Enchanting Melody
Will had only been a resident of the luxury apartment complex for three weeks, so he was interested in meeting new people, but not in the middle of a workout.
He’d been varying his exercise routine in the penthouse health club hoping to avoid his chatty neighbors. It was quickly becoming apparent that Parkview residents didn’t come to the gym to work out, they came to be seen.
On his first visit, he’d felt strangely under-dressed for the gym. He’d shown up in faded sweats and a paint-splattered T-shirt, while everyone else wore color-coordinated designer labels. He’d barely noticed anyone breaking a sweat. His own workout had progressed slowly because all the machines were tied up with men and women carrying on leisurely conversations while they kept up the vague appearance of exercising.
Cutting his losses, Will rode the elevator back down to his apartment. The thought of buying his own exercise equipment flashed in his mind for the umpteenth time, and for the umpteenth time he dismissed it.
Despite his hard-won status as one of New York’s more successful stockbrokers, the lifestyle was still too new for him to abandon his working-class values. He just couldn’t waste money on expensive workout machines when his exorbitant rent covered a fully-equipped gym just three floors up. And since he belonged to a rare group of individuals who actually took full advantage of the state-of-the-art machines, the equipment was in excellent condition.
Will dragged his towel across the back of his neck as he entered his apartment. Getting accepted by the Parkview Housing Committee had been an arduous seven-week process involving background checks, prying interviews and several reference letters from well-placed individuals. Now that he was here, the hassle had been worth it. The exclusive residence represented a lifelong climb from Brooklyn factory work to Wall Street success.
Of course things were different here. Different from working two jobs to get by. Different from backbreaking manual labor, sleep-deprivation and night school. Different had been exactly what Will was looking for.
It was just going to take some getting used to, that’s all. But, in the meantime, he needed a dose of reality.
Will sat on the couch with his cordless phone and dialed his younger brother’s number. Tony answered right away.
“Will! Hey, man, what’s up? How’s Park Avenue life treating you? No wait, don’t tell me. I’m not in the mood to shoot myself.”
Tony always pretended that he wanted to switch places with Will, but he knew his brother better than that. Tony had always been quite content with the cards life had dealt him. Will had been the dissatisfied one.
By contrast, Tony had always worked at the plastics factory and had never pursued another career path. He’d started a family at eighteen and was happy with the small apartment he lived in with his wife and three sons. Will knew this because once he’d begun making money, he’d offered to move them into a big house, or upgrade their ten-year-old car, and all of these offers had been firmly refused. Christmases and birthdays were the only occasions Will was allowed to spend money on them, and even then, extravagant gifts were returned.
“Everything’s fine here.” Will heard cheering in the background. “What’s going on over there?”
“Oh, you know how we do. The boys are watching basketball. Frieda’s making hot wings.”
“I love Frieda’s wings,” Will said in an unmistakable plea for an invitation.
“Then come on over, man. You know you’re always welcome here.”
Will started to accept his brother’s offer, but Tony continued, “It’s funny, when you moved to the other side of the tracks, I was worried we wouldn’t see you much. But, you’ve been back in the ’hood almost every day. Basketball at the rec center, pizza night at Shucky’s Bar, you even showed up for dominoes at Little Harold’s two nights ago.”
Will laughed sheepishly. “What are you trying to say? Are you getting tired of me?”
“Nah, bro, nothing like that. I’m just wondering why you worked so hard to get out of the ’hood, just so you could come back and hang here every other night. What’s the matter? Park Avenue ain’t all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Of course it is,” Will answered quickly. “It’s great. Everything’s great. Really great.” Stop saying great, you idiot!
“Good. Don’t forget I’m an old married man. I have to live through you. You’re supposed to be dating some model chick and going to bougie parties where they serve snails and crap like that.”
“Yeah, yeah, all that’s on the agenda. I’ve just been…working a lot. I still teach dance two nights a week.”
“You can’t work all the time. What about dating? Meet any hot girls lately?”
“Hot girls?” A tattooed girl with combat boots and a waist-length braid flashed in his brain. “Oh yeah, they’re everywhere.”
“Ahhh, yeah! Talk to me.”
“Actually, that’s why I was calling. I wanted you and the kids to know you wouldn’t be seeing me as much in the next few weeks. Between work, the dance studio and my impending social life, my schedule’s starting to look pretty tight.”
“Glad to hear it, man. The boys will miss seeing you around, but we’d all rather you had a life. I was starting to wonder if you were afraid to live in that crystal palace you worked so hard to get into.”
Will felt heat wash down his neck as the truth of Tony’s words hit home. “Wow, you suddenly getting deep on me, bro?”
“Hey, I gotta make sure you’re all right. Park Avenue’s a different world. All your peeps are still in Brooklyn.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.”
“Cool. Then the only other explanation is that you still haven’t figured out how to work that talking stove of yours.”
Will laughed hard into the phone, then paused. “How did you know?”
“All right, man, jump in the car and get over here before Frieda’s wings get cold.”
Melody waited in the corner of the dance studio as other couples began to arrive. As the trendy men and women around her chatted amongst themselves or practiced last week’s lesson, Mel chided herself for coming back to class.
She didn’t fit in here. Normally, that was a good thing. But today Mel felt dopey for showing up to class fifteen minutes early. It was silly to have sweaty palms and a stomach doing somersaults. And she felt extra foolish for wearing her black pleated mini skirt to impress the teacher.
She glanced down at the chunky sports watch on her wrist as she eyed the door. Three minutes to go. Maybe she could still—
“Good evening, class.” Will Coleman walked into the room, eliminating all hope of a quick escape. “I’m glad to see some of you practicing.”
Melody swallowed hard, hating the sudden giddiness she felt at the sight of him. He wore tan slacks with a fitted knit shirt that showed off his muscular build. His leather belt matched his brown loafers perfectly. He looked neat. Conservative. Delicious.
She blinked. What was getting into her? Since when was conservative delicious?
Feeling a tiny bit self-conscious, Mel glanced at her mirrored image on the opposite wall. He’d told them to wear leather-soled shoes. The only pair she owned were her black studded cowboy boots. With those she wore opaque gray tights and her mini skirt with black-and-white suspenders hanging free at her waist. On top she wore a black baby-T sporting the word Brat in angry white letters. To complete the look, she’d positioned two ponytails at the back of her head and then bound them together with randomly-spaced rubber bands in a variety of colors.
This was as dressed-up as she got. So he’d damn well better appreciate it.
Will caught her eye and gave her a warm smile. Her knees went weak. And weakness made Melody bitter. She lifted her chin, finding composure in defiance.
“Okay, class, let’s line up. Followers on the right. Leaders on the left.”
Melody got in line. The numbers were still uneven. Will would have to be her partner again. Her heart began to race.
“Now that you all know the basic steps, I want you to get a feel for dancing with different partners. Start with the person directly across from you, and after a few minutes, we’ll rotate.”
Melody’s heart sank. She was anxious to show Will how much she’d improved. At least she’d get to dance with the teacher first, she thought as he approached her.
“Melody, do you mind practicing on your own for this round? I need to be mobile to monitor everyone’s progress,” he said quietly to her, and then more loudly, “Class, each follower will have to dance one round on their own. But don’t worry, we’ll keep rotating so everyone will have a partner most of the time.”
It was all Mel could do not to groan out loud. Why on earth had she come back? Trying not to embarrass herself, Melody dutifully ran through the steps on her own and was feeling pretty confident when it was time to rotate.
An older man with silver hair and a friendly smile walked up to her. He extended his hand. “Hi, my name is George.”
“I’m Mel, um, Melody.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Melody.” George took her into his arms. The music started and he glided with her around the floor with expertise.
“Are you sure you need lessons?” she asked her partner.
“This is more of a refresher course for me. My wife Gretchen is the one who really wants to learn.”
Melody was disappointed when it was time to rotate. It had been nice to dance with someone who knew what he was doing but didn’t stir up those pesky butterflies.
Her next partner, Scott, was a bit more of a challenge. Clearly nervous, he stayed two beats ahead of the music. Feeling good about her progress, Mel took the lead and Scott let her.
“You’re a great dancer,” the redhead said and his face flushed as he struggled not to meet her eyes.
“Thank you.”
Scott moved on quickly, catching sight of the reproachful looks his girlfriend was shooting from across the room.
Her next partner appeared before her, the stocky Italian she remembered from the previous week. “Hi, I’m Melody.”
“Joey,” he said curtly and jerked her into position.
His grip was tight and Melody constantly felt off balance. She tried pushing against him to get control of her footing.
Joey clamped her into a firmer grip and physically moved her across the floor.
“Dude, loosen up.” She pushed against him harder.
“Hey, stop trying to lead.”
“Fine, but you need to stop trying to bulldoze me.”
The two of them moved awkwardly across the floor, occasionally creating so much resistance in their frame that they looked like wrestlers battling for a title belt.
When Joey missed a beat, Mel would try to force him to catch up. “Quit leading,” Joey muttered.
“You’re off beat.”
“You’re supposed to follow me, no matter what.” He applied more force to their frame.
Feeling red-hot anger creeping up her spine, Melody applied some force of her own. “It would help if you were doing it right.”
They were so caught up in their power struggle that neither of them noticed that the music had stopped and the entire class was watching them.
Will walked over. “What’s the problem?”
“She won’t quit leading,” Joey piped up like the whiney tattletale he was.
Mel took a deep breath, trying not to show Will just how evil her temper could get. “I wasn’t trying to lead,” she bit out. “I was just trying to keep him from sweeping the floor with my heels.”
“She’s some kind of control freak.”
Melody whirled on Joey, but before she could even think of wrapping her fingers around the man’s neck, Will had pulled her into his arms. Lifting her arm over her head, he spun her back around in a graceful twirl.
“Okay, class, that’s enough rotating for today. Go back to your original partners. We’re going to learn some turns.”
Chapter 3
For the remainder of class, Will kept Melody at his side as he showed them how to add spins to the basic patterns they’d learned. Once again, as he was dismissing the students and giving them instructions on what to practice for next week, Melody tried to slip out.
“You’re trying to sneak off again?” Will called out before she reached the door.
She turned to face him, looking sheepish.
“I’m going to start taking it personally.”
She walked back over to him. “I just don’t think I have the right temperament for ballroom dancing. I’m not a let-a-guy-control-me type of girl.”
Will let his gaze travel over Melody. She’d struck a brazen pose, hip jutted out and arms crossed. Her catlike eyes, ringed with dark liner, dared him to contradict her. No, she wasn’t the passive type.
Speaking of types. She wasn’t his at all. Her fashion sense was a mix of goth and grunge instead of Gaultier and Gucci. Melody Rush was dark, defiant and every bit the brat her shirt proclaimed.
He took in the shapely legs stemming from her low black cowboy boots and the rippled abs peeking out of her baby-T. On the other hand, she was sexy and he was a man. It just didn’t go much deeper than that.
“Melody, you’ve got it all wrong. Just because the man leads doesn’t mean the woman is passive. It’s our job to make you look good. Like the pedestal under a Ming vase—the man bears the weight so the woman can be admired.”
“Yeah, that’s cute, but you can’t tell me after today that I’m cut out for this. Dancing with some of the guys was okay, but that last one—” Melody formed her hands into a choking gesture.
Will stifled a smirk. “It takes a while to adjust to new partners. The more confident you become in your own dancing ability, the easier it will be for you to adapt to a new partner’s style.”
“You make it sound so easy, but I’m not buying it. I’ve barely gotten used to this pattern, and now you’re talking about teaching swing next week? That’s the one where they throw you around like a rag doll, right?”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Will said, amused. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll give you a sneak peek at next week’s lesson. That way you can practice a few steps on your own.”
Suddenly Melody looked nervous. “No, I don’t want to waste your time. The studio’s closing. You probably want to get home.”
He took a step toward her, holding out his hand. “It’s no problem.”
She took a step back, and he paused. “Unless you’d rather not.” He liked the fact that he could rattle her. He could tell that was something that didn’t happen often.
She visibly swallowed and took his hand. “Hey, if you’re up for it, I am, too. I guess I need all the help I can get.”
Taking the stereo remote from his pocket, he hit the CD changer and a bouncy swing filled the room. “Okay, the basic swing pattern is relatively simple—one, two, rock step.”
He had to show her several times before the rock step began to sink in. “Loosen up. You’ve got to let yourself feel the connection. Try not to think so hard.”
Melody stumbled. “I don’t know about this. Swing seems so corny.”
“Corny? The swing? No way. It’s the most versatile dance of them all. I bet you didn’t know that you can swing to hip-hop music.” He pulled the remote from his pocket and the CD switched to a pounding beat. Will continued to lead her through the basic pattern.
Melody wrinkled her nose. “Hip-hop isn’t exactly my thing.”
He twirled her around then spun her around his back. “Oh that’s right, goth girls are more into metal, right?”
“I’m not much for labels, but yeah, I like rock, punk, alternative…”
“Hmm, I’ve never tried to swing to punk music before. Maybe if you bring some in, we could try it out.”
She regarded him with a wary eye. “Maybe.”
“There you go.” He led her around the room. “You’re getting the hang of it now.”
He watched Melody trying to fight back her grin. “It’s all right, I guess,” she said.
Feeling her confidence growing, Will led her into more complicated steps. Melody followed along like a pro.
“I have to know, what made you want to take ballroom-dancing lessons?” he asked, pulling her close.
Melody scoffed. “Do I look like someone who would want ballroom-dancing lessons? No, I’m the maid of honor in my sister’s circus—I mean wedding. I think she only gave me the title in order to inflict girly tortures upon me—ballroom dancing, pointy-toed shoes, hot rollers…”
The image of Melody in pink taffeta and ruffles scowling at her sister from the front of a church sent a rush of laughter up from his diaphragm. He missed a beat, throwing them off for a second. “Come on, it isn’t that bad, is it?”
“Oh, it’s going to be bad. My family gets one favor and this is it. I only have to be presentable for a few hours,” she muttered through clenched teeth.
Will laughed. “Well, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll make sure you’re the belle of the ball.”
Right on queue, Melody faltered. “I’ll settle for not falling on my butt.”
“No problem.” He lowered her into a steep dip so that she was barely skimming the floor, then he whisked her up into a graceful turn.
His hands slid inside her T-shirt onto the smooth skin of her back. The song on the stereo had moved on to a pulsing erotic beat. For a brief second their eyes locked.
Melody immediately looked away. “So what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” she asked when she’d regained her breath.
Will exhaled slowly, taking hold of her hands for less intimate contact.
“I’m a stockbroker. I teach dance part-time. It was one of many odd jobs I used to do, and I still love it.”
“I figured it was a side job. Most people can’t buy designer shoes and diamond watches on a teaching salary.”
“I teach to stay sane. The stock market can be stressful. Dancing relaxes me.”
“Dancing has the opposite effect on me, but I guess that stands to reason since I have two left feet.”
“Nonsense, you’re doing well.” He took her through another pattern. “See that? You’ve just learned two weeks worth of steps in fifteen minutes. Next week, you’ll be way ahead of the class.”
“Great, now I’ve probably forgotten everything I learned from the last two weeks.”
“Not a chance. I’ll show you.” Will changed the music to a romantic melody by Frank Sinatra. He took her into his arms and the two of them immediately fell into fox-trot step.
Will had danced with many women. Old, young, the talented, the uncoordinated and some of the most beautiful, graceful dancers in New York. But there was something he just loved about dancing with Melody.
Dancing with her awakened primitive responses in him he’d never felt before. She would hate to know it but because she was so resistant to being controlled, making her body bend to his will gave him a rush of power.
She had the body of a ballerina, and all the grace of an elephant. But, he was skilled enough to compensate for that. He turned her this way and that, watching her hips and arms move in perfect concert with his. He didn’t want to take his hands off of her.
Will thought she’d been enjoying it, too, until she suddenly jerked out of his arms and pushed him away. She’d moved so quickly he stumbled back a few steps before catching himself.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry—I think I’ve got it now.”
Will stared at her, still stunned by her sudden retreat. “Um, okay…”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just that it’s getting late. I think I should go.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“I mean, thank you—for this. I think it really helped.”
She was chattering a mile a minute. And the truth began to sink into Will’s head. She didn’t know how to handle the attraction between them. He had two choices. He could be professional: slow down, put her at ease and make her feel safe, or…
“I understand. All of this can get overwhelming. Maybe it would help you to get out onto a real dance floor. The Franklin Hotel has cocktails and dancing every Monday night. I could take you after class next week. You’ll have the chance to practice in a less structured environment.”
From the look of pure dread in her eyes, Will was certain Melody would turn him down.
“Next week?” Her voice squeaked slightly.
“Yes.”
Her brow furrowed. “After class?”
“Yes.”
“Just the two of us?”
Will nodded. “That’s right.”
He watched her swallow.
“Okay.”
Melody breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into the familiar territory of Alchemy that night—on Mondays it was goth night. There was something so comforting about the red neon skull glowing in the window after an evening in that highbrow dance studio.
Stage lights washed the normally stark walls in a hazy red, and a blue spotlight swirled around the three-man band raging on the tiny stage. Off to one side of the cramped room akin to someone’s basement apartment, she found her friends at a table far from the stage.
“There she is. Finished with ballet class?” Bass called to her.
Mel rolled her eyes. “It’s not ballet—it’s ballroom dancing. And it figures you wouldn’t know the difference.” She pulled up a chair.
“Ballet or ballroom…either way, I’ve just got to see this. Aren’t you going to show us what you’ve learned?” asked her friend, Roland.
People at Alchemy didn’t dance so much as let the music vibrate through them into pulsating—almost convulsive—rocking motions.
“Only if you’re my partner. Do you think you’re up for it, Roland?” Mel challenged.
Roland, with his pale skin and thick, black-framed glasses could easily be mistaken for a college professor. He wore slim black pants, and a black V-neck sweater with a white T-shirt. In fact, he’d look better suited for a library than Alchemy if it weren’t for the spiky black hair that jutted in sharp angles from the top of his head…and the red lipstick.
Roland glanced at his girlfriend Samantha, whom they all affectionately referred to as Tha. “How about it, Tha? Do you dare me?”
Tha was a bleached blonde with three inches of black roots. She wore lip and eyebrow piercings and heavy metallic-green eye shadow. She just shrugged without looking up from her beer. “Mel’s going to make you look like a dork. But, if you’re cool with that, then I’m cool with it.”
Roland got up and moved into an empty space at the back of the bar. Mel shook her head as she followed him. Punk music blared from the speakers above her head. Counting quickly, she abandoned any thoughts of a fox-trot.
“Normally, the man leads. But, between the two of us, I think I qualify the most.” She took Roland’s hands and showed him the pattern Will had taught her earlier that evening. “One, two, rock step. Got it?”
Roland looked baffled.
The beat of the music was frantic, but they eventually managed to fall into a crazed, but steady rhythm. They were doing well enough that Bass and Tha soon joined them, frantically trying to imitate their movements. After several minutes, other people in the club got up to join them.
The band, energized by the dancing crowd, played two extra songs before ending their set for a break. Mel and her friends returned to their table out of breath.
“I can’t wait to tell Will you really can swing dance to punk music,” Mel said to herself.
Just then, a man Melody had never seen before set a beer down in front of her. “You looked like you could use a drink,” he said with a flirtatious smile.
Melody looked from the drink to the guy, then back at the drink.
“What’s the matter, don’t you drink?” he asked.
Mel picked up the glass and passed it back to him. “I don’t drink anything you bring me.”
The guy stood staring blankly for a moment before finally wandering off.
Samantha shook her head at her. “You never cease to amaze me. Everywhere we go, men fall all over themselves trying to impress you. You always shoot them down without batting an eyelash.”
Melody shrugged. “I didn’t ask him for the drink. He volunteered for bartending duty.”