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Overview
Jadyn has made a life for herself with her boyfriend, Taji, and has a promising career as a dancer...just as soon as she nails her next audition. However, she has never fully recovered from the emotional and physical pain she suffered at the hands of her mother and stepfather as a young girl. After finding out that Taji, the supposed love of her life, has been lying to his family about her, and may have even ruined her chances at getting a lead role in STOMP, Jadyn decides to make a drastic change in her life. She attempts to locate her biological father, whom she has never had a real relationship with. Her search takes her to Florida where she stays with her great-uncle and cousin. While following up on seemingly dead ends in her search for her father, Jadyn discovers that sometimes things are not quite what they seem when she becomes involved in a heated love affair with a man named Julian, who may just be the death of her.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781429929080 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | St. Martin's Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 04/13/2010 |
| Sold by: | Macmillan |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 384 |
| File size: | 421 KB |
About the Author
Mari Walker is the author of Never As Good As the First Time. She spends her spare time freelance writing, editing, and advising aspiring writers on creative writing techniques. Mari resides in Ohio where she is currently working on her next novel.
Mari Walker is the author of Never As Good As the First Time and Not Quite What It Seems. She spends her spare time freelance writing, editing, and advising aspiring writers on creative writing techniques. Mari resides in Ohio where she is currently working on her next novel.
Read an Excerpt
Not Quite What It Seems
By Mari Walker
St. Martin's Press
Copyright © 2010 Mari WalkerAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-2908-0
CHAPTER 1
The throbbing, pounding bass line vibrated against the highly polished wooden planks that formed the stage floor and created a synergy that sent a tingling through the soles of her feet and penetrated her to the very core. It ignited a fire inside that caused her limbs to move almost independently, propelling her forward into the intricate movements that made up the dance she was performing. She always came alive when she danced. Her passion and love of the art overtook her and filled every inch of her being with unspeakable joy. She knew with everything she had that this was what she was born to do.
The music pushed Jadyn forward. Here we go. She had selected Aaliyah's "Try Again" as her audition piece.
"It's been a long time
We shouldn't have left you
Without a dope beat to step to ... step to ...
Spin and step kick and leap ... leap twirl fling out arms strut to the front like a homeboy strut strut punch the air punch punch kick! Hip shake hip shake roll the stomach. Spin on toes leap drop down. Snap the head down and rest.
A thought broke through her subconscious, threatening to break her concentration on the dance. You have to tell him it's over. You have to tell him tonight.
Sheer will alone caused the thought to retreat to the far corner of her mind as she pulled out the next dance move.
Drop to the floor on her bottom, bring her legs up and spin like a street dancer, bounce back to her feet, two back bends into walkovers, tip toe tip toe tour jeté.
The pesky little voice found its way back into her thoughts. Tell him. Tell him you're leaving him. Tell him it's over.
She pushed the thought away again and focused.
Snap kick twirl twirl snap kick twirl twirl.
Jump leap splits touch your toes in the air. Repeat. Feet touch the stage crouch snap head down end of song.
That was the end of Jadyn's audition. She felt fantastic, and knew she had nailed every step. Every move of the choreographed piece had been precision perfect. She felt the slick wetness of perspiration against her taut muscles.
Slowly rising to her feet, the judges had her full attention as she pushed an errant sweat-soaked lock of hair out of her eyes. A stage hand flung her a clean white towel, which she caught with one hand as she moved toward the front of the stage, mopping her damp brow, breathing hard.
The judges whispered to each other from their center seats in the third row from the front.
It was the woman judge who broke the silence. She peeked up over the top of her glasses as she addressed Jadyn.
"That was unbelievable. You really move well. How long have you been dancing?"
"Since I was five. Really even before that. My mother said that I would sit on the floor and move my arms and legs to music even before I could walk." She grinned at the end of her sentence, but the judges didn't return the gesture.
Removing her glasses and chewing on one end briefly, the female judge eyed Jadyn before slipping the glasses back in place.
"Well, you have talent for sure. But then, so do a lot of young women. Tell me, why should we select you and not one of them?"
Jadyn had not anticipated this question. She stared at the woman, whose skin was the color of peanut butter. Her fine hair, cropped closely to her scalp, was unruly and refused to follow the pattern of the precision cut, with tufts jutting straight out. But it only served to make her more beautiful.
Jadyn cleared her throat. "The reason to choose me is because I'm good. I know I'm good. Now, the others, they may be good, too, but you see, I'm also determined. I have patience, and I plan to persevere until I make dancing my career. I have no illusions about this business. I know it's gonna take a lot of hard work. But I'm not afraid of hard work and I know how to listen to advice from people in the business who know more than I do."
"That will be all, miss." The white male judge to the left of her spoke. "Look, we aren't going to prolong this. We'd like to see you back tomorrow to see how well, and how quickly, you can pick up the group choreography."
Jadyn's heart started pounding and, before it soared up to the ceiling, a big grin spread itself across her face.
"You mean, I got the part?"
"No, we mean we're giving you a callback. You've got one more hurdle before we can offer you a part. Be here at ten o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. Here is the music for the group choreography. We want you to listen and get a feel for it," he said, holding up a CD.
A callback! That was almost just as good. Jadyn trotted down the stage steps and took the CD from the judge's hand.
"Thank you! Thank you all. I'll be here, believe that. Thank you again."
She leapt in the air as she ran off the stage and into the dressing room.
Once she was dressed again in her pink Baby Phat sweatsuit, Jadyn swung the bag that held her dance clothes over her shoulder and bounced out the side door. She sprinted down the short alley and burst onto the sidewalk, still unable to contain the joy she felt at actually getting a callback. She nearly knocked down an old man who was shuffling by, pushing a rusted, squeaky grocery cart. She steadied him with one hand, still holding on to her bag with the other.
"Sorry, sir. Are you OK?" she asked before moving past him.
"Watch where you walkin', dammit!" the old man cursed her, swatting his free hand in her direction.
"OK, I said I was sorry!" she threw over her shoulder, glancing back at him briefly before turning her face back toward the street just in time to see that her bus was pulling away from the curb.
She ran up and pounded on the glass door, running alongside.
"Hey! Hey! Hold up!"
But the bus driver pretended she didn't see her and roared off down the street leaving Jadyn standing in a cloud of black exhaust.
"You bitch!" Jadyn couldn't help yelling after her. But then she shrugged it off. She wasn't going to let a missed bus ruin her day. She wasn't going to let that old ass bastard ruin her day, either. Unh-unh. Not gonna happen. She'd walk the eight blocks to the lot where she'd had to park the car, because all of the other lots had been full. She didn't mind. Today, she could fly!
The audition for STOMP had gone well. She could remember her aunt Denise taking her when she was five to see the production of Annie, the musical about the orphan who had been adopted by a millionaire bachelor. She had fallen in love with the idea of becoming a dancer onstage the moment she'd seen the production. Especially the scene with the song "It's the Hard Knock Life." The kids her age singing and dancing was a whole new thing for her. She had told her aunt who then had paid for Jadyn to take dance lessons ever since. The hours of practice at Ms. Deborah Rashad's dance studio all these years had really paid off. She had to call Ms. Rashad, who had been her instructor and mentor from the very first lesson at Felicia Allen Dance Studio, named for Ms. Rashad's mother, who had founded it. Jadyn had to thank her for pushing her so hard. She hadn't always understood why she seemed to single her out for more work and more studio time, almost from the first day Jadyn had landed in her studio.
"Jadyn, you seem to have a natural talent," she had said with a smile as she pulled her aside one day. "Have your mother come to practice with you next week. I would like to discuss the direction she wants us to take in developing your skill in the dance."
"Yes, Ms. Rashad," she had told her, a little unenthusiastically. Yes, Jadyn liked to dance, but extra studio time? Between homework and dancing, she didn't see when she would have time to play Nintendo with her cousin Nite. But she had been obedient anyway and told her mother what Ms. Rashad had said. Her mother, her aunt Denise, and Ms. Rashad worked out a plan that gave Jadyn three extra hours of studio time per week. As the years went on, by the time Jadyn was fifteen, she practically lived at the studio. She could practice whenever she wanted in exchange for teaching some of the younger students. Ms. Rashad had offered her a job there more than once, but even though Jadyn had grown to love Ms. Rashad, she didn't want to be tied down, or feel obligated to stay when the opportunity came for her to travel.
She thought about calling her right then and there, but decided the news was too good not to deliver in person. She would stop by the studio later.
If she got the part in STOMP, she would be doing a ten-city tour, from New York to L.A.! Suddenly, a frown wrinkled her brow. The thought of leaving brought back the thoughts that she had squashed earlier. She had to tell Taji that they were no longer a couple. She was planning on breaking up with him even if she didn't get the part.
She was tired of all the drama. Tired of Taji all but ignoring her, always studying some book or working late. At least, he told her he was working late. She had her doubts at times.
Not to mention the fact that he couldn't satisfy her in bed. Well, to be fair he could sometimes, maybe even most of the time, when he wasn't distracted by his homework and working on the plans for his grandfather's business. He could rock the boat, the man in it, too. It was just that sometimes he would ram himself inside her before she was ready. And he would do it so hard that she would cry out. To make matters worse, he mistook her genuine pain and anguish during lovemaking for passion, and pounded her even harder. She thought about the last time he'd made love to her. One of her friends had told her that there was no such thing as a man being too big.
"Girl, you got to know how to work it. Don't let them big-dick brothas intimidate you. Look, get into a position where you can control the movements, like on top. That way you control how deep he can go. You know what I'm sayin'?"
So Jadyn had tried that. And it had worked at first, but then Taji had gotten all excited, grabbing her thighs and pulling her down hard at the same time he pushed himself up.
"Oh!" she had squealed.
"Yeah, baby, you like that? Hunh?" He held her there wriggling his hips around.
"Oh, that's good baby ... You runnin', give it to me ...," he moaned as she held tightly to his hands.
Her friend had been right about one thing though, she could control things to a large degree in that position. So she had leaned forward and grasped his hands, entwining her fingers in his so that he couldn't grab her thighs again, and raised her hips, gyrating them in a way that was comfortable to her.
She would have to remember to thank her friend for the advice, though it didn't work all the time. Taji would still get carried away. And if she told him it hurt, he would say:
"I know, baby, I know, it hurts so good, don't it?"
And on and on it would go until he had finally come.
Even when she tried to talk to him about how he was too big when they weren't in bed, he would grin and take it as a compliment, never taking her seriously.
She shook her head against the memory as she rounded the curve a block away from her car. Her watch told her it was 9:30 a.m., only a half hour before she had to be at work. She had to hurry or she would be late.
She turned the lock on the champagne-colored Toyota RAV4 that Taji had given her for her birthday and climbed inside. His parents hadn't been too happy with that gift, reminding Taji that she was not his wife and he shouldn't be spending that kind of money on someone he might not be spending his life with. But Taji had insisted that if it was his money, he should be able to spend it as he saw fit. She smiled at the memory. He didn't care that his parents thought she was a gold digger — which she wasn't. Yes, she had accepted the car, she needed transportation. But they didn't know how many gifts she had turned down, like the credit cards he had tried to give her, for example. She didn't want him to feel like she was taking advantage of him. Nor did she want to get so dependent on the things he was giving her that they would weigh her down if she felt like leaving. As she did now.
To be truthful, she had to admit that being with Taji wasn't all bad. He did spoil her to death and she didn't lack for anything, for sure. He had even put the title of the car in her name so she would know that the car was truly a gift. He looked damn good, he could make her head spin when he kissed her. She guessed the problem was that he was spoiled because things had come so easily for him that he felt he didn't have to work at anything. Not even lovemaking.
Pulling into the mall parking lot where she worked, she glanced at her watch and saw that she only had six minutes to get inside. She had to hustle!
CHAPTER 2She loved her job at Saks. Though it didn't pay much — twelve dollars per hour — she got a generous 40 percent discount on everything in the store except evening wear.
Jadyn worked all morning waiting on women who were looking for that next special outfit to wear to that next special event. Working in the new Polaris Fashion Place Mall that was only a year old made Jadyn feel good. And working at Saks Fifth Avenue, a genuine New York boutique for the rich and famous, was the best thing to happen to her in a while. She was amazed at the young men who had been hired to walk around the store, carrying glasses filled three-quarters of the way with Champagne, offering it to the wealthy women who perused the racks. There was also a live pianist playing soothing music in a nearby corner of the main room. Jadyn liked to think it was "music to shop 'til you drop by." She smiled as she walked out of the back room carrying an armload of dresses that one of their regular customers, Mrs. Lichty, had preordered online.
She had very expensive tastes, though in Jadyn's opinion, she would never be able to do the dresses justice, with her skinny arms and legs and pancake butt. She never understood anorexic white women and why they thought "thin" was better. She guessed thin was OK, but some of them, like Mrs. Lichty, went beyond thin to skin and bones!
Jadyn could actually see her bones sticking out as she stood in the dressing room in her bra and pan ties waiting to try on her selections. She could swear she could count each one of the woman's ribs. Her thin lips were pressed together, and you could see that she had tried to make them look bigger by using the lipstick to draw over the edge of her top lip. If she'd used a liner pencil to define a new lip line, she might have gotten away with it, but as it was, her lips reminded Jadyn of a kindergartener who had colored outside the lines.
The only things that were pretty about her were her jade-green eyes and thick chocolate-brown hair. It was cut into a slick bob that was tapered in the back and fell in layers, with a side part that made her bangs slant across her forehead dramatically.
"Are you going to stand there staring or am I going to get to try on my things?"
Janice Lichty placed a hand on her bony hip and glared at Jadyn. She better be glad that Jadyn was in a good mood, because job or no job, she didn't tolerate disrespect from anyone. So instead of telling this bird of a woman to stick it, she just smiled her best smile and gave her what she wanted.
"So sorry, Mrs. Lichty! My, have you lost more weight? You're looking so thin, I don't know if these size twos you picked out will fit!"
Mrs. Lichty's whole attitude and demeanor seemed to brighten. "You think so, dear?" She turned from side to side peering at her reflection in the mirror and sucking in her nonexistent tummy.
Jadyn continued to schmooze. "Yes, I do. Here," she said carefully placing the dresses on hooks inside the dressing room, "you go ahead and try these on, even though I'm sure they will look great on someone as slender as you, I am going to see if we have them in a smaller size. I'll be right back."
"You are such a big help, Jay. I wouldn't come here if it weren't for you. Hurry back, dear, you must tell me about the color and fit!"
Jadyn backed out of the room still smiling. "Be right back, I promise," she said and as she drew the door shut, she grimaced. Simple heifer. Funny how a smile and a lie could change an old squeezed-out lemon into a lemon pie.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Not Quite What It Seems by Mari Walker. Copyright © 2010 Mari Walker. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
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