked in silence, deep in his thoughts.
"So, how long you 'been dancing?" he asked, curiously.
"Since the moment I could walk," she said with a faint smile.
"You ever took classes?"
"No."
"None, at all?" he asked, a bit surprised by that. The way she danced, she had to have taken at least some type of classes.
"Nope, it was just something I did, naturally."
"So, why'd you stop?"
She let out a sigh. "Life....Just ended up getting sidetracked. Got caught up in the wrong things, after a while, dancing went on the back burner."
Vance nodded without a word and took another pull, staring out at the shrub of trees across the yard.
"So, what made you want to work at the center?" Zara asked.
"Back in the day, it was the only thing that kept me out of trouble. I probably would've ended up on the streets, had it not been for that place. So, I thought why not work there? Maybe, I could make a difference in another kid's life, the way it did for me."
Zara gave him a small smile. "That's admirable."
A warmth filled his chest, he didn't expect to feel. No one had ever said that to him before. They stared at each other for a moment, before she broke her gaze and took another pull of her cigarette.
"I probably should've gotten involved when I was younger too, maybe then my life wouldn't be so fucked up as it is now."
Her voice lingered with regret. There was a sadness in her eyes, a weariness in her spirit, like one who had been broken down by the bare grips of life with nothing left within. He began to feel bad for her and he quickly caught himself. She didn't deserve his sympathy. He remembered why he hated her and his guard shot up in an instant.
Clenching his jaw, he tossed his cigarette away.
"Just make sure you're on time tomorrow," he said sternly and walked back inside.
Chapter 10
The warm feeling of nostalgia engulfed Vance as he stepped onto the premises of his old neighborhood. The sight of the desolate apartment buildings should've unsettled his spirit, but all it did was trigger warm memories of his youth when the things seemed much simpler. From lounging on court yard benches, to playing basketball with his boys on the court during the summer, he really had some good times here. Although he never had much, he always made do with what he was given and he wouldn't trade those moments for the world.
Vance stopped by the courtyard to catch up with the old heads and some of the boys he grew up with. They always filled him in on what was going on in the streets. News of those who got locked up, robbed or gun downed, typical stories that he had sadly gotten used to over the years. Whenever he visited the hood, he realized just how fortunate he was to have made it out. Growing up in poverty, was like being trapped behind the invisible cages of despair, with no signs of freedom. When the hood was all a person knew, it was difficult to escape that. Which was why, he always made it his obligations to stop by and show love. Despite it all, this place was part of what made him who he was. He would never forget where he came from.
When he arrived at his old apartment, he rang the doorbell. Within seconds, his mother appeared at the door.
"Oh, it's you. I thought you were one of my customers for a sec," she said, and greeted him with a warm hug.
"You disappointed?" He smirked.
"Yes. I was hoping to make some doggone money," she said, causing him to chuckle. Brash, and blunt to the core, were the words to describe his mother. She always spoke her mind, without giving a damn who she offended, and although it could be too much for him sometimes, he loved her for it.
The sweet aroma of baked goods aroused his senses and he rubbed his churning stomach. "Mmm, it smells good. You just finished baking?"
"Yeah, just about. I'm just waiting for Ms. Rosa to hurry up and take her tail over here, before I head back to the shop."
"These are for her?" he asked, noticing the two tightly gifted boxes of cakes rested on the table.
"Yeah, her daughter, Nina, is having her baby shower tonight. So I promised to make one personally for her."
This wasn't new. His mother was always baking for someone. Everyone around the neighborhood knew her as the real life Betty Crocker. She now owned her own bakery, where people from all over the town stopped by to treat themselves with her delicious cakes. She baked for weddings, bbq's, birthday parties, whenever someone needed a cake, she was the one to go to. Her business was booming, and Vance was proud of her. It had always been her dream to own her own bakery and she was now fulfilling it.
"You saved a batch for ya son too, right?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Boy, I swear. All you do is come over, and eat."
"And to see your beautiful face too." He flashed her a smile.
"Yeah, yeah whateva. I got some left overs in the fridge."
"See, this is why I love you, Ma." He kissed her on the cheek.
"Is that the only reason why?" She put her hand on her hip.
"Nah, for everything else too."
He didn't know what he would've done without his mother. Despite everything they had endured in the past, she managed to do whatever she could just to put food on her children’s plates and clothes on their backs. She was a true superwoman in his eyes and he would forever appreciate her for that.
"Ma, what's up with the ceiling?" he asked, noticing a slight leakage.
"Oh, I don't even know." She waved it off. "I talked to the landlord about it, but he has yet to take care of it."
Vance shook his head. "That's it. When my house is fixed up, you're living with me."
"Vance, don't even start that up again."
"I'm serious, Ma. There's no reason you should still be living here. It's not safe."
"I already told you, I'm not leaving. This is my home and I'm staying here. And that's that," she said finally.
He didn't understand why she would want to stay in a place like this. It was different when they were in dire need of money and had nowhere else to go. But now they had the funds for her to leave. There was no reason for her to still be here. However, part of him, got the subtle feeling that there was a deeper reason she wanted to stay, though. The main reason being Trish. With her stuff still lingering around the apartment, and bedroom still in the same state she left it in, her presence still lingered heavily in the home. Leaving would mean letting her go. And she probably would feel guilty doing so.
"Damn, boy. You gobbled that cake down like some damn starving child. Laurie ain't cooking you food or something?" his mother joked, as they lounged on the living room couch.
"Nah, she is. Just haven't eaten in hours." He leaned back after taking his last bite of cake, now feeling extremely full. He had about 3 big slices of his mother's famous velvet cake, and right now he could barely move. He was sure sooner or later he would take a speedy trip to the bathroom and let it all out.
"Why, not?" She frowned.
"Just meetings and more meetings," he said with a sigh.
"Well try not to overwork yourself. You know how you get sometimes," she said, concerned.
"I'll be straight, Ma."
When he felt a slight pain in his stomach, he rubbed it with discomfort. Damn, he shouldn't have eaten all that cake.
"So, how's the house coming along?" she asked.
"It's almost done. Just a few more months till it'll be officially done."
"So, you're still over there with Rodney?"
"Yeah."
"And how's he and Rayana doing?"
"It's Reyna, Ma."
"Oh Reyna." She waved it off. "I swear, I could never remember that girl's name. How're they doing?"
"Good. They're about to get married soon."
"Oh yes, I remember you telling me that a while back. That’s good. Tell Rodney, he better send me an invite to the wedding. And I'm not playing," she warned.
He smirked. "I will."
After a while, he grew quiet.
"What?" she asked, sensing something was wrong.
"Her sister came back."
"Who?"
"You know who."
He didn't even want to say her name. Just the thought of her made him grimace.
"You mean..."
He nodded stiffly. "Yeah, her."
"She did? Oh my." She covered her mouth. "I thought she ran away."
"She did. But now she’s back. She's staying with Reyna now."
"Oh, wow. That must be tough, especially after everything that happened. How are you dealing with it?"
"I'm not," he said bluntly.
"Yeah, I can imagine how tough that could be."
He shook his head. "And I was starting to move on, too. But now every time I see her, I just think about what happened to Trish and it makes me hate her even more."
"Don't say that."
"It's the truth. How can I not after what she did? She's the reason Trish’s even dead in the first place." He cringed, as the words left his lips. It still pained him to admit that she was gone.
"That may be true, but you have to learn to forgive-"
"Forgive? For what? She killed Trish, Ma. She should burn in hell for that shit."
"Okay, now you watch your mouth." She shot him a glare. "You have every right to be angry, you do. But to say something so cruel as that is wrong, Vance. And I won't allow it. I know you're hurting over Trish, and I am too. But putting all the blame on her friend is unfair. The fact of the matter is, Trish shouldn't have been in that car in the first place. They both were drinking that night. If they had been actin’ responsible, something as tragic as this wouldn't have happened."
"Oh, so now you're blaming Trish in all this?" He raised his voice.
"No, I'm not blaming anybody. I'm looking at it, for what it is. We all know Trish was heading down the wrong path and sometimes our decisions lead us to face some horrible consequences. And unfortunately, Trish suffered for it," she said softly.
He shook his head, fuming. He couldn't believe she was even saying this.
"I miss her too hun. It took me years to get to a place where I can be at peace. For a while, I blamed myself. I blamed myself for not being there as much as I could. For not being a better mother. I thought that, had she had a better upbringing, that maybe she wouldn't have taken the path she took. But, after some clarity, I learned I can't continue to blame myself or anybody for that matter. I just have to put it all in God's hands and realize that Trish is in a better place."
He lowered his head, biting his lip. She sat next to him and rubbed his back soothingly.
“Vance, it's okay to feel hurt. But holding unto all that hate is only going to ruin you in the end. You need to learn to forgive. It doesn't have to be right now, it's going to take some time. But at some point, you have to in order to heal and move on. For a moment, just try to look at it from her point of view. She lost a friend. All because of one bad decision. Because of that, the guilt will haunt her for the rest of her life. And that type of pain, hun, is worse than death itself."
Chapter 11
"Good job guys!" Zara clapped, when the music ended.
Just seeing her class nail every dance step brought her nothing but joy. It had taken 4 longs weeks of practicing but they managed to complete the choreography much better than she expected. They had really come along way. Shifting from one teacher they loved and adored to a different one they hardly knew, was difficult to accept. But she finally managed to earn their trust. They met 5 days a week from 56:30pm, for a session of nonstop dancing. Each one of her students had talent and it was a joy to watch them express it through dance the same way she used to when she was younger. She never thought she would enjoy teaching dance so much. She found herself looking forward to each class, being around the students and sharing the common passion of dance. Being here, was the only time she got to truly let herself go and feel like a child again.
"See you all next week," she said as they began grabbing their stuff to leave.
Zara sauntered to the corner of the room and grabbed her CD disk out of the stereo.
"Hey Mr. V," a few students greeted.
Zara turned her head and noticed Vance entering the studio. Her heart fluttered. He greeted them coolly, as they slapped him hi-fives before they left. He met her gaze, and she blushed.
"I see they finally got it huh?" he said, when the students left.
"Yeah, finally," she smiled.
"That's good." he nodded.
"Yeah, it is." Zara continued gathering her stuff.
Lately, their interaction hadn't been as hostile as before. Vance no longer degraded her with insults. Instead, he kept it professional at the work place, keeping their conversation stilted and short, and only about the students. They weren't friends, and most likely would never be. She would have to accept that. But the fact that they were able to keep it cordial was at least an improvement.
"When you done, come into my office. I wanna speak to you about something."
Her eyes fleeted to him. She hoped she wasn't in trouble. Before she could ask him, he left the studio.
After changing her clothes into a fresh T shirt, jeans and flats, Zara made her way to Vance's office and knocked on the door. After a moment, he opened it.
"Come in," he said in a brief tone, stepping aside.
She entered his office and he shut the door. This was probably about the 2nd time she had ever been in his office. The first time was when he met with her to give her a run-down of her job duties, and paper work to sign and all that good stuff. Now, she had no clue why he called her in. She prayed to god, she didn't do anything wrong for him to fire her.
She sat in the chair, in front of his desk. His office was a small room which consisted of his desk, chair and a bookshelf. Typical office. Memorabilia such as medals and awards he had won in his younger days, certificates, his framed college degree and pictures of sports figures adorned the wall. Before she got a chance to really look at them, he brushed passed her and sat behind his desk.
She nearly melted as she got a whiff of his cologne. She took notice to the fitted Polo shirt he wore, with the letters 'Brookfield Center' stitched at the right side of his chest. She licked her lips, lusting at the definition of his muscular arms. Sometimes he wore suits and other times he wore casual polo shirts. But as much as she loved to see him in a suit, she almost preferred this look more, because it showcased those sexy muscles of his, leaving her hot and bothered.
"So..." he spoke up, snapping her out of her thoughts. He rubbed the side of his face with a sigh. She waited anxiously for him to speak.
"I see that you've been making an improvement with the students these past few weeks. I didn't expect for it to happen so fast, but it did, and I'm happy about that." She eased a bit. At least he wasn't firing her...yet.
"Every year we have an 'End of Summer' bbq, where the students perform and raise funds for the organization. From poets, artists, musicians, dancers, the whole nine. People all over the town attend this event. We've had it for 7 years now and it's been a success so far. So, this year I want you to come up with a performance for the show. It's on Saturday, August 25th." He handed her the flyer and she took it.
She took in a deep breath as she read the flyer. He wanted her to construct a performance? She had never done something like that before. It was one thing to teach a class a simple choreography, but to actually come up with a performance for a show was a different ball game. It required vision. A sense of diligence. It was far more challenging. Something she wasn't sure she had the ability to do.
"I know it's last minute, but I know you can do it."
She met his gaze. "Really?" "Yeah." He nodded.
Her heart warmed. The fact that he believed in her, really meant a lot.
"Thanks, that means a lot," she said softly.
They stared at each other, before he quickly broke his gaze.
"That's all for now," he said in an abrupt tone.
*
Zara stepped out the community center, only to be welcomed by the light drizzle of rain. She drew out a sigh, and pulled her hood over her head. She knew she should've followed her mind and brought her umbrella once she noticed the overcast skies earlier. Shivering from the windy breeze, she zipped up her sweater for warmth then lit a fresh cigarette as she waited for the bus to arrive.
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