Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging

Chapter Two

          “Hey guys,” I breathed, emerging from the cold chaos of downtown Charleston into the warm hush of the lobby of the CTADA. “Ciao bella,” Danielle La Fonte greeted from one of the two red couches in the lobby. She was sprawled out, her spider long tight-clad legs taking up an entire couch in a way that only Danni could. Brin Demaris was seated opposite her, her skinny legs tucked beneath her and her cell phone balanced on her knee. Her tan face was lit by the watery glow of the screen, and a wing of black hair had fallen from behind her ear. She looked up at me with wide, confused eyes, then a grin split her face.

          “Hey, Shannon,” she smiled, tucking her phone into the pocket of her bag and patting the space next to her.

          I collapsed next to her with a grateful sigh, spreading out my legs in front of me. “What’s up with you?” Brin asked, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. “You’re not usually this… icky.” I flicked my eyes at her then looked away. “It’s Astley,” I sighed, “Or rather Astley and Estel-” my words were cut off when the door was flung open and cold October air whipped into the room.

           A sickly-sweet giggle made me stiffen, and Danni shot up, her honey-cold eyes going from wide and surprised, to confused, to narrowed in malice. In sauntered copper-haired Estella McKenzie herself, and one of her blonde-haired wannabes, Macy Rue. “Speak of the devil,” I murmured, my eyebrows shooting up. “Nail salon’s next door,” I said monotonously, rolling my eyes and flopping back into the couch.

          “I know,” Estella said, with a small smile, running her fingers through her straight red hair. “Then why are you here?” Brin asked, her eyebrows coming together as she frowned. “We’re taking classes!” Macy exclaimed, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “You’ve gotta be freaking—ha-ha, nice joke, Macy.” I said; Brin smirked and her dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m being serious,” Macy said, with an impatient stomp of her foot.

          “We don’t teach pole-dancing here,” Danni piped up, the first time she’d spoken since the brats walked in.

          Macy’s face turned an unsightly shade of red and she clenched her fists angrily. Estella looked dangerous, her lips curved into a dangerous smile as she zeroed in on her. “Oh, don’t be silly, Danni! We’re taking classes here now. With Miss Chelsea and Miss Natalie, I think? Do you have them too? Maybe we’ll be in the same class.” A naïve giggle slipped from between those full, glossy lips that confirmed my worst fears.

          “Holy. Shit.” Brin said, flopping backwards.

          “That’s not even possible!” I cried, shooting to my feet. “There’s a waiting list! And there’s not supposed to be more than five people in the class. Christian and James are four and five. And I know for a fact the only dancing that you two do is on a guy at homecoming.”

          “Let it be,Shannon,” said Brin, ever the calm one in our relationship. “Fine,” I huffed, and flopped back into the couch. Estella and Macy stood awkwardly by the door, glancing around for another seat. “Um,” Macy began, but her words were cut off when the door was flung open again and in marched dumb and dumber—in other words James Damiano and Christian Ignatio. I'd just like to point out that, despite popular belief, there is such a thing as straight male dancers. Just saying.

          “Hello there,” Estella purred, her eyes raking them both up, and down, up and down… Christian looked over at her, a smirk on his lips. “Goodbye,” he replied, winking. James frowned, a crease forming between his blonde eyebrows. “What’re they… I don’t… get it.” He said confusedly, his blue eyes wide as he took in the bimbos before him. “We’re going to dance with you,” Estella squeaked, going for second best after Christian’s rejection.