Never Say Never, Part Three (Second Chance Romance, Book 3) (4 page)

Joseph took two awkward steps forward and folded her into a bear hug. “There, there,”
he said softly, and she hiccupped a few times. “Come on. Let me take you for a coffee. I think you need it.”
 

“No, it’s okay,”
she mumbled between sobs. “I’ll be fine.”
 

“Like hell you will. Come on, let’s go.”
He detached from the hug, then hooked her arm into his and escorted her across the street. Tears still streamed from her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the flow.
 

She was unloved, unworthy and she couldn’t get to her kids. It’d finally added up, with Chastity driving the final nail into her pity-party coffin.

 
They entered a small diner off the street and were seated in red vinyl booths. It was an old school place, with checkered floors and waitresses roller skating around.
 

“Just two coffees for now thanks,”
Joseph said to the waitress then refocused on Emily.
 

Her reflection wavered in the steel serviette dispenser and she picked one of the paper clothes out and dabbed at the smudged mascara on her cheeks.
 

“I’m sorry for the outburst,”
she sniffed, regaining a little composure.

“I’ve been around enough crying women to know when there’s a serious issue. So spill. You need to get this off your chest and I’m the perfect candidate. I’m not involved in it and who the hell am I going to tell?”
 

“I guess.”
 

The waitress skated up and skidded to halt, carrying a tray, a pot of coffee and two white, squat cups. “Order up,”
she said with a wink, between masticating her gum like a cow out to pasture.
 

“Thanks.”
Joseph grinned and poured the coffee into the cups.
 

Emily took a sip of hers and spluttered at the strength of it.
 

“You were saying?”
He asked, stirring sugar into his own.

“Just what I said out on the street. I killed Chase’s parents in a car accident and now he wants nothing to do with me. I can’t get my kids back. I can’t talk to my mother. I have no one.”
She summed it up quickly, purely to avoid facing the negative emotions head on.

“Chase.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “That Chase Newman you’re talking about. Sister by the name of Chastity?”
 

Emily stopped with the cup halfway to her lips. “Yeah. How do you know them?”

“O-Oh,”
Joseph stumbled over the word, “I don’t. Not personally at least. But we fly in similar circles. I’m a lawyer.”
 

“Then I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”
Trust her to run into the one guy who knew Chase.
 

“Emily, do you believe in fate?”
 

“I don’t know. I don’t have time to consider spirituality. What with the murder, the custody battle and an abusive ex-husband to deal with.”
At least her humor had come back.
 

“I do. There’s a reason we bumped into each other today. Know what that is?”
He leaned in with his conspiracy theory or anecdote, but Emily wasn’t in the mood for games.
 

“What?”
She asked, flat as a pancake.
 

“Serendipity,”
he answered, immediately. “See, I happen to possess a certain set of skills. They include dealing with abusive ex-husbands and custody battles. I won’t be able to help you with your guy problem, but I’ll sure help you legally.”
 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t afford a lawyer of your caliber.”

“So, I’ll do it pro-bono. Consider it a thank you for helping me pick up my papers, or an apology for knocking you off your feet.”
 

“I can’t acc –”
 

“Of course you can,”
Joseph interrupted and patted her arm, “And you will.”
 

Hope sprang up in her chest. With the prospect of getting her kids back in the offing, the dreary clouds pulled back. She’d be able to manage those interviews, she’d have a future to look forward to with Becci and Jared.
 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
 

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He gave her a warm smile and she offered him a watery one in return. Could it be? Could she really have run into a kind soul?
 

“You don’t want anything in return?”
She asked, wary of the answer.
 

“Nothing but the pleasure of helping out a new friend.”
 

Emily considered for a moment longer. She didn’t deserve this help, but she was happy it had come. “All right,”
she said, then finished off the dregs of her coffee. He asked for the bill, then paid it with a generous tip.
 

“I’ll give you a lift back to your place.”
Joseph said with a smile, and Emily’s heart lifted.

There were good people in the world after all. Hopefully she was one of them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Emily clasped the pole and stared above their heads.
 

The slow rhythm of the music beat through her soul, touching her cells, inspiring the movement she’d use to win them over.
 

This was different from the club.
 

This was different from life.
 

This was her expression, her desire, her pain. Every emotion she’d ever felt flowed through her body, and she could control it as she wished. Dance was the control she sought, the truth about every situation presented itself when she was in motion.
 

She’d chosen Shot Me Down by Skyler Grey and David Guetta. It was upbeat, almost impossible to perform to if you didn’t know what you were doing.
 

There were three adjudicators and they held her fate in their hands. She’d never wanted a job as badly, but Janet had likely given her a terrible reference.
 

She had nothing to lose.
 

Emily swung one leg around the pole and began her dance, performing as she’d never done.
 

Bang, bang, he shot me down. Bang, bang, I hit the ground.

Emily’s back hit the dance floor. She flipped herself upwards and connected with the pole. She’d chosen this form of dance as a message to herself and to them.
 

They watched her, faces blank and she accepted the fact she wouldn’t get it.
 

“That’s enough,”
said the woman in the middle. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun and streaked with silver. She had the nose of a hawk and eyes to match.
 

The music cut off and Emily swung back to her starting position. So much for the audition.
 

“That’s quite enough, quite enough.”
She turned to the men on either side of her, but they didn’t make any gestures which Emily could pick up on and interpret. “I think we’ve seen enough of your style.”
She glanced to the side.
 

“Yes, more than enough,”
said a guy with a Mohawk on the end.
 

“I can show you another style if you need me to. It won’t be a problem.”
But of course they’d say it wouldn’t be necessary because they’d clearly made up their minds.
 

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I do believe we’ve seen enough to make a decision.”
 

“All right,”
she replied, then tucked her hands behind her back, before loosening that grip and settling it on the pole instead.
 

“I see you worked for Janet.”
 

Ah, and so it began.
 

“That’s correct. I felt it was time to move to a bigger studio. I enjoy teaching. The more, the merrier.”
She cut off short and held her breath. There was no point selling herself if they’d already made their decision.
 

“Yes, well, the bigger the studio, the bigger the responsibilities,”
the man on the end said. He had muscles for day, the Mohawk and a tight pink tank top. Best guess: he was the current pole dance teacher.
 

“Do you specialize in other dance forms? Or is it just the pole?”
 

“You name it, I’ll dance it and I will succeed at it.”
Emily had more confidence in her dancing than in any other facet of her existence. This was as simple as breathing. It was as involuntary. “I’ve done a bit of ballet, tap, modern, samba, salsa, and waltz –
though I haven’t really gone into detail with those last few. Just the basics of teaching.”
 

“Hip Hop?”
That came from the black guy on the end, with his cap tilted to the side and a pair of sunglasses on. He looked like the kind of dancer she’d get on with.
 

“Hell yes.”
Emily let go of the pole and let her hands hang at her sides.
 

“And your resume indicates a keen interest in ballroom dancing,”
said the hook-nosed teacher. “Never tried the Venetian Waltz?”
 

“That’s correct. I didn’t get the opportunity at Janet’s, but I’d love to learn and eventually teach if that’s an option.”
Emily laughed internally. It wouldn’t be an option because she wouldn’t get these jobs. These three were blatant hard asses, but why toy with her? “As for the Venetian Waltz, I can’t say I have. But it’s another dance I’m exceptionally interested in learning. If there’s an opportunity, of course.”
 

“Of course,”
the Mister in the pink tank top inserted with a small smile. “There are many opportunities to take advantage of at this studio.”
 

He couldn’t mean that she’d got the position. That was impossible. Janet hated her, she would’ve left a scathing review at best just to get the final.

“Then we’d love to have you on board,”
the woman said with a smile. “Your dancing is fantastic, but the phenomenal feedback and recommendation we received from Janet pushed us over the edge.”
 

“Pardon?”
 

“You’ve got it!”
 

“I –
Thank you, that’s awesome news.”
Emily gushed and hugged herself. This was unbelievable. The last thing she’d expect was to make it into the most reputable dance school in New York.
 

Janet had given her a good recommendation. It was probably to be rid of her, but it didn’t matter. This was the start of a brighter future, and with Joseph’s help, she could get her kids back and start afresh.
 

The dawn of that future overwhelmed her and she turned away to hide the tears.
 

“She’s not happy,”
Mr. Mohawk said.
 

“I’m over the moon,”
she put in quickly and turned back to them. She’d never been happier in her life.
 

“Then welcome to the studio. I’m Tess,”
the tight-lipped woman said, then gestured to the guy in the pink shirt, “and this is Chico,”
she paused again and motioned to her right, “and Boss.”
 

“Thank you. I can’t thank you enough.”
There weren’t enough words in the dictionary to express how she felt about it, but grateful was a good start. This was a beacon for her and it was just the beginning.
 

“Be back here tomorrow at 6 AM sharp,”
Tess gave a sweet smile and Emily nodded rapidly.
 

“You bet!”
Then she turned and left the studio, buoyed up by her excitement, brimming with a new hope she didn’t want to believe in with all her heart.
 

And throughout it, all she could wander was: did she deserve it?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Emily skipped down the stairs two at a time and burst into the street. It was the exact opposite to the exit she’d made from Chase’s building a few days earlier. She was uplifted, raring to go. Nothing could stop her now.
 

She bumped into a young woman in ballet tights just outside the front door to the building. “Hey, watch where you’re going,”
the ballerina said.
 

“Sorry! Have a nice day,”
she replied with a grin and sauntered off.
 

Pigeons fluttered at her feet, the sun shone behind a thin blanket of clouds, and a light breeze tickled her neck. It was a good day.