To Better Suit Your Moves -- part 3
part 2
Jared tried to be enthusiastic for the try-outs, he really did. But apparently word had gotten around about how and why Adrianne had dumped him, so most single female dancers in his league were staying well clear of him. The ones that answered the try-outs were either younger, less experienced ones hoping to advance, or those for whom Jared was their last shot.
After the first two days Jared complained to Kim about the relative shortness of the dancers, and the next day a woman showed up who Kim must’ve found in the WNBA. Jared had the unique and disconcerting experience of looking up into a partner’s face. She was nice, and a decent dancer, but she kept trying to lead him around and didn’t pick up on his own leading cues. Clearly she was used to dominating her partner. Jared smiled, thanked her, and waited until she turned her back before he glanced at Kim with wide eyes, frantically shaking his head.
Too short, too tall, too skinny (and there were several of those, so stick thin Jared was worried about breaking them), too heavy. No musicality, too much flair, no rhythm, too timid, too over-the-top . . . All in all, no compatibility.
Five days worth of try-outs, of facing shining hopeful faces, dancing together and trying to find the right mesh. Of facing enthusiastic parents and sharp-eyed coaches, all certain that their daughter/student was the next U.S. Nationals Amateur champion in the making. Five very frustrating days of feeling like he was beating his head against a brick wall.
On the other hand, five days of practicing after hours with Jensen, which was surprisingly a lot more fun than Jared ever anticipated. He had a quick wit and easy-going nature, and they tended to play around while dancing. When they worked together on their steps, Jared was reminded of everything that drew him into dancesport in the first place.
For every failed try-out that notched his frustration and desperation up, an hour with Jensen had him relaxing and enjoying dancing again. It was different, dancing with a man rather than a woman. Different bulk and body type, different movements, different expectations . . . just different. But not bad, even though Jensen still had to remind Jared several times to quit treating him like a woman.
One day Jensen showed up for their practice session with short hair, spiked just a bit at the top, bangs gone. Jared did a double-take then grinned. “What the hell happened to your head, man?”
Sheepish, Jensen ran a hand through his shorn hair. “I should’ve known better than to fall asleep before my roommates when they’re drunk.”
“What, they cut it for you?”
“Um, no. They kinda . . . um, someone left some epoxy cement lying out, and they got . . . inspired.”
Jared burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. Jensen tried to glare at him, but his lips kept twitching upward. “Figured out it was easier to cut it rather than try and work out everything they’d stuck in there. I'm lucky I didn't have to shave my whole head, though I think I owe my barber a new pair of scissors.”
After Jared composed himself, he asked, “Roommates? Who do you live with?”
“Couple friends. They’re musicians. Known them since high school.” Jensen smiled slightly, gaze turned inward. “Been living with Chris since I was sixteen, actually.”
“Really? What about your parents?” Jared was intrigued. Jensen rarely talked about his life or family, although thanks to Jared’s big mouth, he knew almost all of Jared’s life story.
The smile died. “Dead. Car crash,” he said quietly, then turned to flip through the CD collection. Jared winced, wishing he hadn’t brought the subject up, given the way he blundered right into that. “So, what’re we going to start with today?”
A noise from below startled them both, and Jared hurried over to glance down the stairs. Movement down in the main studio, then creaks as someone started up the stairs to the second floor. Exchanging startled looks, Jared hurried over to the window and climbed out onto the fire escape, heading up to the roof with Jensen right behind him.
Out of sight of the window, they glanced back to see Jeff walk into the room, hands in his pockets and head bowed. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. Jensen shot Jared a questioning glance, but Jared could only shrug. He loved his uncle, but he would be the first to admit that Jeff had some strange habits and secretive quirks.
Jeff suddenly nodded to himself then crossed the room to the stereo. From behind the cabinet he dug out a jewel case, popped the CD into the player, and cranked up the sound. He turned, and Jared scooted back up the fire escape before they could be spotted. They couldn’t see what Jeff was up to now, but they could hear the music just fine.
Jensen took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Jared looked over at him, and then couldn’t take his eyes away. Freckles. Jensen had freckles spattered across his nose and cheekbones. How the hell hadn’t he noticed before?
“Can you dance without those?” he heard, and abruptly realized that he was the one who said it, his mouth moving before his brain engaged. Jensen blinked at him, confused, those green eyes even brighter without the muting effects of glass. Hesitant, he nodded. Jared smiled, taking the glasses and folding the arms before tucking them in Jensen’s pocket. “Might help.”
“Um, my fuzzy eyesight is going to help, how?” Jensen asked with a bit of a scoff.
“Do you have contacts?”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“Then wear them. Seriously, it’ll help. The frames can act as blinders. Besides,” Jared grinned and hopped over to a nearby pole, twirling himself around it like a Broadway star, “who says you need to see all that well to dance?”
“Next time I’m bringing a blindfold for you. Then you can ask that question.”
“Ooh, kinky.” Jared waggled his eyebrows, and Jensen flushed. “Save your fantasies for your own time, man. Now, let’s dance.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Another week of frustrating and unfruitful tryouts. Another week of salsa, cha-cha, mambo, samba with unfamiliar girls making Jared feel more awkward on the dance floor than he’d felt in years. Another week of Kim’s gruff assurances that they’d find someone, of Sam’s strained smiles as the options petered out.
Another week of dancing with Jensen, dancing the way he wanted and feeling less and less concerned about his lack of a female partner. Never mind that Jensen was male, they just clicked in ways that went beyond dancing.
Jared found his sense of humor to be refreshingly sarcastic, his laugh infectious, and his creativity intriguing. Jared hadn’t had many close friends, especially outside the studio, but now he could honestly say that he considered Jensen his best friend. How the hell had he made it through life before Jensen?
They’d fled up on the roof for practice again when Jeff had come in, which made Jared briefly wonder what was up with his uncle. Had he always snuck into the studio at night to dance alone before, or was this a new stress thing? Either way, Jeff hadn’t left until after midnight, and by then Jared and Jensen had caught a second wind and kept fooling around with new steps, practicing and playing, dancing under the stars in the warm night.
By the time they called it quits, it was very late at night, late enough to be verging on early in the morning. Jared insisted on walking Jensen home, which earned him a punch and yet another complaint about “treating him like a girl”, but no objection. So they walked - well, more like sauntered - down the streets in the nighttime quiet, talking.
“Sam and Kim were really great dancers, weren’t they? I saw the pictures.”
Jared nodded - he’d practically memorized that competition photo, of Sam with her partner at the Nationals, couple 100. “Yeah, they were. They haven’t competed in years though.”
“They don’t talk about it much, do they?”
“Nah, because of Jeff. It’s kinda a sore spot for all of them.”
“So, what’s the deal with Sam and Jeff?” Jensen asked, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Huh?”
“They’re your aunt and uncle, right? So how come she’s Ms. Ferris and not Mrs. Morgan?”
Jared laughed. “She was, twice. Jeff’s my dad’s stepbrother. Night of my dad’s college graduation, they went out to celebrate at a local bar where Sam was the bartender. They got a little drunk, someone picked a fight, and the next thing they know it’s a full out brawl. To hear Jeff tell it, he saved Sam when a guy leapt over the bar to get the baseball bat under the counter.”
“And how does Sam tell it?”
“She pulled the shotgun and chased two guys off Jeff before they beat the crap outta him,” Jared cackled. “Either way, Jeff was smitten enough that after the stitches were removed, he went back to that bar and asked her out. They were married a year later. And then they found out they both liked to dance, after Jeff caught Sam dancing at a festival when she said she was meeting friends for coffee.”
“What was Jeff doing there?”
“Dancing with my mom.”
Jensen threw his head back and laughed. Jared watched him, smiling at the way his face lit up with humor. “So what happened?”
“Eh, it’s just one of those things. They love each other, and they used to dance well together, but I think something about the legality of marriage just chafed on them both. They divorced when I was three, remarried when I was six, then divorced again less than a year later and decided to keep it that way. Although I think by now they’re technically married again by common law,” Jared said thoughtfully.
Jensen snickered. “How’d you end up with them?”
Jared shrugged. “My parents divorced when I was eight. It was pretty nasty, and nobody really likes to talk about it still. My dad moved to New York, my mom to California and took my brother with her. I wanted to stay in Texas, and Jeff said he’d take me. I see them occasionally, talk on the phone now and again. My brother’s a grad student at UCLA now, and engaged to some girl.”
Shaking off the cloud of his own family issues, Jared bumped his shoulder against Jensen’s. “What about your family?”
A soft sigh answered that question, then silence. Jared held it, waiting, hoping. Finally Jensen said, “I grew up in Richardson, outside Dallas. My dad, he was a local actor and an amateur ballroom dancer, my mom a financial advisor. When I was twelve, we were heading up to Houston to see my grandparents for the weekend. A drunk driver slammed into our car. It took the paramedics over an hour to pry the cars apart to get us out, and my parents . . . didn’t make it.”
Jensen swallowed hard, and Jared longed to wrap an arm around his shoulders, give him some comfort. “Both my parents were the only child in their families. I went to live with my dad’s parents. It worked out okay for a while, but then my grandpa started having health issues and needed to move into assisted living. My grandma couldn’t afford to keep the house, so she moved with him and I went to stay with Chris. Been living with him ever since.”
There was nothing Jared could say to that except a simple, “I’m sorry.”
They continued walking in silence for a while, then Jensen seemed to shake himself, as if trying to dislodge the melancholy that had settled around them. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get you down with my sordid family history.”
Jared crooked a smile at him. “Dude, it’s cool. We’re both from messed up families.” He kicked at a rock on the ground, watched it skitter away and ping against the brick wall of a store. “Is that why you got into dancing? Because of your dad?”
“Kinda,” Jensen admitted. “Growing up, he taught me the basics, y’know, what they usually teach in the kid’s classes. Mostly waltz and foxtrot, little bit of Latin. I remember going on weekends to watch him dance in competitions. My mom and I would sit in the stands and cheer him on. It was fun.” He shuffled his feet a bit. “After they died, I didn’t dance for a long time. Couldn’t stand to be out there. It was only after Dave . . .”
He trailed off, and Jared shot a quick sideways look at him. Jensen looked tense, like he’d said more than he’d meant to and wasn’t sure he wanted to continue. “Dave?” he prodded, curiosity getting the best of him.
Jensen sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. “Chris and Steve play in a band. Dave was the drummer. I sometimes play guitar and do backup vocals. It’s how I saved up enough money to join the studio, that and other jobs. Anyway, it was a gig up in Tulsa, big club with a dance floor. I wasn’t playing that night, so I’d had a bit much to drink, and Dave kept bugging me about turning the girls down for a dance. Finally I told him.”
“And what’d he say?”
“Asked me if I still liked dancing.” He stared down, shuffling his feet along the pavement. “Then asked me what I was so afraid of.” He chuckled suddenly. “Pushy bastard. Threatened to drag me out on the dance floor himself if I didn’t move my ass. Then gave me the best piece of advice I’d heard since my parents died.”
“What?”
“Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias.” Jared scrunched up his face in confusion, so Jensen translated, “A life lived in fear is a life half-lived.”
“Huh.” Jared thought about that one. “A life half-lived . . . I like it.” Suddenly impish, he nudged Jensen with an elbow. “Was that what you were thinking before you approached me?”
“Maybe,” Jensen quirked a smile. “Well, that and wondering if I’d gone insane, wanting to learn from this overly-energetic giraffe.”
Jared laughed, sharp and unexpected, whole body shaking with the force. Jensen joined him, chuckling at Jared’s amusement, their laughter ringing along the empty streets. As it faded, they settled into a companionable quiet until they stood on the sidewalk outside a two-story older house.
Jensen nodded. “Well, this is me.” He hesitated, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. “You can get back home all right?”
“Yeah, it’s only about 20 minutes that way,” Jared pointed vaguely off to the side, not looking away from Jensen. He liked looking, liked how much there was to see, liked making him smile and laugh. Despite the fatigue dragging at his body, he didn’t want to say good night quite yet.
Jensen took that out of his hands with a quiet, “See you later, Jared.” He smiled then walked up to the door without turning. Jared stood there and watched him until he disappeared inside the house, feeling vaguely unsettled, like he’d just been denied something. Shaking his head, he turned to walk home.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Looking at the calendar, Sam restrained the urge to throw something. Instead she walked over to the kitchenette, fished out the bottle of whiskey from under the counter and poured herself a shot. Alona emerged from the locker room as she threw it back, hissing at the burn. The petite blonde raised an eyebrow, brushing her hair back into a loose ponytail.
“What’s the matter?”
“What do you think?” Sam growled, pouring another shot. “Jared. It was Jared’s year! It was his year to win, and he’s gone and thrown it all away.” She slammed the second shot, gave the bottle a long look, then put it back beneath the counter. Alona walked over to place a hand on her shoulder, giving her a little comforting shake.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be all right.”
“You wouldn’t do that, would you dear?” Leaning tiredly against the counter, Sam managed a shaky smile. “You and Gabriel dance so well together. If you had the chance, you’d take it, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would.” Alona looked over her shoulder as Jeff came into the room, gaze clearly inward and humming something to himself. “And don’t worry about Jared. I’m sure Kim will find a new partner.”
“There’s no time!” Sam gestured at the calendar. “Regionals are this weekend, the Nationals only two weeks away! You can’t train for the Nationals in two weeks. Even if he did find someone, she’d have to be a champion.” She shook her head.
Jeff looked over at them from the stereo. “Sam, I’m sure everything will work out. Jared’s not just going to give up.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll just magically find a compatible partner from nowhere. Do you really think a champion like Erica Durance is wandering around going, ‘I wonder who I’ll dance with?’” Sam spat acerbically.
“Hey, don’t take it out on me,” Jeff protested, raising his hands in defense. “It’s not my fault Adrianne left him.”
“You’re the one who encouraged those silly steps of his!”
“I encouraged him to be himself,” Jeff growled. “He’s a good dancer, but that was the only way he could get better. To stretch himself and find his style.”
“To completely humiliate himself and this studio in front of Fredric Lehne and Dawn O.!” Sam shrugged Alona off and stalked over in front of Jeff. “You realize what a laughingstock we’re going to be? Who’s going to want to come to the studio? This could hurt our credibility and our business!”
Jeff’s jaw tightened, as if he was biting back on the words he’d really like to say. “There are more important things,” he said quietly, then pushed past her to head for the door. Sam watched him go, blinking rapidly as if holding back frustrated tears.
Finally she threw up her hands in exasperation and turned on her heel. “Men,” she growled, yanking her purse up from the table. “Have to wonder if they’re worth the trouble sometimes. If it’s not him being all secretive, it’s Jared sneaking off ‘til all hours of the night.”
Alona frowned. “What’s he been doing?”
“Who knows? Won’t tell me a thing about it. Caught him sneaking back in at just before dawn today, wouldn’t say a word as to where he’d been. Creeping around like a teenager with a secret girlfriend, like he has to keep her hidden.” Sam glanced around then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m starting to suspect it is a girl, and he thinks we’re going to be mad she’s not a dance partner.”
Alona giggled. “Really? You think Jared’s sneaking around with a girl?”
“Can’t confirm it, and nobody seems to know anything about it. But when he does come home he always has the goofiest grin on his face, like what he used to get around Sandy.”
“Oh dear.” Alona’s eyes twinkled, and Sam just had to smile. “What will Kim think of this development?”
“Eh, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of his dancing, he’s not going to care,” Sam waved a hand dismissively. “But he is going to care if I’m late for this meeting.” She shooed Alona out of the studio and locked up, then headed for her car.
Ten minutes later she pulled up outside the quiet coffee shop Kim had directed her to. The older man was already inside, at a table talking intently with two other men. Sam did a quick primp in the mirror then walked in. Kim glanced at her, nodded at the counter then continued his conversation.
Sam had just gotten her coffee and sat down when the door opened again and Fredric Lehne walked in. The other men immediately ceased their discussion as he walked over and sat at the table, turning their attention to the ABDF president. Sam shot a glance at Kim, who just raised his eyebrows in return.
“Good of you all to make it, even on such short notice,” Fredric nodded at Kim and Sam, and the two ABDF Council members and dance studio representatives. “I believe we have an answer to our prayers.”
Kim frowned at Fredric. “And what would that be?”
Fredric leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “I want Erica Durance to be Jared’s new partner.”
Immediately a flurry went up from the table at that announcement, but Fredric waved it down. “Justin Hartley’s going to announce his retirement at the Regionals this weekend. Erica will be without a partner, as is Jared. I want to see them dance together. It would be advantageous for everyone concerned if they were seen together.”
“Wait, wait,” John Shiban protested. “Fredric, Jared’s shenanigans have been causing a lot of rumors and interesting chat down our way. Are you sure -“
“That’s why it’s important he be seen dancing the right steps with the right partner,” Fredric interrupted him, frowning.
Peter Johnson nodded thoughtfully. “Dance sport needs good young couples. If the two will dance together, it’d be a miracle for not only your studio, Kim, but for the Federation as a whole.”
“Exactly.” Fredric turned to Kim, who gave a slow nod, eyes calculating.
“I like it,” Sam enthused, relief swamping her. “My Jared dancing with someone like Erica Durance? It’s perfect.”
“Glad we’re all in agreement then,” Fredric clapped his hands. “Good. Now how are the preparations for Regionals going? John?”
The informal meeting broke up fifteen minutes later, John and Peter haggling over some details regarding the ballroom space for Regionals as they left. As Kim and Sam stood up, Fredric motioned them back down. “Just a minute, I’d like a word.” Sam glanced over at Kim as they resettled in their seats, unsure how to react to the uncharacteristically solemn look on Fredric’s face.
“You know he doesn’t deserve her,” Fredric said softly. “Our offices have been fielding calls for the last couple weeks about the steps Jared danced at the festival.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Kim rushed in to assure him. “Jared’s learned his lesson about that one. He’s changed.”
Fredric regarded both of them with a hard look. “We all know where that young man was heading, don’t we? Foolish boy. But now he’s got his second chance, and he’d better not screw this up.”
Sam couldn’t meet his eyes, chastened by the reminder and feeling the sting of the past. Kim leaned back in his chair, the only concession he made to the painful reminder, but his face was hard.
“Let’s not forget that a Nationals champion becomes a hero, a guiding light to all dancers, someone who will set the right example. That needs to be the right person, who stands for the right ideals. We’ve worked too long and too hard to let all that be destroyed.” Fredric pressed his fingertips together, watching Kim. “I’m sure you’ll impress that on young Jared.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
part 4
Jared tried to be enthusiastic for the try-outs, he really did. But apparently word had gotten around about how and why Adrianne had dumped him, so most single female dancers in his league were staying well clear of him. The ones that answered the try-outs were either younger, less experienced ones hoping to advance, or those for whom Jared was their last shot.
After the first two days Jared complained to Kim about the relative shortness of the dancers, and the next day a woman showed up who Kim must’ve found in the WNBA. Jared had the unique and disconcerting experience of looking up into a partner’s face. She was nice, and a decent dancer, but she kept trying to lead him around and didn’t pick up on his own leading cues. Clearly she was used to dominating her partner. Jared smiled, thanked her, and waited until she turned her back before he glanced at Kim with wide eyes, frantically shaking his head.
Too short, too tall, too skinny (and there were several of those, so stick thin Jared was worried about breaking them), too heavy. No musicality, too much flair, no rhythm, too timid, too over-the-top . . . All in all, no compatibility.
Five days worth of try-outs, of facing shining hopeful faces, dancing together and trying to find the right mesh. Of facing enthusiastic parents and sharp-eyed coaches, all certain that their daughter/student was the next U.S. Nationals Amateur champion in the making. Five very frustrating days of feeling like he was beating his head against a brick wall.
On the other hand, five days of practicing after hours with Jensen, which was surprisingly a lot more fun than Jared ever anticipated. He had a quick wit and easy-going nature, and they tended to play around while dancing. When they worked together on their steps, Jared was reminded of everything that drew him into dancesport in the first place.
For every failed try-out that notched his frustration and desperation up, an hour with Jensen had him relaxing and enjoying dancing again. It was different, dancing with a man rather than a woman. Different bulk and body type, different movements, different expectations . . . just different. But not bad, even though Jensen still had to remind Jared several times to quit treating him like a woman.
One day Jensen showed up for their practice session with short hair, spiked just a bit at the top, bangs gone. Jared did a double-take then grinned. “What the hell happened to your head, man?”
Sheepish, Jensen ran a hand through his shorn hair. “I should’ve known better than to fall asleep before my roommates when they’re drunk.”
“What, they cut it for you?”
“Um, no. They kinda . . . um, someone left some epoxy cement lying out, and they got . . . inspired.”
Jared burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. Jensen tried to glare at him, but his lips kept twitching upward. “Figured out it was easier to cut it rather than try and work out everything they’d stuck in there. I'm lucky I didn't have to shave my whole head, though I think I owe my barber a new pair of scissors.”
After Jared composed himself, he asked, “Roommates? Who do you live with?”
“Couple friends. They’re musicians. Known them since high school.” Jensen smiled slightly, gaze turned inward. “Been living with Chris since I was sixteen, actually.”
“Really? What about your parents?” Jared was intrigued. Jensen rarely talked about his life or family, although thanks to Jared’s big mouth, he knew almost all of Jared’s life story.
The smile died. “Dead. Car crash,” he said quietly, then turned to flip through the CD collection. Jared winced, wishing he hadn’t brought the subject up, given the way he blundered right into that. “So, what’re we going to start with today?”
A noise from below startled them both, and Jared hurried over to glance down the stairs. Movement down in the main studio, then creaks as someone started up the stairs to the second floor. Exchanging startled looks, Jared hurried over to the window and climbed out onto the fire escape, heading up to the roof with Jensen right behind him.
Out of sight of the window, they glanced back to see Jeff walk into the room, hands in his pockets and head bowed. He seemed to be thinking hard about something. Jensen shot Jared a questioning glance, but Jared could only shrug. He loved his uncle, but he would be the first to admit that Jeff had some strange habits and secretive quirks.
Jeff suddenly nodded to himself then crossed the room to the stereo. From behind the cabinet he dug out a jewel case, popped the CD into the player, and cranked up the sound. He turned, and Jared scooted back up the fire escape before they could be spotted. They couldn’t see what Jeff was up to now, but they could hear the music just fine.
Jensen took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. Jared looked over at him, and then couldn’t take his eyes away. Freckles. Jensen had freckles spattered across his nose and cheekbones. How the hell hadn’t he noticed before?
“Can you dance without those?” he heard, and abruptly realized that he was the one who said it, his mouth moving before his brain engaged. Jensen blinked at him, confused, those green eyes even brighter without the muting effects of glass. Hesitant, he nodded. Jared smiled, taking the glasses and folding the arms before tucking them in Jensen’s pocket. “Might help.”
“Um, my fuzzy eyesight is going to help, how?” Jensen asked with a bit of a scoff.
“Do you have contacts?”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“Then wear them. Seriously, it’ll help. The frames can act as blinders. Besides,” Jared grinned and hopped over to a nearby pole, twirling himself around it like a Broadway star, “who says you need to see all that well to dance?”
“Next time I’m bringing a blindfold for you. Then you can ask that question.”
“Ooh, kinky.” Jared waggled his eyebrows, and Jensen flushed. “Save your fantasies for your own time, man. Now, let’s dance.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Another week of frustrating and unfruitful tryouts. Another week of salsa, cha-cha, mambo, samba with unfamiliar girls making Jared feel more awkward on the dance floor than he’d felt in years. Another week of Kim’s gruff assurances that they’d find someone, of Sam’s strained smiles as the options petered out.
Another week of dancing with Jensen, dancing the way he wanted and feeling less and less concerned about his lack of a female partner. Never mind that Jensen was male, they just clicked in ways that went beyond dancing.
Jared found his sense of humor to be refreshingly sarcastic, his laugh infectious, and his creativity intriguing. Jared hadn’t had many close friends, especially outside the studio, but now he could honestly say that he considered Jensen his best friend. How the hell had he made it through life before Jensen?
They’d fled up on the roof for practice again when Jeff had come in, which made Jared briefly wonder what was up with his uncle. Had he always snuck into the studio at night to dance alone before, or was this a new stress thing? Either way, Jeff hadn’t left until after midnight, and by then Jared and Jensen had caught a second wind and kept fooling around with new steps, practicing and playing, dancing under the stars in the warm night.
By the time they called it quits, it was very late at night, late enough to be verging on early in the morning. Jared insisted on walking Jensen home, which earned him a punch and yet another complaint about “treating him like a girl”, but no objection. So they walked - well, more like sauntered - down the streets in the nighttime quiet, talking.
“Sam and Kim were really great dancers, weren’t they? I saw the pictures.”
Jared nodded - he’d practically memorized that competition photo, of Sam with her partner at the Nationals, couple 100. “Yeah, they were. They haven’t competed in years though.”
“They don’t talk about it much, do they?”
“Nah, because of Jeff. It’s kinda a sore spot for all of them.”
“So, what’s the deal with Sam and Jeff?” Jensen asked, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Huh?”
“They’re your aunt and uncle, right? So how come she’s Ms. Ferris and not Mrs. Morgan?”
Jared laughed. “She was, twice. Jeff’s my dad’s stepbrother. Night of my dad’s college graduation, they went out to celebrate at a local bar where Sam was the bartender. They got a little drunk, someone picked a fight, and the next thing they know it’s a full out brawl. To hear Jeff tell it, he saved Sam when a guy leapt over the bar to get the baseball bat under the counter.”
“And how does Sam tell it?”
“She pulled the shotgun and chased two guys off Jeff before they beat the crap outta him,” Jared cackled. “Either way, Jeff was smitten enough that after the stitches were removed, he went back to that bar and asked her out. They were married a year later. And then they found out they both liked to dance, after Jeff caught Sam dancing at a festival when she said she was meeting friends for coffee.”
“What was Jeff doing there?”
“Dancing with my mom.”
Jensen threw his head back and laughed. Jared watched him, smiling at the way his face lit up with humor. “So what happened?”
“Eh, it’s just one of those things. They love each other, and they used to dance well together, but I think something about the legality of marriage just chafed on them both. They divorced when I was three, remarried when I was six, then divorced again less than a year later and decided to keep it that way. Although I think by now they’re technically married again by common law,” Jared said thoughtfully.
Jensen snickered. “How’d you end up with them?”
Jared shrugged. “My parents divorced when I was eight. It was pretty nasty, and nobody really likes to talk about it still. My dad moved to New York, my mom to California and took my brother with her. I wanted to stay in Texas, and Jeff said he’d take me. I see them occasionally, talk on the phone now and again. My brother’s a grad student at UCLA now, and engaged to some girl.”
Shaking off the cloud of his own family issues, Jared bumped his shoulder against Jensen’s. “What about your family?”
A soft sigh answered that question, then silence. Jared held it, waiting, hoping. Finally Jensen said, “I grew up in Richardson, outside Dallas. My dad, he was a local actor and an amateur ballroom dancer, my mom a financial advisor. When I was twelve, we were heading up to Houston to see my grandparents for the weekend. A drunk driver slammed into our car. It took the paramedics over an hour to pry the cars apart to get us out, and my parents . . . didn’t make it.”
Jensen swallowed hard, and Jared longed to wrap an arm around his shoulders, give him some comfort. “Both my parents were the only child in their families. I went to live with my dad’s parents. It worked out okay for a while, but then my grandpa started having health issues and needed to move into assisted living. My grandma couldn’t afford to keep the house, so she moved with him and I went to stay with Chris. Been living with him ever since.”
There was nothing Jared could say to that except a simple, “I’m sorry.”
They continued walking in silence for a while, then Jensen seemed to shake himself, as if trying to dislodge the melancholy that had settled around them. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get you down with my sordid family history.”
Jared crooked a smile at him. “Dude, it’s cool. We’re both from messed up families.” He kicked at a rock on the ground, watched it skitter away and ping against the brick wall of a store. “Is that why you got into dancing? Because of your dad?”
“Kinda,” Jensen admitted. “Growing up, he taught me the basics, y’know, what they usually teach in the kid’s classes. Mostly waltz and foxtrot, little bit of Latin. I remember going on weekends to watch him dance in competitions. My mom and I would sit in the stands and cheer him on. It was fun.” He shuffled his feet a bit. “After they died, I didn’t dance for a long time. Couldn’t stand to be out there. It was only after Dave . . .”
He trailed off, and Jared shot a quick sideways look at him. Jensen looked tense, like he’d said more than he’d meant to and wasn’t sure he wanted to continue. “Dave?” he prodded, curiosity getting the best of him.
Jensen sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair. “Chris and Steve play in a band. Dave was the drummer. I sometimes play guitar and do backup vocals. It’s how I saved up enough money to join the studio, that and other jobs. Anyway, it was a gig up in Tulsa, big club with a dance floor. I wasn’t playing that night, so I’d had a bit much to drink, and Dave kept bugging me about turning the girls down for a dance. Finally I told him.”
“And what’d he say?”
“Asked me if I still liked dancing.” He stared down, shuffling his feet along the pavement. “Then asked me what I was so afraid of.” He chuckled suddenly. “Pushy bastard. Threatened to drag me out on the dance floor himself if I didn’t move my ass. Then gave me the best piece of advice I’d heard since my parents died.”
“What?”
“Vivir con miedo es como vivir a medias.” Jared scrunched up his face in confusion, so Jensen translated, “A life lived in fear is a life half-lived.”
“Huh.” Jared thought about that one. “A life half-lived . . . I like it.” Suddenly impish, he nudged Jensen with an elbow. “Was that what you were thinking before you approached me?”
“Maybe,” Jensen quirked a smile. “Well, that and wondering if I’d gone insane, wanting to learn from this overly-energetic giraffe.”
Jared laughed, sharp and unexpected, whole body shaking with the force. Jensen joined him, chuckling at Jared’s amusement, their laughter ringing along the empty streets. As it faded, they settled into a companionable quiet until they stood on the sidewalk outside a two-story older house.
Jensen nodded. “Well, this is me.” He hesitated, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt. “You can get back home all right?”
“Yeah, it’s only about 20 minutes that way,” Jared pointed vaguely off to the side, not looking away from Jensen. He liked looking, liked how much there was to see, liked making him smile and laugh. Despite the fatigue dragging at his body, he didn’t want to say good night quite yet.
Jensen took that out of his hands with a quiet, “See you later, Jared.” He smiled then walked up to the door without turning. Jared stood there and watched him until he disappeared inside the house, feeling vaguely unsettled, like he’d just been denied something. Shaking his head, he turned to walk home.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Looking at the calendar, Sam restrained the urge to throw something. Instead she walked over to the kitchenette, fished out the bottle of whiskey from under the counter and poured herself a shot. Alona emerged from the locker room as she threw it back, hissing at the burn. The petite blonde raised an eyebrow, brushing her hair back into a loose ponytail.
“What’s the matter?”
“What do you think?” Sam growled, pouring another shot. “Jared. It was Jared’s year! It was his year to win, and he’s gone and thrown it all away.” She slammed the second shot, gave the bottle a long look, then put it back beneath the counter. Alona walked over to place a hand on her shoulder, giving her a little comforting shake.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be all right.”
“You wouldn’t do that, would you dear?” Leaning tiredly against the counter, Sam managed a shaky smile. “You and Gabriel dance so well together. If you had the chance, you’d take it, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would.” Alona looked over her shoulder as Jeff came into the room, gaze clearly inward and humming something to himself. “And don’t worry about Jared. I’m sure Kim will find a new partner.”
“There’s no time!” Sam gestured at the calendar. “Regionals are this weekend, the Nationals only two weeks away! You can’t train for the Nationals in two weeks. Even if he did find someone, she’d have to be a champion.” She shook her head.
Jeff looked over at them from the stereo. “Sam, I’m sure everything will work out. Jared’s not just going to give up.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll just magically find a compatible partner from nowhere. Do you really think a champion like Erica Durance is wandering around going, ‘I wonder who I’ll dance with?’” Sam spat acerbically.
“Hey, don’t take it out on me,” Jeff protested, raising his hands in defense. “It’s not my fault Adrianne left him.”
“You’re the one who encouraged those silly steps of his!”
“I encouraged him to be himself,” Jeff growled. “He’s a good dancer, but that was the only way he could get better. To stretch himself and find his style.”
“To completely humiliate himself and this studio in front of Fredric Lehne and Dawn O.!” Sam shrugged Alona off and stalked over in front of Jeff. “You realize what a laughingstock we’re going to be? Who’s going to want to come to the studio? This could hurt our credibility and our business!”
Jeff’s jaw tightened, as if he was biting back on the words he’d really like to say. “There are more important things,” he said quietly, then pushed past her to head for the door. Sam watched him go, blinking rapidly as if holding back frustrated tears.
Finally she threw up her hands in exasperation and turned on her heel. “Men,” she growled, yanking her purse up from the table. “Have to wonder if they’re worth the trouble sometimes. If it’s not him being all secretive, it’s Jared sneaking off ‘til all hours of the night.”
Alona frowned. “What’s he been doing?”
“Who knows? Won’t tell me a thing about it. Caught him sneaking back in at just before dawn today, wouldn’t say a word as to where he’d been. Creeping around like a teenager with a secret girlfriend, like he has to keep her hidden.” Sam glanced around then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’m starting to suspect it is a girl, and he thinks we’re going to be mad she’s not a dance partner.”
Alona giggled. “Really? You think Jared’s sneaking around with a girl?”
“Can’t confirm it, and nobody seems to know anything about it. But when he does come home he always has the goofiest grin on his face, like what he used to get around Sandy.”
“Oh dear.” Alona’s eyes twinkled, and Sam just had to smile. “What will Kim think of this development?”
“Eh, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of his dancing, he’s not going to care,” Sam waved a hand dismissively. “But he is going to care if I’m late for this meeting.” She shooed Alona out of the studio and locked up, then headed for her car.
Ten minutes later she pulled up outside the quiet coffee shop Kim had directed her to. The older man was already inside, at a table talking intently with two other men. Sam did a quick primp in the mirror then walked in. Kim glanced at her, nodded at the counter then continued his conversation.
Sam had just gotten her coffee and sat down when the door opened again and Fredric Lehne walked in. The other men immediately ceased their discussion as he walked over and sat at the table, turning their attention to the ABDF president. Sam shot a glance at Kim, who just raised his eyebrows in return.
“Good of you all to make it, even on such short notice,” Fredric nodded at Kim and Sam, and the two ABDF Council members and dance studio representatives. “I believe we have an answer to our prayers.”
Kim frowned at Fredric. “And what would that be?”
Fredric leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “I want Erica Durance to be Jared’s new partner.”
Immediately a flurry went up from the table at that announcement, but Fredric waved it down. “Justin Hartley’s going to announce his retirement at the Regionals this weekend. Erica will be without a partner, as is Jared. I want to see them dance together. It would be advantageous for everyone concerned if they were seen together.”
“Wait, wait,” John Shiban protested. “Fredric, Jared’s shenanigans have been causing a lot of rumors and interesting chat down our way. Are you sure -“
“That’s why it’s important he be seen dancing the right steps with the right partner,” Fredric interrupted him, frowning.
Peter Johnson nodded thoughtfully. “Dance sport needs good young couples. If the two will dance together, it’d be a miracle for not only your studio, Kim, but for the Federation as a whole.”
“Exactly.” Fredric turned to Kim, who gave a slow nod, eyes calculating.
“I like it,” Sam enthused, relief swamping her. “My Jared dancing with someone like Erica Durance? It’s perfect.”
“Glad we’re all in agreement then,” Fredric clapped his hands. “Good. Now how are the preparations for Regionals going? John?”
The informal meeting broke up fifteen minutes later, John and Peter haggling over some details regarding the ballroom space for Regionals as they left. As Kim and Sam stood up, Fredric motioned them back down. “Just a minute, I’d like a word.” Sam glanced over at Kim as they resettled in their seats, unsure how to react to the uncharacteristically solemn look on Fredric’s face.
“You know he doesn’t deserve her,” Fredric said softly. “Our offices have been fielding calls for the last couple weeks about the steps Jared danced at the festival.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Kim rushed in to assure him. “Jared’s learned his lesson about that one. He’s changed.”
Fredric regarded both of them with a hard look. “We all know where that young man was heading, don’t we? Foolish boy. But now he’s got his second chance, and he’d better not screw this up.”
Sam couldn’t meet his eyes, chastened by the reminder and feeling the sting of the past. Kim leaned back in his chair, the only concession he made to the painful reminder, but his face was hard.
“Let’s not forget that a Nationals champion becomes a hero, a guiding light to all dancers, someone who will set the right example. That needs to be the right person, who stands for the right ideals. We’ve worked too long and too hard to let all that be destroyed.” Fredric pressed his fingertips together, watching Kim. “I’m sure you’ll impress that on young Jared.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
part 4