Chapter Eighteen: Problems
The next thing thathappened was that Jack told Eddie he wanted me to dance in his movie, so I was distracted for the next while, training for my scene.I was sloppy as fuck, and I had to work my ass off to get sharp and in shape.That meant two hours a night every night on the tap board.Eddie would sit and watch me practice.Sometimes he’d ask about my technique.
“You don’t move your hands much,” he said.“Like Fred Astaire.”He made circles in the air with his palms.
“That’s not my style,” I told him.“I’m a hoofer.”
“You’re a what now?”
“A rhythm tapper.I’m all about the sounds.The movements are secondary.Astaire used the Broadway style.I’ll show you some clips on YouTube so you can see the difference.”
“Why don’t you wear socks when you tap?”
“They get in the way of my flow.I need a pure connection.I don’t want anything between me and my taps.”
“You mean the way our clothes get between me and you?”he said.
He didn’t say it resentfully, but the way he looked at me, with sad eyes, it would have been easier to take if hehadbeen angry.
“I’m not trying to push you,” he said.“It’s just that sometimes I wish we were more connected.I like your clothes, but I love touching you.”
“Yeah.I’m sorry.”
I left to get a shower.When I got out, he was already in bed.I got under the covers, and he turned his back to me so I could spoon him, like I always did.He wasn’t arguing.He’d already let me win, and that killed me, seeing him like that.
That was why I did it.
“Hey,” I whispered.“Look at me, honey kid.”
He turned over, and I pulled off my T-shirt.I felt cold and exposed.He blinked and looked me over.Neither of us spoke.Then he touched me.
“Okay?”he said.
I nodded, because my throat was too tight to talk.He put his hand flat on my chest between my pecs and he moved it to my shoulder and then down to my boxers.The whole time I was trying not to pull away.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said.“You want me to take mine off too?”
