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from Moon Dance by Shirley Holder Platt

Copyright © 2019–2020 Shirley Holder Platt

Chapter 10 - Mia

Stan Mackey was counting out loud to the music. He had one hand digging into my waist and the other squeezing my right hand. It felt like he was wearing metal gauntlet gloves, he was that stiff. I’d checked his footwear when he arrived. No steel-toed work boots, but if I hadn’t seen his leather loafers, I would have sworn he was wearing work boots or maybe combat boots.

“Loosen up a bit,” I said with a forced smile. “Remember, you’re going to be holding Paula, the woman you love and are starting a new life with. She’ll follow your gentle motions, you don’t have to push her around the floor or hold her up.” I shook his arm a little to make my point, but it was pretty futile.

“Got it,” he said. He lost count and stepped on my foot. It wasn’t the first time. I was teaching him a slow waltz that most newbies can learn in one easy lesson. This was his third. His jaw was clenched so tight it made my face hurt. Sweat trickled from his brow and fell into his eyes. Poor guy. I’m sure he was great at auto mechanics, as he had a very successful repair shop just down the street from my studio, but dancing was not his forte.

“You’re doing great,” I said. Hey, I’m not going to tell a client he sucks.

“Paula wants this so bad, but I’m not sure she understands what she’s asking of me,” he said. His grimace didn’t let up. The guy had not inherited one gene that might come close to making him have rhythm.

“Let’s take a break,” I said as the song, thankfully ended.

“Sounds good to me. I’m exhausted.” He walked to a chair where he’d draped a towel and started wiping sweat off his face. I glanced at the clock. His session wouldn’t be over for another twenty minutes. I went into my office and made sure the door was shut before I sat down, removed a shoe and massaged my toes. The guy was killing me. If I made it through his wedding still walking, it would be a miracle. I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. I knew Miles was busy. He’d told me he had work and school and wasn’t a big talker, but still, couldn’t he call and say hi?

I texted Espy.

Me: No call

E: He was @ work

Me: So he’s alive?

E: 😊

I metaphorically pulled up my big girl panties and went back out to the studio floor. I glanced at myself in the mirror as I walked towa...

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