Chapter 5 - Loggerheads
"You're infuriating to the highest degree, Blake Collins!" Alex exclaimed, throwing her duffel bag down and turning violently on her heels to face the boy. He was wearing that insufferable smirk, and blinked at her as if he had no idea on earth what he possibly could have done to offend or upset her. Typical Blake; he never thought he'd done anything wrong. Everyone else was always at fault. Especially Alex.
"Well, I'm flattered that I have that much influence and effect in your life Hale," he replied smoothly in a very cold tone. "You're not really angry about this?"
This was how it had been for two months now – a constant battle of wills. It didn't matter who started it, because someone always did, and it seemed that their rehearsals either began or ended with a fight. When they weren't at each other's throats, Alex and Blake had perfected a frosty silence in which they worked, surprisingly, quite well. She'd expected nothing more – practically, they were unstoppable, garnering praise from all their instructors, and he was by far one of the best dancers she'd come across in the school if not (if she was pushed to admit it, which she wouldn't, not even begrudgingly) the best. But he was maddening some times; just when she thought 'hey, this isn't so bad', he went ahead and ruined it by unnecessarily criticising her, or by just simply being a jerk.
"Yes I'm angry," she said nodding, looking at him incredulously and crossing her arms. "We agreed on a schedule that would work for the both of us. But you've already messed me around. Twice, I hasten to add. And now you're switching our days around. Now, I let it slide the first time, but you can't keep doing it."
Blake looked heavenward, and matched her stance – arms crossed, all weight resting on one leg, with the other extended, and foot tapping. He did it absent mindedly, but it seemed to her that he was mocking her when he did.
"I told you, if you'd listen - something came up. I tried to get hold of you, but you were unreachable," he said calmly. Alex sighed loudly and threw her arms up in the air.
"So it's my fault you couldn't contact me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I guess that figures. You know, I keep forgetting how you can never be wrong!" She wondered how far she could push him this time until he snapped. He was disturbingly even tempered – although he bit back a lot, he hardly raised his voice, and retained such a control, it was her that ended up hot and bothered more often than not. If she was entirely honest, it didn't matter squat to her that he couldn't make a rehearsal – a break was welcome now and then, even if the short notice he'd given her was a little inconvenient - but it was his secrecy over why that intrigued her. She knew that she was only his partner – they certainly were not friends in any capacity – and he didn't really have to tell her anything at all. But that didn't stop her being a little curious as to why Blake Collins - disciplined, regimented, dedicated Blake Collins - had blown her off twice without so much as an explanation why.
"I'm here today aren't I?" Blake snapped. "And it's not me wasting rehearsal time by arguing about it." He shook his head, throwing her a glance with an expression that told her he was tired of this and strolled over to where his bag was. He began unpacking his things – ballet shoes, a bottle of water – and didn't speak again immediately. Sitting down to put on his shoes, he looked up at her briefly and then stared at his feet once more.
"If it happens again," he said curtly, "I'll make a point of finding you. As it was, I wasn't left with a lot of time to let you know anyway. I apologise."
Alex paused and looked at him with a fiercely indignant expression. She couldn't tell if he was sincere or not, but she'd lost the will to care. "Fine. Thank you. Make sure you do," she replied in a sweet voice. And turning from him she went to put her own shoes on.
Blake shook his head. She'd been testing the waters within their partnership for weeks now, picking fights unnecessarily, and he was growing tired of it. He'd figured the easiest thing to do was to keep calm and to give her what she wanted - a feeling of control and power – and then maybe she'd shut up. Although, a large majority of him wanted to leap in and shout back at her, as she did to him. It wasn't always easy not to say anything. She had this nasty knack of nestling right under his skin in a way that he didn't allow anyone else to. It was no good trying to talk to his parents; they were firm believers that it didn't matter whether or not your personalities were repellent, as long as his dancing wasn't affected. Blake had to be honest - he didn't know it wasn't falling to pieces. The number of times he'd thought about dropping her mid-lift as pay back...it didn't bode well to think of. And all this over a couple of missed rehearsals? He could try and tell her why, but he doubted she'd understand, and he had no desire to make her.
Chase had been sick the first time, about a month into their schedule, and as a favour to his mother, he'd left school and gone to pick him up. She'd been halfway across tone at some kind of brunch, unwilling, but not unable, to get back to take care of her son, so Blake had excused himself from his second period dance class and left. Everyone was curious, but no one asked why – he was the son of the founders and he could leave class if he wanted. He didn't bother to correct their assumptions. The six year old had been vomiting terribly, going to the bathroom a couple of times an hour with stomach cramps, and Blake had sat with him all day bringing him water and reading to him in between bouts of throwing up and fitful sleep.
The second time, the day before, his parents had left unexpectedly for New York, and Blake didn't feel like he could leave his brother, even if it was just for the few hours he would be rehearsing. Of course Chase could have gone next door to where the Hammond's lived and played there, but Chase was his brother, his responsibility and he wanted to take care of him. It was hardly Chase's fault their parents put dance before the welfare of their children.
The only reason he was here now was because Chase had a dance class of his own that he knew he could make it to in time to pick him up. He'd made sure to tell Alex they'd only be able to practice for an hour and a half – leaving the thirty minutes to get to Chase's school – and to compensate they'd have another rehearsal on Friday evening. She'd not been impressed by the change of plans – he'd forgotten that one of the reasons she was such a perfect partner for him was because she was as equally dedicated – and that was how the bickering had begun. On this occasion. He didn't doubt that had this whole situation not arose, she would have found something else to pick a fight with him about. He was pretty sure he could point at the cream walls and say just that – that they were cream – and she would turn and resolutely declare they were black.
Alex was stretching as Blake was – they usually did this in silence. In fact their communication had been limited to technical talk, when they weren't exchanging clipped insults. Simple discussions about what dance steps were working, which weren't, should they take the pas de bourrées out at that point – and they'd slipped easily into their routine, despite the rocky start. He could never admit it of course, but found that sometimes the silence and the work between them was quite comfortable, and he was almost at ease in her presence.
"Alright then," she said, not smiling but seemingly more relaxed than she had been before. He noticed dance seemed to do that to her, but then, it did the same to him. "Shall we begin?"
XXXXXX
She was a little breathless when they finished an hour or so later; Blake was a rigorous partner, and she felt a constant pressure to keep up with him and prove to him she was just as good a dancer, if not better. Reaching for her water, she drank most of it quickly and then pulled on her cardigan and trousers over her leotard and tights, unwrapping her dance skirt first. Blake was already done and drinking quietly by the door – he always looked away as she pulled her clothes on, though she never took her dance clothes off.
"Ready?" he asked blankly, and she couldn't miss the brief glance at the clock. She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," she replied. "Have you got somewhere you need to be?"
"I have to pick my brother up," he answered her, not meeting her eyes but holding the door open for her to walk out. There'd be no harm in telling her that, surely?
"Oh," she said with a frown. "I didn't know you had a brother. Younger obviously?"
"He's six," Blake replied, with an almost fond tone to his voice, Alex noted. She walked slowly beside him in silence, not knowing how to respond. She hadn't expected him to have a brother, or any siblings for that matter; he'd always seemed like an only child. But there was real warmth in his expression in the brief instance he spoke of him.
They stepped outside, and the air was cool, but all the more considering how warm they'd been in the studio. The sky was overcast, with a few shreds of sun trying to break out, but none of its fiery warmth coming with it. Alex pulled a coat around her tightly, and noticed Blake doing the same. Smiling politely at him, she mumbled a goodbye before heading down the street in the direction of her home. Blake frowned after her, a sudden thought striking him before he could even think about the ramifications.
"Alex!" he called out. She spun, with a face full of obvious surprise, and looked at him expectantly.
"Don't you...live a couple blocks from my house?" Blake asked strolling towards her, maintaining his confused frown.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well, it's more like six, but near enough."
Blake stared at her. "You're walking?"
Alex paused. "Yes."
"That's over five miles!"
She shrugged. "I quite often walk it. My Dad works late on Wednesdays so I make my own way. It's not a big deal," she smiled. "Besides I know a short cut."
Blake raised an eyebrow. "Well, don't you drive?"
"I haven't got a car yet," she frowned, feeling a little uncomfortable underneath his inquisition. "But I have passed," she added as an afterthought. She didn't add that her beloved truck she'd been driving around in had died. She was the first to acknowledge how proud she could be, and she knew full well what being Blake Collins entailed. His parents drove sports cars, holidayed abroad regularly, held extravagant functions and were world famous dancers. Her truck had been second hand from a friend of the family, and her father worked in advertising.
"Well," Blake asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looking briefly at his feet, mentally cursing himself for what he was about to do. "Do you...want a lift home?"
Alex opened her mouth to object straight away, but paused as she thought about it. She'd get home quicker, be much less tired and wouldn't have to watch her back. She didn't live in a particularly dangerous area, but she'd been tailed a few weeks ago and it had bothered her ever since. Plus, she had to get home to cook dinner too. Everything was logical about it, except for spending time with Blake Collins that wasn't on a strictly professional basis.
Perhaps she should look at it like business arrangement. He was helping her out. Scratching her back. She shook away that thought. It didn't help to look at it like that.
"Sure," she smiled, sighing. "Why not?"
He nodded, giving no clue to how he felt about her accepting and beckoned for her follow him to his car, parked at the rear of MSA's large parking lot. Alex couldn't believe she'd never noticed him pull in to the school before – it struck her as quite odd she didn't have a clue what kind of car he drove. She prepared herself to be intimidated, but had to frown when she spotted something small, fairly sleek and very blue.
She was hardly a car expert but as they drew closer she read the silver lettering on the back. A Ford Mustang Boss. Vintage - not a sports car like his Mom and Dad, but it could still be one of those old cars from yesteryear that were worth an absolute fortune. Or he'd paid beans for it, and would have to spend the rest of his life buying old scrap parts for it, and on closer inspection that seemed more likely. She saw the signs of wear and a little bit of rust on the blue bodywork, and Alex had to conceal her surprise. She had expected something brand new at least, but to have rust? Perhaps he wasn't the hoity-toity King Collins she had thought after all.
"Wow Collins," she mused. "This is actually a pretty nice ride."
He didn't smile but seemed to nod in thanks. "You don't mind if we pick my brother up first do you? It's not far from our houses," he asked, with an expression that dictated her opinion wouldn't affect his decision in any way. She shook her head and climbed inside the car.
XXXXXX
They drove in silence for the first few minutes, with Blake quickly turning the radio off as they began driving. He was careful; pausing at junctions, and sticking to the speed limit. Now that was the Blake Collins she expected. Calm, controlled, law abiding. She'd seen a brief glimpse that suggested there might have been more to Blake than he let on, and what he let on didn't impress her largely, so she hoped that once you scratched away at the steely exterior, there might be someone worth talking to.
"So your brother," Alex asked after a while just to make conversation, turning to him. "What's he like?"
Blake glanced at her from the corner of his eyes but then returned them to the road. "Like anyone's little brother."
"Cute?"
"Irritating," Blake said stiffly.
Alex smiled and shook her head. "Well, I'm woefully unqualified to talk about siblings – I'm an only child – so whether it's normal for 'anyone's little brother' to be irritating, I wouldn't know."
Blake managed a smile, and indicated left down a town street, knowing he wasn't far from the school. "He's called Chase."
"That's nice." She paused, indicating with her silence for him to go on. He glanced at her – she was staring intently at him, and it made him feel uncomfortable. She wanted to talk to him? He tried to focus on the road. He and Alex hadn't attempted civil conversation yet, and he was wondering – waiting in fact – for there to be a catch. In the meantime, he supposed he could follow.
"He dances."
"I figured that much," Alex laughed. "He is a Collins."
Blake rolled his eyes – the first jibe. "We're not all dancers. My maternal grandfather was an electrician, thank you very much."
"Right," she said, as if she didn't believe him.
"Anyway, you'll get to meet my darling little brother in just a moment, so there's not much point me telling you about him. He can talk enough for himself," Blake muttered, seeing the turning for the car park of Chase's preparatory dance school and pulling smoothly into a space.
"I'll go get him," Blake commanded, opening the door and letting in the cool air. "It'll save you getting out."
Alex bit her tongue and slumped in the passenger seat. Well, she had tried. Blake clearly wasn't the kind of person you could be friends with – and certainly not with her. They were worlds apart, and certainly didn't have anything in common besides dance. Plus, as she had mentioned early, he really was quite insufferable. It wasn't as if she wanted to be the best of friends with Blake though; she simply wanted there to be a better atmosphere. She liked a fight as much as the next person, but every week? And no one was more stubborn than Blake. Anyone else would back down from an argument with her after a little while, but he was tenacious. Like a dog with a bone! He was the harshest critic too – she could do nothing right. Alex began, tracing shapes with her finger on the dashboard. Why did it bother her so much what Blake Collins thought of her anyway? She was so lost in her thoughts and conflicts in her mind that she hadn't noticed Blake return, with Chase in tow, so when the door opened, she jumped. Blake smirked.
"Sorry, did we frighten you?" he asked, completely apathetic as he pulled the seat across for his brother, who clambered into the back and yanked on his seatbelt. Alex ignored the older boy and stole a look at the infamous Chase; a tiny frame swamped in jeans and a sweater, he was pulling a cap over his light blonde shaggy bowl cut, looking worn out but thoroughly gleeful. He caught Alex's gaze and grinned widely, revealing gaps where teeth should be and a blue tongue.
"Hey," Alex said, offering her hand. "I'm Alex, you must be Chase."
"Chase Collins," he replied, leaning forward and shaking her hand nimbly. He spoke with a slight lisp that was immediately adorable. "You're dancing with Blake at his school."
"That's right," she smiled as Blake got into the driver's seat. "I'm his dance partner for this year. Have you just been dancing?"
The boys face lit up, and reservations he'd had dissolving in his excitement. "Yeah and guess what? We were doing our pos-it-ions," he started, speaking so quickly he had to slow as he stumbled over the longer words, "and Miss Jackson said mine were the bestest out of the whole class and so she gave me some candy. Blake said to save it for after dinner but I wanted it and I don't like doing what Blake says because he never lets me doing any fun fings and so I ate it and guess what?"
"What?" Alex asked. Blake was looking at his brother in the rear view mirror waiting for him to finish the story impatiently. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the muscle in his jaw jump as he tensed it.
"It made my tongue go all blue!" And the boy stuck his tongue out violently to prove it.
"Whoa," Alex laughed, feeling breathless herself from the boy's story. "I wish I had some candy."
Chase seemed to pause in deep thought. "I have three cents in my pocket...I can buy you some candy?" he asked with a smile. "I have enough for a remote control car so I'm sure you can borrow a cent."
"That's very sweet," Alex replied, "But you keep your money."
"Sorry to interrupt," Blake sighed, starting the engine and just about managing to smile. "But have you got your belt on Chase?"
"Aye aye Captain Blakey!" the boy suddenly bellowed, saluting. Alex laughed in disbelief as Blake gripped the wheel a little tighter and his face flushed a little with embarrassment. His brother seemed confused and began to grow quiet.
"Are we not playing Pirates today, Blake?"
"Er...not today," Blake coughed as they pulled of the school. He looked left and right, paused for an oncoming car, and turned, heading to Alex's house which was before theirs in the neighbourhood they lived in.
"Alex can play too," Chase cried bouncing in his seat.
Alex looked at Blake, and mused quietly to herself. It was interesting to see him like this – human – and she doubted she'd get another chance.
"Alex doesn't want to play," Blake lied smoothly adopting the same voice, Alex noticed, that he often used with her. She crossed her arms, a little annoyed.
"I can answer for myself," she replied haughtily. Blake gave her a sideways glance.
"Trust me, you don't want to play."
"I thought she was your girlfriend," Chase moaned, "Make her play. We always play pirates on the way back from dance."
Alex turned to face him in her chair sharply, Blake almost overshot at a junction. "Chase!" he said through his teeth. "She's not my girlfriend."
"Chase, do you even know what a girlfriend is?" Alex asked carefully, fighting a grimace.
"He doesn't - he's just copying some kids he hangs around with," Blake interrupted, with a dismissive tone, trying to move the subject along.
The boy looked indignant and scowled at his brother, or at the back of Blake's head. "Do too! I have a girlfriend called Haley Preston and she is six and three quarters and so am I and she is my girlfriend - we hold hands!" he pleaded to Alex, who listened attentively while Blake drove on in a sulky stupor. "Anyways," Chase continued, stressing his words angrily at Blake, "Jimmy Hammond's older brother has a girlfriend and he drives her around in his car too, jusss like you are with Alex." He crossed his arms as if finalising his point. "I'm not stupid Blake. I'm nearly seven. You don't know everything."
Alex thought it best to jump in before the brothers started tearing chunks out of one another. "Chase. Sweetie. We're not going out. We're not even friends. We just work together at school," she explained slowly. "But we don't get on. Blake was just being kind and driving me home so I didn't have to walk all the way." Chase shook his head and twisted his cap to the side.
"That's not true! Blake said he thinks you're a really good at dancing, and that you're a good person and he said to Mommy you were the best in the whole year and guess what?"
"Chase, you've said quite enough," Blake spat in a menacing tone, finally jumping in and far too late. "Shut. Up."
"What?" Alex asked quietly, probing a bit further since her curiosity had been piqued.
"He told Dad you were pretty," Chase stage whispered, cupping a hand to his mouth.
Blake broke a little harder than necessary and the car came to an abrupt stop at the side of the road. Alex looked around with a shocked face and then stared at Blake.
"Here's your house," he said all too quickly and far too cheerily. "Bye."
Alex knew when she was beaten, and when was a good time to retreat. However shocking the information was, Chase had given her weeks of leverage and she could happily walk away now knowing she'd see him squirm tomorrow. "Bye Chase," she said. "I was nice to meet you. See you, Collins." And she picked up her bag from the floor of the car and slammed the door, strolling to her house with a confident smile.
Blake said nothing, only gripped the steering wheel tighter until his knuckles were white.
"Blake," his brother asked, having completely forgotten the entire car journey and returned to his usual happy little self. "Can we get ice cream? Please please please pleeeeeease..."
Blake shot around in his seat and stared at him hard. "What do you think you little weasel? I thought I told you back at the school not to talk!"
Chase seemed to take in his brother's angry visage and ponder for a moment and then pouting a little before smiling, he yelled, "Yay! Ice Cream! Woo! Thanks Captain Blakey."
Blake sighed and started the engine. His brother most likely would never realise the damage he'd done, but at six, he could hardly be punished for his naivety. Alex however was seventeen nearly, and he knew, as he pulled away, this was not the end of the ridicule.