Page 2 of Missing Linc
“Yes. Right. So. As I was saying. If you don’t have… guts and heart for the arts, you may as well leave now and don’t waste your money on an acting course.”
The guy stands up again and takes his bag off the floor and aims for the door.
“I thought you had both,” I tell him, and he pauses halfway to the exit.
He turns to me with a wide, sheepish grin.
“I do. But I’m in the wrong class. I was looking for Dance Science. And I take it this isn’t it. Sorry.”
He whispers the last word and leaves the classroom just as he entered it. With all eyes on him. Including mine.
Oh, Linc. Get a grip. You’re not attracted to a guy!
“Okay. Let’s get this shit started, right guys?”
* * *
Even though I only ever saw him once that first day of class in January, I often go back to thinking about him.
The quirky student with the heart and guts that was obviously in the wrong classroom.
Of course he’s a dancer. Those legs, that stride in his walk, that grace belong to the dance studio.
Not that my guys couldn’t take a leaf out of his page. Some of them have two left feet, and if they’re going to be anything, they need to at least be somewhat capable of choreo.
Eventually, as time passes, his image fades from my memory. I can barely remember what he looks like. But I remember how he made me feel in those few minutes he was in my life.
Which is weird, because I have a fiancée that I love very much and… I’m not gay, or bi. So…
“Do you have to go, baby? They can find someone else. Maybe Isaac can do it,” Makayla says, running her hands from my hand to my chest, curling her lip and batting those lashes.
“That’s not the point, babe. The point is Iwantto do this. It’s my passion. It’s my job,” I tell her because those puppy eyes don’t work so well anymore. Especially when she’s trying to stop me from doing what I love.
“But my dad has a great opening. You wouldn’t even have to start from the bottom. You can go straight in as supervisor. Isn’t that great?”
I take a deep breath and count to ten. Then I smile.
“Construction is not my job. Babe, you know that.”
She doesn’t stop pushing it.
“But you can’t go work for Lenka. She’s such a leech. I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” Makayla says, and her pitch goes higher.
“Lenka is a lesbian.LES-BI-AN.Kayla, how many times do we have to go through this?”
I leave her in my apartment to sulk and go to the meeting with Lenka. But the whole way there I can’t stop thinking about Makayla’s words and the sheer audacity to keep offering me a job with her dad when I’ve got a perfectly good job doing what I do.
Once I park outside the studio, I take big deep breaths and walk in to find Lenka and a couple others chatting amongst themselves.
“Linc! Here you are!” Lenka says in her thick Czech accent and pulls me in for a big hug that almost chokes me to death.
But, that’s Lenka for you. A big, butch, cuddly bear.
“Hey you. Long time, no see,” I tell her.
“Agh, not my fault. The tour ran longer than we anticipated.”
“Poor you. Your show was so successful that you had to add more dates. What a sob story. Let me play the world’s smallest violin for you,” I cry and fiddle with my fingers around my neck, pretending to play with an invisible violin.
