“This is just a phase,” she said, recovering a little. “When the sex wears out, you'll come back.” She forced brightness.
“It's not a phase.” Laurie held out a hand. “Come on inside, Maggie. Come see the studio. Let me explain.”
Maggie pulled back as if she expected him to burn her. “No. No, I'm not going in there.” She started walking backward toward the parking lot. “You'll be back. I know you will. You'll be back.”
“Maggie,” Laurie called, but she just shook her head and turned away as she hurried down the sidewalk.
Laurie let out a sigh, lowered his hand, and headed for the door of the studio.
Ed hadn't turned on the light, so he did as he entered, and he took a moment to enjoy the scene in front of him. The floor was in place now, gleaming red-gold in its new polish. The walls were painted—all Perfect Peach—and the mirrors were in place, as well as the barre. A counter had been installed to the side as part of the reception area, and two benches flanked the space across by a coat rack Ed's father had hung.
The lights were secondhand, and they blinked a little. The walls were patched in places. It was small, and the ceiling was lower than Laurie liked. It was in no way the Eden Prairie studio.
But it was right for this place. He already had three local dancers lined up as teachers, and he had a small list of local students. Fewer of the more well-to-do students had signed up than he'd have liked. But that was okay.
It was all okay. Much more than okay.
Ed stepped out of the corner and came forward cautiously. “You all right?”
Laurie nodded, but he grimaced too. “I didn't tell her about this studio. I kept meaning to, but I knew it would go badly, so I put it off.” He sighed. “I should have told her.”
“Well, she knows now.” Ed ran his hand down Laurie's back, kneading softly. “Ready to go home?”
Laurie nodded, smiling. Home. To Ed's apartment. He hadn't officially moved in, but he might as well have. And he would stay there tonight and wake up with Ed for Christmas. His smile widened. “Just let me get my bag.” He grabbed the bag Ed had put on the counter and went back to Ed's side, accepting the arm he offered.
“What's in there?” Ed asked, curious.
“Your present,” Laurie replied. When Ed took the bag from him and peeked inside, Laurie let him, still grinning, though it was a wicked grin now.
Ed gave him an odd look. “Glitter and eyelash glue?”
Laurie winked at him. “Take me home, and I'll show you.”
They walked arm in arm to Ed's car. Since the studio was only a few blocks from Ed's apartment, and since Ed was right, it really wasn't an awful neighborhood, especially once you knew people, Laurie had taken to walking. But he was glad for the ride now, tired and cold as he was.
“You sure it's okay to go to my parents’ house tomorrow?” Ed asked as he fumbled with the key in the ignition. “Because we could head over your folks’ way too, if you want.”
“No, it's just fine the way we've arranged it,” Laurie replied, trying to be breezy. But he suspected Ed heard some of his pique and even hurt all the same. Thankfully he didn't comment on it.
The loft had gotten a little messy again, which was what usually happened when Laurie didn't stay over for a while. He noticed the dishes were undone, three days of newspapers were spread across the table, and a pile of dirty clothes sat next to the empty hamper.
But a glance at the weight equipment revealed the bright red therapy band tied to one of the posts, and a few of the small hand weights were out. Laurie smiled.
“You relax in the bedroom for a few minutes,” he told Ed. “I have to get a few things, take a shower, and get ready, and then I'll give you your present.”
Ed's eyebrows rose. He said nothing, but he looked intrigued as he headed back with the newest paper toward the bed. Laurie waited until he was well out of sight, then prepared the stereo, grabbed his things from the back of the broom closet where he'd hidden them, and hurried into the bathroom.
He made Ed stay in the bedroom until he'd arranged the furniture, lit the candles, and cued the music. He double-checked his makeup in the bathroom, too, and his hair, and he took a deep breath to center himself. Then he called out for Ed to come and sit on the couch, and then, when the music began, he came out into the room.
For Christmas, Laurie gave Ed a dance.
He danced to a soft, sweeping arrangement from a movie soundtrack, one he was almost certain Ed would never have heard of before so that the only thing Ed would associate the sound with was his dance. It was a bit of ballet, a bit of modern, a bit of Laurie. He put in all the beauty and skill and perfection he had been taught and which he had honed, but he put in something more too, edges and colors and accents that were, he knew, gifts from Ed. Bits of courage, bits of wonder, enthusiasm, hope. In his mind, this was not just a dance for Ed.
This dance, to him, was Ed.
He danced and danced, losing himself in the movement, in the music, in the moment. He forgot about Maggie, forgot about the fight with his mother, forgot about everything but this time, this space. Too soon, though, it was over. When it ended, Laurie held his final form for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest.
He'd burned the song to a single CD so that it would be silent once he finished, so that nothing would break the moment if he managed to create one. Now he wished he hadn't done that. The magic that had come during the song left him, and now he simply stood there, nervous, worried he'd looked ridiculous. He used to always know when he was done with a performance if he had nailed it or not. But this—this he didn't know. In his heart, in his soul, it was the best he had ever done. But he couldn't know. Couldn't be sure.
Was this because the dance was for Ed? Or because that was what he'd become now? Would this always happen if he danced from his soul?
He heard the murmur of the crowd in Toronto, saw their angry faces—
“Laurie.”
The word was a whisper, and it lifted his head. Ed was standing now, but he looked fragile, like someone had opened him up too.
Laurie smiled tentatively and tried to ease them back down to emotions a little more manageable. “I wore tights,” he pointed out.
“Just tights,” Ed corrected him. But his voice was thick, and his eyes were shiny. He took a few hesitant steps forward, but then he stopped. “Laurie...my God. I never—I didn't—” He swallowed hard. “Shit, Laur.”
“It was for you,” Laurie said. His voice felt so soft in his throat. “I think, from now on, it will always be for you.”
Ed looked at him stunned, almost stricken, as if Laurie were some angel descended, as if God himself had danced for him, and he was not worthy.
Laurie held out his arms. “Come here,” he whispered, and Ed came to him.
They made love on the floor, Ed kissing and touching Laurie as if he were the most precious, beautiful thing in the world, until Laurie began to clutch at his arms and whisper, “Make love to me, Ed,” in his ear. After that the tights began to tear, and then they were wrestling, clutching, clawing, and kissing—always, always kissing.
It ended with Ed flat on his back on the bed, with Laurie sliding over him, taking their cocks together in his hand, guiding them, leading them until Ed pushed up on his elbows and took charge, took them over, and pushed them both over the edge into pleasure.
All worries of the studio, of Maggie, of his mother, of the dance, of the future were gone. Laurie went with Ed gladly, never looking back, never looking down, knowing his partner would never let him fall.
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
chasse: gallop where one foot chases the other; a traveling step.
It happened, as it had for everyone else, at the end of the day on Friday. It was the second week of January.
Ed didn't figure it out at first. He was late for his therapy appointment and tried to brush off his supervisor when he called Ed into his off
ice. His first clue came when Tracy wouldn't wait until Monday, but even then he mostly chalked it up to more head games as usual. It wasn't until Tracy asked him to sit down and Ed got a good look at her face that he realized what was about to happen.
“No,” Ed said, rising out of his chair as if there had been a spring in the seat. “No. You cannot fire me. Not now.”
“You're not fired, Ed,” she said wearily. “You're being laid off. Come on, man. You've known this was coming.”
No. Not now. Not now. “I told you, I have health issues—that's why I have to take the breaks. I got you the doctor's note like you asked.”
“They reduced positions. It wasn't even my decision.”
Ed shoved his hand in his hair. He felt his neck strain at the motion and felt sick. “I can stay later. I can work for less. But I have to keep this job.”
“I'm sorry.” Tracy's tone was so wooden Ed looked up. His boss looked glassy, and Ed realized this was another wave and that Tracy had been doing this all afternoon. If Ed hadn't been so busy working—ironically enough—he would have known to panic from all the other desks being cleared out.
And yet Ed had no empathy for her. He was too busy staving off raw panic. “I have to keep my insurance. I can't keep up all this PT if I have to pay for it out-of-pocket, especially without a job. Come on. There's got to be someone else.”
“It's based on seniority. I'm sorry, Ed. There's nothing I can do.” She handed Ed a manila envelope. “The severance package is outlined inside. Your insurance will continue for three months, and after that you can apply for COBRA.”
Except he'd never be able to afford COBRA with no job. Ed clutched the envelope impotently in his hands. He wanted to keep arguing, wanted to fight this, but the wall of Tracy's expression told him that not only would that get him nowhere, it might end up bringing security. For a few minutes he stood there anyway, thinking there had to be some way out, some clause, some something, but his brain was fogged. By the time he gave up and turned to leave, he felt as glassy as Tracy.
Security was waiting for him at his desk with three empty copy paper boxes, and Ed filled two of them in the same daze in which he'd left Tracy's office. A few people waved awkward good-byes at him, but mostly the building was empty, and Ed was able to make most of the journey to his car in dizzy silence, the security officers walking behind him bearing his boxes. Once he was in his car, he'd wanted to sit there a moment and get his bearings, but the guards were lingering, so he put the car in gear and drove out of the parking ramp.
The street, though, overwhelmed him, and he had to pull into an empty parking lot and put his head against the steering wheel for several minutes before he felt composed enough to drive some more. Even then, though, he weaved around side streets for a good ten minutes before he finally remembered he needed to head to his appointment.
He was late, so he didn't even get to sit down in the waiting room but was whisked straight back to the consultation room where Tim was waiting. He tried to play along with Tim's small talk, to not let on that anything was wrong, but Tim, no dummy, picked up on his odd mood and asked him, point-blank, what was wrong.
And that was when it hit him. That was when Ed realized it had been real, that he had in fact been laid off, that he could schedule his Monday appointment for any time because he had nowhere else to go. He realized he was going to have to tell his mother, and she would worry him into a nub. He realized he was going to have to look for work, but he knew from his occasional tries to find something better or at least different that there weren't any comparable jobs to be had. He realized he only had enough money in savings to get through the end of January at best, and that didn't count all the oddball stuff caring for his stupid “condition” brought into the mix.
He realized, cold seeping over him, that he would have to tell Laurie. That he would have to become not just the inferior boyfriend with a trick neck but the unemployed boyfriend as well. The cold feeling sank into Ed's bones, and his hands tightened, helpless, against his thighs.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Ed?” He looked up to find Tim looking down worriedly at him. “Are you okay?”
No. Not even close. Ed forced a smile and shrugged Tim's hand away. “Just tired. Long day.”
Tim looked at him suspiciously a minute, then nodded. “Okay then. You ready to do some therapy, or should we give you a pass today?”
Ed thought of how soon he wouldn't be able to afford this at all and forced his smile a little more. “Naw. Let's do it.”
Tim smiled. “Good man. Maybe it will even perk you up.”
“Maybe,” Ed said, keeping his smile in place until Tim left the room to go and get the equipment he would need for their session.
The transition from working at Eden Prairie to working at the St. Paul studio did not go as smoothly as Laurie had planned, which bothered him largely because he hadn't anticipated it going very smoothly to start with.
His first mistake had been with how he got rid of his Eden Prairie classes. He had already discreetly bowed out of several of them, so he'd assumed that removing himself from all but the most advanced classes wouldn't cause much of a ripple either. But either he backed out of the wrong classes or the tension had already been building, because the parents kept storming in, angry. They kept him late at the studio arguing over whether or not this was fair even as they tried to cram their children into his remaining classes. When he tried to tell them he was starting more classes at the St. Paul studio, though, they weren't interested.
“I don't understand it,” he confessed to Vicky as he helped her sort through Oliver's latest batch of grant applications. “If they feel that strongly about having their students continue with me, they can bring them here. Why are they so angry about a little extra drive?”
“You're screwing with their worldview,” Vicky said. “With their social contract they believed they had with you. And I warned you about people coming over here. They won't like coming to what they see as a slum. Even for you.”
Laurie pursed his lips and shook his head. “Well, good riddance to them, then. I'm eager to work with people here instead.”
But that had been the second surprise.
It wasn't that no one signed up for the classes Laurie was offering; it was that so few had, and not for the courses he expected. Duon and his crew were still loyal, but Laurie realized he'd been expecting all the center kids to be that way, and they weren't. And while some of his former students and others from other suburbs and surrounding neighborhoods were willing to travel to the center to take instruction with Laurie, there weren't that many. And it made Laurie panic. Had he made a mistake? Was this going to be a disaster of Titanic proportions?
“Calm down,” Oliver told him when he stopped by to see his progress and Laurie had unloaded his panic onto him. “This is not a disaster. This is a start-up business. Rome was not built in a day.”
“But it's not enough.” Laurie tapped the paper in his hand in irritation. “I could have twice these numbers for ballet. I should have twice these numbers.” He shook his head and tossed the paper onto his desk. “I don't know what I was thinking. This will never help Vicky. Never. I'll be lucky if it doesn't beggar me.”
“Don't worry about Vicky,” Oliver told him. “I have a possible donor lined up.”
“Oh?” Laurie looked up. “Who?”
Oliver waved a dismissive hand. “Not saying anything until things are final. Though I do need to ask you to do something for me. I need you to come to dinner with Christopher and me. And bring Ed too. I'd like to meet him.”
“Dinner?” Laurie looked at Oliver, puzzled, but Oliver was earnest. “When?”
“Last weekend in February.” He paused, then added, “At your mother's house.” Laurie stiffened automatically, and Oliver sighed and put a hand on his arm. “Make peace with her, please. If only for my sake?”
Laurie hesitated but nodded.
Oliver released his arm with a satisfied pat. “Exc
ellent. I'll give you further details as the date gets closer. In the meantime, try not to worry.”
Laurie snorted a laugh, but Oliver said nothing more, only turned his collar up against the cold and headed back out the front door.
Duon stopped by that afternoon as well, as he had become wont to do. He had signed up for every one of Laurie's classes and did odd jobs as his method of paying for them. He was doing well, too, in every kind of dance.
He liked to con Laurie into showing him “extra fancy stuff” when the studio was slow, and Laurie was doing just that, showing Duon how to do a crossover high kick and slide when Ed came through the door, looking even more weary than usual. Laurie went over and gave him a kiss.
“Doing okay?” he asked, casting a worried glance at his lover's neck.
Ed nodded, but he grimaced too. He pasted on a smile, though, when he saw Duon. “There's trouble.”
“Whatever, bitch.” Duon bumped his hip playfully against Ed's as he slipped past him to get his coat. “You two lovebirds have fun. I gotta get home. Shit to do.”
“Good,” Laurie said, trying to sound stern. “Because I'm serious. I won't teach you next week if you don't show me the note from your counselor saying you're passing at least three classes. And you can forget being in the benefit show for the center too.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Duon grumbled, but there was a smile playing across his face as he left the studio.
As the door closed, Ed kissed Laurie soundly on the mouth. “You're very good for him,” he said. “You're good for all of them.”
“I just wish I had more students,” Laurie said, getting nervous again.
He felt Ed's hands slide over his shoulders and knead gently. “Come on, babe. Leave this for now. I came here to practice with you, not argue this out again. People will come when they come. You said yourself the money doesn't matter.” Laurie tried to object, and then Ed bent down and kissed him. “Dance,” he said and nipped Laurie's lower lip. “With me. Now.”
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