The music stops and I freeze, holding position, until the single clap coming from the doorway startles me. Martha walks in, her hands still clapping slowly, a soft smile on her lips. “That was amazing, Mia. I didn’t recognize it. What is it?” she asks.

“It’s something I came up with. Just some exercise to work the muscles out.” I shrug, trying to downplay that she just caught me in her studio, dancing to my own choreographed steps. Truth is, Chance has me thinking about pursuing my dreams of opening my own studio. That’s how he works, making the impossible always seem possible. I’m still far off from ever achieving it, but the more I’ve thought of it, the more excited I’ve become.

“It’s beautiful,” she says leaning against the wall. Her hair is fastened tight in a ballerina bun, but today, rather than her normal dance attire, she’s wearing a pink sweater and wide leg black pants and flats. Just standing there, she’s graceful.

I relax when her smile holds. “Thanks,” I say, gathering my things and throwing on a sweatshirt over my dance clothes. “I don’t do that one with my classes, only once everyone is gone,” I add, to reassure her that I’m teaching the approved dances.

“We should put it in a recital. I can talk to Francis tonight and you two can discuss the steps. If he could see what I just did, I’m sure he’d agree.”

“Really?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise.

Martha laughs and nods. “Yes, I think he’ll love it.”

“Okay, I’d love that.”

“I’m really glad you’re still here, Mia. I’ve been meaning to catch you after the studio closed, but I got caught up in one thing or another. When you said you were moving, I was so distraught, thinking that maybe I didn’t do enough to make you feel welcome. Your mother was a very special lady to me. In the short two years I worked for her, I grew to consider her my best friend. She used to reminisce all the time about the hours the two of you would spend here. She really treasured those moments and was so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” I say, swallowing back the lump forming in my throat. “I really miss them. One day I sat outside our old house and cried.”

Her smile falls. “Oh Mia, that breaks my heart. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you. I know I’m not her, and my grief pales in comparison to the loss you felt, but I loved her dearly and I’ll always do my best to help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Martha. You’ve always been so kind to Audrey and me and we’ve always kept you at an arms-length. When I left here that day, I was filled with regret over it. I’m sorry.”

She beams brightly. “Don’t have regrets honey. Life is too short. So, tell me, what made you stay?”

“A boy,” I laugh when her eyebrows shoot up. “Actually, he’s a man,” I correct, feeling the flush of heat rise through my body, landing in my face as last night’s love making session on the patio rushes through my mind.

“Now this is something I like to hear. What’s his name? What does he do for a living?”

“His name is Chance and he’s a professional fighter.”

“Chance…as in Chance McKnight? The Heavyweight Champion?”

“I think that’s his title. I’m still learning all about this boxing stuff,” I admit, ashamedly that I don’t even know what his title is. “I’ve seen the big belts in his office, but I’ve never read them.”

“Wow, Mia. How did you meet him?”

My mind searches for a minute, trying to find an answer. “A bar,” I half lie. Technically, I don't know where we met. Would it be on the stage of the bar where I was standing half-naked before he dragged me off during a panic attack? Or would it be behind said bar, in the dark parking lot?

“A bar? I always thought that more Audrey's scene than yours?” She laughs quietly and I smile. “So, when can Francis and I meet him? Oh, my Francis will be shocked when I tell him. He's a big fan.”

“Francis is a fan of fighting?” I don't even try to hide the surprise in my voice. Francis is petite for a man, shorter than me and maybe even as lean. He looks the type more suited for tights than gloves.

She nods. “Sure is. He may not be much of a fighter, but he loves the sport.” I almost feel guilty for my previous thought when she says it that way.

I smile. “Hmm, you learn something new every day,” I mumble, pushing my pointe shoes into my bag.

“How’s Audrey? Is she coming back?”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet.”

“If there was ever a place I’d peg Audrey to live, a farm wouldn’t have been it. Is she enjoying it?”

I look away, busying myself with gathering the rest of my things and realizing I should have expected these questions. I’d been so caught up with the excitement of being back in the studio and dread of leaving it each night, fearing I’d run into Paul that I hadn’t taken the time to consider Martha would have questions. “I think she needed a break from city life for a while,” I finally say. When our eyes meet, her happy expression slips and I know she’s read between the lines enough to hear what I didn’t say.

With her eyes full of sympathy, the urge to tell her just what kind of shit Audrey has put herself in…and now me, grows, but I decide against it. Audrey is my concern to take care of, not Martha’s. As much as she loved my mother, it doesn’t mean she’s ready to be strapped with our kind of issues. There’s been no sign of Paul and I’m not so sure what to think of his absence, but I’ve spent every spare minute running scenarios through my mind of the day he makes his appearance. I will not be afraid. We’ll renegotiate the terms and I’ll pay him back.

“If you need anything, Mia. Please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks, Martha. I will.” I force a smile, my mind lingering on Audrey, wondering if she’ll ever be truly free of her addiction…or Paul? She can’t hide on a farm the rest of her life.

Martha steps away from the wall. “I'll talk to Francis tonight about your dance.” She walks toward the door before turning. “Mia, I'm really glad you're here,” she says before slipping out.

I throw the strap of my bag over my shoulder, pushing thoughts of Audrey away, focusing on Martha’s promise to talk to Francis as I make my way out the back door. I’m practically skipping toward the street with the excitement of having my students bring life to something I created. The thought makes me giddy as I make my way across the street to the lot where I parked Chance’s SUV. It’s not the usual spot where I parked my old car. His SUV is far too nice to risk damage from being parked on the curb.

A subtle breeze blows across my face, reminding me spring is finally on its way. The sun has set, but the air is not as frigid. The temperatures have slowly warmed over the last couple weeks — the forecasters predicting the last snowstorm was Mother Nature’s last shebang of the season. My body involuntarily shudders when The Big Shebang comes to mind.

Life has changed so much since the day I took that stage. My phone whistles with an incoming text and I smile, knowing Chance is the best change of them all. I glance down. His words, ‘Leaving the gym. Race you home’ followed by a little red car and cloud of dust emoji fill the small text bubble.

‘No fair! Your house is closer to the gym,’ I tap out.

‘Our house!’ is his immediate reply and I smile again, slipping the phone back into my bag.

Last night when I’d arrived home and found him outside, I knew something was wrong. I’m used to seeing the weight of the Chance’s world siting heavy on his shoulders, but last night when I stepped through that door and saw him lying there, looking toward the stars, as if he was searching for some profound wisdom from the heavens, I knew his burden was heavier than usual.

It nearly broke my heart to hear more of his past. I know that he tries to protect me, keeping the details to himself, but I see their effect. I see it with his surprise at the smallest of gestures. The cooking of a meal, the washing of laundry…each time he’s blown away by the small mundane things, it’s a reminder of just how terrible his childhood was. And as much as it hurts to hear, all that neglect, abuse and loneliness has worked to shape him into the man he is today and I want to know everything about Chance, even the bad.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Paul steps from the shadow of the warehouse awning and into the small glow from the streetlight. I silently will my feet to keep moving, but they root firmly to the concrete sidewalk and my spine straightens.

“I don’t have your money. You’re going to have to take less.” My voice is weak, defying my posture and I hate myself for it. I’ve thought about this day and I’d convinced myself I wouldn’t be afraid. It was a lie. I’m afraid. Seeing his creepy smile slowly forming on his lips tells me, he knows it.

He slowly shakes his head, stepping closer and my heartbeat thumps heavily against my chest. “It doesn’t work that way. Audrey said you’re going to pay me. You said you were going to pay me.” He steps closer. “You said I’d deal with you from now on and leave Audrey alone. That was our agreement, remember?”

“I know that’s what we said, but I lost that job and I can’t pay you back on a dance teacher’s pay.” My eyes glance around, a sense of déjà vu hits me as I scan the empty street, looking for anyone to come outside in this moment. My eyes briefly land to where Chance’s SUV is parked, judging the distance, I quickly run through all the scenarios of how to get there.

“Nice SUV. I heard about your mishap with your car. It’s such a shame they don’t make quality cars like they used to,” he tsks slowly, taking a final step to close the distance between us. Anger swirls through my body. That was the last thing my parents bought me and I want to punch him, tell him off at the very least for taking it away, but the dark expression on his grim face holds me hostage with fear.

“I’ve been by, looking for you, but I couldn’t figure out which was your new ride. I never took you for one who could afford a luxury model. I’m impressed.” His eyebrow quirks up and his lips part in a sinister smile, my eyes land on that gap between his two front teeth. “I’d say we should take your ride, but…” he leans in, “if you haven’t noticed, I like to be in control.”

I shake my head and my feet start slowly moving backward. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I say over the blood swooshing in my ears.

He steps forward, attempting to close the distance, but I keep moving. I glance around once more, wishing someone would walk out and scare him away. I’ll come clean with Chance. Please let me get away and I’ll tell Chance everything, I silently vow.

Paul pushes back one side of his suit coat and a flash of light gleams under the dim street light, catching my attention. My eyes drop, feet stop moving, entranced by the gun stuck in a holster on his ribcage.

He wraps his long boney fingers around my bicep and yanks me closer. “You better not scream or throw up because so help me God, I’ll shoot you right here and go get your sister off that God forsaken fucking farm you sent her to.” My breath catches with a gasp and he laughs roughly in my face. “Audrey didn’t tell you, did she?” He laughs again before sobering and tightening his grip. “If you play nice and come with me, we’ll work out a deal.” He inhales deeply against my hair and my eyes close in horror.

I yank my arm away and take off running. He reaches, catching the edge of my duffel bag, pulling me to the ground with a hard thud on my elbow. He grabs my arm and drags me back to my feet before I recover from the pain. “I fucking told you to play nice!” he seethes in my face, his spittle landing on my skin.

I rear back the fist of my free hand and punch the side of his head. My hand hurts like a son a bitch, but he’s stunned by the blow, his grip loosens, and I get away again. “Fucking bitch!” he roars, chasing me and catching the tail of my coat. He yanks me to a near stop. I almost lose my footing with the force, but I keep fighting, punching, kicking, anything to get the last twenty feet to Chance’s SUV.

“What in the fuck?” A deep menacing voice comes from the other side of the parked cars. “Get your fucking hands off her!” Paul swings me around and I briefly catch Smith in my line of sight before Paul pushes me to the ground.

“Stay out of this, brother,” Paul says, puffing up his chest as Smith steps up. I want to warn him he has a gun, but the words won’t come. Did he just call him brother?

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Smith aligns his chest, pushing it into Paul’s space.

“This is family business and since you’re no longer in the family, it doesn’t concern you,” Paul says, not backing down in the least.

Smith looks down at me and Paul seizes his distraction to reach into his coat. “He has a gun!” I’m not sure the words go any further than my mind but Smith turns, grabbing Paul’s arm and cracking it over his thigh. The sound of the gun skittering to the concrete has me scooting further away, unsure of what to do.

“Mia, get in the SUV, lock the doors and don’t fucking move until I come to you!” Smith says angrily before turning toward Paul.

“Smith!” I cry with worry.

“Get in the fucking truck and do not call the police!” I quickly rise, running to the SUV like he insisted.

The two men stand away from the lighting, making their movements difficult to see, but I watch, hanging onto the dark shadows as Paul stands up and launches toward Smith with a swift punch to the face. Smith hardly moves, his head twisting sideways, the only sign Paul made contact.

I watch as Paul attempts to shove Smith, but as tall as Paul is, Smith is equally tall but three times as wide, making Paul no match for him. Smith yells and Paul yells back. Then Paul pushes at Smith’s shoulder again. Smith’s right hand lifts without warning and with one quick movement, Paul falls to the ground. Smith hovers over his slack body and yells something, pointing my direction. Paul rolls over, his body balled up in pain. Smith steps away, kicking the gun into a storm drain and leaving Paul in a lump on the sidewalk.

Smith slides into the passenger seat, his heavy breathing filling the SUV. He looks toward the parking lot to where Paul pushes himself from the ground. “I want you tell me how in the fuck you know Paul and don't you dare lie to me,” he says, keeping his eyes on Paul.

“My little sister Audrey—”

“How old is she?” He interrupts.

“She turned twenty a few months ago,” I say, turning in time to see him close his eyes and expel a heavy breath that looks like relief. My eyes flit back to Paul, watching as he limps toward a sports car and wondering just what he’s been known to do.

“Go on,” he demands.

I watch as Paul’s taillights disappear down the street. “She’s struggled with addiction for years.”

“When she was a minor?”

“Yeah, the first time when she was in high school. My parents were still alive.”

Smith looks my direction. If I didn't know better, I'd say there is a small amount of sympathy in his softened expression.

“A couple of months ago, Audrey and I met for dinner and Paul was waiting for us near the parking lot. I recognized him from a couple years prior when he was outside my parents’ house, just after they died. I got a bad feeling then and again that night when he told Audrey that she was to call him by the next morning. She didn’t. A few nights after that, he came here, grabbing me in the parking lot.”

“Did he hurt you?” he turns, his dark eyes looking at me and for the first time, I see the resemblance. The unnerving part of Smith was always his eyes. They’re the same as Paul’s.

“Not really—”

“What does not really mean? Did he fucking hurt you or not?” he seethes, his anger hardly contained.

“Just bruises,” I answer meekly.

He shakes his head and mumbles something gruffly under his breath that I can’t make out. “Why is he after you?”

“Because I was trying to protect my sister. Audrey owed him twenty-thousand dollars. I maxed out all my credit cards, sold everything I have, everything she had and even embarrassed the shit out of myself on a stage I had no business on—all of it to get the money to pay off her debt. I’ve paid him over eight thousand dollars, but he came here tonight looking for the next five thousand I thought I would have.”

“Why are you doing that and not her?”

“She’s not strong enough.” He looks at me. “She’s not, she would’ve never gotten away if she stayed.” I look to the spot where Paul and Smith just fought, not understanding their connection, but I understand the one between Audrey and I. Tears sting my eyes and I blink them back, looking over to where Smith sits. “She’s my little sister, the only family I have so I have to protect her.” His dark eyes meet mine, but he says nothing and it unnerves me. “Why were you here?” I ask and he looks away.

He doesn’t say anything for so long that I think he isn’t going to answer. I sigh heavily, wondering where we go from here. He knows my secret, the one I have yet to tell Chance and I sit here hoping beyond all hope he’ll let me be the one to tell him. I open my mouth to beg for just that when he speaks.

“I’d been training under Vic for several years by the time I met Chance. I was pissed off when I found out Vic was hanging around some of St. Louis’ roughest areas to watch him so I showed up one night to see what was so special.” He lets out a heavy breath and rests his head on the back of the seat.

“I still remember his opponent that night. He had to be in his mid to late twenties, a fully-grown man and he was going to fight Chance who was no more than a scrawny, undernourished kid. I’d seen plenty of shit on the streets and I’d like to say it bothered me that I was sure to see a blood bath because Chance was no match for this guy, but when the fight started, that scrawny kid came to life and size be damned, he beat the shit out of that guy.

“After the fight he collected his money, briefly talked to Vic and disappeared into the night. He was only sixteen and already living on the goddamned streets. Eventually Vic earned his trust. We started training together and getting to know one another. We were two kids with opposite problems, but problems just the same. Despite the fucked up life he was dealt…the one I was dealt, we formed a bond because no matter how different our problems were, we both wanted out of the hell we were living.” He pauses, looking over to me in the darkness. “It wasn’t easy for Vic to get through to him or for him to trust either of us.”

He shakes his head, shifting his gaze to the dark street, a smile grazing his lips. “Eventually that little scrawny kid grew up to be a man. A fighter. One of the best I have ever seen. All that rage and hostility he had pent up for that shit hand has started to work out. His life is finally coming together and then you stepped in and he’s moved so damn quick that I felt like something was off.” His gaze shifts to the parking lot. “He’s my best friend. Always had my back and I promised to always have his so I’ve been watching you for a while.” He looks back to me. “Paul isn’t the kind of person you cross. Does your sister realize what a dangerous situation she’s put herself and you in?”

My eyes drop. “Probably not.”

“That’s too bad because you’re one brave bitch and she’s lucky to have you. I can see why you mean so much to Chance.”

My eyes lift to his. “Chance doesn’t know…but I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him the minute I walk in tonight and if he tells me to leave, I will.”

He shakes his head and opens his door. “No, you won’t. He doesn’t need to know. Trust me on this. It’ll drive him crazy with rage that he wasn’t here to protect you. He’ll hunt Paul down and we’ll have a big fucking problem on our hands. Consider this thing with Paul done. Your debt has been cleared. I’ll make sure of it. Go home to Chance and continue making him happy.”

“How is that possible?” I ask, panic-stricken that it can’t be that easy.

He steps out of the SUV “It just is…you have my word. Now go home and let’s never talk about this again.” If he gives you his word, consider it done. Chance’s words come to mind.

“Smith,” I say, catching his eyes before he shuts the door. “Is he really your brother?”

“Not by choice.” He closes the door and walks away.