"I expect you to be in the front row opening night," he said. "Now," he continued, turning more serious, "what this means, I realized, was I have to give up my job at the supermarket. I spoke to the manager this afternoon and told him I had someone responsible to take my place. He thought it was fine. So, congratulations to you. You'll get your job in about three more days, if you really want it."
"Good," I said. "Now Richard won't be able to complain about me. Thank you."
"Of course, I think you should aim higher. You have talent and you look great," he said. "But you've got to want it, be hungry for it."
"But I don't want it," I said and he stared at me w
ith that curious smile on his face.
"Maybe that's what intrigues me the most about you," he said.
"What?"
"Your ability to resist the temptation, your lack of ego. You're just the type who succeeds," he added.
I looked at him, at that impish grin on his face. It amazed me how other people saw things in me I never saw in myself.
After we walked home, Mel asked me if I wanted to come up to his apartment.
"We could listen to some music. My
roommates are out for the night."
"I don't know," I said. "I promised my sister I wouldn't stay out late."
"It's not late," he insisted. "I'd like to dance for you, too."
"Dance?"
"Sure. I'll show you what I did at the audition for this show. Okay?"
It sounded interesting so I agreed and we went up to his apartment.
"You'll have to excuse the mess," he warned me at the door. "Remember, three guys live here."
It didn't look anywhere near as cluttered and dusty as Mommy's apartment had been before I had started to clean it. I told Mel and he laughed.
"Want something to drink? More wine, perhaps?"
"I suppose wine's all right," I said and he poured me a glass. After he did, he went in to his bedroom to put on his dancing clothes. I heard the music first and then suddenly, he leaped into the room, wearing the tightest top and pants I had ever seen, so tight they left nothing about him to the imagination. He spun on his toes and lifted his legs so high, I lost my breath, especially when he did it right in front of me.
The music became faster, the beat harder. He mixed ballet steps with slides and turns that were dazzling. Finally, he stopped and stood before me, breathing hard, his face flushed with excitement. I felt flushed myself from the wine and his performance.
"Well?"
"You're wonderful," I said. "I can't imagine you not succeeding."
He laughed and stepped closer. The music continued, softer, slower. He reached out to take my hand.
I started to shake my head, but he pulled harder until I stood and we were dancing cheek to cheek, his hard, fast breathing on my neck. When I caught sight of us reflected in the window, it looked like I was dancing with a naked man. My own breathing quickened as his slowed and then he smiled at me and kissed me softly. I felt him push against my thighs.
"You're so sweet," he said. "I really like you." He kissed me again, but I didn't let his lips linger on mine. I stepped back, bowing my head and, when I looked down at him and saw how excited he was, I felt my heart flutter and my breath grow short.
"I've got to get home," I said.
"Melody . ."
He stepped toward me.