An Encore for Love Read online

  It had been a while since I saw Blaise in such bad shape. In fact, the last time had been right after Malia left his ass in the dumps for being stupid. But not only did they now have a beautiful family together, they were both successful in their own right with an unwavering love between them that I couldn’t help but admire even though they were both younger than me.

  “Maybe one day…” I thought to myself as I watched Blaise snap out of his funk, chatting with a few students on his way to the sound system. And when he pressed shuffle, it landed on Check by Meek Mill, a perfectly gritty song to distract me from everything going on in my head.

  It felt good to be back on the dance floor with my brother, especially since it gave us both the opportunity to release the stresses we were currently being faced with. But my sticky situation with Amerie was nothing in comparison to the tragedy he was currently trying to navigate. So if he could dance through that, I really had no excuse. And I made sure to make a point of that by giving it everything I had, regaining the respect of the students in the process as they cheered us both on.

  Once the song was over, we let a few more students have a chance to show off before bringing the class to a close. And as we cleaned up the studio, sweeping the floor and gathering the random assortment of clothes that had gotten left behind, it didn’t take long for Blaise to bring up the inevitable. “So you ready to talk about what I walked in on between you and Amerie?”

  While I wasn’t exactly sure what all Blaise had saw, I still shook my head, more regretfully than anything. And since he was one of the few people who knew the whole situation, I simply told him, “Can’t even lie. That shit took me back in the worst way possible.”

  Watching Amerie dance was always a privilege. And dancing with Amerie? That was truly a gift. Though today it felt as if she had delivered the biggest box, wrapped with a bow and all, only for it to be empty.

  But no matter how confused the whole thing had me, Blaise seemed to have it all figured out when he asked, “What’d you expect to happen, Knox? Dance is Amerie’s love language. And you… you already know it doesn’t take much for you to get caught up.”

  I had a strong feeling Amerie wasn’t the only girl he was referring to when it came to me getting caught up regarding dancers. And considering how many tours Blaise and I had been on together, he definitely would’ve known it better than anyone. Hell, before him and Malia were “Blalia”, I had almost gotten caught up on her little cute ass. But even then, Malia hadn’t struck me in the same way Amerie always seemed to do.

  She was different, she was special, and she was… mine, no matter how long it would take for me to make it happen. But it wasn’t as if Amerie planned on making things any easier for me considering, “She doesn’t even wanna talk about it. I tried, gave her the floor to rip into my ass and she wouldn’t do it. Said I was just tryna get her to fix my guilty conscience.”

  “Well she has a point, bruh. You know you fucked up and have yet to directly acknowledge that with her,” he said in such a matter-of-fact way that it annoyed me no matter how much I knew his words to be true.

  Still, I found myself trying to deflect and defend when I explained, “On one hand she’s tellin’ me that she doesn’t care about the shit anymore, and on the other hand she goes and says slick little shit about it. And then on the other, other hand, she does stuff like what she just did on the dance floor makin’ it all confusing as hell.”

  “I’m more confused by you having three hands,” Blaise teased, forcing me to shove him in the arm as he laughed it off before continuing, “But listen, man. I don’t have answers for you. That’s for you and Amerie to figure out, which you’ll have plenty of time to do when you’re filming the show. Just the two of you.”

  My eyebrow piqued once I caught his drift, though I was sure to make him clarify by asking, “What do you mean, just the two of us? You backin’ out on me?”

  He released a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he explained, “I can’t do it, man. My woman is in a really bad space right now, and it wouldn’t be right for me to leave her out here on her own. It’s just not a good time for me to be making moves like that.”

  “Damn. I mean, I understand but… have you told Amerie yet?”

  Of course I was worried about Malia’s health, especially since Elijah and I had lost both of our parents prematurely and knew firsthand how painful that shit was to deal with. But I was also worried about if Amerie would stay on now that the one person who had convinced her to do it wasn’t going to be around to protect her.

  As if she needed protection from me...

  “Nah, I haven’t said anything. But I doubt her commitment will change, especially since she’s already signed her name on the dotted line. You know she’s not one to go back on her word,” he replied confidently, though it only gave me a temporary sense of assurance once I thought about who I was dealing with.

  “That shit only applies to people like you, bruh. Not niggas like me.”

  Blaise laughed, shaking his head before insisting, “Well if nothing else, the fact that the time spent with you will also be tied to a paycheck should help.”

  Once again, Blaise had a valid point. Amerie had always been about her coins, negotiating each and every one of her contracts to the point where she made almost double what the average choreographer did. But it was an advantage she had rightfully earned considering she wasn’t any ol’ average choreographer. She was the best in the game; even better than me depending on what dance style the client was looking for.

  But regardless of how I felt about her talent or her paycheck, my decision was already made. “I’m not gonna tell her. She’ll just have to find out when she shows up for our first meeting in a couple of weeks.”

  “Come on, Knox. She needs to know,” Blaise reasoned as if he had any idea how the shit would actually turn out.

  And since I had a pretty good idea of the possibilities, I quickly replied, “Fuck that. You want her to know about your plans to ditch us then you can tell her. But the last thing I need to be doin’ is gettin’ even more on her bad side for some shit that really doesn’t even concern me.”

  His face was pulled into a smirk as he crossed his arms and challenged, “So if I go upstairs and tell her right now, what are you gonna do?”

  I shrugged, shaking the dust from the push broom into a pile as I answered, “I’m gonna take an Uber back to the hotel, hop on the first flight home that I can find, and show my ass up to that meeting like this conversation never happened.”

  Blaise instantly burst with laughter, tossing the clothes he had collected into the Lost and Found box as he yelled across the room, “I can’t believe your grown ass is really this scared to tell her. Biggest scaredy cat I’ve ever seen.”

  “Man, ain’t nobody afraid to tell her anything. It’s just not a part of my strategy,” I attempted to reason even though I knew it sounded like some bullshit.

  And once Blaise made it back over my way, it was obvious he felt the same when he asked, “So what’s your masterplan then, huh? Gonna get in front of those cameras and sweep her right off of her feet?”

  Truth be told, there wasn’t a plan in the world flexible enough to tackle Amerie quite yet. There were way too many layers to get through, way too many barriers to cross before I’d even be allowed to access that part of her again. In all honesty, I wasn’t even sure if I deserved the opportunity with how arrogantly I had handled the situation way back when. But considering I wasn’t exactly interested in going so deep about it, I could only joke, “In front of the camera, behind the camera, on top of the camera…”

  Blaise shook his head with another chuckle, though this time it was filled with more disbelief than actual amusement. “You do realize that’s exactly what got your ass in trouble the first time, right?”

  “Nah, that was actually the only part I had down pat. It was everything else that I fucked up,” I admitted to him for what felt like the hundredth time even though Amerie had yet to hea
r it. But even Blaise didn’t know the full truth behind the actions that had caused things to be the way they were.

  Navigating relationships were something I had never been good at, especially after growing up watching the most toxic relationship of all in my own household. My father had never been a bad man in general. He worked a steady job in the factory to provide for us, showed up to parent teacher conferences and school music showcases, got us the Christmas gifts we asked for year after year. But he was wrong as hell when it came to the way he treated my mother. Having multiple women on the side and coming in the house at all hours of the night reeking of perfume weren’t out of the norm. And whenever my mother complained about his behavior, he’d treat it as if it was her fault; that she needed to do more, give more, be more for him to stay around.

  She tried it for a while, tried to be everything he needed and more as if she wasn’t already, going the extra mile to please him. But it didn’t take long for her to learn that she had never been the problem.

  It was always him.

  So instead of continuing to run herself dry trying to fix something that was broken beyond repair, trying to fix a man who didn’t find anything wrong with himself, she moved on. She found her own happiness and a man, Eugene, who loved her for exactly who she was, even if she had to sneak around to be with him.

  I honestly couldn’t blame her. Though I always wondered why she didn’t just divorce my father, especially since it wasn’t as if she hid the new guy from Elijah and I. Hell, he was the one who had introduced me to the dance world and bought me my first cell phone so he’d forever be good in my book. But once my father found out about him, that’s when all hell broke loose.

  It was ass backwards how angry he got about my mother stepping out on their marriage as if he hadn’t been doing the same thing long before Elijah and I were even born. And I was pretty sure that was the only reason my mother had stuck around for as long as she did, to at least give us the benefit of a two-parent household no matter how sketchy it was. But I wished she hadn’t. I wished she would’ve gotten away early on, would’ve just saved herself instead of worrying about our well-being because it ended up not only getting her taken away from us, but my father as well the night he decided to come home in a drunken jealous rage.

  The fighting between my parents was nothing new. In fact, Elijah and I had both grown numb to it fairly early, knew exactly where to go and what to do so we wouldn’t have to hear too much of the usual. But there was nothing usual or familiar about the gunshot that rang out, shortly followed by a scream of horror and then a second shot.

  Since I was the oldest by two years, I left Elijah in the basement to go check out the scene. And the sight of my parents - both victims of their especially toxic version of love - splayed out on the kitchen floor in a mix of their blood was one that would forever be engrained in my head; one that gave me nightmares even now as an adult.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t just that part of the situation that had scarred me for life. It was everything that happened after it too. Being shipped from family member to family member; none of whom really wanted to look after two adolescent boys regardless of the blood connection we supposedly shared. Being forced into a foster care system that steady tried to rip me and my brother apart. Aging out of the foster care system and being left out on the streets to fend for ourselves.

  Elijah and I were forced to grow up way faster than we should’ve, hit with the harsh realities of life way faster than children should be. But we didn’t let it break us. We stuck together, found our own lanes along with a new city to survive and thrive in, and were now living the dream.

  Well… at least at a surface level.

  Deep down I knew everything about my upbringing played a major role in how poorly I handled relationships now. I had no idea what I was doing, had no interest in falling in love if it meant being in a hostile situation like the one my parents were in, had no clue how that shit was even supposed to work when done the right way. I was just doing whatever seemed like the right move at the time as if dealing with people was some sort of science experiment.

  And in a sense it was. Some people just required different things, required a different recipe. But unfortunately with Amerie, I had created the recipe from hell; terrible side effects and all.

  It was easy to dwell on where things had obviously gone wrong, easy to blame the horrific events of my childhood and my problematic view of what love actually was. But the truth was, the same way I knew my father only had himself to blame for all of the shit between him and my mother was the same way I knew I had to take full responsibility when it came to making things right between Amerie and I.

  This was all on me.

  Amerie

  Nervous was hardly a sufficient word for the anxiety looming over me as I headed to the first meeting regarding Choreographer Lane; the corny name whatever executive producer had come up with for the show Blaise and Knox pegged me to do. But it wasn’t the business or details of the show that had me nervous. I had already scoured the details of the contract, the treatment for the show, and everything in between. But the idea of being in the same room as Knox for the first time since our… game at the studio; that was something worth being anxious about.

  I still wasn’t sure what had come over me in that moment. Didn’t know what it was that made me go so hard. But I was definitely grateful that I didn’t have to actually address it with him since he had ended up getting a ride back to his hotel from Blaise, giving me a chance to get my shit together in preparation for seeing him again. Though considering that incident was now a few weeks ago, there didn’t seem to be enough time in the world as I slowly headed towards the building owned by the network, checking my appearance in the reflection of the window before using the revolving doors to go inside.

  My breathing hitched the second I stepped foot in the lobby only to find a suit-and-tied Knox looking fresh out of someone’s watch advertisement as he peeked at the time before peeking up to find me.

  Then he smiled.

  And under any other circumstances, I probably would’ve melted into a puddle or bolted out of the door. But I couldn’t let him know how he easily he had me flustered, and hot, and… Jesus, I can’t stand him.

  “There you are. I was worried you weren’t going to show up,” he announced, meeting my approach halfway as he slipped his hands into his pockets though I secretly wished he would’ve used them on me.

  For a hug.

  I wanted his hands for an innocent, friendly hug.

  I immediately shook off my irrational thoughts, balancing on my heels as I challenged, “Why would you be worried about that, Knox?”

  Regardless of how tempting it was to skip out on the meeting, opt for a conference call, do anything in my power to avoid such an awkward predicament, the last thing I wanted to do was look like some prima donna before the cameras were even turned on. And I definitely didn’t want it to look like I couldn’t take the heat from Knox, no matter how much his simple gaze was draining my reserve of disdain for him.

  I certainly wished I would’ve been able to save some of that energy once I heard him answer, “I just figured once Blaise broke the news to you, you would’ve wanted nothing to do with it.”

  “Wait… once Blaise broke what news?” I asked, my heart already pounding through my ears as I waited for an explanation.

  An explanation that remained delayed as Knox only replied with a vague, “Shit… he ain’t tell you?”

  Naturally I became even more panicky, this time getting right in his face to ask, “Tell me what? Is something wrong with him? Something wrong with Malia?”

  While I hadn’t talked to either of them since stopping by the studio to pay my condolences after their private cremation ceremony for Malia’s mother, I assumed they would’ve gotten in touch if something was serious. And Knox’s little shrug did nothing to ease my worries when he answered, “Nah. I mean… yeah. But that’s not news.”

  “So what
is it then?”

  I almost forgot how close we were standing until he released a heavy sigh, the faint scent of peppermint on his breath tickling my nostrils as I listened to him reply, “He’s not doing the show anymore.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Again, as I panicked, Knox was as cool and nonchalant as can be when he clarified, “He backed out. Said he needs to be there for wifey and baby girl.”

  It felt like a weight had been dropped on my chest as I tried to process his words, not to mention the fact that I was just now finding out even though Knox had clearly known the truth well before this meeting. And not only was the late notice an issue, but the uncertainty of how we were going to move forward now that we were one man short.

  “So now what? It was supposed to be the three of us. Are they going to find another choreographer? Fill it in with an up-and-comer?” I questioned, finally taking the step back that should’ve been done minutes ago.

  The space prompted Knox to take another peek at this watch, nodding towards the elevators to signal we should head up as he explained, “They’re actually really excited about the prospect of it just being the two of us. Like a duo. A tandem. A couple… of choreographers. With me givin’ the men’s perspective and you reppin’ for the women. But Shep will tell you all about that when we get in there.”

  I watched intently as he pressed the Up button to a glow, crossing my arms over my chest as I muttered, “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you orchestrated this shit yourself.”

  The situation truly felt like it had Knox written all over it. I mean, how convenient that I’d be stuck with him, on my own, left to fend for myself for a whole month as we forcefully interacted with each other for a paycheck. And considering it technically did have at least his initials ingrained since he was the one to come to me with the idea in the first place, I certainly didn’t expect him to snap his eyes at me when he asked, “You really think I knew Malia’s mama was gonna go off to the upper room?”