As I spoke those words with conviction I used my eyes to emphasize the message to Michelle before turning to Richard, “Now what you can do to commemorate this milestone in my life is take me out to lunch. How does that sound?”
“Very good.” I couldn’t ignore his bright and very attractive smile.
After lunch, I parted ways with Richard and went home to take a much needed nap. I got up, showered and started practicing my number, fighting nervousness and excitement at the same time. I loved to dance and had been told by many that I was pretty good. I didn’t think I was so good to start choreographing but it felt good moving rhythmically to music. It was an art far more than repetitious movement; it was a therapeutic experience.
As I gazed at myself in the mirror, I realized how much I appreciated my body. I was wearing grey tights with a white fitted tank exposing the contour of my figure. The time I spent on my body had paid off, but I still had those little imperfections here and there that kept me working harder. I believed in working out and staying physically active. Other than a little bulge in her mid-section, this is exactly how I remember my mom was shaped before… I didn’t want to complete the thought. My eyes began to swell. I immediately switched gears and grabbed my heels to start practicing.
After an hour or so I began to get dressed. My color for the evening was black. I dressed in black sequin mini shorts and corset with the fishnet stockings. I had to get some work done to the new silver sequin platform I’d purchased for the contest. They were nice platform dance shoes with straps added to protect my ankles. I applied my makeup with emphasis on my dark smoky eyes. I’d put a jet-black rinse in my hair the night before to mystify my look for the show. I was on!
That night was my first dance-off. A dance-off is where the local dance leagues in L.A. would showcase their best dancers in a competition. Dance—offs could go statewide. Last year my team’s rival team, One Step, took home the district title as best dance team. The One Step team won a trophy and five thousand dollars. Their winning dancer Wendy was the bomb. There was some backlash because she was a former stripper but not enough for the judges or the association to rescind their decision. From what I’ve been told, most of the dancers were reformed exotic dancers or NBA cheerleader-rejects. Hell, the association was comprised of current and washed up choreographers and background dancers from music videos! It tickled me when I heard the MCs give the resume run down for the judges and team choreographers. Some of them worked with artists that I’d never heard of or artists that only did two-step moves in their videos and at concerts.
The more impressive ones were those who had worked with Janet Jackson, Britney Spears, and Paula Abdul. There were even a few a couple of months ago that were background dancers for Beyoncé and Missy Elliott. At the last event, I could have sworn I saw Fatima Robinson, the famed choreographer that has worked with Michael Jackson, Aaliyah, Prince, and many others. She was so low key and in the cut that I couldn’t be sure. There were plenty of scouts available for aspiring video dancers. But for me this was just a hobby.
I loved the atmosphere. My choreographer, Jimmie was great. He was a forty-nine year old, African American, flaming dancer. A knee injury prevented him from continuing his dreams. He showed us pictures of Broadway plays he starred in and famous figures he’d been associated with during the height of his career. And he loved me. He’d call me The Lost One Found using no nicknames for it.
“Arch those fabulous arms, The Lost One Found!”
“Heels up high, The Lost One Found.”
“Chest out, The Lost One Found.”