“We’re one final away from graduation.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “I have no doubt you will pass with adequate colors.”
Andrew shook me off. “Asshole.”
I grinned. “Ladies. It’s been real.”
Outside, I fished out my cell phone and called Serenity Spa. The snobby sounding woman at reception told me that Darlene had already left for the day.
“Early,” she added with a sniff.
I had Darlene’s phone number programmed into my photographic memory, but I didn’t want to call or text her. I wanted to see her, to talk to her in person when I took the monumental, earth shattering, life changing step of actually asking a woman out on a date.
Jackson will shit his pants.
I laughed at myself, and called Elena. After asking about Olivia, I tried my best to sound casual as fuck. “Has Darlene come home by any chance?”
“She did,” Elena said. “She dropped off more chocolate chip cookies for the kids on her way out. Such a sweet girl.”
“Do you know where she was going?”
“No, but she looked dressed to practice her dance.”
“Right. Okay, thanks, Elena. I’ll be home on time tonight.”
“No rush, querido. No rush at all.”
Quickly, I recalled Darlene and my conversation at the park. She’d said she rehearsed at the American Dance Academy. I looked up the address on my phone for directions and headed to the Muni.
There was no one manning the front desk at the Academy, but a layout of the building on the wall guided me to the practice rooms. I headed down the pristine white hallway, passing open doors of ballet dancers at a barre, a jazz class for older couples. I expected to find Darlene with her dance troupe.
She was alone.
My breath caught. My heart stopped. Every part of me froze as I watched her from the doorway. She was wearing that damn black top with the crisscrossing straps along her back that made it hard for me to think. Her long legs were bare but for tight spandex short-shorts. Her dark hair spilled out of a high ponytail. A New Age-sounding instrumental played over the sound system, and Darlene folded and unfolded herself across the wooden floor in a series of flowing movements.
I was mesmerized, my eyes tracking her and when she stopped short, I flinched.
She tossed her head from side to side, as if her neck was stiff and rubbed one hand, then shook out her arms. She listened to some internal count in the music for a moment, then continued the dance.
Twenty seconds later, she stopped again, and she shook her arms, frustrated, and crossed to a small sound system against one wall. The music went quiet, and that was my cue; I’d lurked long enough.
“Hey,” I said, stepping into the room.
She turned around and the surprised smile that flitted across her face was like a gift.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I needed to talk to you,” I said, “but I got side tracked watching you. Sorry, I don’t mean to come off like a creepy stalker. You’re really good, Darlene. Incredible, actually.”
She shook her head, her cheeks turning pink as she walked to meet me in the center of the room. “It’s not a good show,” she said. “Or maybe it could be but…” She sighed and rubbed her fingers.
“What’s going on here?” I asked, indicating her hands.
“God, it’s my job at the spa,” she said. “My supervisor told me turnover was high when I first started working there. Now I know why. My hands hurt all the time.”
“You need a massage for yourself,” I said. “Don’t they give employees a discount?”
“They do, but I don’t like being there,” Darlene said. “No one is friendly. It’s not my scene. And all of the employees are stressed out and sore. The last thing we want to do is give a discount massage to one of our own.”