Tan
After a week of preparation, trying to come up with a style of strip dancing that fit Blanche's Boudoir vibe, I was finally ready to test out my new routines in a safe, supportive environment. At least, that had been the plan when I invited my friends to the studio space for a 'pole dancing class'.
Now, I was wondering if this was a good idea.
West glanced around the empty rehearsal space with a smug look on his face. He should be the one teaching this class, not me, and while that intimidated me–knowing that he'd be judging every move I'd come up with–I also knew that I needed his expertise in a few shaky places.
"Where's the instructor?" he asked in his deep voice.
Wringing my hands together, my gaze circled our friend group, landing on each face. I'd told them I'd organized this class as a way for all of us to hang out. Our lives had become so busy we hadn't had much time to see each othert since Maren's Time Square debut.
But now they were all here, staring at me
I drew in a cleansing breath and let a hesitant smile stretch across my face. I had no idea how they were going to take the news of my new venture.
"If you're wondering where the instructor is, well, you're looking at her." I threw my arms in the air before letting them slap back against my sides. "It's me. I'm the teacher."
A few mouths dropped. Thankfully, Kennedy and Lucas–who already knew about the whole thing–were there, beaming back at me.
The first person to break the shocked silence was Lucas, who screamed, "All right!"
I had to tell him about my adventures in choreography and then swear him to secrecy when I asked if he'd join the crew at Blanche's as a dancer. Let's just say his golden retriever energy made the whole conversation less awkward than it could've been. He admitted that he'd been auditioning at the Oiled Olive for a long time, but that his boss told him he wasn't good enough for their glittering stage.
I explained that I didn't need or expect perfection, just a good attitude, and he was more than on board.
As good as it was to have Lucas and Kennedy hyping me up with smiles, my shoulders slumped when I saw the look on Maren's face. She was hurt I hadn't told her the truth. I knew she could tell something was up, but I'd been keeping a lot from her because I didn't want to bother her with my issues. She was busy with her new business and her new boyfriend.
Maren held up a hand to silence Lucas, who tucked his wagging puppy dog tail between his legs.
"No. Not alright." Her deep blue eyes crinkled in confusion. "When did you start teaching strip dancing classes?"
The words she didn't say hung in the air: Why didn't you tell me?
I wrung my hands together. "Since right now."
I tried to make myself explain how this all happened, but my lips were glued together and my throat was dry. I should've told her last week, but I hadn't felt like I could explain myself without breaking down, and that wasn't who I was. My tears were reserved for my bedroom, where they belonged.
"How do you have the time to teach?" Maren asked.
Yep. She was hurt I was keeping secrets from her. And not like little secrets–these were huge secrets that had derailed the course of my life.
"I thought now that you were princi–"
"I'm not a principal!" I shouted unexpectedly, the words jumping out of my mouth, cutting her off. Once the truth was out there, it seemed to suck all the air out of the room. After a very awkward wordless minute, I muttered, "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. It's just been a long week."
Instead of backing away from me like I was some crazy, dramatic person that I really didn't want to be, my friends all came closer, forming a ring of support around me.
My attention shifted to the shiny wood floor. My throat tight. Voice wobbly. "I lost the job to another girl who's younger and amazing and whatever," I said, swallowing my resentment and lifting my gaze.
No one was saying anything. They were just staring back at me with wide eyes. None of them were used to seeing me like this. I was the good-time friend, not the dramatic one, and right now, I was killing the mood. They came here to dance and hang out, not listen to me overreact.
"It doesn't matter," I added, shrugging off my feelings. "It is what it is. There's always next season."
There's always next season. It was the mantra I'd been using for years to keep me going. But now, the words felt hollow because I was starting to realize there would be no next season. Not for me. And damn, if that didn't hurt.
Maren set her hands on my shoulders. Grounding me and all my stupid feelings in place. "Tan, what are you talking about? Of course it matters. This promotion was everything to you."
She was right. It was everything to me. But the problem with making ballet my everything for the last twenty-five years was just that–it was my everything. I was putting my happiness in the ballet mistress's hands, and each year that I was passed over, it was like more of my happiness was sucked out of me and put on a shelf. I kept watching it, year after year, sitting up there behind Celeste's desk, collecting dust, hoping that one day I'd get it back and all this sacrifice and hard work would mean something.
But, would I ever get promoted? Would there ever be a payoff? Maybe, or maybe not.
Until then, this was the only way I could snatch some of the happiness I'd lost over the years. I loved dancing and I loved helping people. Even if I was over-extending myself, this was better than the alternative. Living without ever holding real happiness.
"Dancing the Sugarplum Fairy was everything to me," I admitted. "That promotion had been my dream for forever." Tears pricked in the pack of my throat, but I swallowed them down. I didn't even know I had these words inside of me until I started talking. "But, if I make my whole life about getting a job I might never be good enough for, then I'm going to keep being disappointed. And I can't do that anymore. Not without something else to fill my cup." Or someone else to share my life with. "Even if it's this."
My best friend wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and pulled me into a hug that warmed me from the inside out. Maren wasn't a hugger–not usually–but I could tell she was putting a lot of unsaid things into this one.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," I breathed.
Mare shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I love you whether you're the Sugarplum Fairy or a strip coach. Either way, you're still my best friend."
I let my cheek rest against her shoulder, savoring the moment. Thankful that she wasn't still mad at me. "I love you too, Mare."
As the rest of our crew closed in around us, wrapping their arms around each other, I realized that even though coming clean and telling them the truth was really hard for me, I'd made it into a bigger deal than it was.
I was more than a walking jello shot or a hovering book of advice or even a pair of pointe shoes.
They liked the girl underneath, even if I was still struggling.
Maren gave me one last squeeze, then released me, putting a little space between us. I still felt guilty for keeping secrets from her.
In that warm, slightly uncomfortable, gooey moment of silence, DeShauna cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention. She had one hand on her hip. Chin lifted. All business. God she was such a badass.
"You're doing the scary courtroom pose," I told her, breaking some of the tension.
She tried to hide a smirk but couldn't. "Tell me you had a contract with City Ballet because I'll sue that ass so fast, they won't know what the hell happened."
I let out a resigned sigh. "I was supposed to sign the contract last Monday, but that never happened. Celeste just called me into her office and told me another girl was getting the job."
The more I said it out loud, the more it dulled the pain of disappointment, but I didn't think it would ever go away.
West let out a low whistle and exchanged a look with Lucas.
"So this all happened on Monday?" Maren asked, silencing West and Lucas again. "Like, the Monday you hooked up with the stripper?"
Great. As if ballet wasn't painful enough to talk about, she had to bring up Romeo?
"You fucked a stripper? Nice!" Lucas held his hand up for a high-five. My need to validate others had me slapping his hand so he didn't feel bad. But, there was little to celebrate about my night with Dominick. Sure, it was the best sex I'd ever had, but his rejection had me feeling lower than before.
It didn't matter, I told myself. Dominick DuBois was an ass. I was better off without him.
Right on cue, DeShauna's matter-of-fact voice cut through my internal pep talk. "Hold up? You hooked up with a stripper?" I nodded, and she shook her head. "I go out of town for one week, and I miss everything!"
I forced a playful smile. I knew I was better off without the tattooed monstrosity who never wanted to see me again, but just saying his name and talking about him to other people made me seriously more emotional than I was prepared for.
Kennedy swooped in like a leotard-wearing bodyguard, full of sass. She was the only one who knew everything about Dominick and had seen me crying on the couch. "Enough about some raggedy-ass man. What do you say we get this dance class started?"
Heads bobbed up and down, and a look of excitement lighted Lucas's face. Granted, he had a permanent look of excitement on his face. He'd been more than happy to accept the new job dancing at Blanche's, even if the stage was much smaller than the Oiled Olive, the strip club where he worked as a server. Especially after he heard that Sef had reluctantly agreed to do an interior design consult.
Sef let out a hiss and pretended to bat a paw at one of Kennedy's blonde curls. "Meow. I like her."
Everyone laughed, and an ounce of tension I'd been holding on to earlier left me. I'd gotten past the hard part, now, all that was left was the dancing.
"I'm proud of you for branching out," DeShauna said, letting her hand slide from her hip as she pulled me and Maren in for another hug. "You deserve to be happy, whatever that looks like for you. We'll always support you."
Our second ooey-gooey feelings moment was interrupted when West, Sef, and Lucas wrapped their arms around each one of us from behind and pulled us apart, spinning us in circles while we belly laughed and squirmed, trying to get away.
"No more Golden Girls hugs! I wanna see some titties shaking!" Sef shouted.
"I'll shake my tits for you any time, Red," West said dreamily, setting Maren down in one of the folding chairs I'd set out.
Sef set me down with a flourish, and my cheeks hurt from laughing that hard. God, I couldn't remember just laughing and feeling this light since the night we celebrated my promotion.
"I've got an appointment to get waxed in two hours," Sef told me. "So start teaching."
I winked at him, then made my way to the front of the class, ready to get started, but Kennedy was still laughing that big laugh of hers. Lucas was saying something in her ear while kneeling beside the chair he'd set her in. A smirk lifted one corner of my mouth at seeing her with him.
His sandy blonde hair and golden retriever energy mixed with her bright blonde southern sass.
"Isn't this your first time dancing?" Kennedy teased, loud enough for all of us to hear.
Lucas shrugged, casually pushing a hand through his hair. "I've danced before. Just not on stage."
I watched them talking close, unable to stop smiling. It seemed like they had forgotten where they were or what we were supposed to be doing. I totally would ship it, had Kennedy not been sporting an engagement ring.
Kennedy needled Lucas in the ribs. "Let me give you a piece of advice as a girl who's been onstage since she was three: don't try a move you're not ready for. Maybe save t-shirt ripping for day two. I'd hate to see you try to rip off your shirt only to end up in half-ripped, half-not situation that will have you lookin' a fool."
Chuckles went around the room.
Rising to the challenge, Lucas got off the ground and proceeded to tear the perfectly nice shirt he was wearing in two with his bare hands. "You mean like this?"
My mouth dropped, and I knew I made the right decision asking him to come to Blanche's. This was the energy the club needed.
The laughter in Kennedy's throat seemed to sputter out, and her eyes widened, taking in his extremely well-honed torso. "Well," she said, slightly breathless, "looks like you got that down."
It was really too bad Kennedy was getting married to a dancer who didn't have any of that energy. Her fiance had none of Lucas's warmth, and I always hated the way he treated Kennedy like an afterthought–right up until he proposed.
"Someone get him another shirt so he can do that again! Stat!" shouted Sef and more laughter bounced off the mirrored walls.
That light feeling carried us through an hour of dancing that had everyone sticky with sweat. Even though my routine had a few kinks that needed to be worked out, I got some great feedback from West and Maren. It made me feel good knowing a professional dancer like West thought I'd captured the heart of what stripping was supposed to be.
I only hoped they were the kind of routines Blanche would like too.