Dark City

33.

White wisps flew in front of Tom's windshield, clinging and melting against the glass. He parked on the frozen lawn in front of the Shark River Country Club, ready to teach his bi-weekly fencing class. He had convinced the club to give him a studio where he could hold fencing classes at affordable rates for kids.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he checked the screen. Nathan Stone, it read. Tom turned the phone on silent and shoved it in his pocket. They hadn't been talking since he got back from Hungary. Seeing 'Nathan' pop up on his phone screen filled Tom with a fiery rage.

He squinted through the frosty gale, snow crunching under his gait as he crossed. His lips went numb as snowflakes clung to his beanie and stubble.

The building loomed before him, an icy fortress painted on a grey sky. It had been his only refuge since he had returned from Hungary to an empty house and a note in blue pen that said: You deserve better. He might have hoped the note came from Lacey, but it was very much so in Nathan's chicken scratch.

And so, without any explanation, Lacey had gone. Gone were the pleasures of vegan stir-fry, home improvements and pretty gardens. Now the snow blanketed Lacey's garden and there were no more American beauties to remind him of her hair.

Upon discovering this cold, uncaring note, he also found something shimmering beneath the couch. He examined it closely and identified it as the silver corner of a condom wrapper. During those two weeks he was in Hungary, Nathan's relationship with Alex had fallen apart and Lacey had disappeared. It made sense. He'd seen the way they looked at each other. He didn't have the nerve to bring it up, but he was sure enough just seeing the way Nathan suddenly hesitated to make eye contact when Tom asked about Lacey.

The more Tom thought about that wrapper, the more detail his mind painted into the story. A dark suspicion festered on and on, oozing venomous hate.

Tom entered the lobby of the clubhouse, his footsteps echoing and the wind rattling the windows. The lights were out, but the snow outside reflected a pearlescent glow that lit his way. The warm lights of the dance studio glistened amidst the gray, a golden paradise.

He saw his usual students--a mess of children, a senior citizen and a couple teenage girls who sometimes attended--and his teaching assistant Alexandria. For whatever reason, she had dropped out of school and moved out of her parents' home. Tom could relate, having dropped out of college. At least Alex took care to quit school before racking up years of student loan debt.

Tom couldn't afford to provide weapons to his students, and most of the class was spent practicing calisthenics and footwork, but Tom made it his goal to give them the right kind of talents to excel.

While most had very little of their own gear, Alex had everything from the jackets to the gloves to the slanted soles in her shoes. She often gave people tips on where to order special items and suggested that once they had enough gear, they could practice a more advanced study with her.

As Tom was setting up the orange cones around the studio, Alex cleared her throat to alert him to her presence. She had her hair double braided against her head, fastened with a black bow.

"Late again," she said. "These kids are paying for your time."

"I charge half as much as anyone in town," he said.

"Yes, and you've been teaching footwork for a month."

"Nobody ever regretted practicing too much footwork."

Alex kicked an orange cone on its side. The students whispered amongst themselves.

This was not the same Alexandria who Tom remembered from before he left for Hungary. His whole world had turned upside down. Lacey was gone. Nathan was a traitor. And Alex was... strangely sexy. Tom stood tall to stare her down. Alex got right in his face, trying to be equally imposing with her eyes.