Hooked 4 (Hooked #4)(2)

Carol laughed, rolling her eyes back in her head. “I’m over fifty,” was all she said.

I hadn’t meant to offend her at all. I placed my hands on the table and shook my head vehemently. “They’re all wonderful dancers. Truly. I just have to group them like that because—because the older women wouldn’t want to be with the younger teenagers.”

But Carol just laughed again. “I might have to take a peek tonight, if that’s okay? Maybe I could try my hand at the dancing. I would even decrease your rent, if you gave the lessons to me for free.” She winked at me, and I understood she knew I meant no harm.

I cleared my throat, my heartbeat slowing in my chest. “Of course! Of course you can have lessons. Anytime you please.”

Carol placed her hand on her hip. “Well. That’s a relief. Say, you’ve drunk your vodka tonic quite quickly.”

I looked down at my nearly empty glass, my face reddening. “I get nervous when new things begin.”

“We all do.” Carol gestured upstairs. “I think you better start preparing for your new class, no?”

I nodded, pushing the bills toward her for the drink. I felt embarrassed, but I didn’t know why. In some ways, this Carol woman felt like my mother: like a lurking shadow, trying to protect me. In other ways, though, she was far less scary. I felt comfortable talking to her; like I could say anything. I thought for a moment.

“Carol? Do you know of—have you ever heard of anyone paying for somebody else’s loan?’

Carol eyed me, her beady eyes shining. “You had to take out a big loan for that place upstairs, didn’t you?”

My face grew red. “I mean—I just. Just for up-front payments…”

“Right. Well. I’ve never heard of it, no.” She leaned down toward me, looking at me fondly. “Looks like you have an angel watching over you, doesn’t it?”

I smiled, unsure of what to say. I nodded. “I guess so.” And then I spun around, already feeling the alcohol revving in my head. I rushed up the steps, toward the dance studio, hearing the constant conversations of the men behind me, ever in the pub, a pint in their hands.

Finally, I reached the top of the steps to the new dance studio. I’d forwarded the address to all of my over-fifty dancers, and hoped they’d be able to find the place all right. I brought my legs forward, trying to spin in a tight ballet circle. I found myself faltering, a bit. It’d been a few weeks since I’d practiced, and I was already losing my muscle. I closed my eyes, trying to focus. I walked toward the window, anxious to feel the sun on my face. But the sun had dipped beneath a cloud, suddenly, leaving all of Wicker Park in the somber fall shade.

I leaned down to touch my toes, feeling the stretch in my shoulders and my back. I cracked my neck for a moment, feeling the satisfying sound ricochet through my bones, and set up the music. We would need something to stretch to, something to do the preliminary exercises to. I knew the women would be out of shape, as well. We could all learn to come back to dance together.

The footsteps began up the steps. I heard someone—an older woman—calling out to Carol, saying she was going to dance class. My stomach did a small flip. I could hear her jolting, one step at a time. I wished that Mel was there already. Mel wasn’t usually the late one; she was much better at speaking to the older women. I was good at teaching them, at working them through the mechanisms. But I couldn’t ask them how their weeks were going without feeling awkward. I felt far too young, compared to them. It felt strange that they paid to be in my presence.

A shadow appeared at the door. I spun around, placing a smile on my face. Rhetta, the woman who’d called to set up an additional class, stood there. Her wild red hair spun in all directions. I’d never asked her anything about herself, but there was such a fire that glimmered behind her eyes that made me believe, beyond anything else, that she was someone important. That she had people in her life who looked up to her. That she held an inner core of strength.


“Hello, Miss Molly,” she grinned. Her teeth were aged, stale. She walked forward and held her hands out, bringing me into a hug. I felt such comfort in that embrace. I nearly felt like crying. “We were worried about you. We haven’t seen you since before you announced you were closing—“

“I know. I know. It all happened so quickly. My landlord sold my last place without telling me.” I swallowed, trying to think of something good to say. “But then I found this place. Do you think it will do?”

Rhetta glanced around her. The sun glinted on her face, showing small crags. “It’s beautiful, Molly. Of course, it needs a little work. But I’m glad you decided to fit us in today.”

Other women had started to filter in. Through their bags and conversations, through their smiles and greetings, I finally saw her: Mel. My assistant. I rushed toward her and flung my arms around her. I’d missed her, my only friend.

“Oh, gosh. Mol. This is beautiful,” Mel spewed, glancing around her. “Not as beautiful as the last place, certainly. But we can build it up!”

I thought for a moment, my heart sinking. Where would I get the money to fix the place up? The possibilities laid around me; it was like I could see the way I wanted the dance studio to look afterwards. But I didn’t know how to proceed.

Suddenly, all the women had arrived. I clapped my hands and greeted them all, my arms in the air. It felt so wonderful to have them before me, blinking at me with such earnest happiness. Mel started the music behind me, and the soothing classical music took us away. We churned our bodies into stretching positions. We awakened our muscles. The women smiled as the endorphins took hold of them. The sun skirted out from beneath a cloud and enveloped us in bright sunlight, making us all grin with sincere happiness.