Rio shrugs and flicks me a glance. “He’s okay. A little rough around the edges.”
“Well, yeah. After all, he’s a mechanic. He’s an athlete, though. Always was a good dancer.”
“Let me guess . . . high school football?” Rio says this a little smugly and I have to wonder who suddenly put a bug up his butt.
“Yes,” I admit a little defensively but I have to wonder about Rio’s attitude. Could he be jealous? My heart thumps at the thought.
“Was he your boyfriend?”
Is his question a little too casual or am I desperately trying to read something in this? “Ha, only in my dreams. I was a geek, remember? I didn’t date much.” Okay, at all really, but I don’t feel the need to share that part.
“I still have a hard time believing that, Abby,” he says but keeps his eyes on the dance.
“Remind me to show you my yearbook.” I’m about to elaborate a bit more on my high school geekness when Ben Sebastian announces our names.
Holy crap.
Rio gives my hand a squeeze. “Well, Abby Harper, you’re not a geek now. You ready to kick some serious butt?”
I have to chuckle at his attempt at American slang. It just doesn’t sound badass with his delicious accent. “You know it.” I extend my fists for the double knuckle bump that I’ve taught him and give him a quick, confident nod of my hair-sprayed head while I’m actually wondering if my legs will function.
Thankfully, they do in a wet noodle kind of way, and a moment later we’re standing in the wings while Danny and Anna are getting their scores from the three judges. Carson Sage, the silver-haired, resident snarky judge, gives them a snooty seven, saying that they had showmanship but lacked proper technique. Ha, I’d like to see him change the brake pads on a car as effortlessly as Danny. Bet his technique would suck. I’d give him a two! Of course I realize that he is giving an over-the-top spoof on mean judges but it still rankles.
Myra Jones is a really hip black chick with big hair and a warm smile. A bit more forgiving, she gushingly gives Danny and Anna a solid eight, earning loud approval from the hometown crowd.
Peter Kelly, the third judge, is flamboyantly gay and outrageously funny and holds up another eight, putting Danny one point behind Mac and his partner, who scored three eights.
Great. We get to follow the best performance of the evening.
“We can do better,” Rio whispers in my ear.
I muster up a nod and a smile but I have my doubts.
When Ben Sebastian announces our names my heart starts doing a pretty good version of the quickstep against my rib cage. When I refuse to walk out onto the dance floor, Rio gently tugs on my hand and without knowing how I got there I’m suddenly standing beneath the hot lights before the crowd. I’m seriously thinking of bolting when I spot Jesse and Mama standing on their feet clapping wildly. Their faces are glowing and Mama, who never does anything remotely unladylike, puts her thumb and pinkie in her mouth and lets out a shrill whistle. Jesse shoots her a wide-eyed who knew you could do that? look but she gives him a shrug and a huge smile, making Jesse tip his head back and laugh. They are positively glowing.
It hits me again that they’re proud of me. Of me. Closing my eyes I swallow hard, thinking, I can do this.
I have to do this.
Taking a deep breath, I lift my chin and will my knees to stop their damned knocking but they just won’t. I can’t do this no matter how much I want to. My hand trembles in Rio’s grasp and he gives me a reassuring squeeze that should but doesn’t help.
I’m trembling like a stop sign in a hurricane and cold sweat is rolling down my back and I do believe that I’m about to hurl in front of God and everybody. I’m gonna be the laughingstock and the film clip on Comedy Corner that will run longer than Mary Lou Laker’s crazy out-of-control spin into the crowd. They’ll show it on Good Morning America and I’ll be the talk around the watercooler. But worst of all I’ll be the very first one voted off and totally disappoint Mama and Jesse.
And lose a shot at the money!
Oh God, this sucks! How in blue blazes did I get my sorry self talked into doing this? Fear and anger roll around in my stomach and start to bubble up in my throat in the form of hysteria.
But then I hear this gruff voice in my head saying, “Abby girl, you can do this. I know you can, sugarplum.”
My daddy. He always called me sugarplumb.
All of a sudden I can feel his presence like he’s looking down and smilin’, proud of me too, and here I am about to choke.
So I dig down deep. Really deep. There’s gotta be courage in there somewhere, doggone it! After inhaling a cleansing breath I lift my chin a notch higher and give Rio a crisp nod that I’m ready.
“That’s my girl,” the voice of my daddy whispers and a sudden feeling of calm washes over me, warming my freezing hands and steadying my trembling legs.
When the sultry beat of the music begins, I dance without thinking, feeling the rhythm, the emotion. Step, rock, cha, cha, cha. On the balls of my feet with my movements crisp and sure, I let Rio lead me, chase me. Rocking my hips, I give new meaning to the Cuban motion, teasing, flirting, and then pushing him away. When we do the open break and underarm turn I give it all I’ve got. In the background I can hear the roar of approval from the crowd and I play it up with a sassy, cheeky attitude.
Rio is sexy, dashing . . . pursuing me with a tenacity that leaves me breathless. When he dances closer our bodies brush and his touch is firm, lingering, with the hint of a promise. He leads me into an underarm turn and I do a teasing walk-around to face him. Release and open, cha, cha, cha . . . He lures me back with heat in his dark eyes and pulls me in close for a near kiss and then moves to a side basic, rock, step, side to side, opens the position up right next to the judges while I do a teasing walk-around to face him. We ham for the camera and play up to the crowd and I can feel it working. Suddenly I feel confident . . . yeah, me, confident. Sexy. I purse my lips, arch an eyebrow, and let Rio come in close before dancing away.
As the song ends, Rio spins me in, finally catching me flush against his body with another near kiss, and then bends me backward over his arm in a dramatic finish that brings the audience to its feet. Wow, no one has ever clapped for me before unless you include when I’d drop a trayful of food in the diner and I don’t think that counts.
Rio tilts me back up, spins me next to his body, and I fling my arm skyward just like we rehearsed. We bow, milking the moment until breathless and panting we wait for our scores.
Ben Sebastian hurries over to us sporting his toothy trademark smile. “That was hot.” He thrusts the microphone at me and says, “You were smokin’, Abby Harper. Any thoughts for the crowd?”
I blink at the microphone for a second while my heart hammers in my chest but I suddenly know what I need to say. “I owe it all to Rio Martin,” I tell Ben while trying to control my breathing. “My awesome instructor.” I smile up at Rio, who returns my smile and hugs me close.
“Abby is a hard worker. The credit belongs to her.”
I beam up at him and I know we sound cheesy but it’s the truth.
Ben turns from us to the camera and says in his deep announcer voice, “Well, we know how the crowd feels. Let’s see what the judges have to say about Abby Harper and Rio Martin’s sizzling cha-cha.” Turning to the judges he says, “Carson, let’s start with you.”
Of course my knees start knocking and I’m glad for Rio’s strong arm about my waist. Pursing his lips Carson rubs his chin for a long moment, making me want to climb over the judges’ table and knock him a good one. But I stand there clinging to Rio with a smile that’s starting to wobble around the edges. This is by far the most nerve-racking thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.
Finally, Carson takes a deep breath and in his clipped British accent that I’m beginning to think is fake he says, “There have been moments in this competition that have been painful to watch. Sort of like passing a wreck on the highway .
. . you have to gawk even though you want to turn away in horror.”
A gasp rises up from the audience and I think I might have heard my mama booing. Rio tightens his arm about my waist.
Carson waves a dismissive hand at the audience. “You know what I’m talking about. Don’t deny it. Chill, people.”
The crowd collectively boos, not just my mama this time.
Holding up his hand to quiet the crowd, Ben rolls his eyes. “Carson, this is a live show. Get to your point.”
Again I know in the back of my head that this is drama for ratings but it’s enough to make me sweat on top of already sweating!
“Very well. While Abby the waitress is somewhat lacking in finesse, she more than makes up for it in moxie.”
I’m not sure what moxie means but it seems to please Rio because he gives me a squeeze and smiles down at me.
“Since Ben is giving me the hurry-it-up look I’ll simply say that I enjoyed the performance. It was sexy and smart. Rio and Abby, my hat goes off to you.” He holds up an eight.
“Myra?” Ben asks. “What are your comments for Rio and Abby?”
“Oh,” she gushes while shaking her head, making her huge hair sort of flop around, “that was delicious. Rio, honey, you made me sweat. What have you done to this little ole waitress from Misty Creek? Abby, baby, you rock, girl. I give you a solid nine!”
Rio inclines his head and I follow suit with a polite nod. I was instructed to be gracious with criticism and classy with praise. Under no circumstances are we to whoop it up and of course my nature is to do just that but I hold it in by swallowing and trying to keep my grin under control.
“Peter?” Ben asks. “You look ready to explode over there. What do you have to say?”
Peter is smiling and squirming with excitement. “Listen. When I was asked to do this show I was, like, no way. Misty Creek? Redneck ballroom dancing? Sure, it could be amusing . . . but come on, people. How much can a person endure? Okay, I have to confess that it is entertaining. I mean, when that Jimmy Joe the plumber spun around on his back like a dead cockroach, I about lost it.” Peter puts his hand to his mouth and shakes his head.
“Peter,” Ben warns.
I’m not sure where Peter is going with this and I do some squirming of my own. I feel Rio stiffen, so he’s wondering, too.
“Okay, okay. I’ll get to my point. Rio, you sexy beast, you have worked a miracle and turned this little waitress into a dancing machine. Abby girl, you put the motion in Cuban. I give you a nine!” He flicks up his sign with a flourish and the crowd roars.
Ohmigod, we’re in first place! I sway a little with giddy relief and really wish I could give Rio a huge hug but I’m afraid that it might be unprofessional when I’m not really professional anyway. Ben is explaining to the television audience how to text-message votes or to go online to vote for a favorite redneck.
“Now we’ll show you a short clip from each dance to refresh your memory. Remember that your votes count! For the first three weeks we will eliminate the bottom two couples, leaving the final six, and then one each week after that until we have our champion, who will be awarded fifty thousand dollars! So call, text, or vote online for your favorite couple because tomorrow night two of these couples will be voted off the show. Until tomorrow, I’m Ben Sebastian . . . see ya!”
I still want to hug Rio but when the show ends the crowd rushes forward and it’s mass chaos. There are way too many hugs and flashbulbs flashing for my liking but I smile and hug all those who approach me. But what I’m not prepared for is when a youngster thrusts a pen and paper at me and she asks for my autograph! Can you imagine? Me?
I start to write my name after I remember it but she stops me and says, “Make it out to Carrie.”
“Oh, okay.” I try to act famous and all but my fingers tremble a bit. Luckily Carrie stands there beaming and doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you! I’m votin’ for you and”—she points at Rio—“the pirate guy.”
Of course I’m tongue-tied but Rio comes to the rescue. “Thank you very much, Carrie.”
She scurries off and I watch with my jaw hanging open.
Rio leans in and asks in my ear, “How does it feel to be famous?”
“I’m not famous,” I scoff with a wave of my hand but it sure feels like it. Cameras are going off like strobe lights. Rio smiles his crooked smile at me, the one I like the best, and I’m remembering that I still didn’t get a hug from him. I’m about to ask him for one when I suddenly spot Mama and Jesse weaving through the crowd in an attempt to reach us.
“Rio, there’s Mama and Jesse.” I grab his hand and move in that direction.
“Oh, Abby!” Mama hugs me hard and then pulls back to kiss me on both cheeks. “I was so proud of you!” She promptly bursts into tears and of course I try to hold back but I join her.
“And you, young man, were absolutely wonderful!” she says to Rio while dabbing at her eyes with a hanky. Mama is in her highest heels but still has to crane her head back to look up at Rio.
“Why, thank you.”
“Oh, you are so welcome. My, my, handsome and polite too!” She dabs at the corner of her eyes carefully, keeping her mascara from running, and then steps forward and gives Rio a fierce hug. He looks a bit startled at the intensity of her affection but when it comes to emotions Mama rarely holds back.
Jesse gives me a double knuckle-bump and then a big bear hug. “You were amazing, Abby. I knew you would be.”
“You did not.”
Jesse laughs. “Well, let’s say I was hoping that you would be amazing and you were.” He thrusts his hand out to Rio. “Nice to meet you, Rio. I’m Jesse Harper.”
“Likewise.” Rio clasps Jesse’s hand and they both smile but Jesse gives him a bit of a look that says that he had better be good to me. Rio seems to get the unspoken message and instead of smiling like he could, he gives Jesse a serious look and a nod, telling him that he understands.
This seems to satisfy Jesse and he breaks into a more kidlike grin. “How in the world were you able to teach my sister to dance like that?”
Mama gives Jesse an elbow but Rio laughs. “Your sister is a hard worker. Never gives up.”
“Oh, like you would let me.”
Rio chuckles. “See, we understand each other.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Mama watching us, and she arches one delicate eyebrow. I see her wondering if there’s something more between Rio and me than dancing but of course she’s much too polite to ask. But she’s wondering. Before she can draw me aside and ask privately it’s announced over a loudspeaker that our limos are waiting to whisk us back up the mountain to the lodge.
I give Mama a quick hug and then turn to Jesse and do the same. “The inns are full, Abby,” he whispers in my ear. “Business at the diner has been booming. I haven’t seen Mama this happy in a long time. Keep up the good work, sis.”
I pull back, on the verge of tears again, and Jesse is doing some major league blinking as well. A typical guy, though, he gives my shoulder a shove, clears his throat, and then says, “Good luck! I’m going home to vote.”
“Oh yes, we havta vote!” Mama says but then frowns. “Oh.” She puts her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t know how! Just what is tex-mexing? I thought that was spicy food. You know, tacos and whatnot.”
Jesse chuckles. “Text-messaging. I’ll show you, Mama.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I turn to go. I miss them so much. Being famous might be fun and all but I suddenly realize that I wouldn’t give up my life for the world.
Rio escorts me out to the limo. All of the dance partners are chatting and hugging once we are outside and it reminds me that I never did get my hug. I’m about to ask but Rio suddenly seems all business like he knows that I’m about to throw myself into his arms. I guess it’s written all over my face.
“I’ll see you bright and early, Abby. Get a good night’s sleep, okay? And a good breakfast too. Be ready
to work hard.”
I nod and somehow muster up a smile, trying not to show my disappointment at his businesslike demeanor. I know he’s keeping his distance and sticking to our resistance pact . . . but would a little ole hug hurt? I’m thinking that I’m going to just throw caution to the wind and hug him anyway but he turns on his heel and walks away. I have the urge to run after him, grab his arm, and swing him around for a hug and a kiss, but of course I don’t. With a sigh, I slip inside the limo. By rights I should be on cloud nine and although I’m thrilled that our dance went so well, there just seems to be something missing.
My damned hug!
The ride back up to the lodge is full of whooping and hollering and I try to join in even though my heart isn’t really in it. My doggone heart is too busy mooning over Rio Martin.
I mentally tell myself to stop. I’m in the thick of this competition and I owe it to my family to focus on dancing. “Keep your eyes on the prize,” I say to myself but Daisy Potter the Piggly Wiggly cashier hears me and turns her gaze my way.
“Now, there’s the spirit, Abby.” She thrusts a flute of champagne that I didn’t realize had been popped open into my hand. Raising her glass she says to everyone, “Here’s to keeping your eyes on the prize!”
“Hear, hear!” we collectively shout and of course I join in, not wanting to bring attention to my Rio state of mind.
“Here’s to fifty grand!” Travis Tucker adds. He tips back his flute to take a drink, just as the limo lurches, and sloshes it down his chin. Everybody laughs. Everyone is in a good mood.
I should be in a good mood. After all, I’m in the running for the money.
Yeah, fifty grand. Think with your head and not with your heart, I tell myself firmly. Of course my heart just doesn’t get it.
12
Easier Said Than Done
“Look, Rio, I did a lot of thinking last night and while I know there are valid reasons why we should resist this attraction between us, well, I got to thinkin’ that we could have both. Right? I mean, who is to say that being together would harm our chances at winning? Maybe it would help!” I exclaim with a bright smile. “Let’s just go with the flow. Whadaya say?”
Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues Page 12
