Center of Gravity

by K. K. Allen

  Amie’s eyes went wide. She mouthed “Oh shit” and pulled herself to standing. “Hey, Theo,” she called out with a wave. “Bye, Theo.” And she ran out the door like the worst friend in the world, leaving me with a look of horror on the way out.

  I moaned and pulled myself to a sitting position to face him. “It’s not what you heard.”

  He stood above me, hands on his hips, his naturally stoic look intensifying. “So, it’s not weird when I ask you to take over rehearsals when I disappear with Winter?”

  An awkward smile spread across my face. “It’s a little weird. But I’m not complaining. I’m happy to help.”

  “Good,” he responded dryly. “You should be.”

  I stood up, heat snaking its way through me at his totally insulting reaction to how I’d helped him. “Excuse me?”

  He shook his head and began to back away. “Lex, I’m fucking tired, and I’m not going to do this with you. I won’t ask you to lead again. End of conversation.”

  I followed him as he walked toward the mirrors, where his belongings were. “I said I would.”

  “Yeah, well, you made it clear how you felt about it.” He snatched up his leather jacket and started to slip it over his arms, his face toward the mirror. “And to think you almost didn’t even make the crew. You should be a little more grateful.” He muttered it almost as though I wasn’t in the room with him.

  I’d never been so fired up. Not even on the day I called Theo a jerk. He turned around as he was shoving his keys in his pocket and began thumbing through his phone. I stepped closer, forcing him to look at me.

  “You think you did me a favor by putting me on this crew? You think it’s a secret you didn’t want me here? That it took Janelle and Winter to convince you? Wrong. But you know what I find pretty amusing about all of that?” I narrowed my eyes, jamming my toes against his and forcing his eyes to mine. “You need me. You needed me today, and you’ll need me tomorrow. You’ll never admit it, but I see right through you.”

  I pushed off his chest and pivoted, beelining for the door and sweeping up my bag from the floor.

  “Lex,” he called out.

  I shouldn’t have stopped, but something in his tone, something raw and vulnerable and new, gutted me on the spot. He was desperate. For what, I didn’t know, but I couldn’t leave before finding out. I turned around again.

  “I do need you.”

  Just like that, the fire that raged inside dissipated into a fog of hope. My heart started to thump harder, and my mouth went dry. He stayed on his side of the room and I stayed on mine, but my staying was enough. He’d extended a hand, and I took it. Now what?

  “What’s going on?” My tone was softer, to match his, but still shaky with nerves. “I know I’m new to this and all, but I get the feeling this rehearsal schedule isn’t normal.”

  He swept both hands through his unkempt hair, messing it up even more. “What’s your definition of normal?”

  “Theo,” I warned. I wouldn’t accept his vague answer this time. I deserved to know the truth.

  He pulled his hair again and gritted his teeth before throwing his arms in the air. “It’s … unusual, yeah. I’m behind on choreography, okay? It’s my fault. I lost my assistant before I came back to LA, and she was supposed to have set all this shit up. But she—” He shook his head. “She did none of it.”

  “Why not?”

  His eyes shot to mine. “That’s none of your business,” he snapped.

  Discomfort rattled my chest, and I folded my arms, as if that could fix my insides. Nothing could, not when Theo talked to me like that. I wished it didn’t get to me. I wished I didn’t care. But I did.

  “Anyway, the point is I’m behind. Winter’s behind. The dancers are behind. And the stress, which usually doesn’t bother me, is fucking killing me right about now. I haven’t slept in weeks. So yeah. None of this is normal. I’m just trying to manage the best way I know how.”

  “I can help.” The words were out before I could comprehend my thoughts. What am I offering, exactly?

  He laughed, digging into the wound he’d already created in my chest. “You pick up the choreography faster than anyone. I trust you to help the group. You have been helping me, Lex.”

  I swallowed, not wanting to elaborate on my offer. I wasn’t talking about leading the group. I was talking about the choreography, but it was clear he wasn’t ready to accept that kind of assistance.

  “Okay.” I nodded. “Then I’ll keep helping.”

  “Okay.” He didn’t argue about it again. A deadness rang through the air. A finality to his agreement. It was all he was going to give me.

  And with that, I stepped into the hallway and took my first deep breath of the day. As I walked through the halls of Gravity and passed the community center, I thought about how much I was looking forward to the next two days off. Though with Shane out of town, I had no clue what I was going to do with myself.

  “Hey, Lex.” Amie’s voice surprised me. I looked over at a cluster of couches, where most of the crew was congregating.

  “Hey, thanks for all your help in there,” I chided, following it up immediately with a smile, because I wasn’t all that upset she took off and left Theo and me alone. “I didn’t realize anyone was still here.” I looked around at the group. Some acknowledged me, but others shifted their gazes.

  Reggie stood from his seat and walked over. I wondered whether it was his attempt to bring me into the group and help me fit in. I couldn’t be sure, but I appreciated how he and Amie always let me know I was one of them.

  “We wanted to make sure you knew we were heading for dinner.” He gestured at the dancers behind him. “Nothing fancy. There’s this hole-in-the-wall bar down the street. Thought we’d grab a bite, maybe a drink, and unwind a little. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Today especially, yeah?” His arm wrapped around mine sympathetically.

  I shot a look at Amie, and she gave me an amused shrug.

  For so many reasons, I couldn’t say no. “That sounds great.”

  The chatter on the way to the bar was lively and carefree, the complete opposite of the energy in the studio with Theo. Was he that intense all the time? That had to be exhausting.

  Amie slid in beside me in the booth. Reggie and another dancer, Wayne, sat across from us. The rest of the dancers grabbed a nearby high-top table and dragged it over so we could all be within earshot of each other.

  “How’s your buddy doing? Shane, was it?” Wayne asked.

  I cheered up at the sound of my best friend’s name. “He got offered another gig with Dominic. They’re doing a club tour around the US. Sounds pretty cool. He left last night.”

  Reggie looked genuinely impressed. “That does sound cool. Shane’s hooked himself up with the right crowd, that’s for sure. Dominic takes care of his people. I imagine your friend’s happy.”

  I shrugged. “He is. He was bummed he wasn’t able to audition for Winter’s show, but I think he got over it quickly.”

  Laughter filled the table, and my guess was they all agreed Shane was better off elsewhere, away from the torturous schedule and demands of Theo.

  “You holding it together okay?” Concern streamed from Reggie’s voice, but I detected an edge too.

  Amie pressed herself into my shoulder. “I told the crew what you were saying when Theo walked into the studio.” She laughed good-naturedly. “Was he still pissed after I left?”

  I understood now why the crew waited for me. Why I was invited here tonight. Why the tension with the other dancers felt as if it had eased. Amie made me the victim, and I couldn’t hate her for it. Considering the circumstances, it was actually quite smart.

  “He was pretty pissed.” I shrugged. “But I don’t think he’ll let up on me anytime soon. It sounds like Winter is behind on choreography. He can’t possibly be in two places at once.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates it,” Amie chimed in, looking around the table. “I’d rather you lead class, an
yway.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Chaz joined in from the high top closest to Amie. “What’s been up his ass lately?”

  Wayne snorted from across the table. “I’ll tell you what’s up his ass. Winter. They’re a thing now, which means she’s got him by the balls. I’ve seen it before. When she digs her hooks into someone, she bleeds them dry. No wonder he’s tired.”

  Amie rolled her eyes and leaned into me. “But you talked to him, right? He must have given you a clue as to what’s going on with him?”

  Reggie let out a deep chuckle. “Getting Theo to talk is like yanking a horn off a bull. Not going to happen, sweetheart.”

  “So.” I smiled, looking around the table and intending to change the conversation. “What are you guys doing on your days off? I think I might not move. At all.”

  “Me too, girl,” Simone shouted from the other side of the table. We gave each other an air high-five.

  “Flying home,” Brenda noted.

  “Spending the weekend in my garden.”

  “Teaching a class.”

  “Taking my son fishing.”

  The responses were so diverse, I realized how little I knew about the other dancers. I’d heard how close crews became on a show site. How there was a family-like intimacy created between dancers. While we all wanted to be the best, we still needed each other, because when the music started and our hearts were thrown on that dance floor, we became one.

  Conversation flowed over a meal and some drinks. I stuck with water, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink if I had any alcohol. I’d never been a big drinker, anyway—not since I learned what it was like to lose control of my body at only seventeen. After that, liquor just made me feel anxious—on edge and helpless. I swore I’d never feel that way again.

  I hadn’t learned my triggers well enough to prevent the darkness from claiming me and transporting me back to the party on the lake. To the night I became helpless in the arms of a monster. But when the darkness came, it washed over me the way water rushed the shore. And every sensation from that horrible night seeped through my pores and weighed me down like wet sand.

  I remembered my body rocking above the waves, the heavy breathing above me, my cries for something, someone—anyone—and hot tears sliding down my face as I prayed to the full crescent moon.

  Snippets of a night I wished I could forget seemed to invade my mind at the worst possible times. Like now.

  If Shane had been there, I wouldn’t have been forced outside my comfort zone, which most likely triggered my last memory. Social events gave me anxiety. Having a friend who was so bold and relentless in his pursuits was a blessing in so many ways. He was always there to pull me out of my shell. Because of him, I didn’t miss out on much. We were a package deal, and no one questioned that back home.

  But we weren’t in Seattle anymore. LA was a different beast, a bigger pond, with everyone driven and passionate about the same goals—and Gravity Dance Complex was the epicenter of it all. The hub for dance talent. And he wasn’t there.

  After we paid our bills, Amie and I slid into the back seat of Reggie’s sports car. He drove toward my place first since it was closest. I dreaded that I would be sleeping alone in my dingy apartment that night. With its questionable security system, thin walls, and tattered blinds, I couldn’t help feeling more on edge than ever before.

  Shane and I had opted to live in a questionable area of town because it was the only way we could afford classes at Gravity in addition to a year’s worth of rent. We never talked about what would happen when one of us found work and left the other alone.

  I took a deep breath as we pulled up to my apartment complex. “Thanks for the ride,” I called back to Reggie, shutting the door behind me. I blew Amie a kiss and jogged up the steps to my apartment, then I waved goodbye as I punched in my code and slipped through the main door.

  My body was leaded with exhaustion as I took the stairs to the second floor. And while my heart was beating triple time, I knew it wasn’t from the journey upstairs. As I walked the narrow hall, I took in the peeled orange wallpaper and the overhead lights flickering, startling at every strange creak and moan of the floorboards. When I finally got to my apartment, I dashed inside and locked the door behind me.

  My gaze floated around the space. Nothing was out of the ordinary, not that it should have been. But I still felt jumpy, even with the overhead lights on.

  I pulled off my shoes and wandered around, checked behind the doors and shower curtain, then fastened sheets to the windows with clothespins. It was weird to see Shane’s side of the studio vacant except for his mattress. I frowned at the vastness of it all.

  After tossing myself onto my bed, I curled up with my pillow, forcing my thoughts to turn in any direction but the darkness.

  And then I thought of him—Theo. Why? It made no sense. Theo was the epitome of dark and disturbed, and he was exactly the sort of man I needed to stay away from. Yet there he was, etched into my mind—the vulnerable man who’d given me a piece of himself today.

  My mind settled some, but my eyes were glued open. I was restless, my heartbeat stubbornly hammering away. There was no way I would last all night in this apartment alone. Not when I felt as if someone were feeding my veins caffeine.

  But where could I go?

  The answer was so obvious. Gravity. It was the first thing that entered my mind.

  The Center was open twenty-four seven, and most likely there’d be an empty studio I could hop into.

  But it’s dark. I can’t walk there now.

  Our apartment might have been in a creepy part of town, but Gravity wasn’t. Still, the idea of walking there at this hour didn’t give me the warm fuzzies. I picked up my phone, found the car service app, and scheduled a pickup.

  CHAPTER 15

  Theo

  The sound of a drill pierced my ears when I entered the side door of my three-story house. I lived on the outskirts of LA with privacy and land not normally found on this side of town. It was quiet and homey—the perfect getaway from my normally crazy life. Talk about an inconvenient time for renovations. Especially on a day when I could use some major shut-eye. The past few weeks had caught up with me. But the construction was almost finished, and it would be a lifesaver when it was.

  As I moved through the foyer and down the hall, specks of sawdust caught the light and floated in a cloud around me. I entered the room where the ruckus was coming from and someone cut the engine to the machine. In seconds, the dust cleared, giving me a better view of the open space.

  My mood was instantly lifted. My own personal dance studio. It’d always been a dream of mine, and after I’d bought the house three years ago, the studio was the first update I planned to make. The time had never been right before, but after officially getting the gig with Winter, I decided to make the move.

  My plan was for the studio to be finished two months ago, but that was another project my ex-assistant had been responsible for.

  “Coming along, boys.” I greeted the four men with a handshake as they proceeded to run down the list of remaining work.

  “I’d say we’re about two days out. Walls get fresh paint tomorrow. Floor sealant goes on the next day. You’ll want to give it a few days to dry. Then it’s all yours.”

  “Thanks, man. I really appreciate the rush job here. Finding studio time at Gravity has been a bitch.”

  The men chuckled, though I knew they hadn’t a clue what I’d been through, nor did they care. After a final perusal of the space, I jogged upstairs, strode past the kitchen and living room, then made my way to the top floor, where my bed was waiting.

  The studio would be soundproof, but since the door was open, I could still hear faint sounds of the machines. Luckily I was too tired to care as I threw myself on my bed, intending to nap for just a few hours.

  It was dark when I woke, my eyes sprinting open and my heart lunging straight through my throat. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I’d slept too long.

  I
threw off the covers and dove for the bathroom to rinse off and change before I headed back to Gravity. I had five more dances to choreograph. I’d been stalled for the past few days, which set me back. And Monday was going to be a big day. The crew would not only learn an entire routine but also Winter would be joining them for “blends,” which was when backup dancers and the artist began rehearsing together.

  Blending was always the trickiest phase of show prep. For artists, it was like a whole new world, being surrounded by dancers who were ultimately better than them. But at the same time, it empowered the artist to know they were backed by a chorus of talent to help them shine. The glittery costumes and fancy lighting didn’t hurt either.

  I stuffed my legs into a pair of sweatpants and a muscle shirt, strapped on my sneakers, and busted down the stairs like a tropical storm ready to destroy anything in my path. The center was only twenty minutes from my house, and luckily LA traffic was avoidable along the backstreets.

  I parked along the curb in my usual spot at the front of the building and entered the dimly lit facility, no key required per the twenty-four-hour policy. The only person there was a security guard, Fred, who watched over the place every night. He walked the halls and the perimeter nonstop, and he’d been doing it for years. Hired by Rashni when Gravity opened, he was now the longest-standing employee in the entire facility.

  I walked the long hall until I reached a room with light streaming through the rectangular peep window in the door. It wasn’t completely unusual for someone to be here training after hours. I did it every night. But it always made me curious to see who had that same kind of drive.

  When I reached the window and looked inside, my heart kicked up a beat. Lex was there, her caramel blond hair thrown into a messy pile atop her head. She was barefoot and wore gray sweats and a white tank that exposed her toned middle section. And from the amount of sweat on her body and her heavy breathing, I guessed she’d been there for hours.