Dancing for the Lord The Academy - By Emily Goodman Page 0,70
a stripper, Lord! I’m dancing for you!
His plea went unanswered, as it had gone unanswered every time he had ever lifted it heavenward. Dinner was a tense affair. Danni’s family filled in the frequent silences as best as they could—though several times, Danni’s little sister had a sharp comment of her own to add—but the rising conflict was evident in spite of their best efforts to conceal it.
Danni kept her hand tucked in Nick’s throughout most of the meal—leading to a few very pointed comments from Lizzie about Michael, pining away for his missing partner. Nick ignored her. He already understood the relationship between Danni and Michael, and while they might be best friends, he had no fear that he was stepping into the middle of anything. Danni had been too honest with him for that.
Unfortunately, Lizzie wasn’t the only one who took note of that connection. Several times throughout the meal, Mr. Best had cleared his throat, looked like he might say something, and then pulled back again at the last minute. Finally, he stood, drawing every eye at the table to him.
“You might say this is none of my business,” he said flatly. “And maybe it’s not. Maybe I’m an old fool who ought to keep my nose out of where it doesn’t belong. But I just can’t bear to see a girl disappointed over a matter like this.”
Danni stared at him, her mind not working fast enough to catch up with him.
“You seem like a good girl,” Mr. Best told her. “And it’s wonderful that you’re interested in my Nick. I’m grateful for it. But—well, you see, there’s no chance that it will ever go anywhere.”
Nick’s face went dead white—Danni’s first signal that something was very, very wrong. His mother sucked in a hard breath, struggling for words—and came up absolutely flat.
Mr. Best could see that he had the attention of everyone at the table. He was uncomfortable with it; but that didn’t stop him from forging ahead anyway. “Nick—“ He stopped. “This is hard for a man to say. I wish I didn’t have to say it.”
“Dad—“ Nick found his voice, desperate to put a stop to it. He didn’t want to have this argument again. He’d thought they’d had it out already!
“Nick is…is gay.’ The older man’s voice shook as he said the words; it was evident that he hadn’t said them aloud very many times at all.
Nick’s hands slammed down on the table, and he glowered at his father furiously, the masks of civility ripped away. “How many times do I have to tell you?” he demanded heatedly. “I’m not—“ He stopped, forcing himself to breathe evenly and speak rationally. “I’m not gay, Dad. Just as straight as you are. I like girls. I have never had so much as the first boyfriend—never even considered it.”
“No? You’re telling me that you get up there and parade around in tights and a—and a tutu, showing everything you’ve got to the entire world, and there’s not something wrong with you?”
“Nicholas,” Mrs. Best whispered.
“I’m not going to listen to you lie to me!” Mr. Best glowered at his son as though he had done something filthy at the dinner table.
“It has nothing to do with my sexual orientation!” Nick’s hands fisted, the muscle in his jaw so tight that Danni was sure he would have a screaming headache tomorrow. “I’m just a dancer, Dad, nothing more, nothing less. How many times am I going to have to tell you that before you believe me?”
“How about when you start meaning it?” the older man demanded.
“I’ve meant it every time!” Nick’s voice was rising again.
Lord, give him peace and patience, Danni prayed desperately; but it was already too late. Neither of the men seemed inclined to calm down now.
“Liar! I have a—a—“ The word his father used then was very rude indeed. “For a son—and now you make yourself a liar on top of that! How dare you!”
Nick just looked at him—just that. There was no answer for those cruel words.
His father, on the other hand, seemed to have plenty of them. “I’m ashamed of you. Do you even realize that? Ashamed to talk about you. I used to keep your picture on my desk—used to tell people all about my boy. Why couldn’t you be a real man?”
Nick’s face went even paler than it had been earlier that evening, when he struggled with the pain in his shoulder. There were a hundred things he wanted to say—a shocked