“That, my dear,” the voice laughed, “is the point, is it not?”
“Er, not?” Char gave a hollow laugh.
“I do not have all day!” the voice yelled. “Now, separate. I need to see what I have to work with.”
Char slowly stepped out from behind Jake and stood, head held high. Jake had to admire that. Any other girl would have run out of the room. Shit, he was a guy and he was going to have nightmares.
“Not bad,” the voice said coolly. “Not bad at all.”
“Thanks.” Char grinned.
Jake rolled his eyes. “She’s only complimenting you so you’re all fat and happy before she kills you.”
“Sharp-tongued, that one,” the voice announced. “But you’ll do. Oh Jake, you’ll do just fine. Tell me, how comfortable are you with the stage?”
“Not comfortable.” Jake coughed. “Not at all, you see. I have this bad knee and—”
“His knee’s fine!” Char interjected with a wink.
He lunged for her just as the lights flickered off and the room returned to a normal state.
In the normal light, it wasn’t so daunting. It looked like a dance studio mixed with a really weird party shop.
“Hello!” A woman appeared from a balcony above them. “Sorry to put you on the spot like that, but your dear old grandma said you kids needed a good laugh.”
“Ha ha.” Jake was going to strangle his grandmother.
“Anyway, I assume you’ve been given instructions about the dance you’ll be performing?”
“Dance?” Jake asked.
“Performing?” Char echoed.
“But of course! I am Madame, the best dance instructor in the city.”
Yeah, Jake highly doubted that. The woman was at least his grandmother’s age and was at that point walking so slowly down the stairs that he was pretty sure she was actually aging before his eyes.
“Um, I think perhaps my grandmother was confused.” Jake’s eyes were glued to the woman’s shaky legs as she slowly descended. Good Lord, her heels were at least six inches and her skirt… It covered nothing. To be fair, the woman’s legs were quite fit. He tilted his head to gain a better view.
“I think it’s Jake who’s confused.” Char nudged him. “Either that or he’s under a spell in the form of a pair of long legs.”
Madame grinned as she settled on the last stair. “Happens all the time. What can I say? I’m a treat for the eyes.” She thrust her chest out and winked at Jake.
“I want to go home,” Jake whispered as he reached for Char’s hand.
Char jerked her hand away and approached Madame. “Like Jake said, I think Grandma was confused. You see, we have a list of things we have to get done before the wedding. This was the next appointment. So do we need to pick something up or—”
“Silence!” Madame shouted. “I will not have your back talk. Grandma said you will perform the dance, so dance!”
“Dance?” Jake croaked.
“Dance!” Madame twirled in front of them and snapped her fingers above her head. “I shall teach you the dance of love. You’ll perform it at the wedding ceremony. Now, this specific dance is that of a mating ritual.”
“Aw, shit.” Jake took a few deep breaths. “There will be no mating on the dance floor.”
Madame laughed. “But of course not! You’ll be dancing! It is a ritual, not the act, you naughty boy.” With a wink she lifted her hand and tilted Jake’s chin toward her. “My, but you’re pretty.”
Jake was going to kill his grandmother. But he was too traumatized, too shocked to do anything except stare back into the Cougar’s eyes and pray she didn’t tie him up somewhere and put him in a cage.
Madame growled and released his chin. “Now, places in the middle of the floor. Remember, this dance is what brings good luck to the marriage. Mess it up and the future of your brother’s happiness weighs on you.”
“No pressure,” Char interjected.
Madame pressed a button and suddenly the lights lowered again. Soft music resembling a type of tango began to play in the background.
“Middle of the floor,” Madame instructed.
Jake went to the middle of the floor and held out his hand to Char. “Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave and get alcohol poisoning.”
Char’s eyes darted between his hand and his face before she begrudgingly took his hand and stepped into the frame of his body. “Fine, but keep your wandering hands to yourself.”
“Please,” Jake snorted. “Like your body is any sort of temptation for a man of my tastes.”
Char smiled sweetly. “I forgot—you like fake… my mistake.”
“I—”
“Now!” Madame clapped. “close your eyes. I shall walk you through the dance, but you must trust me, you must trust one another.”
* * *
Char’s hands were perspiring. That one word, trust. It immediately thrust her back into junior high. When she and Jake had been doing the trust fall—when he promised he’d catch her—and he’d failed.
When she was called fat.
And he refused to defend her.
Char’s mom had always told her that she’d laugh about it someday, that the things that happen to you in junior high don’t hold any power over your life in adulthood. But she was wrong… When you’re hurt at such a vulnerable age it’s impossible to forget the hurt. Especially if that one hurt launched you into a two-year issue with bulimia and diet pills.