Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3) (41 page)

He found his two girls in the practice room. Anna was sitting on the floor next to Alma. They often had these rehearsals at home. Anna’d been nervous about them, but she’d quickly realized that at this level, she could definitely train Alma.

“It’s beautiful, honey,” she said and put her hand at the small of Alma’s back, and her fingertips under her chin. Alma had a ballerina dress with a big pink tutu and a pink ribbon in her hair. “Forward here, and up there, and a big smile. Just like that!”

“Do I look as pretty as you did, Mama?”

“Much prettier.”

“Think Daddy’ll like it?”

“I know he will.”

“Did he ever see you dance?”

“No. You know I met daddy after the accident.”

That was another thing Anna had managed to work herself up about when Alma was younger—how she should tell her about the accident and why she couldn’t dance anymore. It had never even been an issue. Alma had asked Anna about her leg and her cane, and that’s when they’d told her. In general, everything about dance and the accident had turned into a non-issue for Anna the last three or four years. She loved her job, she still loved to go to see a ballet even if he rarely went with her anymore, she talked about it all the time, too—since it was her job—but it never made her sad anymore. Which was good, because Alma
loved
watching recordings of her mommy dancing.

“Actually, I have seen it—on film,” Mitch said and walked into the room. “You ready to go, Cupcake?”

“Yes!” She ran towards him and jumped up in his arms. “I’m not a cupcake.” For some reason, her nickname had started bothering her the last few weeks, and he was teasing her a little about it.

“You sure? You look like a cupcake with pink frosting—just the way I like them.” He walked over to Anna and helped her up from the floor while still talking to Alma. “I might accidentally eat you up on our way to your class.”

“You’re so silly,” she giggled.

“Yeah, but you knew that.”

“Take pictures,” Anna said, and he could tell how much she hated missing one of Alma’s performances. “Promise me.”

“Every second. I’ll call you when we’re on our way to Dad’s.”

Alma seemed about as worried as Anna about her not being there, and kept giving Mitch instructions.

“You have to applaud when the other girls are dancing, too, Daddy.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna applaud louder when it’s you,” he said.

“And no whistling. Grandpa did that once, the other moms got really angry with him.”

“I won’t whistle,” Mitch laughed.

That would explain why Alma didn’t want Brick to come this time around. She’d only wanted him with her. Anna kept reminding him about taking pictures, and he assured her that he was aware of how the camera on his phone was working. Eventually he shut her up with a deep, wet kiss, and told her again that he’d call her when they were on their way to Brick and Mel’s. He took the regular cage, since Alma thought the truck was a little embarrassing, and the first three minutes, she managed to stay calm, and then she started to worry again.

“Did you bring my bag?”

“I brought your bag, Cupcake. Don’t worry so much. I can do this you know. I’m a pretty smart guy.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Okay, so what do you want me to call you then?”

He looked at Alma thorough the rearview mirror. She was looking through the side window in the car with a contemplative expression. At least the question had made her worry a little less. Then she turned and looked straight at him.

“Princess Prima Ballerina.”

“Princess Prima Ballerina?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face, and she nodded seriously. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much to say every time I talk to you? Princess Prima Ballerina, you need to get up. Did you have a nice time at school, Princess Prima Ballerina? Princess Prima Ballerina, finish your dinner.”

“Okay!” she interrupted him. “You can call me Cupcake.”

“Sure about that, Princess Prima Ballerina?”

She laughed and gave him a big smile. “You’re calling the new baby ‘Grain,’ what did you call me when I was in Mama’s belly?”

“Sprout,” he answered and smiled. “Want me to call you that instead?”

“Maybe. You call Mama Gimp, that’s not very nice.”

“That’s true, but she liked it when I called her that when we met, and she still does.”

“Why?” Alma asked with big eyes.

“This is going to sound strange, and I think you have to be a bit older to really understand, but she liked it because I didn’t care about her leg, and in a weird way I showed her that by calling her Gimp.” He turned to the side and could see how Alma seemed to be thinking about what he’d just said. “It was a long time ago, when she was still sad about not being able to dance anymore.”

“Is it kind of like when we call Bear Bear because he looks like one, but we like that he does?”

Mitch laughed out loud, but nodded. “Kind of like that.”

“So you like that Mama’s a gimp?” Her eyebrows were wrinkled.

“In a way. She wouldn’t have been here in Greenville with me if she wasn’t. She’d still be in New York and dancing, and I wouldn’t have her or you. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes,” she said after a little while. “I think I understand.”

They sat in silence for a while, and Mitch got lost in thoughts of what life would be like if Anna hadn’t come to Greenville—and how he wouldn’t have had Alma, or the new baby that was on its way. When he cleared his throat, she turned her head and smiled and gave him one of her wide-eyed innocent looks.

“Is the gimp thing one of those things I shouldn’t say when other people are around? People who aren’t club.”

“Cupcake, you may look like your mom, but you’ve got my brain,” he smiled.

“That’s a yes.”

“Yup.”

The dance thing took fucking forever, and the only time he even remotely enjoyed it was when Alma was dancing. Between the dances, she was waiting patiently at one of the chairs alongside the room with her eyes directed at whomever was performing.

The other moms were either eyeing him suspiciously or looked as if they were about to jump him, and given what the other few men there looked like, he couldn’t blame them. Actually, in between Alma’s performances, he concluded that he and Anna were totally the hottest fucking ballet parents with kids in that class.

Alma disappeared to get changed, and he didn’t follow to help her. He’d only made that one mistake once, and the moms had thrown him out like he was some fucking perv. He’d just been trying to help his four-year-old daughter with her clothes for fuck’s sake! These days Anna had some deal with another mom, so Alma came out with her bag in her hand and her tutu under her arm.

“Did you take pictures?” she asked, and he picked her up in a hug.

“Sure did. You were great, the best of them!”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

“Ready to go to Grandpa and Mel?” Mitch put her back down on the ground.

“I wanna bring the clothes inside and show them, so they can see what I looked like.”

“Okay,” he agreed.

When they arrived, he let Alma out of the car, picked up her things, and turned towards the house while he tried to find the key in his pocket to lock the car. Brick’d come out to welcome her, and he was standing on the front porch and laughed when he saw Mitch by the car.

“Sorry to tell you, son, but you owe me a hundred bucks,” he yelled.

“What?”

“Look at yourself.”

Mitch turned around and looked at his reflection in the car, and then he started to laugh.

He had a pink tutu under his arm.

THE END

-o0o-

About the author:

Lina Andersson was born and raised as far up north as you can go in Sweden. The long, dark winters were made for reading and writing, which is pretty much all she ever did. In her early twenties, she packed up her husband and son and moved to the slightly warmer climate of southern Sweden, where they still live, more than a decade later. When she’s not writing, she’s an avid gamer and film geek.

The Marauders series, books

Book One: Arrow of Time

Book Two: Perfect Collision

Book Three: Center of Gravity

Book Four: Resonance (TBA)

Marauder Novellas:

S-Duality

For more information:
http://tfcpress.wordpress.com/