Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alyssa
Alyssa sat on the smooth wooden floor in Madame Schuler’s back studio, watching Lauren practice. Faith sat next to her, phone in hand.
“What did he say?” Alyssa asked.
“Oh, just that they got to the bottom of it.” Faith’s eyes sparkled. “Knowing Kyle, that means he stood over Jackson and glowered until he cried.”
“So you’re sure Jackson was making all this up?” Alyssa asked, trying to tamp down the hope threatening to burst free. She couldn’t let herself be disappointed or hurt again. “Or is Tristan just a good liar?”
Lauren sighed and turned. “He likes you. A lot.”
“And Jackson is a punk. Kyle told me so,” Faith said. “Don’t sell yourself short believing all that garbage.”
Alyssa bowed her head to hide the tears filling her eyes. “Okay.”
Lauren crossed the floor and sat next to Alyssa. Putting an arm around her shoulders, she said, “You’re exactly who he wants. He told me…” She laughed softly. “He said you’re perfect.”
“He did?” Alyssa sniffled. “No guy’s ever said that about me before.”
“None of those guys were Tristan Murrell. He swore on Nolan Ryan’s punch to Ventura’s head. I don’t know exactly what that means, but it sounded important, so I bought it.”
Alyssa burst into laughter, crying at the same time. “It’s important.”
“I thought so.” Lauren shifted so she could lean against Alyssa’s side. “Now, what’s this about Swing Away? And why aren’t you practicing with me?”
“He told you, then.” Alyssa heaved a sigh and sat up straighter. “We’re going under. We have less than two weeks to come up with enough money to fix the pitching machines, add a couple handicapped spaces in the parking lot, and stop a leak in the roof. We fixed the broken nets.” She met Lauren’s eyes. “I paid for them with my dance camp money.”
Lauren’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, ’Lys. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m upset.” She closed her eyes… That wasn’t quite right. “I’m ashamed. That we failed.”
“You didn’t fail. Neither did your dad.” Faith scooted to her other side. “It’s been rough out there since the recession. Plus, stupid Top Sports came to town.”
Alyssa let herself lean against Faith. “Yes, they did. And now my dad and I have to go work there.”
Lauren’s arm snaked around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, ’Lys. We’ll fix it somehow.”
Alyssa hitched out an uneven breath. “H-how?”
“I have no idea, but we’re awesome enough to come up with something.” The stubbornness in Lauren’s voice dared her to suggest otherwise. “We’re smart enough to think this through.”
“I’m not sure we can. We still need more than eight thousand dollars.”
“We can find that,” Lauren insisted.
“That’s a lot of money to us.” Alyssa flushed, shame clawing its way back up her throat. “And my dad isn’t the type to ask friends for money. In fact, I think he’s given up already. Look, I’m sad right now, but I’ll be okay. Dad got me a for-sure job at Top Sports. I’ll swallow my pride, work there this summer, and make a pile of money off the enemy.”
Lauren stiffened, and Alyssa knew her friend had a lot to say, but for once, Lauren held her tongue. Instead, she patted Alyssa’s back. “Practice with me.”
“I’m not going to camp,” Alyssa said, wondering if Lauren had missed that part.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Lauren tightened the ribbons on her pointe shoes. “I practice better with you. And who knows? Maybe the camp offers a scholarship.”
Alyssa knew they didn’t—she’d checked into it a year ago—but she was glad enough to have Lauren talking to her again that she nodded. “Let me go change.”
And who knew? Maybe dancing would ease the ache in her heart that had nothing to do with Swing Away.
Buddy barked and danced in circles when Alyssa let herself inside. She stooped to pet his ears, laughing when he flopped onto his back and presented his belly for a rub. “You silly old dog. Who’s a good boy? Huh? Is Buddy a good boy?”
Buddy licked her hand, wriggling. She wondered what went through his head sometimes. Dogs had more soul in one paw than most people did in their whole bodies. The only concepts Buddy seemed to care about were Food, Love, Pats, and Walk. And that was fine.
“Chickadee?” Dad’s voice came from the living room. “That you?”
“Yeah.” She gave Buddy one last scratch and went to find her dad. He was sitting in his armchair, a beer on the side table.
Alyssa paused. Her dad rarely drank during the week. Like, almost never. He’d have a beer or two on the weekends, but that was it. “What’s wrong?”
He smiled tiredly at her. His dark hair was mussed, and circles smudged his eyes. “The inspector came by today. He was happy with the nets…but he found that parts of the snack bar weren’t to code. It would take another thousand to fix it. ’Dee, I don’t know if we can keep the old girl going. Every time we make some ground, we take a step back.”
Alyssa clenched her fists. “Sounds like this inspector works for Top Sports.”
“He doesn’t—everything he pointed out is reasonable.” Dad let out a long breath. “I wish I never used your dance money to buy those nets. Maybe Top Sports will buy them from us, so at least I can give the money back to you.”
Her pulse pounded in her temples. The defeated tone in his voice only made her angrier. “I don’t want my money back, Dad. I want something to go right for us for once.”
He stood and came around the chair to face her. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he stared into her eyes. “What have I always said about ‘fair’?”
His calm tone was infuriating. “That it only comes around once a year, in the fall, and its job is to sell you corn dogs.”
“Right. We’ll make it through this. Heck, I’ll have a job with health insurance for once.” He smiled down at her, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “I think I’m going to close the shop down on Friday, instead of waiting until next Wednesday. Mom’s going to take off work Saturday—how about a family day? It’s been a long time since we had one of those.”
The fight went out of her, and all Alyssa felt was tired. Exhausted, bone deep. “That…that sounds good. I think I’ll go upstairs. I’m worn out.”
Dad gave her a hug, and she let herself lean on him a moment, remembering how a “Daddy hug” had fixed everything from a skinned knee to a tough tourney loss when she was younger. Finally, she let go and called, “Buddy dog! Who wants to sleep on my bed?”
A jangle of tags, and Buddy was happily bouncing around her. Most nights he slept in his crate in the kitchen, but when she was feeling extra low, Alyssa liked having him curled up next to her. He usually took his half of the bed up the middle, but tonight she didn’t mind.
Buddy followed her down the hall, panting. Every so often, she heard a thump—his tail was wagging so hard, he kept hitting the wall. Alyssa swallowed against a lump in her throat. She hadn’t paid enough attention to her Buddy the last few weeks. She hadn’t paid enough attention to anything.
Once she and Buddy were settled on her bed, she took a passing glance at her homework and decided it could wait. Everything could… If Swing Away was closing Friday, she needed to help Dad clean out the building, maybe set up an online sale for the machines and such.
And interview with Top Sports.
She sank deeper into her mattress and pulled her quilt up higher. Buddy slid with it and his tail thumped against the bed. “Good boy.”
He woofed softly, then settled down. Having her pup with her was comforting, but she was missing something. And she knew exactly who it was.
But Tristan was going to state in four days, and she had work of her own to do. Would it make sense to give him a little time? Or would that make things worse?
How was his hitting doing?
With a sigh, she pulled her phone off the nightstand and texted him.
She put her phone away and closed her eyes, not ready to hear his reply. She’d sleep and let tomorrow take care of itself for once.