by Alexis Daria
Betrayal and confusion warred with him, making his muscles tense. He loved her. He’d just learned to embrace that, to ask for and offer more. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted? “I don’t understand.”
“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t. It’s a risk, but if we go back to how it was before—it’ll break me. I can’t do it again. I tried to stay away from you before, but you kept bringing me back in, so this time, I need you not to try. I need you to let me go.”
“I don’t want to let you go.”
“I need you to. Don’t you get it? I have to do this myself. I have to prove I’m good enough—that I can live on my own like a responsible adult, that I can fix my finances, and get my life back on track.”
“I can help you. I’ll get you an apartment, somewhere closer to me, and—”
“What, like a kept woman? I don’t think so.”
“Fine, then. Let’s get married.” The words came from nowhere, suddenly in his brain and coming out of his mouth. While she stared at him, open-mouthed, he repeated them back to himself. Actually, they didn’t sound half bad.
She snapped her mouth shut and shook her head. “You’re out of your fucking mind. We’ve been on one date. And it will look even worse if I suddenly elope with one of the judges.”
“Stop worrying about this. I’ll take care of you.”
“Don’t you get it? That’s not what I want! I want to take care of myself.” She rubbed her eyes. “You’re too intense, and you make things too easy for me. You don’t think it’s tempting to let you take care of everything? It fucking is. But I need to know, for myself, that I can do it on my own.”
There was nothing he could say to that. He wanted her to accept his love, but to do that, she had to feel within herself that she was worthy of love. He couldn’t force her to feel that way. It was something she had to do on her own.
Just when he was starting to feel like things were settled, at least in this area of his life, she was gone.
He was alone.
He took a step back, because it was what she wanted.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry you feel that way.” God, that was just the lamest fucking thing he could have said. But words failed him now. So he spoke from the heart. “I’ll fix it, Kroshka. I’m going to give you your space, because you’ve asked for it, but trust me, I will fix this. I am not walking away from you again.”
He wanted to kiss her, to hold her, but his resolve was thin, and he got the feeling hers was, too.
If it was this hard to pull away from each other, wasn’t that a sign they should give in and be together?
But this wasn’t the time to push. He understood now. This was what she wanted. And he’d told her he’d give her anything she asked of him.
She wanted space? She wanted to fix things on her own? He’d give her that space.
And in the meantime, he’d continue to help from afar. Once his show was set up, he could hire her. And in the meantime, there was one more thing he could do.
Leaving the apartment, he took the stairs again, needing to burn off the restless energy. He didn’t have time to be depressed or lonely. He had too much work to do.
He called Alex, told him to rent a car and meet him at his house. Then he raced home, and headed straight for his office. Once there, he yanked the folder with his contract out of the desk, and with great satisfaction, stuffed it into the shredder.
Then he called his brother, his parents, and every single person who owed him a favor.
44
After her friends helped make the apartment livable again—with furniture where it was supposed to be and free of plaster dust—Natasha worked out an agreement with the management company. After the two months were up, they would allow her to break the lease and move into a one-bedroom apartment elsewhere in the building, applying her existing security deposit to the new place. In the meantime, since her ankle was still too sore to risk dancing on it, she got a head start on packing and purging.
For the first time in a while, she had free time where she wasn’t worrying about survival. Amazing how much energy stress used up. With Lori and Kevin’s help, Natasha sold off her collection of clothes and shoes. Nice as it was to have cash in her pocket and space in her closet, parting with the items wasn’t easy. She snapped pictures of herself in each item one last time, and caressed the fabrics until Lori snatched them away from her and stuffed them into shipping boxes.
Once, just owning them made her feel successful, even if she had never worn them. Being able to buy them, to select an outfit from a closet full of beautiful pieces, had made her happy.
It seemed so silly now. They were just clothes. Overpriced and totally impractical. She was a dancer. She lived in yoga pants most of the time, and when she performed, costumes were provided. Having a wardrobe like this was just a status thing, so she could feel good about herself when she went out. And since she’d had the nice clothes, she’d gone out a lot. Both fed into each other, a vicious cycle of spending more and more money. And what did she have to show for it? Nothing. A bunch of photos on her phone. No wonder she didn’t have any money left.
And now she was keeping her job on The Dance Off for the financial security. Why? So she could buy more clothes she didn’t need?
And at what cost?
She shut down that line of thinking. The cost was painfully obvious every time she went to bed alone, struggled through her budgeting spreadsheet, or made a single cup of espresso in the morning.
At least she’d be prepared for her mother’s arrival in a few weeks. Esmeralda wasn’t as awful when other people were around. Maybe if the friend she was bringing appeared to be impressed, Esmeralda would find it in her to bestow praise as well.
Yeah, and maybe Donna would turn out to be a decent human being. Not gonna happen.
But for the first time in her life, Natasha was living on her own terms.
And if she wasn’t all that happy about it, well, that was life.
To thank Kevin and Lori for all they’d done, Natasha hosted dinners at her apartment. They brought the groceries, and she cooked up huge meals for them, experimenting with different cuisines and dishes. Sometimes they invited the other pro dancers, too, but most of the time, it was just the three of them.
A week before Natasha was set to meet her new partner for the upcoming season, she invited Lori and Kevin over to try out an array of summer salads.
Kevin arrived first, with five bottles of wine. Natasha gave him a stern look. “Kev, you know I’m cutting back on drinking.”
“I know, I know. Just stocking up for the next time.” He stuck two bottles of rosé in the fridge, and popped the other three into the small wine rack on top. Then he hovered over the large bowls on the counter. “What do we have here?”
Natasha pointed to each one. “Watermelon with feta and mint. Salmon with mango and avocado. Shrimp and nectarine. And a classic orzo with veggies.”
“You’re the best.” Kevin made himself at home, pulling down wine glasses and opening the bottle of white wine she had chilling in the fridge.
Natasha’s phone rang on the counter while she was setting out dishes and utensils. She thought it would be Lori, calling from the car, but her agent’s name flashed on the screen. She answered, and Kevin took over setting out the flatware.
“Hi, Penelope. What’s up?”
Penelope jumped right in, speaking fast. “Hey, Tash. I was approached about a big choreography opportunity for you. They’ve seen your YouTube videos, and they want you to come in for a meeting in two days. It’ll be a few months of work, and go a long way toward billing you as a real choreographer.”
“That sounds amazing. When would it start?”
“Immediately.”
Natasha frowned. “Pen, I already have a job. I’m meeting my next partner next week.”
“I know, but we could use your ankle to get you out of it. This is a really good opportunity.”
The buzzer rang, and Kevin went to let L
ori in.
“I don’t know, Pen. I’ll think about it.”
“Think fast. I really think you should at least meet with them. Maybe it could lead to something else. The Dance Off doesn’t have to be forever.”
“I know. Thanks.”
They hung up.
Kevin came back from opening the apartment door for Lori. “What was that about?”
“My agent. Someone reached out to her about a choreography job.”
“Isn’t that what you want to do? I mean, yeah, we choreograph dances every week for the show, but making up short routines for non-dancers is totally different than a job as a choreographer. You should take it.”
Natasha pressed her fingers to her forehead, which suddenly throbbed with pressure. “It’s too much change all at once. Anyway, I said I’ll think about it.”
Lori bustled in. “Oh my god, you guys. You will not believe what I heard today.”
“I’m going to pour the wine. I have the feeling we’ll need it.” Kevin ducked into the kitchen.
Lori kicked off her big turquoise and silver high tops and ran over to Natasha. Her eyes were wide, her mouth pinched in a serious little frown. “Tash, I know who your next partner is.”
“Really?” Natasha perked up. “Donna hinted a while ago that he was a musician.”
Lori shook her head slowly. “Nuh-uh.”
Kevin pushed wine glasses into their hands. “Don’t drag it out, Lor. Spill.”
Lori took a deep breath, then blew it out in a rush, words tumbling out. “Tash, don’t be mad at me. I’m just the messenger. But as soon as I heard, I knew I had to tell—”
“Lori!” Natasha and Kevin both yelled her name in unison.
“Spit it out.” The longer Lori stalled, the more her nerves high-kicked into gear. Natasha took a sip of wine to soothe them.
Lori’s hands flapped by her sides, but she nodded and said, “It’s Rocky. Rocky Lim.”
Natasha froze.
Kevin spoke up. “Rocky Lim, from those martial arts car racing movies? Is he—oh, shit.” He turned to Natasha, a hand covering his mouth. “Didn’t you and he used to . . . ?”
She nodded, then knocked back the glass, chugging the rest of the wine. “Yeah. We used to. And Donna knows it.”
Lori shook her fist in the air. “Fucking Donna! Why would she even do that?”
Kevin glowered into his wine glass. “I know why. She’s a manipulative little punk. She’s keeping Tash in line, showing her how much she can mess with her life, and trying to destroy her connection to Dimitri.”
Lori’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Does Dimitri know about you and Rocky?”
Natasha shut her eyes. “He knows. We once ran into him at a perfume launch party. I was with Rocky, he was with some TV host.”
Lori mouth twisted. “Maybe I’m wrong?”
“How’d you find out?” Kevin asked.
“Not too many Asians in Hollywood. There’s a gossip grapevine.”
Natasha grabbed her phone. “You’re not wrong. Look.”
She pulled up some texts, and showed them the screen.
Kevin scrolled through. A bunch of texts from Rocky, most of them general greetings and variations of “How’s it going?” with photos taken around England and comments on British TV shows.
The last one read: Hey, babe. Give me a call when you’re free. Followed by a winking emoji.
Kevin pointed at the phone. “That’s a booty call right there.”
“It means he’s in town.” Natasha took the phone back. “I didn’t call him. Didn’t even think of it. But that means he’s here. And if he’s here, then there’s a chance you’re right, Lori. I wouldn’t put it past Donna to swap him out as my partner.”
Lori squinted up at Natasha’s head. “Is he even tall enough to be your partner?”
“Barely.” Natasha hit Penelope’s number and put the phone to her ear. “Pen? Yeah, hi. Set up that meeting and email me the details. Thanks.”
When she put the phone down, Kevin and Lori gave her guilty looks. Their hands were in the watermelon, mint, and feta salad. They were eating it with their fingers.
“Sorry,” Lori mumbled around a mouthful of watermelon. “All this drama makes me hungry. You got any popcorn?”
Natasha growled and handed them forks. “Fuck it, just eat out of the bowl. How is it?”
“Delicious,” Kevin said through his own full mouth. Watermelon juice dripped down his chin.
“Great.” Natasha sat at the counter and covered her face with her hands. “I have to quit.”
A full glass of rosé appeared by her elbow.
“Will it really be that bad?” Lori asked, scooping forkfuls of orzo salad out of the bowl and into her mouth. “By the way, this could use a little more lemon, if you have it.”
“In the fridge.” Natasha sat back and lifted the wine glass. The first had gone straight to her head, but she no longer cared about her resolution to stop drinking so much.
Kevin answered for her. “It’ll be bad. Dimitri will lose his shit when he sees her dancing with Rocky, and I bet you anything Donna thinks sticking Rocky and Tash together will cause some fireworks, and maybe even give them cause to fire you next season anyway.”
Someone knocked on the door and Natasha groaned. “Now what?”
Lori gasped. “What if it’s Rocky?”
Natasha shook her head and slid off the high bar stool. “It’s Manny. He was going to come by earlier to scrape one of the bathroom door hinges that got painted over.”
“This is better than HBO.” Lori tasted the shrimp salad and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Oh god. This is to die for.”
“Let me try.” Kevin approached with his fork.
Natasha went to open the door, her thoughts buzzing. If she could film the final piece she’d been working on and get it edited before the meeting, she’d be in good shape. With her mind on her choreography reel, she pulled open the door and froze.
It wasn’t Manny.
Gina threw her arms in the air and yelled, “Surprise!”
45
A flood of emotions kept Natasha’s feet rooted to the floor.
Surprise, for sure. Gina was supposed to be in Alaska or New York, not Los Angeles.
Shock, since she’d expected Manny.
Shame, because everything in her life had fallen apart since Gina had left, and she didn’t want Gina to know how messed up everything had become.
Fear, that Gina would judge her.
But overwhelming them all was joy.
Her friend was back.
And then Natasha’s feet were moving, crossing the threshold over the apartment, and she and Gina were crushing each other in a tight bear hug.
It wasn’t until her breath hitched that Natasha let herself feel how much she’d missed her friend.
Gina’s familiar embrace, the scent of her shampoo, the way she squeezed before letting go, grounded Natasha in a way nothing else had in the past few months.
When they eased back, they were both wiping the corners of their eyes.
“So, what’s been going on?” Gina asked, dragging her rolling suitcase into the apartment.
“Ha!” From the kitchen, Kevin barked out a laugh, echoed by Lori. “What hasn’t been going on?”
At Gina’s curious look, Natasha beckoned her further inside. “I guess I should fill you in.”
“You guess?” The further Gina moved into the apartment, the more her eyes widened, taking in the boxes and remaining tarp. “Did you repaint the walls?”
And then some. “It’s . . . kind of a long story.”
“Give me a minute, and then I want to hear all of it. You’ve been tight-lipped since I left.” Gina took off her shoes by the door, then went into the kitchen to hug Lori and Kevin. After scooping a bit of each salad onto a plate, Gina gave Natasha an expectant look. “Well?”
“Let’s talk in my room.” Natasha led the way into her bedroom.
Gina stopped
just inside the door, gazing around and chewing. “Where’s all your stuff?”
“It’s part of the story.”
They sat on the edge of Natasha’s bed. Natasha’s stomach fluttered with nerves.
“I need a minute.”
Gina shrugged and tucked into the food. “Take your time.”
Natasha didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to admit how much she’d fucked up since Gina had left. How incapable she was of handling her life on her own. It was different with Lori and Kevin. They still didn’t know the full story—Lori didn’t know about her credit, and neither of them knew about Babe Planet.
And while no one needed to know every bit of her life, she was holding back out of fear of judgment. She didn’t trust Gina not to judge her. And that was kind of shitty way to think about your best friend. Of anyone, Gina deserved to know.
All along, Dimitri had pushed her to open up to Gina. To reach out to her. He’d seen how she was struggling, unmoored, and while he’d tried to help her himself, he’d also understood the need to connect with the one person who knew you better than anyone else, and who still loved you.
Her mother didn’t accept her life choices, but Gina always had, even when she didn’t agree with them. Despite the evidence, Natasha still hadn’t seen fit to open up to her.
Now or never.
It was hard, but Natasha told her everything. From closing out her credit cards and buying a new car, the extra jobs and leak in the ceiling, the sprained ankle and Dimitri’s confession of love, Babe Planet and Donna’s threat, all the way to breaking up with Dimitri and moving back into the apartment. She even included the most recent developments—Donna’s revenge through Rocky Lim, and Penelope’s call.
When Natasha finished, the relief of having spilled everything left her weak, but she anxiously awaited Gina’s response.
Gina was quiet. She’d set her empty plate aside on the floor, and she sat now leaning back on her elbows. Finally, she said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Natasha could have asked, “About what?” She’d spilled so much tonight. But she knew what Gina meant. Why hadn’t she told her . . . all of it. Any of it. Why hadn’t she asked for help.
