Stolen Tyme

by S. L. Ziegler

  I was done with it all and desperately needed time—time for me to escape from the memories haunting me. With just enough time between auditions to rent a tiny space in a studio for thirty minutes, I laced up my point shoes and let it all out. I didn’t have black memories tied to this style of dance. It was just for me. It was free.

  I was free.

  I remember it all. The drum of the music pumping through the speakers. The way my body flowed, effortlessly moving past all the heartbreak and rejection.

  It was perfection.

  When the minutes ran down on the timer on the wall, I felt free, truly free, with my body dripping in sweat and my heart pounding against my chest. It was like I found that piece of my soul that had been floating around aimlessly and placed it back in my body, where it belonged.

  I poured everything out on that floor. It was the lightest I’d felt in months. People pay thousands of dollars for the kind of therapy I received in those thirty minutes, but to me, it was priceless.

  But what I remember most is Margret Finely, the top talent recruiter for the theater, perching against the door, dressed in stark black with sunglasses masking her reaction, and then a slow smile pulling on her lips when she started to clap for me.

  She offered to buy me a cup a coffee, and I accepted, the audition for God knows what long forgotten. The minute we sat down, there was a connection, something special with her, with us—her energy engulfed me. We shared a bond like I’d never felt before. It was the yearn for someone to talk to in a city filled with strangers, and the second she asked me my story, I unloaded on her.

  Dancing.

  My father.

  Xavier.

  My dreams.

  Anything.

  Everything.

  For two hours, she sat there, nodded when I needed it, gave me advice when it was called for, and told me I was wrong, even when I didn’t want to hear it.

  When it was time to go, she placed her card on the table and offered me my first job. A real one, but she gave me some words of wisdom. “Have a signature, something people will remember you for. You want to do burlesque—be burlesque all the time.”

  And I did. That night, I rummaged through my purse for my credit cards and shattered all the limits shopping for my identity. I ditched my sandals for high heels and threw out my tanks and shorts for puffy dresses and corsets. If I wanted to do it, I’d go all in, so I never stepped foot outside of my house without full makeup.

  I only saw her in passing after that night, but every bit of advice she dished out, I took. And it worked.

  Now, as I wait for the group of eleven- and twelve-year-olds, I don’t know if that was the smartest idea. I miss the carefree days of not giving two shits about what I wanted to do.

  I fidget with wisps of my hair and ignore the flutters swarming around my stomach as one by one the room becomes full.

  I clear my throat, close my eyes, and take one calming breath to stop myself from stuttering. With open eyes, I force a smile and calmly breathe out the words, “Hello, I’m Ms. Naomi. Madam Lucy is out for the day and asked me to help. I want everyone to go to the bar and start with first position.”

  When the hand on the clock hits six, I let out a deep sigh. I did it. I knew I wouldn’t fall on my face. My first class back...and the love I felt for the studio, and for teaching, had flooded me in less than an hour. “Okay, ladies, you did beautifully. I’ll see you Thursday at the same time. Practice those jumps with pretty toes please, and don’t forget to stretch when you don’t have class.”

  They filter out of the room with smiles on their faces, but one girl slowly places her stuff in her bag, not excited about leaving.

  “Hey, you better hurry before your mom has to wait too long.”

  She simply shrugs. “She’s always late, that or my daddy is picking me up. Either way, I have a few minutes. Madam Lucy doesn’t mind if I sit in here.” Her bright blue eyes plead with me.

  “I don’t have anywhere to go. I’ll be happy to stay. It’s Charlotte, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I raise my hand, meeting hers. “Nice to meet you. Since we have time, do you want to practice your jumps?”

  Charlotte is up on her feet before she even answers. “Yes, please.”

  “Okay. First, don’t bend your left leg, keep it straight, and add a tiny curve to your leap and arch your toes.” I spin and lift off the ground. “Like that.”

  She mimics me.

  “That was perfect.”

  “Thanks. I want to take more classes so I’d have a chance for a solo in the parents’ showcase, but my mother keeps saying no since she has a new baby.”

  “Babies do take up a lot of time.”

  “She never had a lot of that to begin with.” Her eyes move to the door, her voice still low, and sadness flows through her. “My daddy’s here. Thanks, Ms. Naomi. I’ll see you Thursday.”

  “Bye, Ms. Charlotte.”

  She waves over her shoulder, and I can’t help but notice there’s something about her. The sorrow about her mother maybe. The yearning to be better. I don’t know, but it feels eerily familiar. If she wants extra practice, I’ll get it for her.

  Chapter 3

  Xavier

  The slight chill of the wind is the first sign of fall. I pull my beanie over my head, walking out of the old church. My mind is a mess, cloudy from opening up in group yet again tonight. I haven’t spoken about her in there in years, but for the last three weeks, it seems to be the only thing I want to share. Ever since I saw Naomi lose it on television, she’s been at the forefront of my mind, and that’s the only safe place I can keep her.

  Since the day I pushed her away, I’ve followed her every move, all she’s accomplished, all the things she’s gotten to see. I was proud of what she did, but lately, every interview, every song she performed, every dance she finished…something was off. Her eyes were dull; the electricity wasn’t there—it wasn’t clicking. There was no overwhelming love in the way she moved or the songs she sang—the words were no longer magical. I doubt anyone else noticed, but I could see straight through—she’d lost her spark.

  A knife sank deep into my heart when she collapsed, and the first thing to rush through my mind was drugs—she was high. But the Naomi I knew wouldn’t ever touch the stuff.

  But people change.

  She may have.

  God knows I did.

  When her publicist issued a statement about her being treated for dehydration and a seizure, I didn’t give it any credit. That’s the go-to line when a star needs to save face with the public, and their public relations team weaves half-truths for the fans to buy. The person who doesn’t know the industry believes it. Yet, there’s more to the story…there always is. I know the drill, having had them issued multiple times in my own career—someone’s trying to protect her reputation and keep whatever really happened from being leaked. This way, they spin something they can control.

  Always maintain power.

  That’s the number one rule in that life.

  Some form of communication had to happen, the only problem was how I would do it. I didn’t have a clue where to even start. A phone call couldn’t be made, hearing her voice is my personal trigger, and one word would be too much. Text seemed too personal. Email was the only method of communication I deemed safe. I stared at the screen of my computer for hours before typing and deleting and then rewriting it. I went the simple route—if she needed someone to talk to I’m here.

  Eternally.

  I knew firsthand what she was going through.

  I would be there.

  But I never got a reply. I shouldn’t be surprised.

  Yet I was.

  Still am.

  Waiting for an email to magically appear in my inbox.

  I stop at the edge of the pond and pick up a rock before skipping it on top of the water. The ripples created with each leap the rock takes compound the burning inside my soul. This tiny pond was the main rea
son I first picked this place to come for my groups. The peacefulness of the scenery always helped loosen the tension these sessions caused.

  The high-pitched quacks disrupt my internal serenity. I glance up from the pond to see the flock of ducks going crazy on the other side of the water near a girl on a bench. I couldn’t stifle the chuckle that escaped my mouth. I’d made the same mistake my first time out here—feed these birds, and they will follow you around looking for their next meal.

  Walking over to help, I glance to my left, and like a sucker-punch to the gut, a feeling consumes me. It’s not dread, or anger, or hatred. I’m hit with remorse. Full-on sickened remorse courses through my veins.

  It’s her.

  She’s here.

  Staring off into the distance.

  Not paying one bit of attention to the ducks.

  I should turn around, leave her alone with her thoughts, but I can’t.

  I won’t.

  The leaves crunch under my boots as I slowly move toward her. My breath hiccups before I can speak first. She glances over her shoulder, initially offering a polite smile. But the moment she lays eyes on me, her cheeks drop and her lips form a hard line.

  “What are you doing here?” The anger rises, turning her face crimson red. I can’t help but notice her grind her teeth as she speaks.

  I deserve it.

  “I just saw…you were…I mean…” I’m flipping over my words. My mind isn’t even close to catching up with my mouth.

  “Un-see me.” Her glare turns as cold as a glacier when Naomi stands—not a speck of makeup on her face. She appeared so much younger than recent photographs had portrayed her. The pictures I’d seen in the last couple of years had aged her.

  “Wait, I thought we could talk.”

  Since she’s here, it’s better than an email or phone call. It’s face to face. It’s fate. Us being in the very same spot after all these years.

  “You want to chat? About what? Mm? I don’t have a damn thing left to say to you.”

  I get the hostility; if she had done the same thing to me, I would hate her as well. But we have no more time to borrow, and the world we live in is crazy. I want her to know I’ll have her back. If she needs it, I will always have it.

  I don’t know how not to. She just doesn’t know I always have. I only went through the motions of stepping away. I’ve never fully pulled the plug on us. Couldn’t—not when I loved her the way I did.

  “I have so much to say to you.”

  “No, you don’t,” she mutters with her back to me, her dark hair playing in the wind.

  Naomi is three feet away from me, but it might as well be three million miles.

  “Are you doing drugs?” I blurt out.

  That stops her dead in her tracks. She whips around, her whole body stone-still as she lashes out. “You have got to be kidding me. Fuck, you and my damn father really think that low of me? No. I had a fucking seizure. I drank too many energy drinks…end of story. I ran myself fucking ragged chasing after a dream.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she huffs out. “This is too fucking much. I’m leaving.”

  With an odd twinge of disappointment, I let her. Each step Naomi takes farther away from me sends an ache deep within me like it did years ago. Only it’s today, but my heart doesn’t know the difference. If I wasn’t sure I still had feelings before, I know for sure now.

  This isn’t what someone looks like when they have it all. This is what’s left after they lose everything. It’s the trouble she’s carrying with every move she makes, the bereft look in her eyes like she’s chasing something she can’t see. Only I don’t think she knows what she’s actually chasing.

  I don’t think any of us do.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket; I glance down at my watch. Eight o’clock on the dot. I swipe to answer without even checking who it is. “How’s my favorite daughter?” I ask.

  Charlie is just what I need right now. After the long, drawn out custody battle, I got what I thought was best for her. We alternate weeks, and even if she’s at Zoey’s, I get two phone calls a day: one before she leaves for school and one right before bedtime.

  “Okay.” The last few months, it’s always “okay.” I’m hoping this is the teen in the pre-teen, and it goes just as fast as it came.

  “What did you do?”

  “I had dance today. That new teacher I was telling you about on Tuesday let me come in early to practice with her. She’s helping me so much. I mean, the techniques she’s teaching me are great, and she wants me to learn to feel, not just dance—it’s amazing. I may be the best out there, and I finally got my left split. She said if I keep it up, I may even get a solo for the recital this year. A solo, Pops.”

  My baby loves performing, always has, only she’s as tone deaf as they come, so singing won’t be her calling. Good thing she likes to dance. However, whenever I see her on stage, one thing—person—always pops into my mind. Even if it’s just for a fraction of a second, it’s Naomi. That’s when the love started for her, too. Maybe one day, my own girl will follow in the footsteps of the only other girl I could ever love.

  “That’s awesome. I can’t wait to see your recital.”

  “Me either. You’re going to love it. Pops, hold up.” I wince at the sound of Zoey’s voice screaming at her. “Err…I’m sorry, Mom says I have to get going and take a shower. But you’re picking me up from school tomorrow, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Me, you, and some frozen yogurt—I could never forget. Love you.”

  “Can’t wait. Love you, too.”

  We hang up and my gaze lingers on the spot where Naomi was. I should have steered clear of her from the first burst of attraction. The way we ended may have been a cluster fuck of wrong doings on my part, but having Naomi in my corner, even for the briefest moment, I’m grateful to her. If it wasn’t for her unwavering faith in me as a father and a man, I don’t think I would have had the guts to fight for my daughter. And that right there was worth every ounce of pain that lingered inside me when she was gone.

  But now that she’s back, I’m not sure it will ever be the same.

  Chapter 4

  Naomi

  I twist my arm into the bag, my full weight behind the hit.

  “Damn, you’re a natural at this. Lock wasn’t kidding,” Hadley, my trainer, says.

  “Thanks. It’s fun, too,” I huff out. My lungs scream for air and muscles I never knew I had beg for a break. But this is the release I was desperate for.

  She lets out a small laugh. “That’s one of the reasons I still do it. And my husband owns this place.” Her eyes move over the heads of people working out. My breath hitches when her sight stops on a guy in the corner. I thought my dad was scary, but that man can stand on his own. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” Her grin takes over her face.

  “I wouldn’t call him cute.” Maybe hot, meathead possibly, scary, but cute and him don’t go in the same sentence—not even the same paragraph.

  “I’m allowed to, perks of sleeping with him. We’re done for today. You want to come across the street to this ice cream shop? It’s been a long time since I had some girl time with anyone I actually liked. And it would be really nice not to worry about my kid ruining the place.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “Well, more like frozen yogurt.”

  “Did you say frozen yogurt?”

  “I did.”

  “That’s my favorite.”

  “Mine too. One of them anyway. Wait here just a second—I just have to tell Reed I’m going over there so he doesn’t freak out when he doesn’t see me anymore.”

  As she walks across the gym, not a single male even turns a head her way. Actually, it seems they’re going out of their way to avoid her. I have a feeling it’s who she’s married to. Reed stops what he’s doing as she places a hand on his shoulder. His whole face shifts from rock hard to soft, and his eyes study everything she’s doing. My heart clenches w
ith jealousy.

  I want that—want someone to look at me like I’m their everything. One day, I hope to have it. If I could give myself away again, maybe I could.

  Hadley’s mouth never stops moving the whole time we sit at the table at the yogurt place. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I know I haven’t shut up. My days consist of toddler time, changing diapers, Reed, and the sweaty guys at work. It’s nice to have someone not tell me to be quiet.”

  “You’re fine.” And she really is—it’s nice to have someone keep my mind off other things.

  She swallows hard. “So Lock says you may move back.”

  I swirl the yogurt around the cup, my eyes avoiding hers. “He wishes. I needed to get away from New York for a bit. It was only supposed to be a month, but here I am at three weeks, and I think I’ll stay for a little bit longer. He just wishes my longer was his forever.”

  Hadley giggles and nods in understanding. “Fathers.”

  “Don’t I know it?”

  “You got a boyfriend?” Hadley questions again.

  “No. I haven’t had time. Work has kept me so busy.” I stop my conversation when I’m met with a pair of blue eyes and blond hair at my side. “Hey, Ms. Charlotte, what are you doing here?”

  “This is our Friday night spot.”

  “Charlie, don’t run…”

  His voice—that voice—the one I cried thinking about, the one that still comes into my dreams at night just to ruin them. The one that still causes chills to run down my spine.

  I loathe that voice.

  His stare penetrates me before he says, “Naomi?”

  “Pops, you know Ms. Naomi?” Her head tilts up to his as she smacks him on his arm.