Taking it all in, I dragged my sleeve over my forehead and peeled away the hair matted to my face with sweat. Despite the brisk air, the hard work kept me warm. It was definitely worth getting here before seven this morning. The turnout for our service day had already exceeded my expectations.
All that publicity last week might’ve had something to do with it. That and the multi-colored flyers Trey’d practically wallpapered the city in. Though, I had a feeling the edgy competition between break dancing and spoken word contests happening out front was the real driving source of attention at the moment.
People funneled back to the string of tables we’d set up, each with pairs of kids seated behind them ready to share their talents. Handmade bracelets. Hair braiding stations. Artwork displays.
It was probably the first time they ever saw how their skills could serve a greater purpose. Despite how much money we raised for the center today, watching the kids gain a sense of self-worth made the entire event worthwhile.
Even the weather cooperated. I held my chisel between my knees, stripped off my sweatshirt, and tied it around my waist. A refreshing breeze swam over my bare arms in a gentle nudge to keep working. I stretched my neck from side to side and lifted on my tiptoes to continue scraping the pole.
A commotion broke out behind me. Turning, I squinted under the sunlight and dropped my chisel to the ground.
“Mr. A. J.,” one of the girls called. “You’re back!”
With a gallon of paint in his hand, A. J. stopped when his eyes met mine. He diverted his attention to the horde of excited kids practically mosh-pitting him. “Missed you guys too.”
Hugs and pant leg climbing ensued. Until little Andre approached. The crowd parted and left them standing face to face in a silent duel. Hard to blame Andre for his cautious stare. It’d killed him when A. J. didn’t come back.
A. J. crouched to the six-year-old’s eye level and held out his hand in a peace offering.
Andre’s stone-like expression didn’t budge. He flung both fists onto his hips above evenly spaced-out legs. “Not so fast,” he said with an impressive county sheriff accent.
I covered my mouth to shield my laughter.
His hands trailed down his sides, his stoicism crumbling. “You ditched us, Mr. A. J.”
A. J’s chin drooped to his shirt. The collision of vulnerability and remorse on his face was enough to back my already-weary legs against the pole behind me.
He swallowed, inhaled, and slowly raised his head to meet the gut-wrenching look in Andre’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I . . . had some things I had to work through.” His gaze drifted from Andre to me with a level of transparency I doubted even a six-year-old would miss. “But I’m ready to come back now. If you’ll have me.”
Andre exchanged a hesitant glance with his buddy, standing beside him. Thirty seconds of indecision led to an extended hand topped with a smile I hadn’t seen in months. They shared their famous handshake, but Andre held on a minute longer. “Just promise not to bounce again, a’ight?”
A. J. tried to keep a straight face. “A’ight.”
Andre leaned over to his friend as they strutted away. “Girls,” he whispered. “They make us do crazy things sometimes.”
If there had even been a question that Andre deserved the world’s most adorable kid ever award, he’d just obliterated it.
Pardoned of his crimes, A. J. rose to his feet and headed over. “Heard you guys could use some help today.” He held up the bucket of paint and offered his usual disarming smile.
I snagged my chisel from the ground and turned it ’round and ’round in my hands. “Well, I suppose if our local sheriff let you off the hook, then I guess we can accept your help.”
“How very gracious of you.” Still a few feet away, he kept his eyes on me, seemingly unaware of anyone else around.
Silence hovered.
It didn’t feel like he was searching for the right words. More like they weren’t necessary. At least, not to him.
Darius stretched up from the ground with perfect ease. Figures.
He clasped A. J.’s hand. “What up, bro? Welcome home.”
“Thanks, man. You been running the court while I’ve been gone?”
Darius wedged the chisel under his waistband, kicked a basketball up from the ground, and dribbled it between his legs. “You know it.”
A. J. swiped the ball from him and nailed a backhand layup. “Good thing I’m back to show you up.”
“Psh. You wish, dawg.” Darius followed up his remark with an effortless three-pointer.
Boys.
The basketball thudded against the pavement and rolled off to the side near the grill where Mr. Jenkins was killing me with those amazing barbeque scents.
“Ohhh.” Shouts and hollers echoed from the competition still brewing up front, drawing Darius’ glance.
A. J.’s stare bounced from the street back to him. “Why don’t you let me take over here? I think those playas are waiting for you to show off your mad popping skills.”
Darius busted out his crazy dance moves as he handed over his chisel. He shuffled backward until he reached the fence and sprinted toward the front of the building.
A. J. flipped the chisel in the air as he edged near, attention focused on me again. I backed up and bumped into the pole. His dimples caved into his cheeks with whatever he wasn’t saying.
I leveled my shoulders and straightened out my shirt. “What?”
He pointed to the side of my face. “You . . . you have a bit of paint . . .”
I swiped my hand across my cheek without thinking. Great, I’d probably just made it worse.
Laughing, he steadied his hand over top of mine and lowered it to my side. “Here. Let me get it.” He rubbed the tip of his thumb across my skin.
I swallowed, looked away. “A. J., I . . .”
He stepped back and brandished his chisel. “Guess I’ll start at the top.” Towering above me, he began scraping the sections I’d never be able to reach.
The pavement met my knees in a welcome reprieve from standing under the weight of his smile.
How were we supposed to do this? Work side by side after everything? The kids needed him here. Trey needed the help. I couldn’t be the reason he stayed away. But how were we supposed to make this work?
“So,” I said after another quiet minute. “You’re back?”
The shrill sound of metal against metal stopped. “This is where I belong.” Without taking his eyes off the pole, he laughed sadly. “Being defiant doesn’t always turn out so well.” The scraping resumed and almost drowned out his soft voice. “Even when we’re convinced we know a better way.”
I stared at the ground, hating the hint of heartache in his words.
His hand grazed the edge of my chin. “Hey, it’s fine.”
Is that what he called it?
“I’ll make you a deal.”
Oh boy. This couldn’t be good.
His ambiguous grin only made it worse. “I’ll work out my schedule with Trey so I’m here only on days when you’re not, if . . .”
I sat back on my heels. “If?”
“If,” he said, still grinning, “you let me pick out the song for our dance at Trevor and Jaycee’s wedding.”
That was my end of the bargain? “Um, sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s kind of a lost cause. Trust me. There isn’t a single detail of Jae’s wedding that she hasn’t had planned since she was sixteen.”
“I don’t know. I can be pretty convincing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good luck with that. Not even your best man status will score you enough points on this one.”
Unabashed confidence flashed across A. J.’s face.
Perfect. Just what he needed. A challenge.
He reached for the half-chiseled section of paint above him. “We’ll see.”
Except I didn’t have to see. I knew. There was no way he’d get anywhere near the chance of slipping something unplanned into Jaycee’s d
ay. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I shrugged it off until what he’d said earlier sank in. I’d been so distracted by the second part of his proposition that I overlooked the first. He said he’d come back to the center only on days when I wasn’t there. I stared past the court into a blur of thoughts. He was keeping his word. That day in the gym, he promised to respect my choice to disconnect our heart tie.
A. J.’s whistle drew me back to the moment. “If you scrape that section any longer, you’re going cut straight through it.”
The scratched-up pole blinked into view. “Sorry. Just thinking.”
A series of car honks rang up front, followed by a roar of whoops and hollers. I exchanged a hesitant glance with A. J., dropped my chisel, and sprang toward the source of all the commotion.
A tour bus with the words “Biggie Rey” running down the middle took up most of the street in front of our building. The kids who’d been dancing earlier all congregated around it like roadies waiting for some star to emerge through the door.
Andre strutted over to us with his arms crossed. He might’ve pulled off the tough look if his smile weren’t glowing. “Mr. A. J., you have somethin’ to do with this?”
“Sorry, bro. Wish I were that cool.”
I looked between them. “Someone want to fill me in, here?”
Andre’s already-widened eyes nearly doubled in size. He tapped A. J.’s leg. “She’s just playin’ us, right?”
A. J. kept his mouth shut. Smart man.
I knelt to Andre’s side, waiting to be schooled.
He pointed at the bus. “Biggie Rey.”
I blinked. “And he is . . .?”
He shifted his weight to one leg, cocked his head, and stared at me like I was from another planet.
Darius strolled up beside us. “Dang, girl, where you been living? He’s only like the flyest rapper on the music scene right now.”
I pressed on my thighs to stand up. “Sorry. Never heard of him.”
A laugh met me a foot away. “I’ll try not to take that personally.” A hefty guy about my age, surrounded by a swarm of kids failing miserably at playing it cool, stood in front of me. He extended a hand. “Rey Alvarez. You must be Emma.”
I shook his hand on autopilot and looked at A. J. for some clue on how this was happening.
He pointed behind him. “Yo, is it a’ight if we park here for now? It’ll take us ‘bout an hour to set up.”
Andre squeezed himself between us. “Setting up? You mean, like a concert? You’s playin’ right here? Stop messin’ with me.”
He laughed. “I’m not messin’. I even got a few backstage passes.”
Andre busted out a Michael Jackson spin. I caught him by the shoulders and eyed the big time rapper who’d somehow landed in front of our building. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I must be missing something.”
“Riley didn’t tell you about the benefit concert? Wow, my boy’s one smooth dawg, keepin’ it a surprise. I gotta give him props next time I see him.”
Riley. Music scene. Benefit concert. The pieces threaded together a fragment at a time. “He put you up to this?”
“Said you guys could use some help raising funds.” He flicked his chin toward the building. “I grew up in a place like this in Philly.” He took off his cap and fit it over Andre’s head. “We do what we can. Right, little dawg?”
Andre ran his fingers over the bill of the hat, too enthralled to answer.
I fought back an unsolicited rise of emotion. “Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t gotta say nothin’.” He motioned for his crew. “We’ll take care of everything.” Halfway to the back, he turned. “But you do gots to promise me you’ll stay for the show so you can say you’ve heard of Biggie Rey now.” Laughing, he spun around and disappeared onto the court. Away from my burning cheeks.
A. J. leaned a shoulder into mine. “That was pretty cool of Riley.”
“The keeping it a secret part?” Which he was definitely gonna hear about.
“That too, now that you mention it.” His dimples sank beneath his cheekbones. “Just think. Now you can ask Biggie Rey for some dancing tips.”
He had to remind me of the dance, didn’t he? One of the crew members shuffled by, carrying a drum. A. J. was lucky I didn’t shove his head straight into it.
“It’s not funny. You’ve seen me try to dance.”
“It’s choreographed. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Choreographed or not, I still had to dance in front of hundreds of people. “If an absolute nightmare waiting to happen qualifies as fine, then yeah, you’re right.”
There were those stinking dimples again. “Relax, Rosy. You’ve got a killer dance partner.”
That was what worried me the most.
A. J. caught the corner of a speaker about to fall off a dolly and jumped right in, helping to bring the rest of the equipment to the back.
Rubbing my arms, I stared at the bus—half-flustered that Riley hadn’t told me about it, half-overwhelmed by the ways he loved me, but mostly moved that we weren’t fighting this battle alone. The center was going to be okay.
My favorite sideways smile appeared around the bus’s front bumper.
“You.” I scrunched my lips and squinted.
“Sorry, can’t help myself. That adorable look is worth it every time.” He hopped over the curb and met me on the sidewalk.
I shoved him in the arm.
He stumbled backward, still laughing. “You’re not really mad, are you?”
Madly in love with him. I hooked a finger through his belt loop and drew him close. “I can’t believe you thought to do this. Thank you. I . . .” Tears welled up and swallowed my voice.
“I’m not the only one whose dreams matter.” He lifted my chin. “We’re in this together, right?”
Dolly wheels squeaked behind us. A guy from Biggie Rey’s crew headed back to the bus for more equipment. The sight of A. J. tailing him reignited my earlier apprehension about Jaycee’s wedding party plans.
I kept my eyes on Riley. He was right. We were in this together. All of it. Please let him remember that when I have to dance with A. J.
chapter twenty-one
Dance Off
“Sorry,” I said after stepping on A. J.’s foot for the umpteenth time.
Jaycee knew heels and I rarely made a good combination. Add dance moves into the mix, and it was a recipe for disaster. Especially when my mind was still reeling from the benefit concert. The awareness it’d stirred for the center would’ve been enough all by itself, but to have raised five thousand dollars in only a couple of hours?
A pair of shimmery Palazzo pants flittered by us as our dance instructor followed Jaycee’s signal to pause the MP3 player. “’Kay, guys. Let’s start from the top. Again.”
“Jae, I told you this was a bad idea.” I pulled my hair tie loose, flipped my head over, and doubled the band around another attempt at a ponytail. “If we can just practice without heels, I might be able to—”
“You’re going to be dancing in heels.” She marched straight up to us. “You might as well practice in them.”
“Now, now, ladies.” A. J. patted us both on the back. “We don’t need any cat fights tonight.”
Jaycee and I shared a glance long enough to wink in agreement and both turned at the same time to punch A. J. in the shoulders. He didn’t so much as stumble backward. Stupid muscles. He laughed his way across the floor to Trevor.
I dawdled in front of Jaycee, flexing my ankles back and forth to the ground. It didn’t matter if I hated heels. This was important to her. “Sorry.”
“Me too.”
A. J. reemerged by my side. “Don’t worry, Jae. I’m on it.” He stood tall with his feet together like a soldier reporting for duty. “Nothing a few private dance lessons can’t cure.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not gonna happen, buddy.”
His stubborn smile begged to differ.
O
ur dance instructor clapped her hands. “Places, everyone.” If her mousy voice weren’t comical enough, her sweatbands topped it off.
She cued the music from the top. A. J. opened his frame in an invitation to join him. “Shall we?”
I grudgingly took his hand.
He leaned forward. “Try to relax. Let me do the leading.”
The instructor walked by right as I opened my mouth to offer some grandiose rebuttal. “Back straight, shoulders down.” She lifted my chin. “Head up. That’s it.”
I held the pose until she passed. It took everything in me not to smack the grin off A. J.’s face. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.” His smile stretched so far, I wasn’t sure how he managed to make his jaw work.
It was like reliving our basketball game all over again. God, I hated letting him win.
The instructor glided across the dance hall, weaving around the evenly spaced-out couples. “Now, feel the beat of the music. Let it guide your steps. And don’t forget to count. One, two, three. One, two, three.”
Her sentences flowed like melodic chants. Seriously, how many yoga classes had this chick sat in on? I feigned a compliant smile as she floated past us again.
A. J. rested my hand over his chest. “C’mon, Em. Let the beat guide your steps.” He tapped his finger over mine. “Gu-gung, gu-gung.”
“And who are you supposed to be? Patrick Swayze?”
He busted out laughing.
Ms. Jane Fonda whipped a troubled glare in our direction and cleared her throat.
A. J. straightened and drew me into position again. “Hey,” he whispered, “don’t make me break out my real dance moves. The kids were giving me lessons on Saturday. I got skills that’ll make you dizzy.”
“Ahem. No talking on the dance floor, please. Stay in step. One, two, three,” she practically hummed. “Yes, that’s it. Very good.”
Her ethereal pants flowed behind her as she glided past us.
Hmm, a yoga dance instructor fairy. A. J. was lucky she didn’t have a wand I could steal from her.
As soon as she faded from view, I smirked at him. “You wish you had moves like that. If I weren’t in these heels, you’d be the dizzy one.”
Hope Unbroken (Unveiled Series Book 3) Page 14
