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( CHAPTER NINETEEN: FOLLOW THE DRUM ) June, 1990
❝What goes through your mind when you're dancing Devon?❞
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"And five, six, seven, eight!" Devon yelled once he pounced into action, his taupe eyes clearly set on the mirror in front of him as he examined the moves of the dancers who followed his lead. Creating new dances was never easy, especially since a majority of Devon's moves were based on pure instinct. However, Janet had given him a lot of room to create, and he didn't want to waste the opportunity when he had so many ideas to offer.
When the tour touched down in Vancouver, Devon began to develop an indescribable hunger for performing. A hunger that simply couldn't be quenched with concerts or screaming fans, but a hunger that needed to be fulfilled through movement. So, the young man began to create extra routines in his spare time, practicing in the dead of night when rehearsals were well and truly over. It might've been unhealthy, but Devon couldn't seem to help it.
And it included going above and beyond, testing out his new routines and figuring out how they could be incorporated in the show. However, even his extra effort couldn't seem to rub off on the other dancers, who loathed the gruelling process of learning new steps. "Dev, this dance is too hard," Tina said after they routine stopped, breathing heavily as Devon's hardened gaze glared at his reflection. "What?" Devon asked, "Y'all are the best dancers in the world and you're saying it's too hard?"
"It's draining us man," one of the other dancers chipped in, causing for Devon to shift around and stare at the man's debilitated face. "The moves are really complex and we need to make it through a two hour show. We can't spend all our energy on this," the dancer continued. The young black male exhaled in defeat, placing his hands on his hips as his white tank top clung to his muscular torso.
He hated to admit it, but his friends were right. Even he could see that his dance was overly complicated, cramped with various breaking moves that a lot of these classically trained dancers couldn't master. "Classic Devon," A snort made the youngster turn around with a dirty look stitched to his face. He spotted the group of band members tuning and dusting off their instruments, chortling at the scene before them in a scornful manner. "Is he acting like he knows everything again?" One mused, lividly cackling along with the others.
Devon glared at group before him, recounting the past few months that have been filled with snide comments and heated bickering. The band members had been bothering Devon ever since Janet sided with him back in Japan. And they made sure he wouldn't forget about the incident, mocking him in every way they could, and right about now, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to make Devon feel small.
"Tina, please shut him up before I kick his ass," Devon grumbled, swivelling his body around so that his anger wouldn't escalate. The chestnut brunette shot him a wary look, stepping forward to make peace before another word could be said. "Knock it off y'all, we're practicing," Tina said, her irritated tone something that usually made anyone fall in line. However, Devon could see by the mischievous twinkle that gleamed in each of their wicked eyes that they were no were near to being done.
