Chapter Ten
Sixty Dollar Sweatshirt

“Where are you?” Maya asked.

 

“Apparently, I’m still in Virginia,” I responded with a sigh.

 

She laughed and her laughter echoed across the speakers in my car.  “You’re in the home stretch.”

 

“I mean, seriously, how big is this State?”

 

“I think it’s actually a Commonwealth,” Maya offered in all seriousness.

 

“Yeah well, I’ve been in this Commonwealth for hours.” 

 

“I think you should stop,” Maya suggested.

 

“What? No. I want to get there tonight!” I exclaimed.

 

“Honey, you’ve been driving for hours and you still have a ways to go.”

 

“I’m going to stop and get gas.  I’ll call you back when I’m on the road.”

 

“Okay.  Be safe,” my best friend of decades cautioned.

 

“Always.”

 

I found a spot for coffee and refueling just off the highway and decided to walk around the parking lot a bit to stretch my legs.  I had a feeling my spine would be screaming at me later.  A twelve-hour car ride may not have been the best idea for my back, despite the core strength I’d gained through months of dance. 

 

As I sipped a decent brew, my phone rang and James’ name lit up the screen.

 

“Hey,” I answered.

 

“Hey there,” he responded.  “Where are you?”

 

“Somewhere in Virginia,” I replied.

 

“You alright?” he sensed apparent tension in my voice.

 

“Yeah.  Just tired.”

 

“I told you to break up the trip.”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah.  I know,” I sighed.

 

“You still can, you know.”

 

“What?”

 

“Break up the trip.”

 

“I’m on the road.”

 

“So.”

 

“So, my friends are already at our hotel in Nashville.”

 

“So.”

 

“So, we have plans tonight.”

 

“Plans change.”

 

“Helpful.”

 

“Seriously.  I just booked you a room.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yep.  I’ll forward the confirmation.”

 

“Wait where?”

 

“Pigeon Forge.”

 

“Where is that?”

 

“Just over the line in Tennessee.”

 

“That sounds familiar.”

 

“It should.”

 

“James?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Did you book me a room for the night at Dollywood?”
 

James chuckled, “right down the road.”

 

“Hmmmm.”

 

“What?  No clever retort?”

 

“Nope.  I guess I’m going to Dollywood.”

 

“Well, you don’t have to go to Dollywood.”

 

“I think I do have to go to Dollywood.”

 

“You do you.  The town is cool.  You should get there before sunset.  I’ll text the best places to get food.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“De nada.”

 

“Seriously, James.  Thank you.”

 

“Seriously, Parker.  Have fun.”

 

I called Maya and informed her about my change of plans.  She approved without hesitation. 

 

Each of the restaurants James suggested had a wait list and I decided to order food to go and enjoy it on the balcony of the hotel room James had chosen for me.  I picked up a bottle of bourbon for James at a local distillery as I awaited my food order, a meager offering of thanks for the assist, or maybe just because. 

 

I found myself walking the main streets of Pigeon Forge early the next morning after a restful sleep.  The adorable shops filled with artisan treasures provided endless family gift options that I would save for birthdays or holidays.  Toys and souvenirs for the nieces and nephews, custom memorabilia for the adults, including several beautifully handcrafted options for my parents and siblings.  And I spent a few hours walking the streets of Dollywood, feeling more at home than I’d ever predicted. 

 

Over the course of my lifetime, I’d never listened to country music.  It was just about the only genre that didn’t take, and that never changed.  But the charitable work, especially in providing stories and reading materials to children, made me think the music superstar and I could’ve been friends.  After picking up a few vintage psalm books that I felt belonged alongside the classics and philosophy greats that lined the bookshelves of my library, I donated to her cause.

 

Leaving the quaint town on what I felt was a high note, and having appropriately rested before the remaining commute, I departed for Nashville. 

 

It was a mountainous and at times, white-knuckled set of miles through the Appalachians.  I was surrounded by large trucks most of the time and found myself in twists and turns that I failed to remotely predict when planning my road trip; geography never will be my strong suit.  But approaching the city, Music City, brought peace, elation and a calming of the nerves that had enveloped the past two to three hours. 

 

Our room, the one where my Besties and I planned to stay the remainder of the long weekend, was centrally located, within walking distance to just about anything we wanted to enjoy, and presented with an interesting theme that set up our times together.  The modern take on Alice in Wonderland served us well and although we had plans, we followed our rabbit guide through unexpected adventures in the city streets, and were never too late for any of our dates. 

 

“Where are we headed?” Adeline asked, still looking herself up and down in the full-length mirror.

 

“I found a spot on the other side of town with plenty of options.  Reservation at 8:00 p.m.,” Maya responded.  Turning to me, she looked pensive, “ten minute or so ride share.  You gonna be okay?”

 

“Yep,” I responded without hesitation. 
 

“Lovely,” she smiled, impressed that I’d somehow overcome that years’ long refusal to let anyone else drive.

 

“Great.  I’m starving,” Adeline added. 

 

The city was bustling and having encountered random construction on our way, the trip took about twenty-five minutes.  The food was fantastic and we spent hours indulging in the meal and conversation before venturing back out onto the streets to hail a ride.  The journey back towards the hotel took us through a popular university’s campus, and Maya noted at least two extended family members who’d graduated from that place. 

 

My Besties opted for a brief nap before our planned late night of music and dancing.  The show started at 11:00 p.m. and we’d walk the two blocks to the venue, tucked inside a small alleyway that reminded me so much of the quaint walkways of my beach excursions with Victoria across so many summers. 

 

Having noticed several missed calls from Pierre, I excused myself to the lobby, not wanting to interrupt the brief respite for my friends.

 

“Everything okay?” I asked Pierre when he answered the call.

 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your vacation.”

 

“It’s okay,” I assured him, having long since understood that a business owner, or even just a lawyer, is never really off duty. 

 

“The rulings came in,” he started.

 

“Which ones?”

 

“The only two that matter,” he responded and I knew exactly what he meant.

 

“And?” I asked, although I could tell the result from the tone in his voice.

 

“We lost both,” he relayed.

 

“How bad?”

 

“Bad,” he sighed.

 

“I’m away from my laptop,” I noted, “can you read me the Orders?”

 

“Yeah,” I heard him shuffling papers and moving machinery around to get a better view.

 

“Skip the preliminary stuff,” I suggested.

 

“Let me see.  Hold on.  Okay.  Here we go,” he sighed again.  “I find the Plaintiff lacks credibility.”

 

“Geez,” I let out a louder than expected groan and several people near the entrance to the hotel looked in my direction.  I mouthed a “sorry” in their direction and then proceeded to walk outside.

 

I strolled around the block a few times as Pierre quoted from two separate Orders, both of which placed rusty nails in the coffins of our clients’ futures. 

 

“What are we gonna do?” Pierre asked when his recitation was complete.

 

“I don’t know what you’re gonna do, but I think I’m done.”

 

“Yeah.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt your time with Maya and Adeline.”

 

“No.  I mean, I’m done.  I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

 

“I hear you,” Pierre sounded nervous.  Was his newly minted partner going to quit?  Was he going to have to do this on his own?  Or maybe find another firm to join? 

 

“I can’t keep watching them get it so wrong.  I can’t keep watching people suffer.  I can’t-” I took a deep breath.  “I just can’t.”

 

“We’ve had a couple of bad rulings recently, but you can’t give up.  Maybe we just need to make some adjustments.”
 

“Are you suggesting we can fix family law?”

 

“No.  No.  No.  That’s not what I meant.”

 

“Good.  I thought you’d lost your mind for a minute there.”

 

“You know these things happen.  You can’t win every case.”

 

“It’s not the losing that bothers me.  It’s the reason for the losses.”

 

“Look.  It just doesn’t make sense and I’m tired of explaining to clients that there’s no reason for the result,” Pierre sounded tired. 

 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the conversations.”

 

“I’m not worried about that.  You deserve time away.”

 

“Yeah, well.  I still should’ve been there.”

 

“If you based your schedule on when a decision may come down, you’d never be able to plan anything for yourself.”

 

“True.  But I wonder if the clients remember how hard we worked, or just that I wasn’t there in the end.”

 

“Okay.  You’re being a little hard on yourself.”

 

“Maybe.  It just sucks.”

 

“I know it does.”

 

“Pierre, I’m sorry to do this, but I have to go get ready.”

 

“Yes.  Of course.  I’m sorry to have interrupted.   Maybe just try to enjoy the rest of the trip and we can figure all of this out when you get back.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Parker, just one more thing?”
 

“Yeah.”

 

“When I go in Monday, your name will still be on the door, right?”

 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

 

“Good.”

 

“I’ll see you Monday.”

 

“Have a good time.  Travel safely.”

 

“Goodnight, partner.”    

 

I took the elevator back up to our room, tossed my phone on the nearest table top and fell backwards into my bed.

 

“Everything okay?” Maya asked.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“What?” Adeline exited the restroom and looked around the corner.  “What’s going on?”

 

“We lost two big cases.  I don’t like it when it comes out wrong.”

 

“There’s nothing you can do about it on a Friday night from Nashville,” Maya suggested.

 

“Nope,” I agreed with my friend.

 

“Well, get yourself up.  The music starts in twenty.”

 

I followed my friend’s instructions and a few minutes later we were waiting in line to get into the crowded venue.  Upon entering, we found our seats in the back of the middle section of the small space, a perfect viewing spot for the cover band that would soon entertain us for the evening. 

 

They started off with a bang, opting for a familiar favorite that brought everyone in the room to their feet.  And it only got better as the night progressed.  We were served interesting cocktails that, when coupled with the dancing to music and lyrics that brought back so many amazing memories, forced Adeline and I to venture outside during one of the breaks to cool off. 

 

“Are you enjoying the show?” a man approached us.

 

“Immensely,” I responded to the man I suddenly recognized as the one performing on bass.

 

“Where are you ladies from?” the drummer inquired.

 

“D.C.” she pointed to me, “and Atlanta,” she pointed to herself.

 

“How long are you here in Nashville?” the guitarist asked.

 

“Just until Sunday,” Adeline offered. 

 

“Make sure to enjoy yourselves,” the drummer smiled.

 

“We always do,” Adeline winked. 

 

The men headed back into the show, but my friend and I remained outside for a bit, soaking up the cool, late night, early morning air, before rejoining Maya and dancing the next few hours away.

 

After only four hours of sleep, I got up and headed to the lobby for coffee.  I took the steamy brew with me on a walk around Music City’s streets, which were fairly quiet and still at the early morning hour.  I found my way back to the hotel, but noticed a building of brilliant architecture across the street and decided to take a seat in front of it.  The columns reminded me of any number of courthouses where I’d spent time, but none more so than that place I never stepped inside, the one I’d danced next to at my first Congress.  I could hear the music that played and feel the steps I’d taken, both with Elijah and Zeke, that day.  I remember what it felt like before I’d practiced, played and performed, when everything was new and exciting and different. 

 

That’s how I felt after law school, when everything was an experience or opportunity.  The first time I signed my own name to a letter and behind my name finally added the comma Esquire.  The first time I said my name on the court’s record.  The first time I won.  The first time I lost.  Before it became exhausting.  Before I looked for the distractions to keep me going.  Before James.  Before this version of my life. 

 

Checking the time, I knew they’d be awake, and so I called my parent’s home.

“Mello,” the unmistakable salutation of my grandmother broke the cadence of rings. 

 

“Hi.  It’s me.”

 

“Parker honey, how are you?  Are you having fun?  How are the girls?”

 

“Objection.  Compound,” I responded.

 

“What?” I could almost hear her smile.

 

“I’m good.  We’re good.  We’re having fun.”

 

“That’s good.  What do you have planned for today?”

 

“Breakfast.  Then a little shopping.  Then later, dancing.”

 

“That sounds fun,” she offered.  “Wait.  Hold on a minute.  Your mom’s here.”

 

“Parker?”

 

“Hey mom.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“How’d you know?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong.”

 

“How’s the trip?”

 

“The trip is great.  I’m having fun with the girls.”

 

“No surprise there.”  She paused, then added, “so, then what’s wrong at work?”

 

“Just some hard things.”

 

“Well, you’re used to that.”

 

“It’s getting harder.”

 

“We’re never given more than we can handle.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’d like to be able to handle less.”

 

“No, you wouldn’t.  You’d be bored.”

 

“Maybe, you’re right.”

 

“You know, you get like this.”

 

“Get like what?” I scoffed.

 

“You want to make a big difference and you sometimes forget that you already have.”

 

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true.”

 

“Look how far you’ve come?”

 

“I know.  I see it.”

 

“Do you really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You finished law school.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You passed the Bar.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You became a lawyer.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You started your own firm.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And now you have a partner.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And in the midst of all of that, you took up dancing.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You joined a team.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You performed.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And then there’s all of the people you’ve helped.”

 

“I don’t know that I’ve-”

 

“Oh, stop it.  You know you have,” my grandmother chimed in.

 

“It doesn’t always feel that way,” I spoke honestly to the women I admired.

 

“No.  It doesn’t,” my mother confirmed.  “But you have made a difference.”

 

“And you know what,” my grandmother added, “your grandfather would be proud.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“I know he would.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“Because I am.”

 

I fell silent on the phone and looked up at the columns before me.  From the angle where I sat, there seemed to be no end to their outstretched height. 

 

“I love you,” I finally offered to two beautiful, wise women, before ending the call and joining another two beautiful, wise women back in our room. 

 

For breakfast, I indulged in a favorite, biscuits and gravy that rivaled the meals I’d enjoyed as a child at my grandparent’s A-frame cabin in the wooded portion of an exceptionally acred lot.

 

There were only ever four major turns, despite the many twists in the road.  The commute felt endless as a child, and only when I was an adult did I realize it was less than two hours from my childhood home. 

 

Perhaps it was the excitement for the trip, though it didn’t offer the typical splendor of childhood fun.  The television barely kept a picture and only offered three, local channels.  There were no visible neighbors, or at least I rarely saw a non-relation in all of my time in that wild and wonderful place. 

 

But at the final turn, despite the dirt that surrounded our car, we could see their figures waving excitedly for our arrival.  Tires kicked up gravel as we entered their driveway and the gray dust failed to settle before we jumped from the cars and ran into their arms. 

 

Fear did not exist in that place.  There was the rope swing, that began on a small slope and we all leapt confidently across a steep ravine, hoping to find footing atop a large hand-tied knot.  There was the zip-line, which forced us to climb a makeshift wooden ladder before thrusting ourselves across a wire and trying not to crash into a tree about forty feet away.  There was the creek, the lake and the abandoned shack deep in the forest where we spent many scary moments, before inevitably, any number of creatures would chase us home.  And there was always a bonfire, set just before sunset, where we all filled up on s’mores before any number of teenaged cousins would light up the night sky with a fireworks show. 

 

And it was the whippoorwills’ lullaby that coaxed me to sleep each night. 

 

As children, we put on plays in the basement, dramas and comedies alike, although they somehow always ended up with laughter.  The basement also housed his law firm storage, which after his retirement, only served as a dust collector, save for my sneak peaks on various occasions.  I saw my very first Last Will and Testament in that basement, and when I drafted my first as a lawyer, I lamented how not much had changed in the decades since my grandfather had been tasked with the drafting. 

 

If only he knew that I’d followed in his enviable footsteps, at least professionally.

 

In the years after he passed, we still vacationed at that place.  And when it was sold, I think we all felt the loss of something irreplaceable.  It wasn’t just the A-frame itself.  It was the memories of a different time.  The simplicity of childhood, of family, of time spent away from work and daily routine.  It was the rest.

 

Perhaps it was my grandmother’s comment that brought me back to that place.  It was the site of so many happy memories and it was where, as a child, I decided to become a lawyer just like my grandfather.  It was also the site of my first renaissance where, as an adult, I decided to overcome that injury, that illness, and move beyond the place where medicine had failed me.  I decided not to give up my dreams. 

 

Over breakfast with my Besties, I realized that many of those so-called dreams had long since come true.  And I couldn’t possibly give up being a lawyer, after I’d worked so hard for the role.  Certainly not because of a few losses. 

 

“If you’re winning every time, that means you’re not trying the right cases,” my grandfather had said.  And I finally understood what he meant. 

 

Our shopping spree proved successful, just like my many trips with Victoria, although there was never really any doubt.  With no specific plans for dinner before another night of dancing, we wandered the streets of downtown Nashville, stopping in various venues to catch a set or two, partaking of a cocktail (or two for my Besties), and finding a casual spot for a meal. And just like when Victoria and I traveled to the beach, that night in Nashville, I became chilled and asked my friends to make a pit stop at a local souvenir shop so that I could find warmth. 

 

“This one’s cute,” I held it up before my Maya.

 

“Yes,” she nodded. 

 

“What about this one?” Adeline presented me with another option.

 

“Too thin,” I said after feeling the fabric.

 

Maya headed to another section, likely picking out gifts for her kids, as Adeline and I continued looking over my options.

 

“This is it,” I held up a thick, black hooded sweatshirt, with graffiti-like art across the back and sleeves.  It presented an abstract interpretation of many of the Nashville sites and would, I believed, serve as a perfect reminder any time I wore it, of my amazing times with my Besties. 

 

“Sixty dollars?” Adeline looked at me with a frown.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Don’t spend sixty dollars on a sweatshirt.”

 

“I promise it’ll get a lot of use.”

 

“Well, you can’t wear it to Court.  You can’t wear it to the office.  You can’t wear it on a date – please don’t wear it on a date.”

 

“I won’t,” I assured her.

 

“Maya,” Adeline called to our friend and motioned for her to come weigh in.  “She’s gonna spend sixty dollars on a sweatshirt.”

 

“Let me feel it,” Maya reached over and felt the fabric.  “It’s warm.”

 

“Exactly,” I confirmed. 

 

“And it looks like you,” Maya added.

 

“Thank you,” I smiled.

 

“Do it,” Maya suggested and Adeline threw up her hands.

 

My friends were in line in front of me and neither saw me snatch two additional matching sweatshirts, gifts I’d offer my friends the next day before we all left the city that took very good care of us for a long weekend. 

 

A quick stop back at the hotel to change and drop off our expenditures for the day, and we were back out heading to a local club for dancing. 

 

We did a lap around the space, a large venue with a dancefloor in the middle, surrounded by half-circle booths on the first floor and a balcony lining the second story, filled with high top tables looking down at the dancers below.  We made our way up to the balcony area and found a table where a cocktail waitress promptly brought drinks.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of the dancers.

 

“So, how’s it going?” Maya’s voice was elevated so that I could hear her over the music.

 

It wasn’t an attempt at small talk.  We didn’t do that.  No matter how long it had been since we last spoke or saw each other, our decades of friendship made small talk unnecessary.  Her question had greater depth than if presented by an acquaintance.

 

“I’m good.”

 

“And the firm?  Everything going well with Pierre?”

 

“It was the right move.”

 

“You getting paid?”

 

“Right now we are.  You know how it ebbs and flows.”

 

“Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” she warned and she meant financially. 

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Don’t you have your first performance coming up?”

 

“Next weekend,” I responded.

 

“Are you ready?”

 

“Honestly, I think I’ve been ready.”

 

“I remember that last time you performed,” she offered.  “I wish I could be there this time.”

 

“Oh, you will be.  I never really go anywhere without you.”

 

“Cheers to that,” she raised her glass.

 

“Are y’all ready?” Adeline inquired.

 

“Let’s go,” I stood and began walking towards the stairs. 

 

My Besties and I found a spot on the dancefloor and proceeded to dance with such freedom, I had forgotten what it was truly like to not care.  Maya and I brought out moves from routines we’d performed in high school, and Adeline reminded us of choreography we’d come up with together on random evenings at each other’s homes when we were younger.  At times, potential partners would step up and try to join, but after a chorus or two, we always ended up back with each other.  I doubt anyone could ever break our circle of friendship, on the dancefloor or anywhere else. 

 

An hour into our fun, I needed to hydrate and excused myself to the nearest bar to find water.  As I awaited a pricey bottle from the woman behind the bar, I turned to face the crowd and looked for my friends in the midst of a frenzied scene.

 

“Hey, I know you,” a man’s hand was on my shoulder.

 

I prepared myself to turn towards him an offer a clever one-liner, but when I saw his face, I softened.  “Hey,” I offered.  “Where’s your guitar?”

 

“We’re off tonight.  The rest of the band is over there,” he pointed at a booth about twenty feet to our left.  He motioned for the man I knew as the drummer to join us.

 

“Are your friends with you?”

 

“Yep,” I pointed to the dancefloor just as my bottle of water arrived. 

 

“The music is amazing tonight,” the guitarist suggested.

 

“Thanks,” I responded and he looked puzzled.

 

“Are you trying to take credit for the music?”

 

“Kind of.  I know the DJ.  I’ll let him know you’re a fan.”

 

“I thought you were from DC?”

 

“I am.”

 

“How do you know the DJ in a club here in Nashville?”

 

“I’ve got connections.”

 

“I guess so,” he smiled.  “Hey, she knows the DJ,” he informed his bandmate.

 

“Really?”  

 

I nodded as I took another swig.

 

“You about done with that water?”

 

“Why?”
 

“Let’s go dance,” he grabbed my hand and pulled me to where Maya and Adeline were still dancing.

 

“Hey,” I approached my Besties, “look who I found.”

 

“Hey guys,” Adeline welcomed them.  “This is Maya,” she touched the shoulder of our friend. 

 

“Nice to meet you,” one man offered.

 

We danced with the men who’d entertained us the night before for almost an hour before my friends decided it was their turn to hydrate.  When a slower song filled the air, the guitarist asked me to stick around for a dance and I did.  Now, don’t think it was because I was a better dancer than Maya and Adeline or anything.  They were then and would always be better dancers than I could ever hope to be.  It was my single status, the only one of us unhitched, that granted me a slow dance with the musician that night. 

 

And when our dance ended and I thanked the man as I’d done with so many leads on so many occasions, I looked up towards the end of the room and spotted the lead I really wanted.  Elliott stood prominently at the end of the room, a few feet above the dancefloor, with a headphone on his right ear and another resting against his head.  He motioned for me to join him and I welcomed the chance to see his set up. 

 

Maya and Adeline had ventured back to our table and were deep in conversation when I spotted them from below.  I watched as Elliott worked with his hands and pictured blueprints instead of turn tables beneath skilled gestures. 

 

He leaned in close to me, “you ready?”

 

“Ready for what?”

 

He tapped a man to his right, handed him the headphones and reached for my hand. 

 

“Come on,” he led me onto the dancefloor as a Davi Stone song entered the queue.  “Let the games begin.”

 

The beginning of the dance was a tease.  He didn’t place me in a hold, just led me through movements as we danced more inches apart than I’d ever experienced.  The dancefloor didn’t feel as crowded, and I looked up to find my Besties watching intently as other dancers seemed to give us space.  My favorite lead played his game for several moments.  And then suddenly, without warning to me, the pace of the song changed, and Elliott adjusted his lead.  His DJ friend was messing with the music, and Elliott was somehow matching the feeling of each harmonized moment. 

 

He led me through some Urban styling, a few tricks that caused onlookers to cheer.  And then he stopped, pulled me in closer, and offered me a more traditional Kizomba sequencing.  I couldn’t help but smile.  And when our time together in the spotlight came to a close, as my favorite people in the world watched, he released me from that hold I’d long since considered home, and with two taps on my hand as it laid gently on his chest, he turned and I landed behind him on only my right foot, left foot resting elegantly against my right ankle, and my right arm wrapped around his shoulder.  He turned to his left to face me, planted a kiss on my cheek, then grabbed my hand, spun himself out away from me, and offered a slight bow.  I responded with a nod and a courtesy, as I heard my Besties cheer. 

 

Elliott embraced me before leaving the dancefloor to perform his DJ duties and I found the stairs to my friends.

 

“I had no idea,” Maya started as I approached the table.  “I had no idea you could dance like that.”

 

“You look so happy,” Adeline hugged me.  “So happy,” she emphasized the first word.

 

“I’ve never seen you like that,” Maya shook her head. 

 

“Oh, come on,” I shrugged.

 

“No.  Seriously.  There’s something different about you.”

 

I smiled and looked down at Elliott.

 

“And that DJ is pretty hot,” Adeline added.

 

“Stop,” I chuckled.  “He’s just a friend.”

 

Adeline, inspired by a song, began dancing by the table. 

 

“That guitarist is pretty hot, too,” Maya smirked.

 

“I can’t take you two anywhere,” I smiled. 

 

An hour later, we offered goodbyes to the band and I introduced Elliott to my friends.

 

“Did you ladies have fun tonight?” he inquired of my friends.

 

“Always,” they responded simultaneously. 

 

“Thank you for the dance,” I offered Elliott a hug.

 

“Thank you for the wristbands,” he squeezed me in return.  “Get home safely.”

 

On three hours of sleep, I thanked the barista for a large, strong brew and with hugs to my Besties, headed out on my long journey home.  After making it through the mountainous region I’d encountered on my way into the city, and reaching the Virginia line, I decided to distract myself from what I knew would be the longest stretch of my trip. 

 

“Hey partner.”

 

“Hey.  You on the road?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Yes.  I just wanted to apologize for that hissy fit yesterday.”

 

“No need to apologize.”

 

“Yeah, there is.  This job is hard.  I’m just glad I’m in it with you.”

 

“Me too, Parker.”

 

“I mean, it doesn’t always suck, right?”

 

“No.  It doesn’t.  How was your trip?”

 

“Fantastic.  And I’ll be ready to get back to work tomorrow.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“I’ll see you then,” Pierre attempted to conclude our call, then added.  “Hey, Parker?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How’d you turn things around so quickly?”

 

“You mean, how’d I move past the hissy fit?”

 

“Yes.  I mean, I wanna quit once a month.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep.  I just don’t say it out loud.”

 

“Maybe you should.”

 

“Maybe I will,” he confirmed.  “So?”

 

“So what?”

 

“So, how’d you reconcile to keep doing this inside of twenty-four hours?”

 

 “My better angels chimed in.”

 

“I need to get some of those,” he laughed.

 

“I highly recommend it.”

 

I arrived at the studio a few minutes late.  It had been a long day of driving with few stops and I was ready to stretch tired muscles.  I had placed the performance gear in a small backpack, along with snacks and water for the trip home.  The rest of the team was already dressed and stretching and Sarah was awaiting my change of clothes.

 

“Parker,” she addressed me, “we’re taking pictures before practice.”

 

“Okay.  I’ll run out to my car and grab my make-up.”

 

“I can fix your hair,” Gia chimed in, prompting me to look in the mirror and understand her offer.

 

Twenty minutes later we were posing for Nina’s husband’s professional lens.  I hoped I wouldn’t ruin the shots, as I often did in family photos, but Nina assured me that her husband would make us look amazing before posting on the team’s social media page. 

 

The final rehearsal went well and after practicing the routine five times in a row, we viewed a video of number five, before Sarah offered a critique, made suggestions, and we performed it another five times.  Sarah went over our plans for the following weekend, as well as the performances scheduled over the next several months.  I was simultaneously excited and exhausted. 

 

An hour-long commute later, I was finally back at my home.  I unpacked my suitcase and backpack, tossed the sixty-dollar sweatshirt in the laundry with several other items, hung my costume in the closet, one hanger behind the suit I’d wear in the morning, showered, and fell into bed. 

 

Five days of suits later, it was once again time for performance wear.  A black bodysuit with hot pink piping from the waist creating an elegant design of swirls across a haltered front and down to the hips in the back.  The bare back made for a chilly experience, at least until the dancing began.  Thankfully, I had my new hoodie, ready, willing and able to provide warmth and coverage until it was time.  (You hear that, Adeline?). 

 

And then it was time. 

 

Time to meet the Dance.