Change Partners (The L.A. Stories)

by Alexandra Caluen

  “What’s going to be hardest?” Vince was thinking the answer would be ‘Viennese waltz’ or ‘foxtrot.’

  Instead Dmitri said, “Time.”

  “You took her out in two months. That’s not what Michelle expects, is it?” Because Vince honestly didn’t think that was possible. Not with the commute, and the babies, and his job.

  Dmitri studied him for a few seconds, perhaps seeing all that. “If you begin in November, I recommend a full year.”

  Vince was astonished. First at the November start date, and then at the rest of it. “Seriously?”

  “I can begin developing routines with Michelle. We will study your competitors. There will be innovation since we competed. When you begin, it will be technique first. Then choreography. Then repetition and refinement. You will re-work the routines.”

  “I will?”

  “The two of you.” Dmitri almost smiled. “You are my student, but you have ideas. Good ideas.”

  Vince accepted that. The prospect of having a full year made the whole project seem do-able. “Kenji won’t mind having another year before she hits the road again, will he.”

  “No. Is good?”

  “Is good. Thanks, boss. You know I want to do this right. I want to be a good partner for Michelle, and I want to show up for the studio. For you.”

  Dmitri heard what Vince was trying to say. Knew the younger man had deep feelings for him, and was no more able to verbalize them than Dmitri himself. He reached over and put his hand on the back of Vince’s neck, squeezed gently, and leaned in close. “You will be the champions,” he said quietly. “I know it.” He let go and sat back, ever so slightly smiling at Vince’s expression. Then he turned to the bartender. The club wasn’t open to the public during dress rehearsals, but the management had long since concluded that adult beverages were both welcome and, occasionally, necessary.

  A moment later there were two shots on the bar: vodka for Dmitri, and tequila for Vince. Dmitri handed him the tequila. They tapped their glasses together and drank. Vince set down the glass and said, “Let’s make it so.” Dmitri nodded as if satisfied. If they were different men, there might have been a hug. But they understood each other. He watched Vince make his way across the room to Kelli.

  “What was that all about?”

  Dmitri turned to Patrick. “He was worried about the training schedule.”

  “With Michelle? You told him to chill the fuck out, right?” Patrick watched his husband stifle a laugh. Of course Dmitri wouldn’t have said that.

  Chapter 11

  January 2017

  Patrick heard a lot of sirens, but he didn’t really notice them. Didn’t think anything of it until an hour or so later, when he got a text from Michelle: Patrick terrible accident outside the studio. Dmitri needs you. He was inside but Ray Julia Mike & Paula were outside and Ray was hit by an SUV. Looked very bad. Vince is on his way back from gym, come when you can

  He had to read it a couple of times to fully assimilate the information. Then he opened his browser and looked at the news. “Holy fuck.” There was footage of the street outside the studio, crowded with emergency vehicles. A big black SUV was up on the sidewalk, with its front corner embedded in the window wall of Shall We Dance. A crowd of EMTs were working there, inside a wide circle of police officers, keeping the looky-loos away. He didn’t have the sound on. Absolutely did not want to hear what was being said. Especially after a new clip started running. An ambulance pulled away, and now he could see the sidewalk under the SUV. It was covered with blood. He felt sick. He picked up his phone again and texted: Sweetheart I have to wrap up a thing but then I’m on my way. Wait for me. I love you

  It was nearly impossible to concentrate on what he needed to do, but he managed somehow. Sent a few messages saying he’d be offline the rest of the day, set his out-of-office, trusted that his assistant would handle anything short of a stock-market crash, and left the office.

  Vince was still there when he arrived. “Hey Patrick,” he said quietly. “Dmitri’s in the office.”

  “Have you heard anything?” He meant about Ray, which Vince obviously grasped.

  “No. We don’t really know … the status.”

  Patrick nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and went into the office. “Sweetheart.” He closed the door behind him.

  Dmitri was sitting at his desk, looking ten years older than he had that morning. “The hardware store is delivering, for the windows.”

  “Do you have to stay?”

  “No. Vince will stay.”

  “Good. What do you need to take with you. We’re going straight over to Granny Miriam’s so you can cuddle Simka.” Dmitri didn’t answer, only nodded. He stood up slowly, as if it hurt, and looked around as if he couldn’t see. Patrick scooped Dmitri’s phone off the desk. Took his hand, pulled him into a brief, hard hug. Patted his pocket to make sure his keys were there. “Let’s go, honey. You don’t need to be here.”

  They didn’t hear anything about Ray until nearly noon the next day. By then they were expecting bad news, and it was. The text came from Julia’s phone but was written by her daughter. She said there would be a memorial that Sunday, at Chrome.

  On Friday the studio re-opened. The sidewalk had been scrubbed. Dozens of floral tributes, prayer candles, and cards were piled in front of the damaged brickwork. The windows were still boarded up. Nobody came in through the front. In the afternoon, Ray’s brother-in-law came by and posted a note thanking the studio for being such a happy dance home for Ray and Julia. Everyone read it. No-one could stand to talk about it.

  Dmitri took it hard. He didn’t take it personally; it wasn’t that he thought he could somehow have prevented the accident. The driver was distracted by her phone. It was, simply, an accident. But it was a huge loss. He’d been coaching Ray for three and a half years. He’d worked with Julia as a student, and then a colleague, for more than ten years. She and Ray fell in love on their own, but they brought that love into the studio. Ray was there when Mateo came into his own as a choreographer with ‘Green Darkness.’ He was there, dancing with Dmitri in the troupe for ‘Gaucho.’ Then last summer, a warrior again in ‘The Great Wave.’ All the while learning and improving, a true dancer, giving Julia the joy of performance with the Cabaret and the satisfaction of that Rising Star Latin campaign. If he hadn’t been a successful actor too, Ray might have chosen to teach. He would have done it well.

  Sam and Mateo, Vince and Mike – they were all devastated. For Mike it was even worse. He’d been nearly killed in a traffic accident five years prior. Dmitri got in touch with him, and his wife Paula, to make sure they were getting help. He posted a list of mental-health resources at the studio, for all the people who were there the day of the accident and for anyone else who needed them. He saw a counselor himself before running out of time. Patrick was, as always, there for him.

  February 2017

  Nobody was the same after the accident. It seemed everyone was a little more careful with each other. When the studio re-opened, all the students and teachers were back – except for Julia – because everyone had a show or a competition or simply a personal goal. At first everyone was quiet, and nobody was hugging. It took about a week for the regulars to feel like they might be able to laugh, and about three to stop choking when they did. The Cabaret’s February show went on as usual, without Ray and without Julia.

  Before the end of the month, she got in touch with Dmitri. He read the email and sighed. Patrick studied him in silence for a few minutes. “She made it official, then,” he said finally.

  Dmitri set the laptop on the side table. “Yes. She goes home, to Minnesota.”

  “And she’s probably not coming back. At all.” The expected shrug, this one saying ‘I don’t blame her.’ Nobody would. Julia and Ray were a special couple. Losing him was bad enough. The way of it was brutal. Patrick still avoided going in the studio from the front, and he knew most of the regulars did too. Even though the windows and the brickwork
were repaired, and there was a new door. Patrick’s idea, like painting the brick. A way to make the entry different, for those who’d been coming for years. A way to say yes, this is not quite the same place, but life goes on, and you are still welcome here.

  They hadn’t discussed what was going to happen next at the studio. There was no choice, really; a new full-time instructor, preferably a Latin expert, was desperately needed. Dmitri was working all day every day and it wasn’t sustainable. “Well, honey. You’ve got one of the top-rated studios in the state. If you post a job opening, you’ll get more applications than you know what to do with.”

  Dmitri made a sound, and accompanying gesture, eloquent of distaste. Patrick waited. Eventually his husband said, “How to frame it. We need more than a teacher.”

  “I know you do.” It had taken Dmitri a long time to add Julia, and more years before Elena joined the full-time staff. Patrick was well aware that Dmitri chose his team for reasons that went beyond competence and cash flow.

  “A man.”

  This surprised Patrick a little, though maybe it shouldn’t have. The studio’s International Latin students had all worked with Julia. She took the male pro-am students into competition herself. The women went out to competitions with either Dmitri or a stringer. It wasn’t the studio’s largest category by any means. Now that Patrick thought about it, he realized this might be another way for Dmitri to step back, to work a little less. It would definitely change the dynamic at the studio, though. “If you get a really good guy, he could build up that category for you. It would take about a minute to find a good stringer for Julia’s guys. You could concentrate on coaching Michelle and Vince. And working with Alison and the rest of the Cabaret people.” And spend more time with me. “Is that what you want?” He so hoped it was. Each of the years since that second championship, the burden had lifted ever so slightly. Each year, there was a little more time for them to be partners, lovers, married. It was never even close to enough.

  Dmitri made eye contact, faintly smiling. “Yes. Is time.” He hoped they could find the right person, and quickly. They’d been together for nearly fourteen years. Patrick had been so patient. And since the accident, they’d hardly seen each other in daylight. It was as bad as that first push to train Michelle. “My dear love.” It was all he could say. He pulled Patrick into an embrace, hoping that touch would communicate how much he wanted to make this work for both of them.

  They wrote the job posting together, with careful wording. A full-time staff position was uncommon in an independent studio. A position that required facility in teaching, coaching, and competition even more so. Ideally their candidate would be qualified in all four ballroom styles as well as the nightclub dances. It couldn’t be a newcomer, but it shouldn’t be someone actively engaged in a professional title campaign. Elena and Mateo were still out there, getting stronger – and closer to their own title - all the time. Michelle’s new competition partnership with Vince would prevent her from pursuing credentials outside of American Smooth, even if she wanted to. They were both sure that she didn’t. She had more than enough coaching business, thanks to her theatrical background and her world titles. Patrick crossed his fingers that the right person for the job was out there somewhere. Out there, and ready to make a move.

  Once they were satisfied, they made sure the posting was distributed in the appropriate places, and started reviewing the applications that immediately began to land in the in-box. Dmitri saw four people over the next six weeks; all of them were excellent dancers and acceptable teachers. Each of them had some of the qualities he was hoping to find. None of them were perfect. Dmitri continued working too many hours, Patrick continued worrying about him, and then the new application came in.

  “Jesus Christ. Honey, did you see this?” They were in their den, it was late, and Patrick was doing some business for the studio because Dmitri was half-asleep. He turned his head, looking weary. “Sweetheart, it’s Hiro Miyazaki.” Patrick had been around the ballroom world for a long time, and he knew the top names. “He’s been down in San Diego as an independent. Holy shit.” He passed the laptop to his husband, who now appeared to be completely awake.

  Dmitri read the letter and the attached resume, then viewed some of the linked clips. He really didn’t have to; he’d seen Miyazaki at enough competitions to know what he was like on the dance floor. There were other clips, from TV and movie and stage work. He looked up at Patrick. They didn’t have to say anything more. Miyazaki’s name alone would bring a flood of new, serious students. Everything else about him would be like installing a neon sign. Dmitri composed a reply email suggesting some dates for an interview. Patrick reviewed it for him, they sent it off, and tried not to hope too much. The man’s competence wasn’t in question. It was a matter of personality.

  Dmitri was on the outside of the Smooth partnership now. Vince and Michelle had begun training in November, as he suggested. By January they had four routines together and were beginning to work on refinement. It was Dmitri’s preference to work on all four in tandem, but Vince was struggling. He couldn’t do what Michelle had done. He still had a full-time job, he lived an hour away, and he had the twin babies to consider. Dmitri tried not to be impatient, because he was very fond of Vince. He knew the younger man would click in to the new style at some point. Then the accident happened.

  Attempting to cover all of Julia’s private lessons and the group classes left Dmitri with no time or energy to coach his couple. They came up with a plan on their own. Michelle told him, “We’re going to work on one at a time. We’re going to take the tango, and turn it into a show dance for Mating Dance: Casino. You know how Vince is, he loves to perform. This will make it fun for him. Then we’ll do the same thing with the other dances. We can break them in at the socials. That’ll get us to June. By then you’ll be in the groove with a new Latin person and you’ll have some bandwidth again. You can break us down and tear us apart. Is good?”

  He couldn’t help smiling at her. Couldn’t resist pulling her in for a hug, kissing her forehead. What a gift this woman was. “Is good.”

  They chose ‘Gimme Shelter’ for their show dance music. Dmitri reviewed their choreography during an after-hours closed rehearsal, and didn’t change anything. “Excellent work,” he said.

  “Okay, what.” Vince couldn’t believe it. “There has to be something.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “Is good. Good balance of show elements. Good use of the competition routine. After performance, you must bring the routine back to full size.” The Chrome stage was not as big as a competition dance floor.

  Vince sighed. “That is my absolute weakest point. All those years doing dances that don’t travel. I’m running, though,” he said. “At the gym. I try to run with smooth footwork.”

  “Is good,” he said again, with something close to a smile. “Run at Viennese waltz tempo. One hundred sixty beats per minute.” Vince made a face. Michelle swatted him. Dmitri tried it himself later, at the gym. He used to run that way too. I am out of condition, he thought grimly. When he had time, he would fix that.

  Patrick was very tempted to abandon his office on the day Miyazaki was coming in for his interview. He wanted to see the guy in the flesh. But he was in tax hell, and he didn’t want to get in the way, so he waited. Three hours after the interview was supposed to start, he got a text from Dmitri: Mon amour it is success

  Halle-fucking-lujah! When can he start?

  Soon. I have cancelled or rescheduled Latin students through next week, no more evenings. Will go home at five. Wake me

  Patrick grinned when he saw that. He’d be home before seven himself, and apparently they would be celebrating in the best possible way.

  On the day Hiro started work, Patrick and Dmitri did something they didn’t often do: they invited their key people to dinner. It couldn’t be at home, because some of those key people only had a short break before the evening group classes at the studio. But everyone was excited, and the I
talian restaurant down the street was able to pull together a big table. One of the stringers volunteered to keep an eye on things while they went out.

  Dmitri, as usual, didn’t say much. Patrick, not as usual, didn’t either. They sat at opposite ends of the table and watched while Hiro charmed Michelle and Kenji, Elena and Tony, Mateo and Sam, Vince and Kelli. The chemistry was good from the start. Everyone involved wanted to make this work. Everyone involved had known and cared for Julia and Ray, felt their loss, felt that yawning chasm of ‘what if.’ What if the right person didn’t come along. Dmitri was fifty-eight, and they all knew it. He was still strong, fit, and in excellent health, but everyone had limits.

  Hiro had known Julia and Ray too. He was forty-one, in peak physical condition, with the kind of resumé that a studio owner dreamed of. Top titles, superb credentials, and outside-the-ballroom credits that would attract people who didn’t care about competition. Plus, thought Patrick with a stifled giggle, he’s dreamy. Five-eleven, with a perfect body and movie-star-handsome face. Also, of course, the charm thing. He was a nice guy.

  The only thing he and Dmitri were even slightly worried about was the extreme sex appeal situation. Hiro was single. Every straight woman who caught a glimpse of him, and was also single, was bound to be interested. Hiro’s reputation was good. No-one ever said ‘this guy can’t be trusted with students’ or ‘this guy bangs all his partners.’ He probably had banged a lot of his partners. If he had, they hadn’t complained about it. Patrick wouldn’t have either. Down boy. He giggled at himself again, caught Michelle’s eye, and almost laughed out loud.

  “You are quiet tonight,” Dmitri said later, when they were home and in bed.

  “Unusual, right?” A snort of stifled laughter. Even at home, Dmitri didn’t laugh out loud very often. “I was thinking there’s going to be a lot of pants on fire when the word gets out.”

  “Already,” Dmitri said, and Patrick laughed. “Elena looks at inquiries and says, this is ridiculous.” Hiro’s bio had gone up on the studio website as soon as the contract was signed.