Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t have time for crushes. Phone calls. Dinners and coffee chats. And yet, he couldn’t pull away from thoughts of her. At first, he convinced himself it was out of boredom, but when he got dressed and braved the weather to find her ass, he knew that was a crock of shit. He wanted to swoop in and help her. Make it alright.
Now here she was, in his home. Dancing, of all things. He couldn’t turn away from the sight of her soulful movements if he wanted to. How could she contort her body like that? Move so gracefully like that? Take his breath away like that?
“You danced on Broadway in New York City? Like ballet?”
“No. Well, yes, sometimes, but mostly contemporary dance. A lot of fusion. I was a professionally trained dancer and actress.”
“An actress on Broadway?” He rephrased his question, trying to gather more insight. The woman avoided eye contact, and her voice kept fading. She should’ve been shouting this from the mountain tops. What an accomplishment.
“I was in some pretty big shows.” Reaching out, she procured one of the glasses of wine from his grasp.
“Like what?”
“Would you know if I told you?” She smirked, arching her brow.
“I’m not an artsy kinda guy, but my ex-wife was into it, so I’m familiar with some of ’em. Name a few. I might know.”
“Okay. I was in ‘Chicago’ for several years. I also filled in for ‘Wicked.’ There was an actress who was sick for a few weeks, and I was her backup. It worked out well. I was also in The Lion King for a few months… the dancer was on maternity leave, so I filled in, finished the season, and was called back the next year as a background dancer. Most people have heard of ‘Lion King,’ so I’m sure you’re familiar with that one.”
“‘Chicago’ was written by Maurine Dallas Watkins. It was a decent play, I guess if that’s what someone is into. I don’t care for musicals, but it was all right. I didn’t too much care for the ‘The Lion King’ movie, either. Never saw the play.” He shrugged. “I imagine if I went to New York, I might go though… you know, just to experience it.”
“‘The Lion King’ is one of the most profitable Broadway shows in the world. That’s for a reason. Do you know how much work goes into that show? The costumes and backdrops alone are—”
‘The Lion King’ has been performed on six different continents and over eighty million people have paid tickets to see it.”
She snorted, brought the wine glass to her mouth, and took a step back before taking a large sip.
“How in the world do you know this stuff?”
“My ex-wife, Francesca, would watch it sometimes on those art channels on TV, like PBS.” She nodded in understanding. “They’d show ’em. I saw a little bit of Wicked, too, and I read some of the playbills she had lyin’ around after she died.”
She scratched behind her ear and shook her head. “You’re something else. Once again, you’ve surprised me, Jack. Can’t judge a book by its cover, now can we?”
“You must sing, too? Those were musicals you mentioned.”
“There are some smaller productions that I did that were well acclaimed as well, and they weren’t musical versions, but yes, I can sing.”
“Professionally trained to sing?”
“Of course. It’s not my strongest endowment—the dancing is—but I do a fairly decent job.”
“Earlier you spoke in the past tense. Like you were a dancer but aren’t anymore.”
“Yeah.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Why can’t it be right?” She tilted her head, looking somewhat confused.
“Because if you learned to dance, then you’re always a dancer.”
She smiled as she took a taste of the wine. “I don’t dance anymore.”
“I saw you.”
“You saw me goofing around. I mean dancing professionally.”
“Why don’t you dance anymore?”
She visibly swallowed, then looked away towards the fire, arms crossed and hands rubbing her shoulders, as if she were cold. Once more, she evaded a direct question—likely her ‘go to’ method of handling things. Jack prided himself on reading people like books. What someone didn’t say was just as important as what they shared. Maybe that was why she’d moved across the country. Was she running from something? Or worse yet, someone?
“It’s a long story,” she finally said, after a long silence. “I’d prefer not to get into it right now.”
The fragrant spices breaking down in the frying oil for the fish, sweet potatoes smothered in butter baking in the oven, and sautéing vegetables summoned him. Best to check on the dinner before it burnt to a crisp and bubbled over. Giving her a reprieve, he retreated to the kitchen to turn the fish over in the skillet with a flip of his metal spatula. He turned the eye down on the string beans he’d gotten from the farmer’s market and stored in the freezer a few months ago, then grabbed a couple of the biscuits she’d made from the iron basket and placed them in a covered bowl to put in the microwave when the time came. Mazzy Star’s, ‘Fade Into You’ started to play at that moment.