Ballroom Blitz

  couple stuff he’d neither had the time nor the interest in doing before.

  So lately, when they had the rare chance to spend time together, Maggie was so tired or uptight all she wanted to do was sleep or fuck.

  That would’ve suited Johnny Feather perfectly. But it didn’t suit Jon White Feather at all.

  It’d be hypocritical if he mentioned he was tired of only seeing her twice a week. Maggie was finally getting to live her dream—who was he to make any demands on her?

  Besides, eight weeks of travel on weekends was a drop in the bucket, time wise, compared to how long he’d be gone if he took the tour spot with Push. Would she be all right with him being on the road for several months after he’d sworn he was taking a break from that lifestyle?

  That’s probably why he hadn’t given them a solid answer—he wasn’t sure if he was ready to go back to that untethered life when he might’ve finally found an anchor.

  Jon was in limbo all the way around and he hated every second of it.

  One good thing about losing her job: Maggie had the chance to teach, sharing both her love of dance and her love of technology. Teaching computer literacy to senior citizens in the afternoons twice a week took some of the sting out of her missing her spunky grandma, especially since a few of her students were from her grandmother’s former nursing home.

  Her teaching hour was up and she shelved the various laminated hint sheets in large type. She heard squeak squeak and saw her late grandmother’s best friend wheeling toward her.

  Hilda Helfenstein had the grandmother stereotype down cold: white hair, pleasantly plump, wearing a sweet smile, dowdy clothes and orthopedic shoes. However, behind her glasses were the shrewd eyes of a woman who’d seen a lot at age ninety-two. Her hearing might be spotty, and she had difficulty walking, but there wasn’t anything wrong with her mind.

  “Well, Maggie, you done good today. Even Ester followed along before she fell asleep.”

  “What about you? Did you find that link I told you about?”

  Hilda sighed. “No. I accidentally forgot to type in the letter ‘l’ in clock and… Whoo-ee. Some of them pictures that popped up were…”

  Maggie shuddered to think of the types of sites Hilda had stumbled across. “There should’ve been a security lock to block out those graphic images. I’ll have the software fixed—”

  “Don’t you dare.” Hilda gestured to the young woman from the rest home, who ran herd on the sometimes rowdy senior set. “Young Tiffany here was more embarrassed than me and kept trying to get me to leave the site, but I figured I was already there so I might as well look around.” She shrugged. “I found out them young fellas ain’t got nothin’ on old Boris.”

  “Who is Boris?”

  “The guy who lives in room one ten at the home. And he’s got a solid ten inches, if you know what I mean.”

  How in the world had Hilda seen Boris’s…? Maggie changed the subject. “What’s on your agenda tonight?”

  “Bingo, I think. What about you?” Hilda’s birdlike gaze pinned her in place. “You need to get prettied up and go out and hook yourself a man.”

  “I already have a man.”

  “Is he good lookin’?” Hilda demanded.

  “Very.”

  “Why haven’t I met him?”

  “Because I’ve been traveling a lot.” That had become a point of contention between her and Jon and they’d exchanged a few harsh words about it two nights ago. So despite the fact she missed him, she’d suggested they needed time to cool off and he’d agreed.

  “Bring him in sometime, dearie. So I can check him out. Your granny would expect nothing less of me.” She sighed. “I miss that wise woman.”

  “Me too.”

  Hilda backed away from the table and tossed over her shoulder, “Oh, you might take a look at that computer’s cup holder. It’s broken.”

  Cup holder? Maggie glanced at Tiffany, still lingering by the desk. “What is she talking about?”

  “Hilda thought the CD drive was a cup holder. She pushed the button and complained that her coffee cup kept falling through.”

  Good lord. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll put in a request for Phil in repair to check it out.”

  Maggie had time to kill before she had to drive to Rapid City. Since the library wasn’t busy, she settled in a comfy loveseat in the corner, propping her feet on the ottoman to catch up on gossip in the world of entertainment.

  She’d finished US Weekly and OK, when she heard, “You know those rags are full of half truths and cleverly disguised lies, right?”

  That voice was as smooth and warm as a snifter of brandy. Maggie glanced up into Jon’s amused eyes. “Are you sure the actors on Lost aren’t being stalked by a real-life smoke monster? Or that Zac Efron scored a recording contract only because he knocked up his High School Musical costar and they need the money for a gold-plated crib?”

  Laughing, Jon plucked the National Enquirer from her hands. “I never would’ve guessed this was your choice for reading materials.”

  “What did you think I’d read?”

  “A computer magazine. Or a book about dance techniques that will give you the edge to win the competition. Then you wouldn’t have to be gone all the damn time.”

  She ignored his snarky comment and inhaled the musky aroma of his body-heat-warmed cologne. “I am multi-dimensional. I also read erotic romance.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is that where you learned the twisty move with your tongue? Because I really love that one.” His voice dropped to a sexy growl. “Maybe we oughta sneak back to one of the study rooms. You can drop to your knees and give me another demonstration.”

  “In your dreams.”

  He slid next to her on the couch and stole a kiss. “I missed you.”

  “You must have if you tracked me down at the library.”

  “I got bored sitting at home. So anything exciting happen today, dancing queen?”

  Casually, she said, “I got offered a job.”

  “With who?”

  “A computer security company out of Fort Collins.”

  Jon gave her a sharp look. “When have you had time to interview with them?”

  “Via phone and webcam. They sent me some encryption problems. Basic tech stuff tests.”

  “And you forgot to tell me?”

  Why was he bristling? “Like you’ve told me about your last sudden and mysterious trip out of town?”

  “Even if I would’ve wanted to talk to you about it, you haven’t been around.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s just I can’t…never mind. This isn’t about me. What did you say to the Fort Collins company?”

  “I haven’t given them an answer yet because I’m already committed to competing in nationals.” She tipped her head back and stared at the yellowed acoustic ceiling tiles. “Accepting their offer should be a no brainer. A job in my field doesn’t come along every day, especially not one where I can telecommute from rural South Dakota. But if I took the job I’d have to give up dance. Then I’d be back to the same grind I was happy to leave. Yet, I could lead a somewhat normal life again.”

  “Is that what makes you want to take the job, Maggie? The chance to lead a normal life?”

  Wait a second. Had Jon said that with some disdain? Probably not. Probably she was just imagining things. “That’s part of it. The money is excellent. There are great benefits. Computer security is something I’m good at.”

  “You’re good at dance,” he countered.

  “Obviously that’s up in the air at this point. So the question is, do I take a sure thing—a steady job which will allow me to live around my friends and family”—and you—“hoping this company will hold the position for me for another month? Or do I chase a dream and remain in the same broke-ass position I’m in now? Which will be the bigger regret? If I don’t take a chance? Or if I do?”

  No response.

  Maggie wasn’t really asking for his advice as
much as thinking out loud. Yes, she loved dancing, but she’d realized she wouldn’t be totally fulfilled making it her career. Now that she had distance and perspective, wasn’t that part of the reason she’d stopped dancing all those years ago? She knew she wasn’t good enough to make a living doing it? She’d never blamed Billy for crushing her dream. She was stubborn enough that if she believed her brother had been blowing smoke, she wouldn’t have fallen in line with his way of thinking. She would’ve stuck it out if only to prove him wrong.

  Since clearing the air after regionals, Billy was the one person she could talk honestly to about her career issues. It’d shocked her when the companies she’d sent resumes to months ago, right after she’d lost her job, were now contacting her. She’d never believed the “we’re keeping your resume on file” response, but apparently some companies really did that. A few months later those companies had openings and they were looking to her to fill them.

  She glanced over at Jon, engrossed in The National Enquirer.

  Glad my career crisis isn’t as interesting as J-Lo’s latest crash diet.

  Not that she’d say anything to him—they were both a little testy in recent weeks and he never said anything about his career plans, so she let it slide.

  Jon had set the biweekly music magazine Tempest on the ottoman and she picked it up, absentmindedly flipping through the pages. Toward the end in the “Deals and Steals” section, she stopped to tear out one of those annoying subscription cards, when she saw Jon’s name—or rather, Johnny Feather’s name. Included in the article were two pictures of him with the members of some band. She skimmed the paragraph below the photos:

  Rumors are flying that Johnny Feather has flown the coop from the critically acclaimed Native American rock band Sapa. The drummer has recently been spotted in Seattle with Push and in L.A. with Darkly Dreaming, and Nashville with Radioactive Tar. He has reportedly auditioned for all three bands with an eye on touring with one of the groups this fall and is in final contract negotiations. The Whiskey A-Go-Go reportedly has Push scheduled to play next month. When contacted, representatives for the bands and the Indian rocker refused to comment.

  So that’s what Jon—no, Johnny Feather—had been doing? Maggie had stupidly believed him when he said he’d wanted to slow down and settle down, here, in Spearfish.

  But he’d never said he’d be out of the public eye permanently.

  Now that she thought about it, Jon had complained the last month about her flying to Salt Lake City every weekend, but he’d been evasive when speaking of his weekend plans. It’d made her feel guilty, thinking about him being home alone, when in actuality he’d been flying across the country auditioning for new bands? The thought he’d lied to her slashed her heartstrings; after three months together, she’d started to believe she was in love with him. Not that they’d made any promises to each other or spoken of a shared future, but Jon had implied it, plenty of times.

  Hadn’t he?

  Or maybe she’d misunderstood.

  Or maybe he’d just flat out lied to her.

  Only one way to find out.

  Maggie tossed the magazine in his lap and stood. “So I’m the last to know?”

  Jon frowned. “Know what?”

  She tapped on the article. “That you’ve got three prime drumming gigs dangling in front of you and you’ll be on tour soon?”

  He read the article before meeting her gaze. “No comment usually means the information is wrong.”

  “That isn’t what I asked you.”

  “What do you want me to tell you?”

  “The truth.”

  When he remained mum, she tossed out the first wild theory that popped into her head, hoping he’d scoff, deny it, or call her crazy.

  “Here’s what I think. You used the break from Sapa to tell everyone you wanted to take it easy for a while, when in reality, you were shopping yourself into a higher-profile band. You never had any intention of settling down, did you?”

  Jon said nothing; he just leveled that implacable stare on her.

  A sick feeling bloomed in the pit of her stomach. “When did you plan to tell me? Before I left for nationals? ‘Oh, by the way, Maggie. I can’t make it to watch you compete that weekend because I’ll be in L.A. playing with Push. Oh, and I won’t be here when you get back, I’ll be on tour with Darkly Dreaming. Or Radioactive Tar. It’s been fun. Have a nice life.’”

  His mouth flattened into a thin line. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Is that why you’ve encouraged me to keep dancing? Knowing I’d be traveling all the damn time, just like you will be? So you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about lying to me?”

  “No, I encouraged you to keep dancing because I know how much you love it.” Jon stood. “Really, Maggie? You think I lied to you? You’re going to throw accusations at me based on some bullshit article in a third-rate music magazine?”

  “No. I’m asking you outright. Face to face. Is any of it true?”

  “Yes, some of it is. But there are a lot of factors up in the air right now that I can’t—”

  “Stop. Just…stop.” Maggie backed away. Mad. Frustrated. Confused. She looked at him and felt she didn’t know him at all.

  “Everything I said to you is true,” Jon said evenly. “I want something permanent. Something stable. Something we’ve started to build. But it’s not like we can talk about any of this when you’re so focused on winning a national championship.”

  Talk about a smackdown. “You’re right. It’s all my fault. Even your secrets and your lies.” She calmly picked up her satchel. “Good thing I don’t have the time or the emotional energy to deal with anything else right now besides winning a national championship,” she shot back. “And apparently I’ve been oblivious to a lot of things going on around me, so I apologize if you felt I was ignoring you and your career decisions. Oh right. You didn’t even fucking mention it. So good luck with the band thing. I hope you win another fucking Grammy.”

  “Goddammit, Maggie, knock it off.”

  She slipped the strap over her shoulder and turned away.

  He planted himself in front of her. “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving for dance rehearsal.”

  “Sounds more like you’re leaving me.”

  “I am.” Before you can leave me.

  “Like hell you are.”

  Don’t cry. Stay mad. “Get out of my way.”

  “No, Maggie. Jesus. Wait. I didn’t mean—”

  “Leave me alone, Jon.”

  A librarian entered through the side stacks. “You two need to keep your voices down.”

  When Jon turned around to snarl at her, Maggie snuck out the back door.

  And this time, he didn’t bother to chase her down.

  Probably for the best.

  But she cried all the way to Rapid City anyway. More confused than she’d ever been. Her love life was up in the air. She might be facing two dead careers. She parked outside Seth’s studio and stared at the door.

  What was she supposed to do?

  Her Grandma Ingrid’s advice floated to the forefront, prophetic words after Maggie’s first disastrous college dance class.

  Take it one step at a time, girlie. You’ll either find yourself dancing or walking the direction you need to go.

  Taking a deep breath, Maggie knew that’s all she could do. Take one step at a time. One day at a time.

  Feet don’t fail me now.

  She got out of the car.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Orlando