“It was our specialty. Was. You danced your last dance with me a long time ago.”
“But Mitchell said—”
“There’s nothing in my contract that mentions dancing with you, Angelina. Find someone else.”
She narrows her eyes but Rio doesn’t see it since he’s already turned his back on her. She turns the glare on me and I try not to flinch. She has some serious eye venom going on there. Not knowing what to say I simply shrug and this seems to annoy her.
“Pah,” she says to me and I wonder if it’s a Spanish cussword. Jesse has a dictionary that has cusswords in eight different languages and used to say them and Mama thought some of them were cute. Little did she know. I’ll have to ask him what pah means.
“Right back at ya,” I say and wrinkle my nose even though I know it’s childish. Hey, I’m tired and cranky and can’t have sex with Rio, so I can’t help myself. But she just frowns like she doesn’t know I tossed her maybe cussword back at her. With a little flip of her hand over her head she exits as quickly as she blew in here, letting the door close with a thud that seems to echo in the room.
I’m waiting for Rio to comment, hopefully with something like “that little bitch” even though I haven’t heard him curse since he dropped the F-bomb the very first day unless he’s been doing it in Spanish but he seems a little preoccupied with gathering up his things and my heart sinks a bit. “Does she still have the power to get to you, Rio?”
He turns around with raised eyebrows. “Is that what you think?”
I shrug. “I don’t want to appear petty or jealous. But I’m just a small-town girl and I want to know where I stand.”
He comes over and gently tucks a damp lock of hair behind my ear. “Abby, the simple truth is that I don’t want to dance with her. Angelina trampled on my young love and tossed me aside when I was no longer of value to her. But believe me, what I once thought was love I now realize was just infatuation. She only wants me back now because . . .”
“Because what? Because your knee is better?”
Rio hesitates a fraction but then shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is winning this competition. Now go get some dinner and a good night’s rest, okay? Forget about Angelina. She doesn’t deserve your time or energy.”
I want to ask more but he has a closed, weary expression on his face, so I don’t have the heart. “Okay.” It’s so hard, though, not to slide my arms around him and kiss the lines of worry away. He puts on this tough guy act but there’s a vulnerable edge to him that shows in his eyes and squeezes my heart.
But as I walk back to my room I can’t help feeling as if Rio is holding something back from me although, for the life of me, I can’t put my finger on how or why.
Instead of going down for dinner I decide to have a tray sent up. I’m simply too tired to smile and make conversation. I kick off my shoes and wiggle my weary toes and then flop down onto the bed to call for some dinner. I hope it’s real honest-to-goodness food and not some fancy stuff drowning in sauce. That done, I ponder calling Mama for no other reason than just to hear her voice but in my tired emotional state I might end up in tears, so I don’t make the call. I ease back against the pillows and point the remote at the television for a little connection to the outside world.
After a few minutes of Katie Couric letting me know that the world hasn’t changed much my food arrives. When I remove the domed silver cover I’m relieved to see that it’s lasagna, garlic bread, and a nice regular tossed salad with mostly normal stuff except for the black olives that I pick out and put to the side. The aroma makes my mouth water and it tastes heavenly. Now if I can only stay awake long enough to eat it . . .
Rio is just as relentless the rest of the week and every night I fall into bed with my body feeling as limp as a wet noodle. When I attempt to fall asleep sometimes I feel as if I’m still spinning, sort of like when you spend a day boating and then feel like you’re still floating in the water when you close your eyes. Yeah, I’m beginning to wonder if my equilibrium is permanently damaged when it really wasn’t all that good to begin with.
So, now here I am standing in the wings at the dance hall in my Daisy Duke jeans and the bouncy pigtails that Rio fought against but Jackie insisted upon. He also battled against wearing a black cowboy hat but Jackie and Maggie tag-teamed him on this issue. I tend to get ignored in these situations but I finally butted in and suggested that Rio wear the hat for our beginning pose but then toss it into the audience as soon as the music begins. He agreed with a bit of a scowl and something muttered in Spanish.
Rio makes a really hot cowboy but, then again, he would make a really hot mailman. Not that there has been anything steamy going on between us other than dancing . . . Rio has stuck to the no-sex plan like Krazy Glue.
“Are you okay, Abby? You look tense.”
“We should have had . . . you know . . . sex,” I whisper. “That’s why I was so loose and relaxed last week.” I roll my shoulders and gripe, “Your plan is stupid.”
He looks at me like I’m one wrench short of a toolbox. “This is not the time to get upset, Abby. You’re going to lose focus.”
“A little hanky-panky wouldn’t have hurt,” I say but no one wants to listen to Abby.
“Abby . . .”
Rio looks at me like the pressure has finally made me crack and maybe it has because I persist with, “A little roll in the hay wouldn’t have done a bit of harm and I wouldn’t have been lying awake at night wishing I was making love to you.” I throw my arms up and say, “Now look at me. I’m as stiff as a board and I have to do that doggone spin and—”
Rio shocks me but effectively shuts me up by pulling me into his cowboy arms and kissing me senseless. Mercy, it’s like giving water to a wilted plant. I lean into the kiss, not caring that my carefully applied lipstick is getting smeared, and forget about the fact that in just about thirty seconds Betty Cook will be finished dancing her wild and wacky freestyle dance to “The Time Warp” from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
When Rio pulls back, leaving me a bit dazed he says, “That help?”
I nod but then hear a little squeal. Jackie and Maggie come running forward with their little touch-up kits. “What were you thinking?” Jackie hisses and frantically starts reapplying my lipstick. “Are you crazy?”
Maggie swipes at Rio’s mouth with a tissue. “Put your hat on.” He obeys but she adjusts the angle.
“I can’t see.”
“But it looks cool that way. Like Tim McGraw.”
“Shh!” Jackie hisses even though we’re whispering.
While we’re getting touched up Betty Cook and her partner are getting their scores. The judges were not impressed with their “Time Warp.” Carson is especially cruel. “I found it inventive but a bit creepy,” he says. “I give you a five.” The crowd boos but Myra and Peter aren’t much more generous with sixes.
“Next up are Rio Martin and Abby Harper dancing to Gretchen Wilson’s ‘Here for the Party.’ ”
Rio and I hurry to our spots and strike a pose while waiting for the music to begin. When Rio tosses his hat the crowd cheers. Because of the distracting, bone-melting kiss I’m relaxed and have a smile on my face. Although it’s freestyle Rio incorporated a lot of cha-cha moves into the dance that fit the sexy, sassy song. The audience knows the words and chants along, giving us an extra kick. Knowing we have them in the palm of our hands, I put some extra Cuban motion into my Daisy Dukes and I’m rewarded with cheers and catcalls.
But the spin is coming up and my heart starts to race. You can do this, I tell my scared little self, and the look in Rio’s eyes tells me the same thing. After a crossover break and a walk-around turn Rio releases me and tugs hard, propelling me through his open stance. I give myself an extra heave and zing through his legs and begin a brain-scrambling spin while Gretchen belts out “here for the . . .” and hangs on to the word “par-teeee . . .” When she sings the final word, “Yeah!” Rio grabs my hand, stopping my
mad spin, and hauls me to my feet in one fluid motion.
The audience is on their feet . . . Some of them, my mama included, are jumping up and down . . . or maybe it’s the dizziness but they’re screaming, whistling, shouting, clapping, basically going nuts.
“Amazing! Simply amazing!” Ben’s toothy smile seems to take up his entire face as he points the microphone at Rio, who probably knows that I’m dizzy as hell.
“Thank you. Abby worked nonstop on that spin. It was a risk since it’s so difficult to control but we knew that with the competition winding down we had to pull out all the stops.”
“The audience certainly was entertained. Let’s see what our esteemed judges have to say. Carson?”
“Well, I have to say that I was leery when the song began but boy oh boy you certainly changed my mind in a hurry. You had some cha-cha with a touch of old-school disco and modern hip-hop. Excellent choreography, Rio. My hat goes off to you if you don’t mind the pun. And, Abby . . . oh, Abby. Let me tell you that you can dance!” He whips up a nine.
“Myra?” Ben asks.
She waves a hand over her head and smiles. “I haven’t been this entertained in a long time. Dancing with the Rednecks might have begun as a big joke but I am totally impressed. Abby, girl, you rock. Those legs were meant for dancing and I hope you never stop! Rio, you have taken this little waitress and turned her into one hot mama. I give y’all a ten!”
The crowd cheers so loudly that Ben has to wait for them to calm down before asking Peter his opinion. “Peter?” he finally shouts in order to be heard. The audience hushes in order to hear him.
Peter shakes his head and my heart pounds because I’m thinking that he’s going to slam us. Of course the audience gets restless when he hesitates for drama. Peter is all about drama.
“Peter,” Ben warns, “this is a live show. We have three more couples to dance.”
“Sorry, but I was speechless there for a moment.” He smiles at Rio and me. “Do you know the last time I was speechless?”
I shake my head.
“Never. I do believe this was a first.”
The audience collectively laughs and cheers.
“Rio.” Peter kisses his fingers up to his mouth. “Excellent! But then again you are a champion and an esteemed instructor. It’s to be expected.”
He turns his attention to me. “Oh, but, Abby . . .” He pauses to put his hands to his cheeks. While shaking his head he says, “To see you blossom and burst forth with such passion! I’m moved! I’m astounded!”
“Peter . . .” Ben warns.
“Let me finish! I know I’m over the top but this dance deserves it. Abby, as Myra reminded us, this reality show is supposed to be a joke . . . something to laugh about and not take seriously. But the joke is on Comedy Corner because you might be a redneck . . . Oh, wait a minute, that line is taken.” He taps his cheek while the audience laughs.
He stands up and shouts over the cheers, “You might be a redneck if you can dance. I give you a ten!” He whips his paddle from behind his back and I think I’m going to cry.
Rio must sense my oncoming tears because he whisks me off the dance floor, which is no easy feat since I’m still a little dizzy. We’re supposed to go back to the greenroom but Rio breaks the rules and takes me outside where the cool night air clears my dizziness a bit.
He pulls me into his warm embrace in the shadowy parking lot away from cameras and prying eyes. I bury my face in his western-cut shirt. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I bravely tell him but then floodgates open.
“Abby, are these . . . how do you say . . .”
“H-h-h-happy tears?”
“Yes, those. Are they?” He has that panicky what-should-I-do edge to his voice that guys get when women cry.
I nod. Man, he smells good. Feels so warm . . . “N-nobody ever gave me a standing ovation before.”
“Not even for your mama’s meat loaf?”
My laughter comes out gurgled from my tears. “You’re developing quite a sense of humor. Guess you had to in order to put up with me.”
“Ah, Abby,” he says and rubs his hand up and down my back. “I might have taught you to dance but you showed me how to laugh . . . how to feel again.”
I tip my head back to look at him. “We’re quite a pair, you and I.”
“That we are,” he agrees and dips his head down to give me a quick but tender kiss.
This might not be the right moment but I decide that I have to tell him how I feel about him. “You know, after my daddy died everything I knew about my life changed in an instant. You must have felt the same way when your daddy got sick.”
Rio nods. “It made me value my family.”
“And you had to jump in and save your family business. We have much more in common than I originally thought.” I’m about to muster up the courage to tell him that I’m falling in love with him but he interrupts my train of thought.
“Abby, about that. There’s something that I want to—”
“There you two are!” Jackie shouts and raises her hands skyward. She angles her head and talks into her headset. “Found them, Maggie.” She glances at me. “Yes, we need a touch-up.
“Have you forgotten that you need to go back out for the final recap?”
“Sorry,” Rio says, trying to soothe Jackie’s ruffled feathers. “We only meant to step out here for a breath of fresh air. Guess we lost track of time.”
“Well, you about gave me a heart attack! Get your butts back in there!”
When Rio leads the way to open the door for us Jackie leans over and says in my ear, “You go, girl.”
23
Winner Take All
“Who invented this dance, anyway?” I ask while taking one of our few breaks.
Rio pats a small white towel to his forehead. I try not to notice how his sweat-dampened white muscle shirt molds to his chest but of course I do and I disguise my sigh as a yawn. The tender kiss in the parking lot is as close as I’ve gotten to anything intimate and we never did get to finish our conversation, not that we’ve had any free time anyway.
When we’re not dancing, we’ve been doing photo shoots, one for TV Guide and one for People magazine. Yeah, I know! It’s hard to wrap my brain around this sudden fame. Realistically I know that celebrity status will be fleeting but still . . . Mac, Danny, Julia, and I were all featured with a small bio in both publications and it will be something to tell our grandchildren, that’s for sure. Jesse called yesterday to tell me that Dancing with the Rednecks was mentioned on Entertainment Tonight and that Jay Leno told a redneck joke about us on The Tonight Show and showed a clip of Betty Cook doing her creepy “Time Warp” dance dressed as Magenta the maid and her partner equally scary as Riff Raff the butler.
“You want to know who invented the quickstep?” Rio asks after taking a slug of water.
“Yes, so I can send them hate mail.”
Rio chuckles for the first time that morning. “During the 1920s the big bands were playing the traditional quickstep too fast, making it difficult for couples to keep up. After a while a faster version was invented using some extra elements of ragtime such as the Charleston where we get the up-and-down swinging motion.”
“Oh.”
“More than you wanted to know?”
“Not at all. I think it’s fascinating how these dances have evolved from all over the world . . . Cuba, Africa. It’s pretty interesting stuff. I want ballroom dancing to stay a part of my life even after this competition is over. Jesse told me that there are already people in Misty Creek who want to learn.”
Rio seems pleased by my answer and nods as he screws the cap back onto his water bottle. “I think Mitchell Banks had an inkling all along that this show was going to end up being much more than a spoof on reality television. He’s drawing a much bigger audience than teenagers looking for a laugh on the Comedy Corner Network.”
“He’s a smart man.”
“And I hear that he likes y
our mother.”
“I know! They are such an unlikely pair and I’m not sure where it’s going since he lives so far away and all, but if it’s meant to be I suppose they will work it out.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“You mean because of my daddy?” I ask softly. “I know Daddy would want Mama to be happy, so yes, I’m okay with it.”
Rio sets the water bottle down. “Are you aware of how wealthy Mitchell Banks is, Abby?” He asks this sort of carefully.
“Oh, I guess I never really thought of that. Should it matter?” I ask, wondering just what he’s getting at. “Are you saying that Mama isn’t good enough for Mitchell?”
“Not at all!” He looks so taken aback that I believe him. “I was just . . . curious.” Something tells me that there’s more to it but he motions for us to get back to work. “Okay, time to learn the trick steps.”
I gasp. “You mean we haven’t done that yet?”
“Nope. And we have to work on our leg tension and the use of our ankles. Remember that it is slow, quick, quick, slow, quick, quick. The majority of the slow is on the heel and the quick on the toe.”
“Right,” I say and I realize with a smile that he makes perfect sense.
“Why the smile?”
“A month ago I would have been shaking my head in wonder but now I—”
“Catch my drift? I’m learning too, Abby. More than you know.”
I wonder what he means by that but he points the remote at the CD player and “Dueling Banjos” starts playing.
“Wait. . . . That’s what we’re dancing to?”
Rio grins. “A bit of a risk, I know, but it fits my choreography and at this point we have to think outside the square.”
“The box.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“I think the crowd will . . . how do you say? . . . get into it.”
“But ‘Dueling Banjos’ is so fast and gets even faster!”
Dancing Shoes and Honky-Tonk Blues Page 22
