Page 46 of Just Ten Seconds

Nick takes it as his cue to hop on the dance floor, doing a spectacularly bad running man. A few of his friends cheer him on. Jackie laughs at his moves because he’s a giant man pulsing his arms as he lifts his knees. He takes a second to catch his breath before moving it to the sprinkler.

More people join us, so I take the chance to politely bow out, but Jackie pulls me back in.

“Oh no, you don’t!” she yells over the music.

I drop my arms to the sides. She picks them up and dances with me, so I’m trapped.

As she gives me a twirl, I let out a laugh.

“There it is,” she says and then dips me.

Just then, the crowd parts as Manny comes in, doing the worm. We jump up and clap for him as he starts break dancing. I tilt my body back and give Jackie a surprised face. She lifts her arms in wonder as well.

Everyone forms a circle around Manny as we cheer him on, “Go, Manny! Go, Manny! Go!”

Nick works his way into the circle, doing the moonwalk. Again, it’s a pretty bad attempt but hysterical nonetheless. Jackie kicks them both out with her rendition of the robot.

She works her robot right on over to me.

“No way!” I hold my hands up in protest.

“It’s my birthday. You can’t deny the birthday girl her one request!” She stays in robot character as she moves, tugging my arm in staggered pulls into the middle.

I relent.

When she gets me to the middle of the dance floor, I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do. I haven’t been dancing in forever. So, I do the only organized dance routine I know—the Macarena.

“Get it, girl!” Jackie chimes as I move stiffer than she was when she was doing the robot.

Nick and Manny chime in, as does the crowd, and with every clap and cheer, I get a little looser, a little more confident that I actually put a sway into it.

And then I blush ten kinds of awful because I am not a dancer.

Having down my obligatory dance in the circle, I skip off to the side of the circle and join the crowd, so the next person can jump in.

As I stand on the outskirts to a dance circle, I’m surprised at how much fun everyone is having. Not because they’re dancing. It’s the way they’re celebrating like we’re back in college. When I graduated, I went right to work. My late-night activities consisted of happy hour on a Thursday night and then bed by nine. Weekends were out to dinner or a wine bar.

If any of my city friends saw me celebrating like a child, they’d probably turn their noses up at me.

“Hey, Madonna!” A guy appears next to me. He’s not wearing eighties gear, just jeans and a T-shirt that’s about three sizes too small. His floppy brown hair is the only thing that reminds me of the eighties.

“Hi.”

The circle has now parted, and everyone is freestyle dancing.

“You look familiar,” he says, his dark eyes trying to place me. “From around here?”

“No.” I swallow as I keep my gaze focused on Jackie dancing with Nick.

He crosses his arms and appraises me. “No. It’s like I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

I take a step to the side, away from him and his curious gaze. Really, I’m surprised sometimes that I’m not recognized more. The day after the murder, Benjamin’s photo was splashed on every paper. Thankfully, I was only in a few and only after the trial began. Still, it was enough that Mara Greenfield became a known name by reporters.

“You must have me confused with someone else.”

I turn from him and walk over toward the bar. He’s right behind me.

“Why are you being so shy?” he asks, grabbing my forearm.