Situationship

Chapter 1-2

“I can’t really talk about it because I signed an NDA.” I said, then chewed on a French fry. We’d ended up leaving after the cashier walked out and going to a McDonald’s next door. Now we were driving down Route One, my Aunt avoiding the heavy traffic on 95, while I avoided questions about my shitty career.

“I swear those stupid agreements are just so people can act like assholes and get away with it.” Aunt Dottie shook her head back and forth, then she noticed a lock of her red hair had come loose from her bun. She stuck it behind her ear with a practiced hand. “So, your old bedroom is now my painting studio. There is a tiny apartment on the third floor you can have for now.”

“Just so you know, I have savings so I can…” I started, then she interrupted me.

“You hold on to that money, sugar. I have a feeling you will be spending an awful lot of time figuring out your next adventure. Honeybee, you will be helping me in another way.”

I glanced up at the rear-view mirror and noticed her lips were pursed, and if I wasn’t mistaken were suppressing a laugh.

“So, how am I helping…”

“When we get there, you will need to move a few boxes down to a closet in the basement. I’ve been using the apartment for storage, since I’ve had a b***h of a time renting it out.” She interrupted. “Nothing is wrong with it, just compared to the other apartments it’s tiny, and not many people enjoy climbing the stairs all the way to the top floor. Oh, and I have some furniture already in there. Nothing much, a bedroom suite and a few things for the living room. I wanted it to look lived in for when I showed potential renters.”

Aunt Dottie continued on about the apartment and the other tenants, whom she was apparently quite fond of. Each floor overlooking Monument Avenue had a shared balcony used by all the tenants, and from the hints she dropped there must have been some rowdy parties. The rest of the drive flew by while she distracted me with family gossip and tales of her ballet school. When we passed the sign telling us we were in the Richmond City Limits my stomach sank. Yes, I wanted to be home, but I’d never expected to arrive under such a cloud. I’d always imagined a more triumphant return where I bragged about my success, with pockets full of cash and tales of the rich and famous stars I worked for. The only stories I had to tell were of endless hotel rooms, loneliness and being jerked around by f*****g divas.

Aunt Dottie parallel parked her cream-colored Mercedes half a block up from her building. When I got out, I glanced up and down the cobblestone street, noticing the huge statue of Jefferson Davis a block away had been spraypainted with bold red letters screaming “RACIST FUCK.” I pointed it out to my Aunt who sighed and shook her head.

“Things sure have changed since you’ve been gone, sweetie.”

* * * *

“Gimme a sec.” Aunt Dottie mumbled while fumbling with the lock. Moments later the door opened, and we walked inside, both of us breathing a little heavy from the three flights of stairs. The apartment was small, but considering I had nothing but my personal belongings, it would definitely work for now.

It consisted of a small living area with an antique blue velvet couch, a coffee table and a matching blue wing chair, a few boxes stacked next to them. The door to the bedroom was open and I could see a full-size bed taking up most of the space with a tiny chest of drawers next to a small window with the bricks of the home next door as a view. I tossed my bags on the bed and noticed a manilla folder lying on a small nightstand. It was filled with sheet music, and I was familiar with most of it. In the ballet studio was a huge old grand piano I used to practice on, and these were the tunes my aunt used to teach her ballet classes with. I tossed it on the bed and went back into the living room.

“Why don’t you freshen up, honeybee. Take a long hot shower and change into fresh clothes. I have to get ready for my first class.” She glanced down at the tiny gold watch on her wrist. “Could you meet me downstairs in the dance studio in an hour?”

I nodded, wondering why she wanted me to meet her there. I’d planned on taking her out for dinner to thank her for picking me up at the airport.

“There is a folder of music on your nightstand. Bring it with you, hon. You’re going to need it.”

* * * *

Little girls flew into the studio dressed head to toe in pink leotards and tights, their small voices echoing throughout the room. Each of them had their hair pulled back into a tiny bun, though they couldn’t have been more than six years old. The walls were covered in floor to ceiling mirrors which made the number of children appear doubled. A few moments later they all seemed to notice me at once, and their voices hushed as they gazed at me with curiosity. I was seated behind the ancient grand piano, where I’d initially learned my trade.

“Young ladies, take your places.” Aunt Dottie instructed them with a soft smile. She was wearing the same leotard and tights, only they were black. Aunt Dottie was almost sixty years old, but her body was as taut as most of the thirty-year-old women I knew. There was a metal bar lining the room, and each little girl stood sideways with one tiny hand clutching it while facing Aunt Dottie.

“I’d like to introduce you to my nephew Tanner. He’s taking Martha’s place at the piano for the next few months while she’s on maternity leave. Everyone say hello.”

“Hello Tanner,” they all said at once.

My cheeks burned, and all I could think of was what would Crystal or Craig, or any of the other stars I’d worked for think of me now as I played for these cute little dollfaces. No doubt those celebrities would be laughing their asses off at how low I had fallen. But, I’d do anything for my aunt, and damn if she didn’t know it. Plus, I’d bet these little divas were much sweeter than Crystal.

“Honeybee, let’s start off with ‘Pomp and Circumstance.’ Oh, and a little slower than usual. I swear by the end of Martha’s second trimester she had these poor little girls practically running in place to keep up with her.”