CHAPTER 7
Danica
I had to admit, I had been really taken aback by how readily Remy had simply offered to pay for my classes. It had helped take the sting off how bad I felt for arriving late and hungover – God, my head was pounding with a terrible headache, and I wanted to throw up. I had known right away, when I first caught him checking me out, that he was into me. I just hadn't realized how into me he was.
And yes, I was definitely attracted to him as well. I couldn't take my eyes off him; not only because he was handsome, but because he had an obvious sense of style and fashion; he was a classy gentleman, the type of man I had often fantasized about being with, but never thought I would actually meet in reality.
But I still couldn't believe that he had simply offered to pay for my classes as if 7500 dollars were simply nothing! What kind of money did this guy have?! I knew he was rich, I could easily tell that from the way he dressed and the labels he wore, but wow, to just give that much money to someone who was pretty much a total stranger...
Still, as tempting as it had been, there was no way I could accept the offer. I had always clung stubbornly to my pride, and I had never begged or asked for charity from anyone, and I sure as hell wasn't about to start now. I felt like accepting his offer to go on a date if his entry into the auction won was an acceptable compromise though. Because, you see, I did want to go on a date with him – I just didn't want the sense of obligation and baggage that would come with it had I accepted his first offer. Now I just had to wait and see what he would bring. And, of course, get through the day without throwing up all over myself... Alcohol. This was why I hardly ever drank...
SATURDAY MORNING
I hadn't gone to the auction on Friday night because I'd had to work a shift at the restaurant, and because it was a weekend night it had been a longer one than usual. I had no idea what had happened at the auction either because my phone had died halfway through my waitressing shift and my charger was back at the shelter. I had plugged in the phone when I'd gotten back, but had crawled into bed, exhausted, and had fallen asleep right away. Now that I had woken up, I saw that there were a number of missed calls and messages on my phone.
I opened the first one, from Gwen, with a sense of anticipation buzzing electricity through my veins. I wondered what it would say...
I had to admit, I had been pleasantly surprised with Remy's offering for the auction. He had shown up at the last minute and given it to me, literally twenty minutes before the deadline. As he had said, it had not been a very expensive item, which I was thankful for, because I didn't want to feel like I owed him. It had, however, been something utterly unique: a hardcover set of George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire books, all autographed personally by the author himself, thanking the buyer—whose name he would personally fill in if the books were sent by courier back to him—for participating in this fundraising auction. My jaw had dropped when I had seen the autographs, but Remy had simply chuckled and said, “George is a friend of mine, and I called in a favor he owed me.”
It had been a pretty damn unique offering, that much was for sure. Everyone who had seen it had been positive that it would win. Now I was about to find out whether it had. I opened the message from Gwen.
“Well done, Danica!” the message said. “Your entry won the most money at the auction last night! Your prize, as you know, is free lessons at the studio. You can start them next month.”
I wanted to jump out of my bed and dance for joy in the middle of the shelter, scream and shout and roll around on the ground – but I didn't. I simply smiled to myself and breathed in a deep breath of sweet satisfaction. It was amazing that things were finally going right for me... really amazing.
There was also a message from Remy, as expected. He had attended the auction to see how his offering would fare.
“Hi, beautiful,” the message said. “I see my books won the auction. I guess that means you owe me a date. You said you'd be free next Friday night, so let me know where you live, and I'll pick you up from there at eight.”
There was no way I could let him pick me up from here. No. Not a chance. I typed a quick reply to him.
I'll go out with you on Friday night, as I agreed to, but I'm sorry, I'd feel a lot safer if I could just meet you somewhere rather than have you pick me up. Nothing personal, I just had a bad experience with a guy picking me up on a date and then trying to do bad things to me in his car. I hope you understand.
It was a lie, that much was true, but I had to keep this secret from him. I waited in suspense for his reply, hoping that he wasn't offended. It came a few seconds later.
No problem, Danica. I understand completely. I'll meet you at Dorsia at eight. Tell the maître d' you have a reservation under Bridgewater. See you then!
THURSDAY NIGHT
I was the last one in the studio after closing time, and I had just finished sweeping the floor of the main dance room, my final task for the day. Since I was alone, I went over to the CD player and put in my own CD, which had the track I had done as a teenager, the one I was going to dance to in the competition that I never got to compete in due to running away from home.
I hadn't danced to it for a while, but I still remembered all the moves. As it had all those years ago, the music started flowing through me, fusing with my blood and the electricity that moved through my body, and I began dancing with the same passion and intensity and graceful fluidity of movement that I had all those years ago. It felt amazing, to be able to do this in a real studio once again, and I put every ounce of my passion and energy into it.
And then, as I did my final move and the notes faded out, I was shocked to hear a single pair of hands applauding.
I looked up, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and saw Gwen standing in the doorway, clapping and smiling.
“That was amazing,” she said. “Truly. I'm impressed, very impressed.”
“I thought I was alone in here,” I said sheepishly.
She chuckled. “I did leave, but realized when I was halfway home that I had left my phone in my office, so I came back – and good thing I did. I'm glad I got to see that.”
“Thanks,” I said. “And by the way, I just want to say I'm sorry again about arriving late the other day. It was a terrible, terrible thing to do on my second day.”
“Don't worry,” she said. “We all slip up sometimes. Just do your best to make sure it doesn't happen again. Anyway, I must be off. Make sure you turn the lights off when you leave.”
“I will.”
I locked up a few minutes later, still feeling charged up from dancing. In fact, I was feeling so fired up from it that I almost didn't notice the man across the street who was staring intently at me. He was a middle-aged guy, very rough looking, with scars on his bald head and a lot of tattoos. He grinned when he saw me, and started to try to cross the street, heading in my direction. I hurried into the safety of a dense crowd and pushed through the mass of people quickly. I turned around after five minutes of very brisk walking and was relieved to see that I seemed to have lost him. Still, I couldn't help feeling shaken up. Who was this guy, and what did he want with me? I hoped that I wouldn't see him again, but an instinct inside me told me that I probably would...