Markus greets us with an enthusiastic flamboyance that seems to be lacking these days whenever you’re greeted some place new. After he’s finished hugging us within an inch of our lives, he runs a hand through his freshly styled jet black hair, longer on the top, shorter at the sides. “Welcome to the studio,” he says with an equally enthusiastic smile.
The dance studio is aptly namedDowntown Danceand according to the menu board in the reception area where we’re standing, offers everything from your classic ballroom to the waltz, the foxtrot, some rumba and cha-cha in between. As my eyes coast down the list, I see there’s more; Latin and social dances from the salsa to the swing. I’ve heard of the mambo, and only know the merengue because of the movie Dirty Dancing. I’ve seen it over and over again with many a female counterpart.
My eyes continue skimming as Jade chats excitedly with Markus and asks him how long he’s been running the studio.Hip-hop and contemporary dancesI read.From Jazz to breakdancing.Now the latter is something I could get into,even if I might make myself look like a complete idiot whilst doing it. And Coach Carter would bust a nut if I hurt myself in any way, shape, or form during the season because of a fucking dance lesson. Then at the bottom of the menu board, there’s a list underOther dance styles; ballet, tap dancing, country line dancing and Zumba.
Line dancing could also be a hoot. “Seems you do it all,” I say as Markus ushers us down the brightly lit hallway, little brass sconces lighting the way over a deep red plush carpet to big double heavy-looking wooden doors.
“That we do,” he practically sings as we walk.
“Breakdancing?” I give Jade a nudge in the ribs as she stifles a giggle.
“Don’t even think about it, Jay.”
“Why not? It’s afunwedding, remember? No one is going to be expecting us to break out into a hip-hop slash breakdancing medley.”
Markus turns to us and obviously catches wind of our conversation as he lets out a laugh, his topaz eyes twinkling with delight. “You know anything can be arranged,” he says with a rueful shrug. “You just have to be open to it.”
“See!” I say to Jade, not meaning to point the finger but waggling one her way, anyway. She’s already looking less than impressed with what I can only assume is the thought of learning a breakdancing routine. She gives me a withering look to confirm I’m correct. “Be open to it,Little JJ.”
She shoves me with a knock of her hand into my shoulder as Markus busts open the doors in a grand gesture, like we’re entering a palace. We’re greeted with an extremely large shiny floored dance studio with mirrors the entire way around the expansive space. It’s no smaller than a hotel ballroom, and impressive as they come. You’d have no idea from the small shop front that this was even back here.
The ceilings must be twenty feet above average with the fancy kind of cornicing you only see in really old houses. It has a rose pattern intertwined with leaves mapping the entire surrounds of the ceiling. For some reason, it kinda reminds me of my grandpa’s cottage back in North Dakota. Maybe because it has old world charm and an equal balance of modern day vintage mixed with the new.
“Wait? Are we the only ones here,” I ask, quizzically, as I check the space out, turning my head to scan the entire room. There’s a place for us to put our jackets and belongings and change into a pair of what Markus callsproper dance shoesright at the end of the room.
“It’s a private lesson,” Jade tells me as we walk to the little cloakroom area and take a seat on one of the plush velvet cushioned chairs next to the cubicles, just off the main floor. Funnily enough, there’s a pair of dance shoes in exactly our sizes waiting for us about a metre from where I plonk down.
“Fuck. This must be setting you back if it’s a private lesson. I’ll reimburse?—”
She waves my mere suggestion off with her hand. “Don’t worry about it. This is something I wanted to do so we could have fun and not look like idiots that don’t know what we’re doing at my brother’s wedding. There’s nothing worse than anyone in a bridal party not being able to dance properly.”
“Speak for yourself about looking like an idiot on the dance floor.” I jump up out of my seat and press my palms to my waist, waggling my hips side to side before she can object, chanting,“Cha, cha, cha.”As I shuffle.
Jade covers her mouth with a stifling laugh. “Oh my god, Jay!”
“Ten points for enthusiasm,” Markus croons, popping his head in through the opening as Jade finishes tying her shoes.She looks so fucking cute still in her yoga gear, her hair pulled up into a messy bun with just a couple of loose tendrils falling free.
It seems like she had a good day filming her yoga videos from what she said in the car, and I’m glad to see a smile on her face after what Tanner told me over the phone. “That’s what you need in this game!” I agree.
He probably has ten years on me, and a long, svelte frame to boot. Clearly a professional dancer, you can see by the way that he walks and gestures dramatically with his hands for everything. He wears a pair of fitted dark suit pants and a tightDowntown Dancewhite t-shirt with bold, sparkly black lettering and polished black shoes. His hair is slicked back with oil or gel or some shit.
“I’ve got the moves and the enthusiasm!” I declare. “It’s Jade here you’ve gotta watch.” She steps forward to strike me again, but I dodge out of the way and shuffle out of the cubicle backwards, shimmying my shoulders as I go.
“Behave!” she chastises, but she can’t keep a straight face and neither can I.
This might be more fun than I actually believed possible. Especially when we get down to the nitty-gritty on what we’re going to be learning, and Markus is eager to get started
“From what Jade told me when she signed you both up, it sounds like you’re a fun-loving duo and want to rock it out at her brother’s wedding in a few weeks?”
My head turns to look at Jade, mouthingrock it outas she tries to ignore me.
“Something like that,” Jade answers. “I’ve just always wanted to be able to dance properly, and I think we’re both quick learners. Jay’s a hockey player, if you didn’t already know.”
Markus smiles at me with a newfound appreciation. “Hockey, huh?”
“Seattle Hawks,” I tell him proudly, not that I like to brag, but it just pops out.
He guffaws a little. “Oh wow, sorry.” He shrugs apologetically. “I don’t get out much to know these things.”
