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“Very good.”
“Look, it’s none of my business, and I probably don’t want it to be, but what’s up with this guy?” Zallow asks me. “He doesn’t seem like your business type.”
“Perhaps I’m just looking out for him,” I reply. “Like a guardian angel.”
Zallow chuckles darkly. “You’re no angel. You’re the fucking devil incarnate, Angeline.”
“Indeed.”
I hang up before Zallow can question me any further.
Chapter 17
Allie
“Oh, my gosh, you’re the worst, Eileen! I’m trying to convince my brother that I’m an upstanding, moral woman with discriminating taste. You are not helping my cause!” I say laughingly as Eileen tells TJ the story of how I’d once suggested an open bar at the parents’ recital as a fundraiser.
Donna had been aghast at the impropriety, Eileen had outright laughed, and I still don’t see what the big deal is. People might balk at first, but by the time the third group of beginner ballet starts and you’ve already seen endless renditions of Zippidy Doo Dah or Waltz of the Flowers, half of the parents are ready to run for the nearest bottle of whatever they can find. And with the premium prices we could charge for some pinot noir, I’m pretty sure the studio would have made a serious, serious profit.
TJ laughs, though, unsurprised. “That’s my sis, the immoral majority.”
I like that he’s teasing me and hanging out without too much weirdness. After dinner with Dom, I was worried. “Come on, Teej, help me get ready for tonight. I’m putting you to work, and not just your mouth.”
“Haven’t had any complaints yet,” he says, a joke we’ve had since all the way back to his high school days, but before I can toss back the standard reply of That’s what she said, his face sours.
Shit, he just remembered Janine. I’m sure like a lot of trauma, it hits him at odd times. I’m worried about TJ, especially after the whole drama of dinner the other night.
But we had a good talk, and we both apologized a bunch of times, explaining ourselves a bit more rationally and calmly. There were hugs and tears, mostly on my part, though I’d swear I saw some shininess to his tough-guy eyes too. Now he seems to be trying to move on, so I am too. He’s my brother and he’s hurting, so I’m going to cut him some slack.
He has done the same for me, putting up with some serious shit when I wasn’t in a good head space before, angry about my lost ballet career and my body’s betrayal. But he took it and loved me through it, letting the sharp barbs I’d thrown bounce off because he knew it wasn’t really about him. It’d been about my pain back then. And now, it seems it’s my turn to return the favor and be the unflinching support he needs.
That’s what you do for family.
So we hang out together in Studio Three, me getting some ripped-up T-shirts before we start cleaning the poles like I’d intended the day TJ showed up. It’s even a good time as I work a little bit of fun into my cleaning, buffing each brass pole to a gleaming shine, climbing higher and higher to get the top section before taking one long drop to the floor for a final buff.
TJ, who’s been cleaning a pole in a much more traditional fashion, turns as he sees me in the mirror, his jaw dropping. “What the hell, Allie? I didn’t know you could do that!”
I spin on the floor before rolling to my feet and grinning. I love drops. “What? Slide down the pole? We have talked about what I do, you know.”
He shakes his head, rubbing at his cheek. “I know, I just didn’t realize . . . I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever pictured you doing that.”
I smile, understanding that because the thought of my brother doing anything sexual is a mental peanut butter and Drano sandwich to me. I just don’t do it. I’m well aware he’s a grown man and has a sex life, but I don’t need to know anything about it.
“You wanna see?” I ask, looking at the pole next to me. “Not the whole stage routine, but I can show you some of my tricks.”
He’s unsure, terror and discomfort written all over his face.
I laugh. “Seriously, it’s not gonna be bad. Watch.”
Before TJ can answer, I walk around the pole, skipping the hip sway to just gather momentum. With a thrilling whoosh, I flip upside down, letting my legs stretch tall along the pole and my arms splaying wide in a T as I spin.
I laugh at my upside-down vantage of TJ’s open-mouthed surprise. He plops down, leaning back against the mirror while I do a few more tricks before finishing in my favorite head-first hands-free death drop into a back walk-over off the pole, finishing with the splits.
