Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2)

by Cameron, DeAnna

  Maybe she could email him?

  She didn’t have an email address, either.

  She knew where he lived, that was it.

  Should she go back?

  No way. It took all of two seconds to realize what a terrible idea that was. She wasn’t going to grovel in front of Tamara, especially when it was clear she and Taz were on the road to a reconciliation.

  That thought ripped through her. It shouldn’t hurt, she knew that. What happened last week was nothing more than friends with benefits. Hell, they were hardly even friends. She’d just let her stupid ideas run away with her.

  Still, he deserved an apology, and he’d get it. She’d see him at the audition, and maybe by then his temper would be cooled.

  But that didn’t stop the adrenaline pumping through her veins or the whopping bruise on her pride. What she needed was about a gallon of chocolate ice cream and a bottle of red wine. Everything was better after ice cream and wine. If she remembered correctly, she’d seen a carton in Abby’s fridge, and the girl always had a stash of decent reds in her pantry.

  She went to the kitchen and pulled out the carton—vanilla with fudge swirl. Not ideal, but not bad. Behind the cheap reds at the front of the cabinet, she found a good Cabernet. French, from a region she couldn’t even pronounce. Obviously, Abby was saving it for a special occasion, but this was an emergency. She made a mental note of the label so she could replace it, maybe before Abby even knew it was gone.

  A few minutes later, she was changed into the yoga pants and T-shirt that passed as her pajamas, with a mixing bowl full of ice cream and a goblet full of red wine on the coffee table in front of the couch that was now her bed. She was about to grab the television remote control when she saw the DVDs. Afrita Hanem sat on the top. Her favorite Samia Gamal movie. Campy, sure—but also sweet. The dancing was fun and cheerful. Exactly what she needed tonight.

  She pulled out the disc, fed it to the player, and sat back with her pity-party feast in front of her.

  It didn’t take long for the old black and white to work its charm. She lost herself in the story of the genie who loved her master so much, she didn’t want to share him with anyone else. They were so perfect on screen, Samia and her leading man. It was easy to see their on-screen chemistry stemmed from feelings rooted in the real world.

  There was obviously love between them, but there was also heartache. Probably more than anyone knew. Certainly more than Samia Gamal ever showed in her exuberant smiles and carefree dancing. It was a beautiful love story, Samia and Farid Al Atrache, but it must have been tragic, too, at least for Samia. Knowing her lover was pledged to another, and was unwilling to break those bonds to be with her.

  But Samia never wavered. Not like Melanie was doing. Where did she find the strength? How could she hide her pain? As Melanie watched her movie-star idol flit across the screen in another joyous dance, it became clear. Samia was a dancer. Whatever pain, whatever heartache she felt, she must have absorbed it into her dance. No matter what Farid did, no matter what any man did, she could always dance.

  That was what Melanie was going to do, too.

  | 37

  The next day, Melanie felt better—she had a purpose again. But attitude was only going to get her so far. In the cool gray morning, before work, she took a detour to the Bella Garden mobile home park. She told herself she needed to grab work clothes and practice gear, since hers was being held hostage at Taz’s house.

  Even as she told herself that, she knew there was another reason, too. In spite of all her faults and all the turmoil between them, Ginger was still her mother, and right now she wanted her mom.

  She eased up to the trailer and caught the glowing flicker of the television through the window. A moment later, she knocked on the front door.

  “I don’t want any,” Ginger bellowed from inside. “Take your magazines or your candy bars or whatever, and keep moving.”

  Melanie rested her forehead on the door. “Mom, it’s me.” When she didn’t hear anything, she turned the knob. It was unlocked, and she pushed it open gently.

  “You busy?” she asked, peeking her head in. “I need to pick up a few things.”

  “Fine,” Ginger said, shifting in her recliner, empty soda cans littering the floor around her, her bad foot propped on the foot rest. “Do what you want. You always do.”

  Melanie left the barb alone. She wasn’t here to argue. She made her way back to the spare bedroom, where her boxes were and pulled out a few blouses, a pair of jeans, and leggings. Hell, she threw it all back in the box and hoisted it. She might as well take the whole thing. She muscled it to the dinette table, where she set it down with a thump. She went to the refrigerator. “Mind if I get a drink?”

  “I guess that means you’re sticking around a while. That’s a change.”

  “I didn’t come to fight with you, Ma,” she said in her most even, most non-confrontational tone. She grabbed a can of diet cola and dropped into one of the dinette chairs. “I just need to pick up some things for work and the audition.”

  Her mother never took her eyes off the television. “So you’re going through with that nonsense, then?”

  “Yes, I’m going through with it.”

  “Suit yourself. If you want to make the biggest mistake of your life, who am I to stop you?”

  “It isn’t a mistake.”

  Ginger Drake smirked and kept her eyes on her television.

  Melanie stiffened. “I’m a good dancer, Ma. I’m better than good.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so.”

  Ginger stabbed at the remote control and muted the sound. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. You know what happens when girls like you get their hopes up. You get hurt, and the world doesn’t care. Look at me. I can sit here and rot in this trailer and who’s going to care? No one.”

  The words cut but only for an instant. In that moment, she realized her mother wasn’t talking about her. Maybe she’d stopped talking about her years ago, and Melanie had just stopped listening. “It doesn’t have to be that way for you. No one forces you to stay in here. You can leave any time.”

  Ginger scoffed. “You know that’s not true. What about my foot?”

  “That’s an excuse. I’ve seen you walk all over this trailer just fine. I’ve seen you spring to the window when you hear the man next door watering his flower box. Why don’t you just fix yourself up, and go over there? Talk to him. Talk to someone.”

  Her mother shifted and seemed to sink deeper in the recliner. “You know why I can’t. I have bunions. They hurt too bad.”

  “I know they don’t hurt nearly as bad as you pretend they do.” She was getting bolder. She’d never spoken to her mother this way. “Whatever is keeping you here, you need to get over it. You got laid off. You don’t have to lie about it. It happens. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

  “Why would you say that? Were you sneaking through my things?”

  “I didn’t go through your things. It was a guess, but one I should have made weeks ago. I should have known you of all people wouldn’t let something like bunions keep you off your feet. You, who goes to the doctor for cough syrup, refusing to go for this? It means you lost your insurance because you lost your job. I didn’t know for sure till I called the supermarket and asked.”

  “You had no right to do that. That’s an invasion of my privacy.”

  “You’re right. I probably shouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t have had to if there weren’t so many lies between us.”

  Ginger folded her arms into a brick wall that separated them.

  Melanie knew she should stop. They’d said more today than they’d said in months. Years, maybe. The wound was already open. She might as well say everything. “Since we’re on the topic of the truth,” she began, “I want to know why my father left, and I want the truth.”

  Ginger scoffed, but her arms pulled more tightly across her chest. “I’ve told you why a hundred times.
He didn’t want a family. He said he didn’t need that kind of headache in his life. He was a coward.”

  Melanie took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Really, Ma? I’m not sure I believe that anymore. I think it was you.”

  “How dare you! That’s not true.”

  “Isn’t it? The more I think about that time, the more I remember. I remember that he tried to come back, and you wouldn’t let him.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  Melanie left the chair and kneeled by her mother so she could look her in the eye. She wanted her to see she wasn’t being nasty. She just wanted to finally know the truth.

  “I believe you think it’s a lie.” She put her hand on her mother’s forearm and felt the muscles twitch in defense. “I believe you think it because if you didn’t, you’d have to realize that I’m not the reason you’re miserable. I’m not the reason your life was ruined. It’s not my fault, Mama.” Melanie’s voice cracked with the emotion she’d ignored for years.

  She had been thinking about these words, repeating them in her brain until they formed ruts. The words didn’t come out as smoothly as she had imagined. They snagged and sliced through her, fighting her every inch of the way. It was not easy saying these things to her mother. She had accepted the woman’s hatred for so long.

  She’d accept it still, but she had to know the truth.

  The air crackled with tense silence, filled only with the muted voices on the television. Her words had sucked the air from the room. Not just the air, it took away the tension. The worry. It was almost peaceful.

  A ray of sunshine peeked through a slit in the curtains. Melanie went to them and pulled them open, letting light spill into rooms that had not seen it in far too long. The brightness played off the dust that danced in the air. The cobwebs that filled the gap between the curtain and the glass. The dead flies lying on the sill.

  Her mother winced and glanced away.

  “Don’t open that. You know it gives me headaches.”

  “It’s only because you hide away in here. And you know, you’re right about one thing. It has been partly my fault, because I’ve let you do this. But I won’t anymore. I won’t let you wallow away your life. You’ve made yourself miserable, and you can’t do that anymore. You have to get out into the world and see what you’re missing.”

  “There’s just a bunch of crap and criminals out there,” Ginger grumbled.

  “Sure, but there’s also a whole wonderful world. There’s blue sky and cool breezes. When was the last time you saw the sun set over Catalina Island? When was the last time you walked along the shore? Those things you talk about are still out there. You can still enjoy them. You still have a life, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

  “I don’t need a lecture from my daughter. My daughter, who doesn’t even have a place to live and can’t keep a boyfriend.”

  Melanie felt her chest swell with rage. That’s what her mother wanted. She wanted a fight. Fighting was all she knew. If they were going to break the cycle, Melanie had to be the one to stop it. She had to make the change.

  “I’m fine, Ma. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “But you’re alone,” her mother said. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll end up alone for the rest of your life, like…” Her voice trailed off, but Melanie knew what she couldn’t say.

  “No, Ma. I’m not afraid of that anymore.”

  | 38

  By the time Melanie walked into work, Deffner was already in his office. She slipped into her chair, started up her computer, and tried to look busy. If she were lucky, he might not notice she was nearly an hour late.

  She wasn’t lucky.

  “About time you showed up,” he said before she’d even tucked her purse in her bottom desk drawer. He dropped a stack of invoices on her desk. “I need you to log these into the system before lunch so they can get into this month’s expenses run. I also want you to sit down with the new file clerk. She’s filing last year’s reports in this year’s files. The auditors are going ballistic.”

  “Can’t the file supervisor do it?” She was the girl’s boss, after all.

  “You know Josephine. She’s already got one clerk out for stress or fatigue or whatever bullshit and another one who’s complaining to Human Resources every other day. She’s terrible at these kinds of things. Can you just handle it?”

  “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  There was no use arguing that a manager should have to do the manager’s job or that it would take superhuman data-entry skills to get a stack like that logged before lunch. Deffner didn’t care about facts. He just wanted results, and for better or worse he relied on Melanie for those results. In the beginning, she liked the extra responsibility. She liked that he relied on her. Now, it was just more shit to shovel.

  It wasn’t that Deffner wasn’t grateful. He was always grateful. While he couldn’t make up for the extra work with a bigger salary—she had reached the top of her pay grade ages ago—he tried to make up for it with the lenient four-ten work week and not docking her when she’d slide into work an hour late.

  Lately, though, it just wasn’t enough. Every day since she’d made the decision to audition, to actually go for her dream, her time on the fourth floor of the Orange County Herald seemed like a waste of time. Even now, with that stack of invoices staring her in the face, she couldn’t muster the effort to get them logged into the system.

  She glanced at the calendar, and there it was, circled in fat, red marker: the day of the audition. Just five measly days separated her from that moment and—with any luck—her destiny.

  But she couldn’t rely on luck. Not this time. She’d worked too hard for it, sacrificed too much. Not to mention making a fool of herself with Taz Roman.

  She was not going to be like her mother. She wasn’t going to sit around and complain about the raw deal she’d been dealt in life. She was going to make this happen. She had to make this happen.

  She stared at the invoices. She stared at the calendar. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew what to do.

  | 39

  “Wow, the place looks great,” Melanie said, taking in the improvements at the Shimmy Shop boutique.

  Abby was on her knees, wiping the front of the glass case filled with beaded costumes imported from Egypt. She finished and stood with a proud grin. “It really does, doesn’t it? I can’t believe it’s real. You know, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Melanie laughed. “Sure, if unpacking a few boxes counts. Give credit where it’s due: you made this happen all by yourself.”

  Abby checked the clock. “So what’s up? Ten o’clock is kind of early for a lunch break.”

  “I’m not on lunch. I’m on vacation.”

  “How’d Deffner take that?”

  “About as well as you’d expect, but I’m worthless there anyway. I can’t think about anything but the audition. I told him I needed to take a few days. He wasn’t happy, but there was really nothing he could do about it. If I don’t use my two weeks by the end of the summer, I’ll lose them. I’m not going to let that happen.”

  “Good for you,” Abby said. “And honestly I’m not surprised. I know how hard you’re working for this audition. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks. I’m proud of you, too. You’ve made this place amazing. When is the grand opening?”

  Abby’s smile vanished. “As soon as I find a manager.”

  “I thought you were going to ask Janaya.”

  “I did. She’s not interested. Said she doesn’t have the time.”

  “Really? What’s she doing besides teaching classes here?”

  “You mean besides dating every guy who crosses her path? I honestly don’t know. You should hear her stories, though. After-hour parties, private clubs, spur-of-the-moment trips. That girl has a social calendar that would put a Kardashian to shame.”

  “How’s she afford all that?”

  “Beats me. It never seems to be an issue.” />
  “Must be nice.”

  “No kidding. If you know anybody who’s looking for a job, send them my way.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  Abby waved her off. “I know, but that would only be a temporary solution. Once you ace the audition, you’ll be gone.”

  “I appreciate your confidence, but it’s not exactly a sure thing.”

  “It might as well be. Speaking of that, have you talked to Taz yet?”

  Melanie’s gaze dropped to the floor. She shook her head. Between everything with her mom and her job, she’d talked herself into putting that awkward conversation off. “I decided I’m going to get to the audition early and talk to him then.”

  “Are you sure you want to wait that long?”

  “I don’t have another way of getting in touch with him without going back to his place, and I’m not going back there.”

  “I’m sure I have a phone number for him, or an email address.”

  Yeah, she was afraid of that. “Thanks,” she said in her best backtracking voice. “But honestly, if I ask him to meet me, I doubt he would. Things were really bad the last time I saw him.”

  Abby got quiet then said, “I saw him this morning. He came by a couple hours ago to drop off more CDs. He left something for you.”

  Melanie’s heart sank. She knew it couldn’t be good if her friend had taken this long to tell her. When Abby returned with her familiar duffel bag, it sank again. Of course it was just the stuff she’d left at his place.

  She took it from Abby. “Did he say anything? I mean, about me?”

  Abby looked away. “No. He was in a hurry. He only stopped in for a minute.”

  It didn’t surprise her, but the news stung just the same. “I guess I should be glad he didn’t burn my stuff, or let Gina do it. I’m sure she would have liked to.”

  Abby made a face. “I don’t know. Taz doesn’t seem like the vindictive type, but I suppose you know him better than I do.”

  Melanie was quiet. She thought she had known him, but did she really? The Taz she thought she knew wouldn’t have welcomed back the woman who had broken his heart. But he had, hadn’t he? It just proved what she didn’t want to admit to herself: that she’d never known him at all. And worse, he’d never had feelings for her.