“Well, I’m not now.” Ben narrowed his eyes at Beau in a challenge.

Caleb smiled and took Archer’s hand. “You in?”

Archer watched the B-Boys silently fighting and vowed to keep things nice and light with Caleb. “Sounds great.” He winked. “As long as it’s swimsuit-optional.”

They had a late night, and when Archer finally cracked his eyes open Sunday morning, he was alone in their room. He saw that Lynn had texted Call me! and wasted no time dialing her number.

“So … I baked a cake yesterday,” she said as soon as he answered.

His heart leaped. “And?”

Lynn groaned.

His heart sank right back down. “Did she say no?”

“I didn’t get to ask! I went for a shower when it was in the oven and when I got out, I smelled smoke.”

“Oh my God!”

“Then the smoke alarm went off, then the sprinklers.”

“Holy shit, Lynn.”

“It wasn’t for very long, but … part of the ceiling fell in.”

His jaw dropped. “What?”

“Not too bad, just where Leak Perry was.” She gave a weak laugh. “Now it’s a 9021-hole.”

Archer half laughed, half moaned. “Oh, Lynn! Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “I mean, I’m still a bit shaky, but I’m staying with Sasha for now, while it gets repaired.”

“Well, that’s good. And how are my plants?”

“Er, extra watered?”

“Perfect. How long are repairs supposed to take?”

There was a pause. “Fletcher said a month, but…”

Fletcher was an unreliable asshole. Archer gulped. “Let’s hope it’s less than three, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Archer, I’m sure it will be! Worst case, you can always crash with me and Sasha while you work things out.”

Right. “Work things out” while unemployed and homeless in the most expensive city in the world. He could picture the glee on his mom’s face when he arrived back in Ohio. “I’m sure it will.”

As the week went on, Archer’s guilty feelings about almost missing the hip-hop show lingered, especially since Mateo was still clearly pissed about it. He and Caleb barely existed, as far as Mateo was concerned, except for the odd time Archer would feel eyes on him and turn to see Mateo glaring.

But as that week passed, then another, he noticed that some of the other dancers were showing up closer and closer to showtime. What used to be a good hour of hushed backstage chatter over warm-up and careful makeup application was now down to about ten minutes of cursory stretching and a slapdash stop at the makeup table.

“We’re on in five minutes, Grace,” Mateo said to his Retro partner when she rolled in before the show Monday night and began peeling her clothes off.

Grace looked unconcerned as she flipped through her costume rack. “So?”

“What happened to warm-up?”

She shrugged and pulled her jumpsuit off the hanger. “Don’t need long.”