Thick Love (Thin Love, #2)(21)
I’d been out of my father’s house since I was seventeen, even though Louisiana law was pretty particular about that. Sure, he could call the cops, but no D.A. or children’s advocacy group would bother hunting me down, not when I’d been so close to my eighteenth birthday. I did the cheap motel living for a while and I made sure to stay in school, even picked up a few shifts at the diner to help keep myself fed. But I’d never been able to leave that strict upbringing behind. My bed was always made. My clothes and shoes were always spotless and I never slept past six a.m. or stayed out later than was necessary. Things had to be neat. There had to be order. Always. It probably boiled down to a sad need to please which kept me adhering to those strict rules, and that made me eager to help Leann. Still, I didn’t need her pity. It wasn’t welcome.
“Don’t give me that look, Leann. I’m not a rescue mission.” But I said that with a smile, rolling my eyes at her so she’d get that I didn’t want a lecture or to talk about my damn feelings. She seemed to understand, but the mother in her was still unable to let it go.
“Still, Aly. You take care of everyone but yourself. And you work too damn hard.” She bit her lip. “I wish you’d stop paying me rent.”
“Modi, I’m not a charity case, Leann.”
“I know that.” She sat back then, rubbing her temples as though she was as tired of this conversation as I was. We’d had similar discussions that always ended the same: Leann telling me to relax, enjoy being young, and me telling her, with a wink and eye roll, to mind her own damn business.
“Look,” she said, tapping the desk absentmindedly with her pen. “You work your ass off for me—and for that cheap diner owner, for that matter. I wouldn’t even ask you to help with the fittings normally, but I need the costumes ordered on schedule. Keira was supposed to give me a hand, but well, she can’t do much right now with the pregnancy taking so much out of her.”
At the mention of Ransom’s mother the smile fell from my face. I liked Keira. She was funny, very friendly on the brief occasions I’d been around her. But hearing her name sent my mind back to Summerland’s, to Ransom and the reminder that he was likely still in the building. I didn’t think he’d guess it had been me dancing for him, letting him touch me, but I didn’t want to take that chance, and I still wanted out of the studio and away from any accidental interactions with him. To be honest, I didn’t think my body could take being around him.
“It’s no problem. I can help you.”
But there was something else that I needed to speak with Leann about, and even though I wanted to be gone from here, this seemed like a good time to bring it up. Even so, I looked down at my feet, hating that I had to mention this to her. “Um, Leann? I um… I might not be able to teach as many classes next season.”
“Why the hell not?” Her question came out a little panicked, and reminded me of a bird squeaking as it fled a predator.
“Well, I’m trying to save up.” I hated the warm flush I felt on my face. I didn’t like burdening anyone with my problems, especially Leann. In the back of mind I heard my father’s voice telling me my plans were stupid. Women belong in the home, not a classroom, he’d told me and, what had seemed like his favorite insult to sling at me, Why bother trying? You’re not clever enough to do anything but fail.
That voice only pissed me off and I stared right at Leann, giving her a look I hoped dared her to laugh at me. “I want to go to CPU. They have a great Theatre program and I want to take more dance classes, maybe do a double major with Voice because I have a decent singing voice and I think it would help because, well, I want my own studio one day. In the city, I mean.” My explanation came out in one breath and I paused, thinking that maybe Leann hadn’t got what I said, not with how her eyes widened and the pen in her hand stopped tapping against the desk. “But all of that costs money so, you know…because I get more tips on the weekend, I’m gonna ask Carl, my manager at the diner, if I can pick up some extra shifts.”
If I expected Leann to mimic my father’s attitude, I was wrong. My boss didn’t do anything but smile at me. She didn’t question my wanting to leave her or have my own place one day. She didn’t even look disappointed that I’d have to cut back my hours.
“Aly, I can give you…”
“Don’t finish that sentence. I’m going to do this on my own, Leann. I don’t want to owe anyone…”
“Oh my God!” She seemed so used to me turning down her offers to help, that I suspected she hadn’t heard me refusing her. Instead she dropped the pen and smiled—a giddy, wide expression. “Why didn’t I think of this? You worked at Stephanie’s day care before you came to the studio full time, right?”
“Um. Yes.” That was how I’d met Leann. Her sister-in-law owned the daycare I’d worked at part time and had thought my experience doing choreography for years at the dance program at the YWCA suited work at Leann’s studio.
“Keira needs help.”
“Oh…okay.”
She came around the desk, seeming excited, smile still wide. “You want to earn some extra cash for school and I don’t want to lose my best instructor. Why don’t you help her out for the next couple of months or so?”
“Help with what?”