Page 9 of How to Get Lucky
4
London is a choreographer.
She spent three years in Vegas.
She’s been back in Los Angeles for two weeks.
All of which I’ve learned in the first thirty minutes of our date, since I like listening to her and I want to get to know her.
Also, synchronicity has to be in play again. Because her being a professional choreographer totally works for me. After all, what’s a DJ without some dancing?
After the waiter brings appetizers and drinks to our table on the patio, we pick up the banter as if we never hit pause when we left the dog park. I take another pull of my beer and reach for a warm salted edamame while the ocean breeze brushes my shoulders and the surf crashes in the distance.
“I’m always curious about places like Vegas. Spots where people vacation and visit. What’s it like working and living there?”
“I liked it for the most part. But Vegas is also . . .” She doesn’t complete the thought immediately, just pauses with an edamame midair then finishes, “Complicated. Still not sure if Sin City and I are done, but we definitely needed a break.”
Sounds like there’s more to that story, but I don’t want to press yet, so I file away the complicated for a later conversation as she eats the edamame.
“I’ve only been to Vegas twice, and I can definitely say that a weekend always felt like the right amount of time for a visit,” she says.
“Do you like downtown or the Strip?”
“My first trip was for a friend’s bachelor party, and we stayed at Aria. But the last time, Sam and some other guys and I stayed down on Fremont, and that was definitely more my scene. Kinda dive-y, kinda dirty, but in a good way. And lots of fun clubs and bars with great music.”
“Always a plus, Mr. Music. My work was on the Strip, so that’s where I spent most of my time, but whenever I had a night off, downtown was where I’d be. You’ve got me thinking about traveling now though. Love a good road trip.”
“We should totally make that happen. California is the best road trip state.” The second that sentence is out of my mouth, it feels like I might be coming on too strong. But at the same time, I could see myself taking a road trip with her, spending a long weekend in San Francisco maybe. I can picture it, and I like what I see.
“I could be into that,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts and putting another huge smile on my face. But we haven’t even made it to green tea ice cream yet, so I try to pump the mental brakes. I focus on getting the conversation back on her.
“Did you always want to choreograph?”
She adjusts her red glasses. “At first, I wanted to be a scientist.”
I hold up a hand. “Wait. Scientist?”
“Geek here,” she says, patting her sternum. “I was a full-on science nerd as a kid. Beakers, make-your-own-volcano kits, periodic table coloring book—the whole nine yards.”
“Naturally, you went from microscopes to dance,” I say.
“Of course. It’s a normal segue for a grade schooler,” she deadpans. “I still love science, and I’m addicted to The Science of Everyday Things.”
“That podcast? I’ve heard it’s good. Been meaning to check it out.”
Her eyes light up with delight. “You have to. It’s sooo good. The episode on how credit card readers work was kind of mind-blowing.”
I tap my temple. “Mental note made.”
“But as much as I love science, I loved dance a little more growing up. When I discovered it, I ditched my lab coats for leotards. I wanted to dance professionally. I trained my whole life doing modern. But I had this great dance mentor at Montclair in Jersey. You know the type? One of those people who can kind of see into your soul?”
I picture one of my music teachers from college. “I definitely know the type. They’re awesome, but terrifying.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what Professor Kambara was like,” London says, her brown eyes sparkling. “She saw something in me, and I think it was that I was in my head a lot. I was always critical of my own work and my routines. She pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to codirect the spring production, because it turns out my analytical approach was actually ideal for choreography. Funny thing though—at first, I turned her down.”
“Why?” I ask, drawn into this story, drawn into her. “Because when you talk about it, you kind of light up.”
She dips her face as her lips curve into a grin, maybe a touch embarrassed, but thoroughly adorable. “Thank you. I said no then because I was nineteen and insecure. I figured Professor Kambara didn’t think I could hack it as a dancer and was trying to push me away from my passion. I had one lonely night in my dorm with a pint of Cherry Garcia, then Nate knocked on the door.”
