Page 29 of The Dance

“Like two friends hanging out,” Stacey countered.

“Let’s see how fucked-up we get tonight,” I suggested.

“Is it an open bar?”

“Hell yeah, it is.”

“Nice.” We were silent for a few minutes, and then she said, “Wait. Your parents can afford to be in a country club, but they can’t give you money to open your own club?”

I blew out a breath. “Again, I want to do it on my own.”

“Why? Just borrow money from them and open it, then pay them back.”

“Because if I fail, I don’t want to have the burden of knowing I lost their fucking money.”

“Makes sense.” She nodded. “Are you getting close?”

“I think so. Maybe another year or so to save.”

“I’ll be your first customer.” Stacey grinned.

“You better be.” I winked.

During the drive, we talked more than we ever had before. We chatted about what Stacey wanted to do after she graduated, how I wanted to have a line each night down the block when I opened my club, and how, if she was ever on tour with a pop star, she’d recommend my club, and I’d give them VIP access. We both had big dreams, and I felt as though we were no longer strangers.

“I have to ask,” she said. “Why did you tell your parents I was in theater when you know I want to do dance?”

I swallowed, not sure how to answer her. “I wanted my parents to think you were going to be someone famous, so I’d at least have that going for me.” I told her the truth.

“Going for you?” Stacey snorted. “We’re not dating.”

“I know, but they don’t know that.”

“What’s wrong with being a dancer?”

I lifted a shoulder while I pulled onto the street the country club was located. “I’m stupid, okay? There’s nothing wrong with being a dancer.”

“It’s not like I’m a stripper.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’d come watch you every night if you were,” I teased.

Stacey rolled her brown eyes, and I grinned. Nothing more was said as I drove up the driveway. I pulled my pickup into the circular drive for the two-story Colonial-style building. My parents spent a lot of time at the country club, and therefore, so had I.

I got out, handed my keys to the valet, and then rounded the hood, sticking out my elbow for Stacey to take. “My lady.”

She took my arm, and we walked up the five stairs and into the building. We made our way to the ballroom, where I’d had my thirteenth birthday party. After signing the guest book, we found our table. A tall, clear vase with a mixture of pink and purple roses sat in the middle of the table. It was obnoxiously large, and I had no idea how the fuck we were supposed to have a conversation with others at the table.

My parents were already in their seats. “Mom. Dad.” I hugged them both as they stood. “You remember Stacey.”

“Yes,” Mom beamed. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”

“You too, Mrs. Montgomery.” The two hugged, then Stacey gave my father a small wave as he smiled a hello.

“We’re going to get a drink before the happy couple gets here,” I indicated. “Do you two want anything?”

“Champagne for me,” Mom replied.

“Another beer.” Dad tipped his empty beer bottle toward me.