Dancers

“I’m here to see Darla Tyson.” Liam Walford told the receptionist at the front desk of ‘Darwin, Dance! Dance Company.’

The receptionist peered at him warily. “I’m sorry, but she is busy with a class. You’ll have to wait.”

“I have an appointment, or rather, I was supposed to met her here. I should be on some kind of list.” Liam spoke rapidly out of thinly veiled irritation. He had gotten those kinds of looks before. Just because I’m white, she doesn’t think I can dance, he thought angrily. Well, that’s part of the reason I’m here.

The receptionist looked at her computer. “Name please?”

“Liam Walford, 7 o’clock.”

“I apologize, Mr. Walford.” she told him. “Ms. Tyson does have you down for an appointment, but she had to schedule an emergency rehearsal for Blue’s backup dancers. She’s very busy, I’m sure she forgot.”

Yeah, right, muttered Liam. She probably found out I was white. He paced nervously for a minute, angry enough to blow his top right there. “Where is her dance room?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

“We usually ask people to sit in the waiting room until their teacher tells us their ready…”

Teacher? I’ve had about enough of this shit! “I’m not a teacher, I’m a dance instructor at another studio, and I have an appointment with Ms. Tyson. Now if she doesn’t want to see me, that’s fine, but she can at least have the guts to tell me to her face.”

The receptionist threw her hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger sir. I just tell people the schedule. Her room is down the hall, second room to the left.”

Liam hurriedly walked down the hall to the room. Looking through the window, he could see an African American woman small of stature dressed in a tank top, and tight fitting eighties’ style shorts. She had long hair, restrained in a high ponytail on top of her head, reminded him of a genie. Even through the one way glass, he could see her dark nut brown body glistening with sweat, undulating like the coils of a snake. And what a body it was. Not overly muscular, but not flabby either. The perfect dancer’s body. He couldn’t hear the music playing on the boom box, but he knew it had to be good. When she stopped moving, he saw his chance. He opened the door.

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“Okay. Let’s take it from the top with the new changes.” said Darla. Whew. I am definitely charging double my rate for this session. I know Blue can afford it. She took a towel from her gym bag and wiped her face as she walked over to the boom box on the other side of the room. Didn’t I have something else I was supposed to do today? she asked herself. It’s probably nothing. I probably forgot to pick up my dry cleaning again.

Nothing walked through the door in the form of a 5’10 white guy dressed in gray sweat pants and a black tank top. Or at least he was usually white. His face was a bright pink, and his gray eyes were dark and narrowed. He looked at her with a look of absolute disgust. What’s his problem? Darla thought, putting her hands on her hips, defensively. And what does he want with me?

“Ms. Tyson, if you wanted to cancel our appointment, a phone call would have been nice.” he said arms folded.

“You’re Mr. Walford?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not Santa.”

“Everyone take five. And keep the new turns in mind, people. We don’t have a lot of time to get this right.” Once everyone was gone, Darla felt she could properly apologize. “Mr. Walford. I’m really sorry. I’m the choreographer for Blue’s ‘Drown The World Tour’ and sometimes she makes some very unreasonable demands of me. Do you want to reschedule?”

Liam folded his arms. Impressive. So the receptionist wasn’t lying about that. “Honestly, no. I run my own dance studio, and I already have a full schedule for next month. The Southside Dance-Off is in another two weeks.”

“You’re right. You told me that.” She toweled herself off. “Then we better get started. Do you want to go first?”

“Sure. I’ve already seen what you can do.” He took off his tank top and put it down next to the boom box. Darla noticed he had a very defined chest and stomach. He worked out, took care of his body. It remained to be seen whether or not he could dance. “Do you mind if I play the song you just danced to?”

“Knock yourself out. You sure you don’t want to dance to anything you brought with you?”

Liam shook his head. “That’s not my style. I dance to what I feel. It can be any kind of music.”

So he’s one of those, thought Darla. It will probably be the same two moves over and over again. But of course, she had to let him prove her wrong.

Liam turned on the C.D. The first sound were off-key trumpets . Liam was stunned, and he staggered, but he turned it into a crazy turn. He fell down deliberately on his hands and feet, pushed up to the beat, and landed on his feet. He spun around in one direction on one foot, then he switched feet and spun in the other direction. Then he fell backward on his back like a dead man. When the bass kicked in, he started rising like a marrionette in time to the music. During the final verse, he did some capoira-style dance moves, and ended the song by spinning on his head.

Darla had an unreadable expression on her face. She didn't really know what to make of it. On the one hand, he was off the best freestyle dancers she had ever seen. On the other hand, how was she supposed to dance alongside him? Their styles were totally different, and she didn't want to get accidentally kicked in the head by one of his flying kicks. She started biting her lip.

"You didn't like it." Liam noted, in a flat voice, wiping his face off with a towel.

"I don't believe I've said anything at all." She didn't much like his attitude either, though in all fairness, she realized it was her fault for not keeping their apointment. "I just don't see how I can dance alongside you. I don't dance like that. I practice my moves over and over again until they're perfect."

"I see. So you think my dancing is too unpredictable?"

"I'm saying we're too different. I don't know how we would be able to meld our styles together without looking sloppy."