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Yvonne knows better than to say a word when she sees the state I’m in. She drives straight to the studio, leaving the music off as I slouch in the back seat, my sunglasses on.
I walk through the corridor and slow down near the door, expecting to hear Phoenix’s playlist blasting in the room. Silence. The door is unlocked, but the room is dark. I turn the light on and can’t get away from myself in all the mirrors.
I begin a few stretches, just killing time. Get a drink. Go to the john. Fifteen minutes pass, still no Phoenix, and I get pissed.
I’m about to take off when she rushes in, tossing her bag in the corner.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Didn’t think you’d still be here,” she says.
“So that’s how you’re playing it,” I mutter.
“I’m not the one who plays games, Jackal. That’s your modus operandi.”
“Modus operandi,” I mock. I run my hand over my face and attempt a grin. It probably comes out more scowlish with my pounding head. “I paid for this time; I want my lesson.”
Her shoulders sag and she turns away from me, adjusting her Silverbook. I feel a pang of shame.
“You’re throwing me off this morning,” I tell her. “What did you do with Phoenix?”
“Do you ever get tired of pretending?” She turns to face me then, her eyes focused on mine.
My mouth opens and closes. “I—yes.” I swallow hard and study her face. Her eyes are bloodshot and have dark circles under them. “I wish you hadn’t seen me like that last night…”
“What? Doing your job? We all have jobs to do, right?”
“Phoenix?” I say, standing in front of her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She starts the music and gets in position. “You paid for this time. Let’s get on with your lesson.”
She works me harder than ever, so much so that I regret haggling her, I regret being born, I regret whatever she’s taking out on me. She looks like fire in motion, a raging inferno that only gets brighter the harder she dances. I would be in awe if she’d give me time to be.
“You’re dragging,” she yells. “Don’t lose the tempo...5, 6, 7, 8!” She claps her hands at me and I go faster, sweat flinging everywhere.
When she finally shuts the music off an hour later, I collapse on the floor.
“You’re possessed,” I tell her. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your hatred.”
“All in a day’s work, right?” Her mouth in a tight line, she walks to the door and holds it open. “Time’s up. See you tomorrow.”
I pull myself up and grab my things. When I get close enough, I put my hand on her shoulder, and she backs out of my reach.
“Phoenix, I feel like I’ve—”
“You don’t know how to comprehend that the world doesn’t only revolve around you, do you, Jackal?” She lifts her eyes and faces me head on. “I have more important things to do than waste my time sparring with you. Got it?”
I back up, stunned, and nod. I’m so confused by whatever this is that I’m feeling. It must be the hangover because my whole body just started hurting again. My chest feels...wounded.
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says and shuts the door behind me.
I walk a few steps then turn around one more time, looking through the window. She’s moved away and is beginning to dance again, but before she turns, I see her face. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.
I put my hand back on the knob, ready to storm back in there.
“Jackal,” Selfish hisses behind me. “You’re going overtime with your little hobby here. Three appointments today. We’ve gotta hustle.”
It takes a little blue pill to get through the day. I tongue it before I swallow, resentful of its power.You’re not old, I tell myself.You’re just tired. It’s bitter going down, and I snarl at Selfish, who looks like she’s enjoying my discomfort.
