by Tonya Plank
“I don’t even want to know that.”
“Right.” I nodded. Even being aware of how much critics liked you could give you too much pride, get you off your game. I knew that. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. No more words, no more thoughts about it now. I promise.”
“Good girl,” he said, cupping his palm under my chin, pulling my face toward him and kissing me lightly on the lips.
***
“Tonight will be a lot different than last night,” Sasha told me on the way over to the Winter Gardens. “For one thing, there will be a lot more people on the ballroom floor, especially in the early rounds. Floorcraft will become more important, and that’s where following will come more into play. If it looks like we may run into someone, particularly on the traveling dances, then I might have to change the routine a bit or move us out of the way. I need you to be amenable.”
What? He had never told me this before. My heart dipped to my stomach. I momentarily went into panic mode. He couldn’t change the routine on me now. It was in my muscle memory. Could he have thought to tell me this before now? So we could have practiced an alternate routine? And amenable? His cutely overdeveloped American vocabulary had momentarily become very annoying. “What do you mean change the routine? Sasha? Could you not have told me this before?”
“I’m sure I have,” he said, looking up and frowning as if trying to remember. “Yes,” he nodded. “I remember telling you in my studio when you were fighting me about not having to learn to follow because we would have routines.”
“I remember that fight very well and I remember very well you never, ever telling me that,” I countered, my grammar admittedly a mess.
“How can you remember very well me never telling you that? That doesn’t make sense, Rory. Maybe that is because you were being so hardheaded…”
He stopped walking, tightened his grip on my hand, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was in his shake-off-the-stress mode. I knew it well now.
He was right. It wouldn’t help to fight right now. Perhaps he had told me this and I refused to listen. I really didn’t think so, though. I would have remembered.
“Okay, don’t worry,” he continued after a few seconds of deep breathing. “I am just telling you to prepare you for the absolute worst. Honestly, I’ve only once had to do it. If I have to tonight, I will alter just as slightly as I can.”
But the word “once” was all I could focus on. “When did you have to change it before?”
He looked up to the left as if trying to remember. “It was in paso. The floor was too crowded behind us for me to do a full-out tour jeté. So I did another basic and moved us over a few feet.”
“Couldn’t you just not have done it? Or done a less full-out jump?” I heard the panic in my voice.
“That’s an important step, Rory. I couldn’t do it half-assed.”
“But wouldn’t the judges have known what you were doing?”
“Yes, but in that case, if I moved us slightly it would have been fine. Which is why it was more important that I moved us. It was more important for the judges to see that Xenia could follow my lead. It would have looked worse if I just did a half-assed jump when there was a better alternative. Do you see?”
I threw my hands up. One was still connected to him, so his arm came up as well. “Sasha, Xenia is at a totally different level than I am. You need to not do that to me. We needed to prepare slight alterations if—”
“No, she is not. You are at a higher level. The judges told you so last night. There was no dance where she came out with a better score than you.” His voice was firm, but not raised.
“Sasha, that’s not what I meant. I’m relying on muscle memory here.”
“And me.” Sasha’s pupils pierced mine with their intensity. He was standing so close to me he was practically on top of me. “You are relying on me. You need to trust me. Have I ever let you down?”
I looked up into those dark blues. No, he hadn’t. He’d never let me down.
“Would you answer me, please?”
“No, of course you haven’t,” I said.
“And I don’t intend to start now.” He was now holding both hands. He caressed my palms with his fingers.
“It’s not you who I don’t trust.” I felt like crying. “It’s me.”
“Rory.” He rolled his eyes, then let go of my hands and turned around in a full circle. “You have to trust yourself. You owe yourself that much at this point. Please,” he said, turning back to me.
I felt tears coming to my eyes. Oh please, I thought. You are too mature and advanced for this crap. You are better than these feelings of insecurity. I blinked back the tears and took a deep breath.
Suddenly, that strange feeling that I was being watched came over me. I didn’t know by whom. By Cheryl? I wasn’t sure. I looked around. It was strangely silent, save for the air blowing through the trees. My eyes darted around.
Sasha looked into my eyes. He must have seen the moisture because he softened. “Rory, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to work you up. I want you to calm down. What I described has hardly ever happened. It’s something that happens in standard ballroom a lot but very, very rarely happens in Latin. I just wanted to warn you in the extremely unlikely event—”
But I couldn’t focus on the rest of his words. There was a rustling behind the trees lining the street we were about to turn down. I had a strong sense someone was there. But I looked around. No one.
“Please, please don’t get worked up. It’s not worth it,” Sasha continued.
I didn’t want to let him know I was spooked. It was ridiculous. I didn’t want him to think I was seriously worried about Cheryl or Luna. I wasn’t. Nor was I worried about what had happened in Hollywood with the sedan. He’d said he would protect me and I trusted him. I took a deep breath. The air was crisp and cool. It made my lungs expand; it decreased my swollen tear glands in the back of my throat. Deep breaths were good.
Now there was motion in the leaves above. We both looked up. A bird took off. It had really brilliant plumage. Red and green. That was it, that was the noise—a simple bird. Although…I thought I’d heard the rustling from the trees down the street. Never mind. Those were birds, as well. I needed to get over myself, my fears, my lack of security, and my panic.
“Okay,” I said, gazing up at him. “I’m sorry I got so worked up. I’m done now. It’s good you warned me, though,” I whispered back.
“Okay, good,” he said, kissing my forehead. We continued walking, past the trees with the supposed birds making the rustling noises. “There is just one other thing I need to remind you of,” he continued, “and that is that tonight is going to be much more a test of endurance than last night. There will be a total of fourteen rounds. We have already practiced with that many rounds, so I think we will be prepared. Plus, we will have breaks in between. But I just wanted to remind you.”
I heard him but I was just trying to get past the trees. Yes, I could survive fourteen rounds. But right now I was trying hard to forget the men and the sedan. For some reason, I wasn’t able to shake them right now.
“We will have plenty of time between rounds, at least for three-quarters of the competition because there are so many heats to go through. It gets more difficult from the quarterfinal rounds through the finals because there is only one heat per round. And they will still give us a few songs to recover while they open the floor to general dancing.”
I nodded when he was finished. We were now past the trees. I didn’t allow myself to look back.
“That’s why it was so important to build up strength and endurance,” he said softly. “Which you did, my love.” He kissed my cheek. “And we have our big bag of food that we bought at the market. That will be kept in the tent. I need you to go to the tent and eat whenever you feel hungry or fatigued. We’re moving so much there’s no way you will gain a thing. I promise.”
I was so beyond the anorexia at this point. I was still worried about the fri
gging trees and the sense now that someone was eyeing me from behind. It was like when that guy jumped out of the sedan and grabbed me from behind. Just having passed the thing you feared wasn’t enough.
“You will need to go to the tent frequently for makeup touch-ups because we will be sweating so often. Plus, it’s a good place to go to relax and calm down between heats. You might as well take advantage of the food while you’re in there.”
“I will. I promise. I’ll go to the tent frequently.” I just wanted to get to the Winter Gardens at this point. I longed for that tent, for its safety. I had it solidly in my mind’s eye. Not those trees behind me.
“And breathe with your mouth open, like last night. Your muscles need oxygen or you can lose balance and even faint.”
I opened my lips as he said this, breathed deeply.
And we were finally there, at the doors of the Winter Gardens. We walked in. The hall was filled with people. Everyone looked at us as we entered, as per usual now. Nothing bad happened. We were safe. The supposed danger was all in my head.
Chapter 14
After we were all made-up and costumed by Daiyu’s people, we walked toward the ballroom. Sasha wanted to stop off and wish Svetlana good luck. She was competing in this comp too, though she didn’t expect to place. She’d texted him that she was in the women’s changing room in the back corner.
“Should we be going through here? I mean, together?” I asked him as he opened the door. He gave me a quizzical look. And I saw why when we walked in.
People—both men and women—were in various states of dress. I saw more than a few pairs of breasts and countless men in dance belts, their firm buttocks completely exposed. No one seemed to think anything of it. No one seemed to even be looking at each other, actually. Everyone was far too busy getting themselves and their partners zipped up, buttoned up, pinned up—dressed, basically. Seeing your fellow dancers half naked didn’t seem to be a thing. I guess that’s how it would have been in ballet if I’d stayed. I felt like such a prude. Sasha was one with the crowd, not seeming to notice a thing besides his destination. A few people recognized him but no one said anything or approached us. Everyone was hyper-focused. I guess I had it easy, being dressed in the sponsor’s tent.
Fortunately, Svetlana and her partner were both fully dressed. She said something in Russian to him and gave him a big bear hug. I looked around. No Cheryl or Luna anywhere in sight.
“Oh Rory, you were stunning last night,” she said to me, in accented but good English. “You stole the show! Go you!” She pumped her fist in the air.
I smiled. I didn’t even know she could speak English. Well, I guess if she lived in the U.S., she had to, but I’d never heard her speak it. And I’d never known she was so nice. Her words seemed completely genuine. “Oh, really? Well, thank you,” I said, now embarrassed for having not liked her simply because of the people she often associated with in the studio.
“Seriously, oh my gosh, it’s all I heard anyone talk about everywhere we went last night. Even Cheryl and Luna were floored. And I mean floored!”
I froze. They couldn’t have been. If they were impressed, they would have hidden it well and voiced only negative things.
“Thank you, Svetlana. That means so much, coming from you. I’ve always admired your dancing since I first saw you in the O.C.,” I said, trying very hard not to suspect she was simply pretending to be nice and that something was up.
“Wow! And that means a lot, coming from you!”
She definitely seemed genuine. I wanted badly to believe she really was sweet.
***
We all walked down the hall and out toward the floor together as the emcee announced the start of the first heat. Sasha looked around politely smiling and mouthing “thank you” to the chorus of “Go, Sasha,” “Good luck, Sasha,” and “Kill it, Sasha.” Svetlana had a look of elation on her face to be walking beside the champ. We weren’t in the first heat, but she was. We wished her good luck and watched as she and her partner were called out to the floor, amidst a bazillion others. When all numbers were called, the floor was absolutely filled. There didn’t seem to be a free square foot of space.
The live big band began its cha-cha music and the couples somehow began moving. Now I understood what Sasha meant about the possibility of us having to revise our routine mid-dance. I didn’t know how people were not bumping into each other right and left.
The music ended and there was absolute chaos as those couples tried to exit the floor and the next heat tried to enter. Note to self to be near the dance floor when our heat was near, I thought as couples scrambled out from the bowels of the practice rooms on hearing their numbers called. Sasha and I were apparently on the same wavelength, as he inched us closer to the floor with each change of rounds. Several more heats of dancers performed their cha-chas while we watched. It was getting tiring just waiting for our turn.
***
The emcee finally announced our heat. By that time, we were right by the dance floor.
“Here we go. Merde, sweetheart,” Sasha whispered to me. He gave me a peck on the lips.
When he did so, the entire ballroom erupted into a fit of screams. It was surreal, like aural fireworks, totally echoing how it felt to be kissed by the king of Latin ballroom. But it was so surreal, at first I didn’t even know the crowd was actually screaming for us. I thought it was just in my head.
Until the chants began.
“Sasha, Sasha, Sasha!”
He led me to a position in the middle of the floor. The other dancers seemed to part for us. Wow. As we walked along the side of the floor, toward the center, I noticed a wave happening in the audience. People in the front area were rising and roaring as we passed. This was crazy. I couldn’t help but laugh.
I distinctly heard someone call out my name. But it wasn’t Rory, it was Aurora.
“Go Sasha! Go Aurora!”
It must have been someone who’d read the Blackpool Daily article. It made me blush. I was a minor celebrity.
The music began and we started with a bang. Oh my gosh, it was so crowded. We really needed to make our steps as small as possible. We couldn’t dance full-out at all. Now I was being thrown by this. My muscle memory was used to dancing as expansively as I could. I had to concentrate to make sure I was getting the steps not only right, but as small as possible, and the same length as Sasha’s to match him. The music ended before we were even halfway through our routine, and we were directed to exit the stage. The crowd kept screaming until we were completely off, so I guessed they liked what we did. But I felt like it didn’t go very well. I was concentrating way too hard on not bumping into anyone. I had no idea how we looked. And now I worried about the other dances—the traveling ones like samba and paso doble, where we really had to move about the floor.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sasha said, reading my mind as he led me back to the practice rooms.
“Awesome!”
“You rock!”
“Sashaaaaa!”
Well, judging by his fans, who were holding their hands in the air as we passed, as if he was the Pope or some other religious figure, we did just fine.
“The first couple of rounds are always crazy, until they go through the first series of cuts. Half of those people won’t make the first cut, and half of those the second. So by the third round, only a quarter of us will remain, and we will be more than able to dance everything full-out.”
“Yeah, but that’s assuming we make the first two cuts.”
He shot me look of utter sarcasm. The look was so severe, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Okay, Mr. God’s Gift, but—”
“No, I don’t really mean it that way. I mean, that’s why it helps to be known. They know we are finals material.” He shrugged. “That’s why it can be very hard to get your start here at the huge competitions. It gets more and more impossible each year for new people to be seen. I hope Svetlana makes it, but I’m not sure if she will,” he said s
oberly.
There were many people—too many—approaching us to talk, including some people with microphones.
“We can’t handle this right now,” Sasha said to me under his breath.
I was glad he felt the same way I did. He politely excused us, and led me down to Daiyu’s tent where we fanned ourselves and drank bottled water while six more heats happened. I had no idea there were this many people competing at Blackpool.
We returned to the floor several rounds early, of course, to make sure we would be ready to go on when our heat was called. Every other heat, there was a roar emanating from some side of the room. It was kind of fun to see who was on the floor at that time. The first roar I heard, I looked toward the area from whence most of the cheers were coming and spotted Xenia’s blonde head. Two heats later, when the roars came from every which way, I looked all about and finally espied Micaela’s shiny onyx mane. I didn’t have to whip my head this way and that to know when the cheers were for Arabelle because of all the chanting.
“Belle Arabelle. Sweet, sweet belle Arabelle!”
She was clearly a very well-loved figure here. There was a big crowd cheering for Bronislava as well. She’d dyed her black hair a bright red, and when she spun that bob really flew. She looked like a fireball.
We managed to get through the first two rounds without having to alter our routine and without smacking into anyone. We didn’t dance full-out at all, though, and it felt strange to start the biggest competition in the world dancing down. But, as Sasha had said we would, we made it through anyway. Svetlana made it through the first round, but not the second. She was thrilled nevertheless. I hung out with her a little bit on the sidelines and it was quite nice. We were both nervous and seemed to put each other a little more at ease. I couldn’t help but trust her. Maybe she really wasn’t a part of Cheryl and Luna’s consortium. I’d never really seen them talking together, now that I thought about it. They were just all in the same classes at the studio, and in the same vicinity at comps, since they were all Sasha’s students. I could tell Sasha genuinely liked her too and wanted her to do well, even though she was no longer his student. I didn’t see or hear Cheryl or Luna once, which put me at ease, but also made me wonder what they might be up to. I didn’t mention them to Svetlana. We were having a nice time together and I didn’t want to bring up anything negative.
