Breaking Skin (7 page)

Langley is fidgety beside me as we walk inside and get in line. “Are those the Happy Meal prizes?” she asks, pointing to a set of different-colored Hello Kitties displayed in a glass case by the register.

“I guess so.”

Based on the longing look in her eyes, I’m thinking she’s not too old for Happy Meals, and when it’s my turn, I order her one. For myself, I only get coffee, even though I wouldn’t mind an order of fries.

Langley’s food is ready in less than five minutes, which seems to pleasantly surprise her.

“You got me a Happy Meal?” Her tone is accusing. “I thought we were going to eat healthy stuff.”

“Sorry.”

I shrug unapologetically and she releases an exaggerated sigh as if she’s doing me a big favor by eating it, but she can’t continue the act when she sits down and takes her pink Hello Kitty toy out of the box. Her smile betrays her.

As she takes a bite of her chicken nugget, I pull out my phone and take a picture.

Langley’s eyes narrow. “You’re sending that to Mom, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” I grin as I message it to Renee. Maybe now that I’m corrupting her child, she’ll respond.

“So your mother never takes you here?” I ask, blowing lightly on my coffee. Renee and I used to come here whenever we could scrape together enough money, which wasn’t often.

Langley bites her lip before reaching for a french fry. “Sometimes my friends’ parents bring me, but I may forget to mention that to Mom.”

I smile to myself. “I’m sure it would be okay with her as long as it wasn’t all the time. She isn’t completely wrong, you know. This stuff isn’t exactly good for you.”

“Is that why you’re not eating it?”

With a sigh, I look at a french fry as it disappears into her mouth. “I have to be careful of what I eat because of dancing.”

“You don’t want to get fat.” She nods as if she understands.

Alarms go off in my head because I don’t want her to take what I said and twist it into something it’s not. “It’s not about being fat. It’s about being healthy.”

Langley eyes me skeptically because she doesn’t miss the way I look longingly at her fries.

“Too bad,” she says, savoring the next fry, chewing it slowly to tease me.

“Brat,” I mutter, and she giggles again while I clear my throat, avert my gaze, and sip my coffee.

“That’s why you couldn’t come to my birthday party. Because you were dancing.”

My gaze flicks back to hers. The hurt in her voice resonates inside me, erasing my good humor.

“Yes. Because I was dancing in a show. I’m sorry, Langley. We had a performance in Phoenix that night, or else I would have been there.”

The fact that Renee planned it that way has me pressing my lips together tightly, holding back the truth because I can’t tell her what her mother did. It wouldn’t be right.

“But your real birthday wasn’t the weekend of your party. It was the Wednesday before, and I was here for that.”

Langley nods thoughtfully. “But none of my friends saw you. Some of them think I’m lying about you being a real ballerina.”

I put my coffee down and sit up a little straighter.
She tells her friends about me? That’s a surprise.

“Did you show them my picture on the ballet company’s website? I’m under the Corps de Ballet section with my picture and a bio.”

Langley looks at me like I’m nuts. “That’s lame. I could be showing them anyone for all they know.”

“But my name is there. It’s the same last name as yours and . . .” I stop talking when her expression doesn’t change.

Sitting back in my chair, I expel a heavy breath as the wide reach of Renee’s scheming sinks in. I watch Langley eat, acting as if nothing bothers her, but I don’t buy it. An idea comes together in my head.

“What are your friends doing tomorrow?”

Langley stops chewing and looks at me.

“I have to check with your mom first, but maybe we could pull something together for your friends.”

She sits up straighter. “What do you mean?”

I shrug to play it down in case I can’t pull it off. “Maybe I could give a short performance at the house, or even better, at the dance studio where your mom teaches. Would your friends be available on such short notice?”

“Seriously?” Langley leans forward over the table.

“Seriously.”

She grins. “If we do it in the afternoon, everyone should be able to come.”

“Okay, then.”

Langley bounces in her seat with excitement, but my mind is spinning. What am I thinking? I don’t have my shoes here or any dance clothes. Renee will hate the idea, but at this point I don’t care what she thinks. I want to do something nice for my niece, and since Langley already knows about it, if Renee nixes it she’s the bad guy, not me.

I pull out my phone and text Deedee while Langley finishes her lunch. Basically, I send a Mayday and pray Deedee can drop everything to help me out. After all, two
real
ballerinas are better than one, and I bet the kids would love to see us en pointe in our most ostentatious costumes. Besides, if I can get Deedee to drive down here tomorrow, I can ride back to the city with her and save money on bus fare.

She responds a few minutes later.

Deedee: Sounds fun. What time?

I beam at my phone because I freaking love this girl. After thanking her with lots of exclamation points and happy faces, I write that I’ll text her the details later. Before I put my phone away, I glance at all the unanswered messages I sent to Renee, and unease creeps in. She’s not the most reliable or responsible person, but she’s never done anything like this before.

“Maybe we’ll go by the studio on the way back to see if we can use it tomorrow,” I suggest. I know exactly where the dance studio Renee teaches is located since it’s been there forever. She and I practically grew up within its walls.

Despite the shock I experienced earlier and the roller coaster of emotions, I’m excited to do this. I look forward to showing off for Langley in front of her friends and making them all see that she’s not a liar.

T
he dance studio is still at the same location, but it’s changed quite a lot. Miss Emily is gone and the building has been renovated, updated like so many other parts of Cooperstown. As I look up at the high ceilings with its exposed beams and ductwork, a woman emerges from the back and says hello to Langley, who launches into an excited explanation of why we’re here.

Once she finishes, the woman extends her hand to me. “I’m Priscilla. It’s nice to see you again.”

My eyes widen. “Priscilla? Miss Emily’s daughter?”

She grins. “I own the place now. Didn’t your sister tell you?”

“No.” My brow wrinkles and she chuckles in response.

“My mother would be surprised too because I never wanted to dance. But this space came up for rent a few years ago, and I couldn’t let another coffee shop or hair salon come in here and demolish all my memories.”

I smile at my own memories of this place.

“I miss your mother,” I say. “Every time I dance, I hear her voice in my head, giving me advice.”

Priscilla smiles. “She always had plenty to offer. How’s your mother doing? Renee tells me she’s making progress.”

“Yes, she is,” I reply, rather than say I don’t know what progress my mother is making. Maggie Taylor has not been a part of my life for a very long time.

“Well,” Priscilla says, grinning in Langley’s direction, “I think a performance for Langley’s friends is a wonderful idea. Our last class on Sundays is at two. You could do it afterward.”

“That sounds perfect.”

We catch up a little more and then I call for Langley, who’s wandered off to watch a dance class.

Back at the car, she eyes me as I try to buckle her into her seat again.

“Want me to do it?” she asks after letting me struggle a bit first.

“Sure.” I hand her the seat belt and she fastens it easily.

“Can we go to McDonald’s for dinner too if Mom isn’t back yet?”

I laugh, but then realize I may have to actually give Langley dinner if Renee isn’t back in time. I check my phone yet again, and my jaw clenches with frustration. Still no word from her.

When I ask Langley if she knows where the grocery store is, she directs me to a Safeway near the center of town that wasn’t there when I was growing up. As we make our way inside, I ask her what she wants for dinner.

“You can cook?” she asks, sounding surprised.

I narrow my eyes. “Why would you think I can’t cook?”

She shrugs, but then suddenly a grin lights her face and she points to a spot behind me. “There’s Derek and his dad. I’m going to say hi.”

My heart leaps into my throat as I reach out a hand to stop her, but I’m too late. She’s already walking across the produce section toward the boy from next door and a man who looks a lot like Cole.

Who am I kidding? I take him in, and it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. That is Cole. There’s no question about it.

I nearly forgot how formidable he is, standing out among the other shoppers with shoulders so broad, they could block out the sun if you stood behind him on a clear day.

When he sees Langley, Cole grins easily and then looks up to see who she’s with. When he clocks me, his gaze sharpens and I swallow hard. I can read the words on his lips as he asks Langley who I am. After she responds, his gaze returns to me, but his eyes narrow slightly and turn chillier.

I stare back, confused by the sharp edge in his gaze. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t remember me. Odds are he doesn’t. I’m sure he hasn’t thought of me as much as I’ve thought of him. But if he does remember, what’s that harsh look for? Am I a mistake he’d rather forget? A regret from his past?

Since Langley has firmly planted herself in front of them, I can’t walk away without her. I have no choice but to go retrieve her. Flutters erupt in my belly because I’m about to talk to Cole for the first time in two years. Nerves buzz beneath my skin but I resolve not to let them show. I hold my head up high because I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Derek and Cole are looking at Langley when I approach. “Hi.” I include them both in my greeting. “I’m Nikki, Langley’s aunt.”

“I know,” Derek says. “You look just like her mom.”

I smile, but my grin falters when ice-blue eyes meet mine and I realize I’m not imagining it. There’s no warmth in his gaze for me. None at all.

“Good to see you, Nichole,” he says evenly.

His greeting gives me a jolt. He does remember me, but obviously not as fondly as I remember him. My chest tightens with embarrassment and confusion.

Beside me, Langley corrects him. “Everyone calls her Nikki.”

“Nikki,” he repeats as if the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “So you’re Renee’s sister. She told me all about you.”

With those ominous words, a realization hits me. This wouldn’t be the first time Renee spoke badly about me to someone. When I first arrived at the ballet company, our relationship was in tatters and it became her favorite hobby. What did she say this time to put that look of utter disgust on Cole’s face?

My stomach turns and resentment sparks inside my chest. Based on his reaction, when Renee spoke about me, Cole didn’t know she meant
me
, someone he knows intimately. Now that he realizes, the fact that he would still judge me so harshly based on her word and without giving me the benefit of the doubt is unfair.

It hurts twice as much because in my head I’ve built him into a figure of perfection. He’s my ideal. The man I’ve compared all other men to for years. But that man was a figment of my imagination. A total fantasy, nothing like the judgmental person who stands in front of me now.

I reach for Langley’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. We’d better let them get on with their shopping.”

She pulls out of my grasp. “Can I invite them to the studio tomorrow to see you dance?”

My whole body tenses as I cut my eyes back to Cole. It’s better if he says no himself since I’m sure he will.

“They might already have plans for tomorrow,” I say, praying that it’s true.

He opens his mouth and I think he’s about to agree when someone raises their voice from across the aisle and draws his attention away.

“Demolition Man Dempsey?”

Cole sighs.

“You’re Cole Dempsey. Am I right?” An older man in a red baseball cap approaches him.

Derek beams up at his father, who finally nods after a brief hesitation and pastes on a smile.

“I knew it. I told my wife that was you. How you doin’? You ever coming back to the Sharks?”

“I’m retired,” Cole replies.

The guy in the baseball cap pulls a store flyer from his shopping cart and asks Cole to sign it with a pen he already has in his hand. Cole politely writes his name as he engages the man in a brief conversation about the Sharks’ chances this year.

The Sharks?

“My dad used to be a hockey player. Demolition Man was his nickname because he demolished everyone else on the ice,” Derek explains, probably noticing the confusion on my face.

I knew Cole wasn’t a stockbroker like his friend said that night, but a famous hockey player? I know a little about football and baseball, but nothing about hockey.