The Way We Dance by Katie Rae

8

Giselle

"No balance on take off, no visual focus tells, no poise after the catch."

My list of things Ty was doing wrong was long, but so were the other notes I had taken. I couldn't help myself, some of the other guys were struggling as well. Honestly, it seemed like there was a lack of communication but that didn't make sense because their coaches were right there. They could hear everything and see everything so who was I to assume that was the problem.

I decided to concentrate on what I did know—balance, posture, strength, coordination, and flexibility. I jotted notes until I had to excuse myself to get back into the city to open the studio for classes.

Mondays were fairly easy because I didn't have to stay late with the advanced kids. I was home before dark and usually enjoyed a nice bath and comfort food. Some people hated Mondays but I cherished them.

I had opened the studio and was warming up my legs, waiting on my beginners to start trickling in when two police officers walked into the reception room. I saw them through the large window, asking my receptionist something before they all looked my way.

I swallowed down my nerves and initial concern and made my way to the door to greet them.

"Hi officers, may I help you?" I asked in my normal professional tone.

"Yes ma'am, you are Giselle Metrovik, correct?"

I nodded, "That is correct."

"We are just here to follow up on the incident that happened the other night. Is there anywhere we can talk?" He looked back where one of my littlest dancers had come in with her mom and was getting her proper shoes on by the cubbies.

"Of course," I motioned toward the back room where I had an office I rarely used. I led them in and they shut the door before standing in front of my desk.

I had shifted behind the desk but stayed on my feet with my shoulders pushed back.

"Ok," one of the officers got right to it. "We just wanted to follow up and check in, first of all."

"What happened to the officers on the case? That showed up the other night?"

"Those were street cops, but this case has been moved to the CIU, more specifically, the gang unit."

"Gang?"

"Yes ma'am, we believe we have discovered a connection between what happened here and a few other businesses that week. There is also a connection to gang activity so we don’t think that what you experienced was a fluke or random."

"What does that even mean?" I felt my poise slipping. This was a good neighborhood. An upscale part of town that rarely saw gang activity. I had decided that what happened was a robbery, one that didn't take place because he realized once he was in that I only had tutus and tap shoes. When the coast was clear, he bailed and tried elsewhere.

Why couldn't that really be the story?

"It means that your business may have been marked as a 'zone' for gang members roaming the streets. If they need a place to hide while the cops or their rivals go by, this might be where they run to."

"Are you saying it could happen again?" I completely lost my composure at this point. I was shaking, fear was seeping through my veins.

"We’re saying, we need you to be vigilant and keep your doors locked at all times. Until we can find out who is playing on this side of town and put a stop to it, we have no patterns or tells that can lead us to an arrest right now."

I fell back into my chair and blew out a loud breath. This wasn’t what I expected. This sounded like something that would take a lot longer than a couple of weeks to solve. I had talked myself into it being a one time, off course thing and that I would start feeling safe again soon.

I also knew that having Ty around on Tuesdays and Thursdays was pointless. What good was he in a gang fight? What good would having someone here with me be when that extra presence wouldn't be enough to deter the one that wanted in.

They wouldn't go another way because there was a man in here with me. They would rather hide from the law, from other gangs, from things that were far worse than a tatted up football player with a bad attitude.

I was zoned out when I somehow thanked the officers for stopping by and for the information. I was completely lost when I led them past the gaggle of little girls that had gathered while I was in the office. Despite their warning, I didn't lock the doors because how could I? I had moms and dads with their little dancers coming in and out all day.

Somehow, I managed to make it through the afternoon classes and locked the studio up without having a panic attack. There was no one I could tell because worry would ensue, but was I putting kids in danger by not being honest? Was staying open the right thing to do?

Shutting a business down completely was asinine and not feasible. Especially ones like mine that needed to stay open for financial reasons alone. I wanted to see what the other businesses did, to see if they were as fearful as I was. The officers said they would email me a list of the ones they knew were marked, so maybe I should wait until I saw that list. I wanted to know I was not the only one cutting and running at the fear of a recurring incident.

I mulled over what was right and what was wrong all the way home. I was less fearful during the daylight hours on a crowded sidewalk and park. Especially now that I knew it was not me that was the target, but my business.

Once inside my apartment, I didn't relax like I normally did. There was no extravagant meal or a hot bath. I went straight to my couch and pulled up my notes from the Jets' practice that morning. I had also used the camera on my iPad to take some video and wanted to see what I had for footage.

I hoped focusing on that for a while would ease my worries. Plus, I wanted to send Mr. Peyton some notes sooner rather than later.

I pulled up a video that I knew was of Ty and pressed play. I didn't know what the timing of their plays were so I had started recording way before the quarterback actually threw the ball. That meant the first few minutes was nothing but footage of Ty standing there, talking to the quarterback, and shaking his hands and feet to stay loose.

One part of me wanted to fast forward to the play, the other part of me left my finger hovering the scroll button and never actually doing anything. Ty Black may have been struggling, but he didn't look the part. He had a swagger that appealed to me. Confidence even in his time of defeat.

When he tilted his neck, I could see the veins popping and the tattoos moving as he did. His arms really were that defined and hard all the time. He was tight, even when he was loose. For practice, he had worn shorts and a jersey with his number on it—82. The jersey hugged right above his waistline and I could see the definition of his ass from behind.

I was focusing on all the wrong parts of the video. He had run a play and all I had mentally taken note of was the fact that he was not wearing a cup as he jogged and moved toward the direction of the camera.

With that realization, I threw my iPad over to the side of my couch and stood up. What the hell was wrong with me? My brain was all over the place. One second I was worried and scared. The next I was lusting over a hot football player.

What I really needed to do was let loose for a bit. It had been way too long since I let my hair down and had some fun. I had been so worried about failing in Atlanta that I had not let myself be anyone except the studious ballet instructor with the prodigious background.

I had to get through the week, but I decided by Friday, I would take myself somewhere. I would do something. The thought of having the relief was enough to make me grab my iPad and start looking over videos again.

Only this time, I steered clear of Ty Black videos. I knew he was the one I was supposed to be helping but he had already figured out how calculated I was and it seemed like he made it his mission to make me crack. Even when he wasn’t trying to.

Even when he didn't know he was doing it.