kitchen.”
I can’t help myself. “They?”
“Oh, she’s got quite the entourage,” he says dryly. “For the first lesson, four people showed up. The actress, her manager—who’s a real piece of work—this guy who looks like a model—at first I thought he was her co-star, but I think he’s her bodyguard or something—and this little gal who just seemed to be hangin’ around.”
“Oh God,” I groan. Over the years, I’ve worked with enough musical acts for Festival International to know that some celebrities are impossible to deal with. “She needed three people to come with her for a dance lesson?”
“For what they are paying, she could’ve brought a dozen.” He sighs. “And honestly, I’m glad the bodyguard and the other young one came. They picked up on the lessons right away, and it made it a little easier to show Ir—I—I mean the actress, how the steps were supposed to look.”
I laugh at his near slip up. “You better watch out, old man. She’ll be able to sue you for all your worth if you’re not careful.”
“Good thing I’m not worth much, huh?” He quips but then quickly sobers. “But you’re right. I don’t want to jeopardize your inheritance.”
Damn. I didn’t mean to go here.
The dance studio property is prime. Downtown has seen a major revitalization in the last few years, and I know my uncle has had offers to sell. But the studio is his to do with as he wants. Before Mom transferred over her POA to me and Val, she signed over her part of the studio’s deed to him, trusting him alone to keep their life’s dream going. And understanding the state of her finances, I think she didn’t want him to feel pressured to sell and divide the proceeds before he was ready to retire.
That’s why Nonc has told me and Val again and again that whatever he has will be ours one day.
I wish he’d shut up about shit like that.
I want him to keep teaching and the studio to stay open for as long as possible. He and Mom worked too hard to build that business and their reputation in the performing arts community. Dance was—and still is—my mother’s whole world. Her career ended much too early.
Twice.
And I don’t want to see her legacy disappear.
“You’re not gonna jeopardize anything,” I say to move us away from this topic. “You work with the Hollywood headcase, and I’ll take care of all of your admirers across the hall.”
“Aww, she’s not so bad—nothing like that manager of hers,” he mutters. “And like I said, as pretty as a picture. You should see for yourself.”
I snort. “No thanks. I’m glad they’re paying you a fortune to deal with all that. Better you than me.”
“For someone who likes music and culture and language so much, you really aren’t all that fond of people, are you?” He’s teasing, but I still bristle.
“People are fine. It’s drama I’m not a fan of.” My uncle is the last person I need to explain this to. He’s had a front-row seat to the unwanted theatrics of my life.
He makes a hurumphing noise. “Seems like those of us who want the least amount of drama are the ones who get the most.”
I shake my head though he can’t see it. “You didn’t accidentally marry Aunt Lorraine.”
“Marrying her wasn’t the accidental part,” he defends. “It was the falling for her I hadn’t planned. You’re old enough to know how that works by now.”
My laugh is mirthless. “I’m old enough to know better. What’s your excuse?”
Aunt Lorraine is my uncle’s weak spot. Technically, they’ve been divorced not once, but twice. They were married for something like twelve years. Then divorced for ten. They remarried when I was a sophomore in high school and divorced again around the time I graduated from college.
You’d think that after two divorces, people would stay away from their exes, but Nonc and Lorraine can’t quite manage that. My uncle lives on the upstairs floor of the studio. Around Christmas, I let myself into the kitchen entrance downstairs for my Saturday afternoon class only to find Aunt Lorraine sipping coffee at the table and my uncle standing at the stove, scrambling her eggs.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and it took Nonc at least a week before he could look me in the eye. But I figure enough time has passed now for me to rib him about it.
“Your Aunt Lorraine is a complicated and intriguing woman,” he says, sounding sheepish.
I