Easy Rumba
Anna Edwards
Contents
Easy Rumba
Dances
Authors Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
The Boudreaux Universe
About the Author
Also by Anna Edwards
Easy Rumba
A Boudreaux Universe Novel
By Anna Edwards
Copyright © 2020 by Anna Edwards.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
www.AuthorAnnaEdwards.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Design by: Anna Edwards
Editing by: Tracy Roelle.
Proofreading by: Sheena Taylor.
Published by Lady Boss Press, Inc.
Dances
Week One – Waltz - I’m Kissing You – 22
Week Two – Salsa - Conga – 23
Week Three – Tango – When Doves cry – 24
Week Four – Charleston – Fat Sam’s Grand Slam – 25
Week Five – Quick Step – Don’t Rain on my Parade – 28
Week Six – Paso Doble – It’s my life – 28
Week Seven – American Smooth – Cry me a River – 29
Week Eight – Rumba – Falling Slowly – 30
Week Nine – Viennese Waltz – A Thousand Years – 29
Week Ten – Jive – I’m Still Standing – 24
Week Eleven – Argentine Tango – La Cumparsita – 30
Fox Trot – Here you come again – 29
Week Twelve – Street Commercial – Empire State of mind - 30
Judge’s Choice – Rumba - 30
Couple’s Choice - Waltz – 30
Spotify Playlist
Authors Note
Please note the television show is based around a mixture of shows you may have watched, not any particular one.
Prologue
Elise
I can barely see through my swollen left eye. The bright purple bruising surrounding it, which I saw when looking in the mirror this morning, throbs a painful reminder of why I need to do this.
My right hand is broken and in a plaster cast, so I pick up the pen with my left. It won't be easy to sign the assortment of documents in front of me. I’m naturally right-handed, meaning my signature will be barely legible, but I don’t care. I need to, no, I have to sign these papers. I must safeguard my future and that of my nine-year-old daughter, who is currently sitting in reception with the secretary. We have to escape him. To flee to the other side of the country and go into hiding.
The words seem to merge as I look at them. My ribs ache from the bruising where he kicked me repeatedly. I’m a victim of domestic abuse at the hands of the man I love, no, loved—my husband, Simon, the man who’s known me in my most intimate moments. He took my trust and broke it, not just once but again and again. The last time being the most horrific.
“Miss Landry, is everything okay?” my lawyer asks.
Miss Landry, not Mrs. French. I never took Simon’s name. Maybe I knew this would happen all along. I made my name famous on the silver screen, and I was determined to keep it. I’m glad I did because it gives me comfort.
“Sorry, yes. Can you just run through the documentation again, please? My head’s a little fuzzy, and I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing.”
“Of course.” My lawyer, a man I’ve known and trusted since I first moved to Hollywood fifteen years ago, lifts up the first sheet on the table in front of him. “This one is the divorce application. You sign it, and I’ll put everything in motion. Mr. French has already said he won’t contest it as long as the other documents are signed.”
I nod my head to show I understand.
“And I’ll have full custody of Izzy?”
“Yes, your husband has even agreed to waive his visitation rights.”
I feel bad doing this to our daughter—she should be able to see her father, but she witnessed Simon’s last attack on me.
Izzy had been drinking her summer fruit juice on the white furry rug in the middle of our lounge. She knew she shouldn’t have been in there with it—Simon's rule, not mine. When the inevitable happened and she accidentally knocked over her juice, Simon started shouting at her, even though he’d been on a working lunch and decided to continue it with a glass of red wine in the lounge himself. Eventually he raised his hand to her, which was when I stepped in and took the blame. I informed him I’d allowed her to drink in the lounge.
After the third direct punch to my face, I fell to the floor and don’t remember much else. I was told it was Izzy who raised the alarm. That was three days ago, and she’s been subdued ever since. I knew this time I had to get away. It’s amazing what you can achieve in Hollywood if you have enough money. My lawyer has been working thirty-six hours straight on negotiations for me to get my daughter away from my husband.
I press the pen to the paper of the first document and slowly sign it with my left-hand, ensuring it’s at least partially legible.
“Done.” I exhale deeply.
The signed paper will free me from Simon in a time-honored, traditional Hollywood quickie divorce, but the next papers will detail the conditions I’ll need to observe.
“This one…” I’m handed another paper. “This one sets out the stipulations that will give you full custody of Izzy.” My lawyer points to the relevant lines. I don’t need him to, despite asking him to run through the paperwork again, I know the conditions by heart. “The first one states you’ll never disclose the true reason for your divorce. The papers will say it is due to irreconcilable differences, which neither of you contest. You’ve just grown apart. Mr. French wants more of a Hollywood lifestyle, and you want less. You’ll never do any interviews relating to the divorce. If your injuries come to light, it will be stated you were attacked during a failed burglary.”
I nod my head and initial next to the first point. I know I should go to the police and report what happened, but I want to protect Izzy from the intrusion such a course of action would entail. If this is what it takes, then so be it. I don’t trust Simon with her anymore.
“The second proviso is effective immediately. You and Izzy leave Hollywood and go into seclusion for at least a year. It doesn’t mean you can’t earn money through acting after the year is up, but you are agreeing to never work in Hollywood again.”
This was the harder of the two points to accept. I love my job. I’m known for my emotional roles in movies and was even Oscar nominated last year. It was an honor Simon, who’s more of an action hero star, wasn’t happy about. I was glad in the end I didn’t win as I don’t think he’d have coped.
It wouldn’t have mattered he’s received critical acclaim and is the higher paid of the two of us. If I’d received an Oscar, it would have been too much for him to handle.
I look over the wording again. The agreement doesn’t prevent me from acting ever again, only for a year except in Hollywood. There are other companies around the world I can work with. The TV industry in England is certainly flourishing. Izzy and I could travel there eventually. British soaps are sold all over the world. Maybe I could get a role in one of them as an American landlady behind the bar of one of the famous public houses. Besides, it will be good to have a year off work. I only took a few months off after Izzy was born because Simon insisted we work on a movie together.
Without further hesitation, I sign the final few relevant sections on the paper and hand all the documents back to my lawyer.
“Is that everything?”
“Yes.” He smiles ruefully at me. “I’ll get these filed and be in touch. Do I have your forwarding address?”
“I gave it to your secretary when I came in.”
“Good.”
Silence falls between us before he places all the papers back down on the table and comes over to me. He embraces me warmly, and despite my initial panic at the contact, I welcome his comfort.
“Please take care of yourself, Elise, and if you need me for anything, just ask.”
“I will. You have my word.”
He lets me go, and with a sad smile, I leave the room and find my daughter playing with the secretary. They have a set of cards in front of them and are shouting out ‘snap’. She looks up at me, her eyes are wide with dark shadows around the edges. She’s tired. I’m not surprised. I am as well.
“Is everything all right, Mama?” She instantly gets to her feet and takes hold of my good hand.
“It is now.” I give her tiny palm a squeeze.
“Can we go home?”
I inhale deeply, knowing the place she calls home will never be our residence again.
“I’ve got a better idea. How about we get on a plane and go to visit Grandma?”
“New Orleans?” she questions with excitement in her voice.
We’ve not visited my mother much over the years. Simon wasn’t impressed with the town of my birth, and he constantly tried to rid me of the accent. He succeeded in the end, and I feel the loss acutely.
“Yes. I thought maybe we could move there for a while? What do you think of that?”
Izzy lets go of my hand and looks up at me. I kneel down to her level.
“Won’t Daddy get angry with us?”
My heart breaks, and a lump forms in my throat. I shake my head.
“No, he’s agreed to us going.”
“Is this because I spilled my juice?”
Trying desperately not to cry, I pull her into a hug—not an easy feat with a broken arm. I can feel the tears pricking at the corner of my eyes.
“No, not at all. Sometimes it’s just better for mamas and daddies to live apart.”
“Will he come and see me?”
I squeeze her a little tighter.
“Not at first.” My voice cracks.
My daughter pulls away from me and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Good. He scares me, and no Daddy should do that.”
“No, they shouldn’t.”
Pushing up onto my feet again, I take Izzy’s hand, and we leave my lawyer’s office together. We climb into the car outside, waiting to take us to a new life.
Chapter 1
Elise
“Tea or coffee?” my friend Gabrielle shouts from the kitchen of the Inn Boudreaux, her stunning old style home and business.
When I first returned to Louisiana, this was where I stayed for several months until I found a place both Izzy and I loved enough to purchase. My mama had offered to house us, but after everything we’d been through, I wanted more independence. Gabby and I became great friends during this time, and our friendship has continued since Izzy and I moved out.
Gabby had a tough time after she fell pregnant at a young age but is now happily married to Rhys O’Shaughnessy, a professional baseball player. They have two children, Sam and Ailish. Izzy loves them both. She and Ailish, who’s five, often play dolls together. Simon never allowed Izzy to have dolls when she was younger. He insisted she spent her playtimes engaged in some educational pursuit or another, so I think she secretly enjoys the freedom to do something she couldn’t before. But everything changes when Sam, who’s twelve, is around. She immediately tries to behave older than her ten years—I’m sure someone has a secret crush.
“Can I have a coffee, please?” I shout back to Gabby, and a few moments later, she appears with the refreshing nectar in a filter and a pair of antique cups. She has the best crockery of anyone I know.
“Thank you,” I express my gratitude as she pours.
Gabby loves being the hostess, and none of us would try to change that. It’s what she enjoys doing. Our children are currently at school, Rhys is working out in the gym, and all the guests have left for the day, so this is our chance to relax and catch up on the local gossip. Gabby just got back from a few weeks in Chicago where she and Rhys are based during his baseball season.
“So how was Chicago? Did you hit all the shops while you were there?” I ask.
“I may have visited one or two. I found this cute antique place. I spent hours in there and far too much money. You’re now drinking from one of my acquisitions.”
“I thought this was new.” I examine the coffee cup more carefully. It’s made from fine bone china with delicate flowers painted on it, most probably hand decorated. “Next time, I’ll have to get you to ship some back for me. I’ve only got regular mugs from Target.”
“Nothing wrong with a Target mug. I just prefer these.”
We both raise our drinks with our pinkie fingers held out, as if we’re upper-class English ladies from the Victorian era, and lightly chink the cups together.
“As long as the coffee inside is strong, it’s all I need.”
“Tell me about it. I’m exhausted.” Gabby rubs her hand over her face.
“Well you’ve been traveling all around America, supporting Rhys.”
“It’s fun, and it isn’t just the travel…you know how my husband can be.” Gabby sticks her tongue through her lips and winks at me. “Plus, I adore seeing Sam’s face every time he walks into one of the stadiums to watch Rhys play. He loves playing his own baseball games too, and I know he’s already got scouts watching him—Rhys has pointed them out to me. As long as it saves my windows, I’m more than happy for Sam to turn professional. He broke another one just before we left.”
“I sometimes wonder what Izzy will do when she’s older. I knew the entire time I was growing up I wanted to be an actress, but she’s not really showing a particular interest in anything at the moment. She’s good at sports, art, drama, maybe not math, but she doesn’t seem to want to specialize in anything yet.”
“She’s ten. She’ll figure something out. There’s plenty of time.”
“I know,” I muse into my coffee.
Since Izzy witnessed Simon attacking me, she hasn’t been the same happy-go-lucky girl she was before. I’d like to think she’s not been affected by it, but I know she has. What if she never settles on anything because she’s somehow broken inside.
“Miss Elise, I hope you’re not overthinking things. Izzy is happy. She’s doing really well. You’re a great mama, and you’re raising a wonderful child.”
“I know.” I nod my head and take another sip of my coffee.
It’s something that’s been worrying me for a while, though. I don’t need to work, but I wonder if Izzy thinks I’ve given up because I haven’t sorted out a new job.
“Tell me what’s worrying you.” Gabby places her coffee cup down on the table, and when I also put my cup down, she reaches out to take my hand and continues, “You’ve told me everything that happened to you. Don’t go silent on me now. You know
I’m here to help you if you need me.”
“I do.” Pulling my hand away, I rub it over my face and bow my head. “I’m such an idiot.”
“No, you’ve been through a lot.”
“I just keep second guessing everything. I’ve had a few offers of work, but I’m scared to take them. What if Simon comes after me? What if I do something wrong, and I void the divorce agreement? I don’t want to risk losing Izzy. She hasn’t even asked to visit Simon. She saw him on the television the other day, doing an interview with his new girlfriend, and turned the television over to a different channel. I asked her later if she wanted to see her father, but she said no. I left it at that because I didn’t want to push the matter, but I wonder whether I should encourage her. Maybe he’s changed? Maybe he’s not abusive to his new girlfriend? Maybe it was just me? Maybe we rubbed each other up the wrong way? I don’t know. Everything is so confusing. And now I’m rambling and probably sounding completely crazy.”
“I’ve rambled many a time before. Ask Kate, my sister-in-law.”
I lean down beside me and lift my bag up onto the table. Then opening it, I dip my hand inside and retrieve the letter I singled out from my snail mail this morning. I hand it to Gabby, and she skim reads it.
“Wow, I love this show.” She claps her hands excitedly. “Are you going to do it?”
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