Two hours into the actual choreography, Xavier strolls in, like he’s in no rush. The DJ cuts the sound. Xavier will get away with it, though. None of us are stupid enough to question the Ultimate Fighting Champion.
“Dude, where’ve you been?” Tony asks.
Well, almost none of us.
“None of your business,” Xavier barks. “I’m here now.”
“Hell, yeah it’s my business.” Tony gets right up in his face, sweating and huffing from the routine. “We’ve all been here for three whole hours and now we’re gonna have to be here even longer to catch your ass up.”
Oh, shit. Tony must have a death wish. The other dancers freeze in position as stocky five foot ten, two hundred thirty pound Xavier looks up at a towering, gangly six foot five and a buck sixty Tony. Shit, shit, shit—this ain’t gonna be good.
Xavier narrows his eyes and his voice gets deep. “Back up, bitch. You don’t want to fight me.”
“Who you calling a bitch, mother fucker?” Tony flies at Xavier, but the burly little man throws Tony down and has him in a headlock faster than I can cha-cha. Tony’s scrawny legs are kicking in the air like a psycho Popeye cartoon. It would almost be funny if I wasn’t sure Tony was about to die.
“Antoshka! Antoshka!” Vika’s screaming. “Somebody do something!”
Tim, Dolla, and Dion are on it. They dive in and yank Tony and Xavier apart, successfully ending the combat. Then, after only a second of peace, Tony sucker punches Xavier. Xavier round house kicks him in the face and blood gushes from Tony’s nose. The referees break it up again. Like two snarling dogs, Tony and Xavier have to be pulled to opposite sides of the room.
Damn this is crazy. “Break time!” I chirp and then chase after Jenny, who’s escorted Diana to the ladies lounge.
When I get in there, I find Diana sprawled out on the sofa in the lounge, tears splattered on her face. “We’re so gonna get eliminated this week,” she cries. “Xavier couldn’t care less about any of this.”
Jenny hugs her. “I wish I could be that lucky. I can’t take another week of Tim.” I glare at her. “Sorry, right. This is about Diana.” She turns back to her. “Even if you do get sent home, it won’t be that bad. You can just go back to planning your wedding.”
Blotchy Diana looks up at her. “That’s the thing. The wedding’s off.”
“What?” Jenny and I blurt in unison. I drop to Diana’s side. Jenny looks like she’s gonna faint.
“When the hell did this happen?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Diana takes a big breath. “Robert and I have been fighting, like, every day. He’s so pissed that I went on this show . . . and because I told him I didn’t want to have babies right away cuz I want to do another season.” Jenny sucks in her breath next to me. Robert is all about wanting babies, and until now Diana has been right there with him. “He totally flipped out. Then when Star magazine published that picture of me drinking with Vika . . . oh God . . . he said he didn’t even know who I was anymore and he called off the engagement.”
Jenny pounds the couch with a wicked fist. “See? I knew this would happen. This was a huge mistake. We’re all falling apart.” She grabs Diana by the shoulders, half hugging her and half shaking her. “Don’t worry, hun. Robert’s just stressed out because he’s in Iraq. Once he gets back, you guys can work this out. Everything will be okay.”
Diana looks at me, her eyes clearly questioning. I nod and hug her, but inside I feel like crap. This gig was mostly my doing, I know.
My nod seems to do the trick for Diana. Sitting up, she wipes her eyes and gives us a weak smile. I join in on a group hug and then walk out of the lounge. Genya’s waiting for me by the door.
“I did it, Sal,” he says. “I broke up with Iza. Last night.”
“Huh?” I blink a few times. Information overload. “You what?”
“I broke up with Iza.” He moves in closer, takes my hand in both of his.
I don’t know what to say. I scan the room for Iza, who’s nowhere to be found. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. I was so pissed at her for going behind my back and posing for those photos—like a whore. She didn’t even think how it could affect mama’s studio or our results. You would never do anything that trashy.”
I can barely focus on anything he said after ‘I broke up with Iza.’ But I couldn’t let him call her a whore.
“She’s hardly a whore, Genya. That is way harsh.” Iza is my rival, but Genya is being an ass.
“Sorry, you’re right. She’s not a whore. She didn’t even tell me and I don’t have any respect for that. You would never do anything like that.”
He’s right. I wouldn’t.
Genya is mine now? Oh my God. I lean in to kiss him.
“No.” He leans away. “Not like this. I want this to be right. We need to wait until season is over or Iza is kicked off. I don’t want to cause tabloid scandal. Don’t worry, it’ll be worth it.” He kisses my hand and walks away. I’m left standing there at the doorway to the woman’s can, alone, my head spinning.
Jenny’s right. Everything is changing. Here I’d spent six years pushing Genya out of my mind and now I’m thinking about him every second, and Diana’s spending more time with Vika than with us, and now Jenny’s resorted to acting like a self-righteous tyrant. It’s crazy. Way crazy.
Dolla walks over to me and hands me a bottle of FIJI water. “Hey girl, everything alright in there? I just got everyone in the studio to calm down. Xavier apologized to Tony, and Tony accepted, thank God, and we’re all ready to get moving again.”
I swear I could kiss the man. I take a big gulp of agua instead. “Thanks, Dolla. Seriously. Diana was just shaken up but it’s all good. They’ll be out in a moment.”
Dolla snaps his fingers and points two finger guns at me. “Anything for the best partner in the world.” He winks and saunters away. “Eh, yo, Mickey, kick them strobe lights on, will ya? And gimme some Rob Base. We got some dancin’ ta do!”
I glance at Genya across the room. He winks at me, too, then mouths, “I still love you.” Then the strobes kick in and the room explodes in old school base. Joy—pump it up, pump it up!—and pain . . . sunshine, and rain . . .
Yes, siree. Everything’s changed.
And I couldn’t be happier.
14
Vika
A PRODUCER MOTIONS for the audience to clap. “And we’re on in three, two, one.”
Matt is standing next to the judges’ table, pretending to make small talk with Benny. He breaks away when he ‘notices’ the camera. “Tonight,” Mr. Smiley says into his hand mic, “all the couples will have to perform two dances: a waltz and a group hip-hop. Let’s start the evening off with the couple that continues to wow the judges—Rock Star Tony Zave and his partner, Vika Brooks.”
Tony kisses my hand backstage as our clip starts playing on the video screen. The camera had zoomed in on my face. Who was the makeup artist that day? I needed more blush and I spy a stray eyebrow. But otherwise, flawless.
“For Tony to really understand what it’s like to dance perfect waltz,” I was blabbing, “I thought it would be important for him to feel like he’s floating.” God, I hate these “confessional clips.” They always make me sound stupid. “So I decided to take him with his sons to Disneyland.” There’s a video of Tony and me with his boys, Draven and Dallas, on Peter Pan’s Flight ride at Disneyland. We’re all squealing with our hands up in the air as we glide along in the ride. Then Tony and I are shown walking around, holding his boys’ hands, wearing mouse ears embroidered with our names. We look like a family. And I actually look happy.
“Dancing the waltz,” Matt announces, “Tony Zave and his partner Viktoria Brooks.”
The band starts playing Norah Jones’ song “Come Away With Me.” Tony leads me on stage. He looks gorgeous in his black tail suit. The bruising around his eyes from idiot Xavier’s kick last week isn’t noticeable, thank God—our makeup crew did a great
job. I’m wearing a stunning pink satin ball gown, backless and see-through up top, with a feather trim on the skirt. He takes me in his arms and I melt. We float around the room, and I feel like I’m still at Disneyland. I taught him to keep his head left the entire time, but Tony can't stop looking at me. I usually back lead the dance but for once I let go, relax into his arms, and let him take control.
The music dies down and Tony gives me a kiss on my head.
“I’m falling in love with you,” he whispers.
Oh hell no. We separate and I turn toward Matt.
“Tony and Viktoria, that was truly beautiful. Let’s hear what the judges have to say. Benjamin Brooks.”
Benny’s eyes light up. “Well mate, a better man never stood in two dance shoes. Bottling, his blood’s worth. Tony, you have amazing musicality and, of course, you are a lucky mate to be dancing with my better half.”
“Thanks, man.” He looks dead on at Benny. Tony couldn’t care less that I’m married.
“Do you think Tony and Viktoria have a chance to win?” Matt asks.
“Is the pope Catholic?” Benny says.
“And now to our lovely Karen Lopez. How did Tony and Viktoria dance?”
“Viktoria, you are breathtaking. I was a little nervous about your interpretation of the waltz,” she pauses and eyes my costume, “but you pulled it off. Tony, my dear, your timing and footwork were exquisite.”
Nervous? Why the hell would she be nervous? My dancing is always perfect. Lucky for her, she redeemed herself.
“Steve Samson, do you agree with your fellow judges?” Matt asks.
“Absolutely. Tony, your feet peeled off the floor like layers off an onion. And your dancing was so mesmerizing that, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love with Viktoria.”
You don’t say.
“Okay,” Matt says to us, “go backstage and wait for some good scores.”
Tony and I walk off stage and he kisses me.
“Antoshka!” I push him off me. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t give a fuck who sees, Vika. I’ve never felt like this.”
No way. Not here, not now, and certainly not on his terms. The L-word has no part in this game. “I’m not one of your damn groupies. I’m married to judge on this show.”
“But Vika—”
“No ‘but Vika.’” A staffer steps into the doorway and waves us over. “It’s dancing, Antoshka,” I whisper harshly. “What you’re feeling isn’t real.”
He looks crushed. I almost give in, his face is so puppy dog. But then I remember that Vika never gives in. Not if she can help it, anyway. Certainly not with the L-word.
We step into the red room and wait for our scores.
“And now the scores,” Deborah says. “Benjamin Brooks?”
“Ten!” my husband says.
“Karen Lopez?”
“Ten!” Karen says.
“Steve Samson?”
“Ten!” Steve says.
“Thirty! A perfect score. Tony, how do you feel?” Deborah asks.
“Deborah, it’s so killer. Thank you, guys. I totally love you.” Tony clutches me to his chest.
I groan inside. More L-word. Clearly, I don’t know my own power.
AFTER THE SHOW, Benny parades me around the media backstage. I can hear the obnoxious humming of the sound microphones in my ear. Jenny is giving an interview to E! News.
“Viktoria, what do you say to the rumors that you’re having an affair with Tony Zave?” the reporter from the Insider asks.
Good God, right in front of my husband? Have they no class?
I move closer to Benny and give him a big kiss. “Ridiculous. Every season, they say same thing about me with my partner. It’s just dancing. What you see out there is acting. Benny and I have very strong relationship. I’m in love together with him and nothing could come between us.” I stare into Benny’s icy blue eyes. Total love and devotion.
“See the problem, luv,” Benny says to the reporter, “is that my Sheila, here, is such a great dancer and always wins these things, that all these stickybeaks want to cause problems.”
Benny is whipped. After a few more kisses and denials the reporters finally have had their fill and leave me alone.
“Great job, tonight Lassie,” Benny pats me on the ass. “I’ll see you at home after your party with the girls.” We kiss and he leaves to catch his limo.
I head back to my trailer. The door is unlocked.
Please, don’t tell me—
Yep. Tony’s waiting inside for me—along with hundreds of black and red roses. His bow tie is hanging from the side of his tuxedo shirt, which is unbuttoned.
I quickly step all the way into the trailer and pull the door shut. “Shit, Antoshka, are you serious? I’m not in mood for this now. I thought I made myself clear to you earlier.”
“Baby, just hear me out. I totally understand what you’re going through. You’re just scared.” He puts a rose behind his ear and smiles playfully. “Don’t be scared. You don’t need him anymore. I can take care of you. Give me a chance.”
I pluck the rose from behind his ear.
“Ouch! Babe, that has thorns.”
“And so do I.” I toss the rose onto my makeup table. It knocks over a bottle of perfume. “You don’t understand. I don’t need you to take care of me. Benny already gives me everything I need. He gives me beautiful house, takes care of my baba, nice car, and I am dance champion.” I step to the table and check the perfume bottle for cracks. Joy is a hundred dollars an ounce. “What can you possibly give me?”
Tony howls in disbelief. “Give me a break, Vika. You can’t tell me that wrinkly balls over there can satisfy you? When’s the last time you had a real man?”
Men are so pathetic. They think one good fuck and we’re ready to throw our lives away. “For your information, Benny is great lover.” I say straight-faced. My baba always says “all cats are grey at night.”
Tony sits down on my bed—and on about a dozen roses. But apparently that batch doesn’t have thorns. He stares at me for a minute, all pouty. Lovely.
I turn and start tugging at my zipper. Twisting and turning, I struggle to get the right angle. Stupid pink fruffy dress . . .
Two hands stop my tugging fingers. Tony has walked over to me. I stop struggling and let him help me out of my dress. He slowly nuzzles my neck and massages my shoulders. My gown falls to the floor and he turns me around.
“Antoshka, I—”
“Shhhh . . .” He puts his finger on my lips. Why does this man have to smell so good? His large hands make their way down my curves. I fondle his nipple ring. He’s completely covered in tattoos. It would take me a lifetime to memorize his body.
“Babe,” he whispers warmly into my ears, making me moist, “I don’t want you for one night. I’ve had sex with thousands of girls. I want more. You’re my perfect match. You’re wild and lonely. Just like me.” He takes a rose out of the vase and brushes it over my body. I nearly stop breathing. “Like this rose, tragically beautiful.” He pricks his finger and draws a heart out of his blood on my breast. “We’re meant to be together. Even my kids love you. My parents have been married forty years. I want that.” He bites my neck. Oh, God . . . “My ex-wives couldn’t keep up with me, Vika. But you can. And I can take care of you. Better than Benny can.” He licks my neck then steps away. “I’ll wait for you,” he says. He turns and leaves the trailer, the door slamming behind him.
It takes me a few moments to start breathing again. I told myself when I married Benny that security is more important than passion. Benny will never betray me. What kind of guarantee can I get with a rock star? Dropping to the bed, I take up one of the roses. I was right, no thorns on this batch. I’ll wait for you . . . I crush the petals in my palm. I’m sitting here all by myself, naked but for a thong, surrounded by useless flowers. They’ll all die in a week anyway. At least he could have bought me diamonds.
I pa
ge Marina. “Get all these damn roses out of my trailer. NOW.”
Bolero
He gently caressed her arm. Shyly, she took his hand. Their feet traced the floor, as if they were ice-skating. Their bodies rose together. Unable to resist any longer, they climaxed. For a fleeting moment, they experienced pure bliss. Then their bodies collapsed, with only the memory of their perfect moment remaining.
15
Salomé
XAVIER AND DIANA and Dion and Iza stand up on stage, awaiting their fate. Last night, Dolla and me got a rockin’ score in the bolero, and so did Vika and Tony in the waltz. Someone’s about to get the axe.
“And the couple leaving us tonight, Di . . . on and Izabella.” Matt says. Diana shrieks and jumps up and down then hugs Xavier. She lives another week.
After our usual onslaught of interviews, Iza and Dion hop into a limo to take them to the airport. They’re booked on the red eye to New York for the losers’ round of morning talk shows.
Which means tonight, I’ll finally have Genya to myself.
Diana rushes over to me backstage, handing me my phone and my purse. “I can’t believe we made it. One more week. I thought for sure this time we’d be gone. Let’s go celebrate.”
My phone flashes.
From Genya (Mobile): Meet me in my hotel room in one hour.
Sway Page 12
